dualislogs | Oh Captain, My Captain

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Oh Captain, My Captain

WHO: Steve and You
WHAT: Just a guy trying to find his way
WHERE: All over
WHEN: before the uprising
WARNINGS: Steve being Steve

Steve knew change and now he knew how time could be so fleeting, one minute your sitting in a lousy hotel room with all of your friends and the next your telling everyone that will listen that it's alright to move on,

But not for him.

No, Steve has never been the kind of man to let things go or let them lie. He lost... no they lost and he had to find a way to fix it. Steve was certain they had which is why he ended up here, in another strange city, he was thrown for a bit of a loop. He had seen Wanda, so that set his mind to rest but that didn't last long.

Steve spent is time drawing or reading in his room, or out running or walking and finally The Ax hole, working or relaxing.

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Change? The fleeting nature of time? These were not major concerns to Jane. In the form of the Hangman's Daughter she sits near Steve and sketches in her journal, stealing glances at him and transcribing them into her book. On the occasions when he wandered away she followed him, trying not to be conspicious or creepy.

She probably fails at this.

She's to one side, sketching diligently and capturing a decent likeness of Steve. "Afternoon," she says pleasantly, not keen on ignoring him. "Are you all right?"

Steve may not have his shield or his uniform but he still has all of his senses and they are finely attuned to the fact that someone has been following him for the better part of his morning, but Steve is not a man to hold a grudge.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You can never tell by looking." Many of the people the Hangman's Daughter sketches and paints are outwardly beautiful and poised, but those qualities aren't lasting. She knows this well as she works on her picture, frowning at what she draws.

The shield and uniform would've gotten her attention faster, but she's never heard of Captain America. She picked Steve to sketch just because he had a nice profile, and then she had gotten lost enough in the portrait that she doesn't feel right abandoning it partway through. Even now she glances between him and the paper, pencil stroking away.

"What's your name?"

That statement was true Steve supposed. He glanced at the pad, but couldn't see anything. He wondered what she was drawing and if she was an artist.

The question startled him out of his brief musings which was probably a good thing. "What? Oh, Steve Rogers, what's yours?"

"I'm the Hangman's Daughter."

She was indeed drawing, her pencil brushing over the paper to add subtle shading. It was a lot easier to get the intricacies of a face right when that face was staying relatively still and looking at her.

"Do you mind that I'm drawing you?"

"The hangman's Daughter?" Steve cocked his head a bit. "Isn't that a bit of a mouthful?" He asked. "No offense meant."

Steve looked to the tablet again.

"Of course not. but why me?"

She stopped drawing for a moment and looked up at him, as a person instead of a subject, surprised. "Is it?" That had never occurred to her. It was just what she was called.

"You looked like a good model to draw." He might see she's drawn him in duplicate, two profiles face to face, growing blurry and undefined where they overlap. "Some people don't like it when I draw them."

Wanda didn't need to work but her morning runs woke her up and go her blood running. It was time away from her brother and the weight of her thoughts. She was dressed for the activity, in running shorts and a dark tank top. Her hair had been pulled up and into a ponytail and she had an ipod like device attached to her hip. It wasn't the same but it was music.

Her pace slowed when she spotted Steve running. He could easily out pace her but she wanted to talk and that set her pace.

"Hey. Didn't know you ran this way in the morning. Can I join you?"

Steve was just about to sprint but he heard Wanda speak and decided talking to a friend was more important than seeing how fast he could get his run done. "Of course you can. Did you ever get a chance to run in DC?" He asked, easily keeping pace with her.

Wanda shook her head. "No." She hadn't been a legal american citizen so it was hard for her to get around without some cause with the Avengers... and then they'd been on the run.

"I ran around the headquarters in New York." She smiled a little at the memory. "Thanks for slowing down for me." Her misty green eyes glittered with warmth. "I've seen you run." And he could easily out run her.

"DC as a whole isn't great, but the monuments are nice," Steve explained. "I liked running in New York more, before... Thanos," Steve added grimly, before shaking the memory away.

"Of course, I probably shouldn't run like a super-soldier all the time, sometimes it's nice to just be Steve, you know?"

Wanda didn't have many memories of Thanos. She'd been a victim of the snap and could only imagine what Steve must have felt. She tried to smile but running made that a little difficult.

"I do." Being Wanda was why she ran instead of just focusing on her powers. "I would have liked to run more. I did in New York." Back when she'd been training with Steve in the others on the Avengers.

"Not as much as you though."

Mira kinda likes the axe-throwing. She doesn't think it will ever be useful, unless she should find herself on a feral world somewhere one day...which, really, after the last few months she can't rule out. But, potential future utility aside, it's something she's good at but not so much so that there's no room for improvement, the sweet spot for a leisure activity as far as she's concerned. She's there once or twice a week, tossing axes with steadily increasing accuracy and resisting all attempts to recruit her for a team.

After her most recent session, she settles onto a barstool, intent on blowing her way through that one-drink-per-hour limit in short order.

"I've seen you at the dormitory, haven't I?" Mira asks the bartender, friendlier than usual because that gives them something in common, and, well...he's very attractive and she's a mere mortal. Though she's in nondescript civilian clothing, everything about Mira screams "military" loudly enough to be deafening.

Steve liked his job at the Ax Hole, he found it relaxing. He realizes that this is not a usual form of relaxation, but considering the life, he's lives back home, this is a walk in the park.

Steve was behind the bar getting a drink when he heard the question. "Uh, probably? I mean that's where I sleep," Steve said, extending his hand. "Steve Rogers."

Mira accepts the offered handshake, smiling as about much as she ever does, which is not a lot. "Second Lieutenant Miranda Nero, 203rd Cadian regiment."

Is she ever going to stop introducing herself like that? Signs point to "no."

Steve stands up a little straighter, force of habit most likely... that and the military training.

"That is a long name. Do you have a nickname?"

She only looks a little unimpressed at the dad-level joke.

"Nero's fine," she says, then after a beat adds, "my friends call me Mira," since most of the people here balk at using surnames and she's not sure she'd remember to answer to Miranda.

(OOC: Let me know if anything needs to be changed)

One this this strange afterlife afforded him was the chance to catch up on his reading. Maintaining the ruse of being king, being on the run, and being imprisoned with only the books your mother provided you left a lot to be desired, but here he could just sit under a tree in a admittedly nice park and read books he's never had the chance to see. In this instance, he's reading "Broca's Brain" by Carl Sagan, who he's decided is an exception to the assumed rule of humanity: that they are narrow-minded.

He looks up when a shadow passes over him and arches an eyebrow when he sees who's casted it. He grapples a moment with whether or not to say anything, but ultimately looks down, the ghost of a smirk teasing the corner of his mouth as he casually turns the page of his book.

"Hello, Captain."

Steve froze mid-stride, he would have probably tripped if he was going faster, but that voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Loki," Steve answered. "Been a long time."

A vague smile, hinting at a deep-running amusement, touched his lips. He'd had just the effect of Captain America he'd intended and it was delicious. Being trapped in a city in which they were all pawns to something no one felt the need to explain was probably the last location he should toy with anyone, but he was who he was.

He didn't look up from his book as he responded, "It has. How's New York?"

South is taking a much earned break from guarding the Mayor. It's still too early to drink even for her, the brisk cool air of the morning reminding her of the early mornings in UNSC training. She isn't jogging or anything, she's being lazy today, sitting on a bench in a park, watching the few people noodle around to start their day.

She notices one guy jogging though, mostly because he's passed like five times already and she knows that's probably too fast for a normal person to pass that many times. So she waits until he passes again before doing or saying anything, opting to toss a solid sized stick she found out in his path because that's how you make friends, right?

Steve speeds by South once... twice... okay the third time was for show and he is now regretting that decision as he has to hurdle the stick in his path. He slows to a stop.

"Do you need something?"

"Not really, just wondering why you're running like a hamster on a wheel. You antsy or something>" She answers and asks, tilting her head slightly.

Honestly, she is curious why he feels the need to do so many laps. And a little bit wanting to just be a pest, find some amusement in an otherwise quiet, early morning hours.

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Oh Captain, My Captain

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Out Running

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Ax Hole

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The Park | Reading

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