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shieldborneGod's righteous man, Ultron had mocked to his face a few years back. Pretending you could live without a war. Steve had to acknowledge he wasn't wrong. The vision Wanda pulled out of his head, it wasn't wrong either. He is half strung-out, bone-weary, combat fatigue personified. Half of him wants to go home.
The other half? Will never be able to stop fighting, because that means having to face what's left.
Visiting the Nexus has only driven that point home, in some ways. No matter how much people encourage him to expand his horizons, take time to relax and recover, to be Steve Rogers, he's restless and adrift there, friendly with everyone but not, in the end, all that close to any. But there is one idea that's caught at him relentlessly since his arrival there, and that's the inescapable visual of kids fighting wars.
Most of them probably don't see it that way. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Men, just doing what they can, what they innocently assume any good person would do. Every time he thinks about that, it hurts. And he has plenty to do in his own world, collecting the proliferating alien weaponry across the planet, breaking up and hunting down remnants of HYDRA, and ducking the law. But here there's an opportunity for something more, something gentler, something that's not fighting and might, in the long term, keep people from ending up in the psychological catch-22 he's gotten himself into.
There's no Nexus real estate office, but there are people who have a clear idea of what land and buildings can be claimed and what can be done with them. Steve has somehow, through funds scraped together, favors called in, and contacts made, become the proud owner of what was once some kind of diner or restaurant. The building is a decent size, two floors, with a lot of the appliances and furnishings still inside it and still working. Including a jukebox, which is what he's looking at right now, outside the front of the building. He's got most of it taken apart and spread neatly on blankets on the grass, and he's methodically cleaning it bit by bit.
The long term plan is a safe house he can set up for the costumed-hero types here that have nowhere else to go if something goes wrong. The kids, specifically. He won't be able to be here all the time, himself, but he can put it together and give what he can. Fill it up with food and medical supplies, maybe put in some bunks, some security--
Well, the plans are still evolving, but it's something.
The other half? Will never be able to stop fighting, because that means having to face what's left.
Visiting the Nexus has only driven that point home, in some ways. No matter how much people encourage him to expand his horizons, take time to relax and recover, to be Steve Rogers, he's restless and adrift there, friendly with everyone but not, in the end, all that close to any. But there is one idea that's caught at him relentlessly since his arrival there, and that's the inescapable visual of kids fighting wars.
Most of them probably don't see it that way. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Men, just doing what they can, what they innocently assume any good person would do. Every time he thinks about that, it hurts. And he has plenty to do in his own world, collecting the proliferating alien weaponry across the planet, breaking up and hunting down remnants of HYDRA, and ducking the law. But here there's an opportunity for something more, something gentler, something that's not fighting and might, in the long term, keep people from ending up in the psychological catch-22 he's gotten himself into.
There's no Nexus real estate office, but there are people who have a clear idea of what land and buildings can be claimed and what can be done with them. Steve has somehow, through funds scraped together, favors called in, and contacts made, become the proud owner of what was once some kind of diner or restaurant. The building is a decent size, two floors, with a lot of the appliances and furnishings still inside it and still working. Including a jukebox, which is what he's looking at right now, outside the front of the building. He's got most of it taken apart and spread neatly on blankets on the grass, and he's methodically cleaning it bit by bit.
The long term plan is a safe house he can set up for the costumed-hero types here that have nowhere else to go if something goes wrong. The kids, specifically. He won't be able to be here all the time, himself, but he can put it together and give what he can. Fill it up with food and medical supplies, maybe put in some bunks, some security--
Well, the plans are still evolving, but it's something.
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Date: 2019-04-05 05:01 am (UTC)Well, now there's another pair of hands here to help him out.
By now, of course, Thor is well aware that Earth doesn't have the same hangups about gendered magic that Asgard does - even before meeting Strange, he'd seen how Stark was received by his adoring public despite basing his entire public image around technological sorcery - but hundreds of years of being told certain types of magic are unmanly isn't something easily unlearned, no matter that this doesn't entirely cross the line so much as sit right on the border. "It's... fertility magic, actually. Specifically. I've always had an aptitude for it; I take after my mother that way." Not that even Asgardian science has ever conclusively proven that specific types of seidr can be inherited, but it had certainly helped to have a parent who shared this with him, when he was younger.
"Usually it's been more the 'watering the fields' type," he adds quickly, as if he's worried his friend will get the wrong idea if he doesn't. "Especially on Asgard. But I did a lot of traveling in my youth, and sometimes people asked more from me. Couples wanting healthy babies, that sort of thing."