Steve Rogers / Captain America (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
assembles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-12-12 07:41 am
assembles) wrote in entrancelogs2014-12-12 07:41 am
as the friendship goes resentment grows
Who: Steve Rogers and special guests! (semi-closed for pre-arranged threads)
Where: All around Wonderland
When: 12/12 - 12/14
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone didn't think twice before eating the fruitcake. Have a very grumpy, grinchy Steve Rogers.
The Story:
Ever since that communal dream a few nights ago, Steve hasn't been sleeping particularly well. So it only figures that when he finally does fall into a deeper sleep on the night of the 11th, he's woken up by the sound of clattering and clinking outside. It's enough to rouse him out of bed and he's extra careful, taking his shield along with him when he opens the door from his bedroom out into the hallway.
What he sees are garlands and strings of lights whipping themselves down the hall, arranging themselves just so, moved by some invisible force. Steve watches for a good minute or so as the process continues and the mansion decorates itself. He's heard whispers about how terrible things had been last Christmas, but he didn't realize the mansion was so intent about getting into the spirit. It's like the calm before the storm, or maybe it's meant to give them a false sense of security.
Steve returns to his bed, but he isn't able to fall back to sleep. He stays up sketching, but when morning eventually comes and he heads outside for his routine jog, he finds that the entire outdoor area has been blanketed in snow.
Steve runs anyway, not bothering to get more appropriate clothing because the cold isn't something he feels much, even when it's snowing.
After his jog he heads back inside, takes a shower, and then heads down into the dining hall for a late breakfast. As much as Steve tries to think of pancakes or waffles or bacon, though, all that the mansion is interested in giving him is fruitcake. Eventually, Steve gives up, because he's hungry and he's never been particularly picky. He knows that most people don't like fruitcake, but it's not half bad.
Or that's what he thinks while he's eating it, at least. Afterward he's got a sour taste in his mouth, and his entire mood takes an unexpected nosedive. He leaves the dining hall to find the mansion just as decorated, but now the sparkling lights and ribbons only serve to annoy him, and when he returns to his room and finds the stocking with his name on it, he rips it off of his door with an undue amount of anger.
For the next three days, Steve contends with an uncharacteristically bad mood, one that keeps him locked up in his room for most of the time. He only ventures out to exercise (either by jogging or venting his grumpiness on the punching bags in the training room) or to get more food -- though now he's actively avoiding anything holiday related, thank you very much.
[OOC: Three days of grumpy Steve for everyone's enjoyment! This log is for pre-discussed threads. Come to his room to bug him or feel free to find him in the noted areas, or in the hallways to/from those places. Both prose and bracket tags are fine by me!]
Where: All around Wonderland
When: 12/12 - 12/14
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Someone didn't think twice before eating the fruitcake. Have a very grumpy, grinchy Steve Rogers.
The Story:
Ever since that communal dream a few nights ago, Steve hasn't been sleeping particularly well. So it only figures that when he finally does fall into a deeper sleep on the night of the 11th, he's woken up by the sound of clattering and clinking outside. It's enough to rouse him out of bed and he's extra careful, taking his shield along with him when he opens the door from his bedroom out into the hallway.
What he sees are garlands and strings of lights whipping themselves down the hall, arranging themselves just so, moved by some invisible force. Steve watches for a good minute or so as the process continues and the mansion decorates itself. He's heard whispers about how terrible things had been last Christmas, but he didn't realize the mansion was so intent about getting into the spirit. It's like the calm before the storm, or maybe it's meant to give them a false sense of security.
Steve returns to his bed, but he isn't able to fall back to sleep. He stays up sketching, but when morning eventually comes and he heads outside for his routine jog, he finds that the entire outdoor area has been blanketed in snow.
Steve runs anyway, not bothering to get more appropriate clothing because the cold isn't something he feels much, even when it's snowing.
After his jog he heads back inside, takes a shower, and then heads down into the dining hall for a late breakfast. As much as Steve tries to think of pancakes or waffles or bacon, though, all that the mansion is interested in giving him is fruitcake. Eventually, Steve gives up, because he's hungry and he's never been particularly picky. He knows that most people don't like fruitcake, but it's not half bad.
Or that's what he thinks while he's eating it, at least. Afterward he's got a sour taste in his mouth, and his entire mood takes an unexpected nosedive. He leaves the dining hall to find the mansion just as decorated, but now the sparkling lights and ribbons only serve to annoy him, and when he returns to his room and finds the stocking with his name on it, he rips it off of his door with an undue amount of anger.
For the next three days, Steve contends with an uncharacteristically bad mood, one that keeps him locked up in his room for most of the time. He only ventures out to exercise (either by jogging or venting his grumpiness on the punching bags in the training room) or to get more food -- though now he's actively avoiding anything holiday related, thank you very much.
[OOC: Three days of grumpy Steve for everyone's enjoyment! This log is for pre-discussed threads. Come to his room to bug him or feel free to find him in the noted areas, or in the hallways to/from those places. Both prose and bracket tags are fine by me!]
12/13 i'm sorry the fruit punch has her on crack.
To be fair, however, it's not as big as it could be. When Tony got her version of the rabbit, it had easily towered over them both. Yet the one she's conjured up for Steve (and a few others, but ssh, that's a surprise) only stands waist high. This way it's much more tasteful, yet still special and sweet. Steve's is customized with a tag designed like his shield hanging from the ribbon around its neck, making it very clear just whom the plush toy is for. Of course it wouldn't be any fun to just give Steve a gift without letting him unwrap it--hence the box, complete with a large and glittery bow. Not the easiest thing to carry, but it'll be worth it to have Steve brighten up.
She sets the box in front of his door, then in a moment of glee-fueled inspiration knocks before ducking back into her room. She can peek from the doorway and see Steve's reaction, the delight and surprise, before revealing herself as the gift giver. It's perfect, and sure to lift Steve's spirits from whatever has gotten him so down.]
LONG-SUFFERING SIGH.
The fact that he's woken up is already enough to set him on edge, but he realizes that if he ignores the knock it may only make things worse. So with a sigh, he pushes up from the bed and moves over to the door, doing his best to ignore Dodger, who he's locked in his crate and barking like crazy. When Steve opens the door, he finds nothing but a large box with an obnoxiously large bow on it. It's curiosity alone that drives him to open it, and inside there's some sort of giant stuffed --
He reaches in, grabs it by the ear, and lifts it up slightly, just enough to see its stitched face and the pendant hanging from its neck. With a groan, Steve lets it fall back into the box and then closes the door behind him and returns to his bed.
A moment later, another knock comes. Steve rolls over, turning his back to the door, and pulls a pillow over his head. "What do you want?" he calls back, loud enough to be heard through the door.
Re: LONG-SUFFERING SIGH.
"To wish you a Merry Christmas, for one thing." Pepper calls out eagerly enough, despite the muffled response she gets. In the next turn she plays innocent, as if she has no idea where the box beside her has come from. "There's a box out here with your name on it, Steve. Shouldn't you bring it into your room?"
Not that that's good enough; oh no. If and when Steve opens the door, he'll discover that Pepper's hoisted the rabbit out of the package and is holding it up. Instead of the woman he's talking to, he'll be face to face with an oversized stuff bunny, ready for hugging and brightening his day.
If he opens the door.
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Hopefully.
"I'm not sure if you realized, but Christmas is on the 25th," he responds. Pepper is far too early. Even if he did want that rabbit (and he doesn't), shouldn't she have brought it to him on Christmas day, rather than two weeks beforehand?
Because he really isn't buying that it's not hers. She couldn't be any more obvious about it. "I don't have any space for it," he adds, even though that's a bold-faced lie. It's more that he doesn't want to add an oversized bunny to his otherwise very well-organized room.
Dodger would like nothing more than for Pepper to come in, though. He's still barking away and Steve is really reconsidering his idea to have a pet in the first place.
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"It's not too early to get in the spirit." So she opens the door, making sure it's wide enough to bring Steve's present inside. Of course in doing so she proves Steve wrong on his other attempt at begging off. "And you have plenty of space for it. I'm sure we'll find a perfect--oh my God!"
In looking around for the perfect spot to put Steve's gift (and maybe a few other decorations), she's noticed poor Dodger locked away. The bunny is temporarily forgotten in favor of going to the puppy's cage, Pepper kneeling down to let the poor guy out. "Steve, how could you lock him in there like that? I heard him in the hall but I didn't realize he was trapped. You poor baby."
At least someone is happy around here. Pepper smiles, using both hands to lavish Dodger with attention now that he's out of that horrible crate.
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At this point, he may as well just let her leave the rabbit here and he can toss it out later. Anything to get her to leave him alone, really.
Steve doesn't particularly mind when she rushes over to release Dodger, since the puppy is far more interested in her than him right now. Plenty of people put their dogs in crates overnight, to prevent them from peeing somewhere they're not supposed to, or to make sure they don't tear anything up. He may not have had the purest reasons for it this time around, though.
"If you want, you can take him for a few days. I wouldn't mind," Steve says as he shifts around on the bed and rests both of his arms behind his head. No, he wouldn't mind even one bit. Although it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. Pepper lives right next door to him, so he'd probably hear Dodger barking through the wall anyway.
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12/14
He figured out you can get a lot of toys from the closet, which is why his room probably looks like something out of the Bart Simpson catalogue meshed with a comic book convention.
Mostly what he is doing, is playing with an X-wing. It is the coolest thing ever and it's just like the one his grandpa got him that he had to leave behind when he left earth.
Granted a real space ship was preferrable but all the same.
It's an X-wing.
And while Steve makes a bum rush for food he is busy making it fly across the dining room.
"ZOOOOOM. red leader to red base! red leader to red base! Starting our run! boom boom boom! eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"Luke! Use the force!"
"I can't! I need help! From Rapheal! cover me brother!"
"Zoooooooooooooooooooooom...!"
If someone doesn't stop him though he might trip and stumble over that patch of rug.
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He's playing all by himself, but that doesn't stop him from racing around the large room while he talks to himself. Distantly, Steve remembers doing that kind of thing at that age, but he can't for the life of him imagine what enjoyment he got from it now.
The kid isn't his responsibility, and so he pointedly ignores him as he moves over to the long table in the room to try and get something to eat that isn't cookies or fruitcake. It's only been a day and he's already sick of Christmas food.
And small children getting in the way. It seems like there are a lot more of them around all of a sudden.
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Looking crestfallen, he shoves himself forward to retrieve the fallen piece.
"..Aw man. Lame."
Really lame. He has not seen an actual toy in almost a month.
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He shoves aside yet another plate of cookies that the mansion insists on giving him and lets out a sigh.
The sooner he solves this kid's problem, the sooner he'll leave him alone. And so:
"You could get another one from the closets."
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His eyes grow wide and he looks away, before he looks back.
"...Yeah but they're all the way upstairs."
His hand runs over his face, "Why does everything suck ass."
But he will keep looking at him, then looking away and looking back.
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Finally, finally, he gets a hot plate of food. It's difficult not to be suspicious of anything the mansion serves up now, but Steve's got to eat something.
Which means he doesn't need to be here anymore.
"You could just find an empty room on this floor," he points out as he picks up his plate of food and moves toward the door. The kid is definitely eyeballing him, but that doesn't mean Steve's obligated to stick around.
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/bops right in here 12/13
[The addition of a certain Avenger had her clamoring down from her seat and running towards him. Does she care that he doesn't seem particularly happy? No. Is is interested in respecting some sort of personal boundary? All the nopes.
The shouting of his name is all the warning he gets before a little 5 year old firmly attaches herself to his leg. She's been playing in the dining room, munching on cookies in between whatever else the dining room seems to give her. There's an assortment of plates and bowls on the table, the ADD of her mind clear.]
We should play. [There's a beat, looking up at him from her current position.] Wow... You're tall.
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Normally, a little kid turning to him for help would set all of his protective urges into overdrive, but at this point he just stares down at the small child with a look that's bordering on disgust. Thankfully, it's simple enough for him to pry her off of his leg and set her down a few feet away. A nice, safe distance.]
No, we shouldn't. Who are you? [How did she even know his name? He's never seen this girl in his life before, and the fact that she seems to think they're best friends is even more disconcerting.]
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With a pout, she huffs at him.]
My name's Darcy. I'm this many years old. [Holding up five fingers for emphasis.]
Why won't you play with me? Dat's not very nice.
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Steve takes another look at the young girl's face. She's even got a similar hat on, and now he can see the resemblance in her eyes and the shape of her mouth.
He's got no clue how this happened, but this kind of thing is par for the course here in Wonderland, so there's only a moment of bafflement before he simply accepts it. Not that he's at all thrilled by the idea of dealing with a horde of small children.
At least he hasn't been affected.]
Because I don't feel like it. [He maneuvers around her toward the dining table and tries to will some real food into existence, but it's just more fruitcake, and punch, and cookies. He has to resist the urge to shove some of the plates to the ground, and the only reason he doesn't is because he'd rather not make Darcy cry.
(Not because he cares if she's upset, but the sound would be maddening.)]
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Sorry Steve, you've got an adorable tiny shadow that's basically decided you're mama duck right now.]
You should try the cookies. They're really really nummy.
[And cookies make everyone happy, right? Right.]
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But no, he's never quite that lucky, is he? As Darcy climbs up to sit next to him, Steve stares straight ahead at the table and rubs at his temple, even though any headache he has is imagined.]
I don't want cookies. I want real food.
[He thinks of a variety of different things -- a cheeseburger, pizza, a salad, even eggs and bacon -- but none of those items actually appear. It's like the mansion is trying to teach them some lesson about taking advantage of it, and Steve's just not having it.]
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12/12
Poor Steve was out on his run and while running into Loki in most cases was exasperating enough for anyone on a normal day, Loki was extra irritating today. Certainly not for the same reason, and certainly worse for someone in a fowl mood. He crossed paths with the jogging Super Soldier, offering a bright, friendly smile before altering paths to jog alongside him, striking up a conversation.
"The decorations in the halls, I've never found something so Midgardian to be so festive! And to think it was designed as a holiday to rival the Pagan Saturnalia, or so the history goes. A terrible holiday, that. I researched your 'Christmas' this morning, curious about the celebration and it seems a much kinder use of the winter month."
Why yes, he certainly has become a regular chatty Cathy, hasn't he? Full of cheer and smiles. "You know, I think I have been quite harsh when it comes to my opinion of you mortals. You're quite extraordinary."
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Granted, his day only worsens when a certain familiar voice calls out for him. Just the fact that it's Loki is enough to stop Steve in his tracks for a moment, as they usually do a good job of staying out of each other's way.
This time, though, Loki decides that he needs to go on and on to him about different winter holidays. That may be relevant to what's going on around here, but there's something off. Loki's being way too friendly and smiling way too much for this to be anything other than a trap. Steve just doesn't understand why Loki would be so obvious about it.
It's that last comment that really causes Steve to raise an eyebrow. He could just pick up the pace and outrun Loki to get away from him, but he's got to make sure that he doesn't have something up his sleeve first. "What is this about? What do you want?" he asks as he runs. He doesn't even sound like he's struggling for breath.
12/12
Finding the training room is the first place that has a feel of something even remotely familiar to her. It's still different, but a training room is a training room, even though she wanders in with wide eyes, taking in her surroundings.
Finding the tall man beating up a punching bag is what draws her attention and she comes to a stop a few steps behind him, standing primly and still as she observes. He's a solder, she can tell by his movements, which is comforting a little in itself.
"Are you trying to break it?" she finally speaks up, her head tilted just slightly to the side in childish inquisitiveness as she takes in the force of his punches.
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Steve startles at it and then whirls around, ready to tell off whoever it is who's decided to interrupt his workout session. He pauses for just a moment when he spots a younger girl with curly red hair and a familiar look in her eyes.
If he didn't know better, he'd think it was Natasha's daughter, that's how similar they look. Hell, for all he knows she could have another future child from another dimension. He is just so sick of Wonderland throwing curveballs at them.
"Maybe," he says, a delayed response to her question. He wipes some of the sweat from his face and fixes her with an unimpressed look. "What do you what?"
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She lifts her chin, a hint of a stubborn tilt to it as she regards him, equally unimpressed. "You're just going to get tired doing it that way."
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Well, there's one way to solve that. Steve crosses his arms, shifts his weight, and sizes her up. "First of all, who's to say that's not what I want? Second of all, who are you?" What kid comes into a training room and starts lecturing an adult about their technique?
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She's not intimidated by his posture or the way he sizes her up. He's not exactly being threatening - she knows the difference. She just meets his gaze evenly, her own arms still crossed over her chest, feet planted on the floor.
"Why would you want to be tired?" That doesn't make any sense, even by seven-year-old logic. She eyes him suspiciously a moment before answering his second question. "I'm Natalia. Who are you?"
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