semi_stable | (no subject)

The modern technological era comes with its fair share of problems, but Bucky will give it one thing: learning stuff is a whole hell of a lot easier. When he decides that he wants to build a small pen off the side of his outbuilding, all he really needs to do is watch a few videos on the internet. He doesn't even have to talk to anyone, and that's just another bonus.

After checking on the new arrivals out in the workshop, Bucky loads Bopp up in the truck and heads to the hardware store, loading up a flatbed cart with wood and nails and whatever tools he needs that he doesn't already have. Luckily, the store also has the basics that he'll need to go inside the pen, including a trough and bags of hay and feed, so he doesn't even need to make a second stop.

Once they're back home, Bucky opens the back door to let Alpine out. She winds around his feet and headbutts Bopp, and both animals trot after him as he heads toward the workshop. He wants to get started right away, kind of needs to, so he gets right to it, determined to finish by the end of the day.

By the time afternoon rolls around and the sun is high in the sky, Bucky's stripped down to a white tank and worn jeans. He uses the elastic around his wrist to pull his hair back into a small loop at the back of his head, grateful that it's long enough now to get it up and off his neck.

He cuts the wood by hand, working the saw back and forth at each mark he's made, and then takes a short break to wipe sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

"Bopp," he says to his dog, who is laying in the shade and chewing on a bone while Alpine snoozes on a tree brunch above her. She lifts her head and looks at him. "Why don't you go get me a beer?"

He isn't actually expecting her to do anything, and he smiles a little to himself when her head tilts at the question. "Is that a no?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

the_variant

There are countless things about Darrow and mortal life Sylvie still doesn't understand the point of and unless providing her with something to enjoy looking at is the purpose here, she doesn't get this either. Bucky is building a small fence, from what she can tell, hardly enough to keep out any sort of predator.

He seems to like physical labour. Sylvie has spent most of her life taking care of herself, on the run, but she was still raised as a princess for a certain length of time and some of her preferences speak to that. She's not above work when it's necessary, but she'd also much rather lounge.

So she does. She drops into a chair on the porch, sprawled in a way that's somehow both comfortable and casual. Bucky is shining with sweat, curled bits of hair sticking to the back of his neck, and Sylvie's head tilts as she watches the shift and flex of the muscles beneath his shirt.

From:

semi_stable

When Bucky first hears the crunch of gravel signaling someone's approach, he goes a little tense, pausing where he's on all fours to hold the base of a board in place. Bopp is facing whoever it is and she lifts her head sleepily, tail wagging from her place in the shade. Not a stranger, then.

Bucky goes back to what he was doing, but he focuses on the foot falls, light and nimble, and then the creak of the chair on the small patio looking out into the backyard. She doesn't say anything, which isn't all that surprising. If anything, she's probably wondering why he's crawling around in the dirt.

"Are you enjoying the show?" Bucky calls out after he uses his metal thumb to drive a nail home rather than reach for the hammer. He rocks back up onto his haunches and twists to look at her, lifting the hem of his tank to wipe the sweat from his face. Alpine hops gracefully down from the tree branch and takes a meandering path toward Sylvie, like she wouldn't want anyone thinking she's making the trip just for her. With a soft trill, Alpine hops up onto the arm of the chair and folds herself into a loaf, purring loud enough for Bucky to hear from where he sits.

From:

the_variant

"Well, I can't imagine any other reason you would feasibly be working so hard, if not to be providing a show and I didn't want your efforts to go to waste," she answers, crossing one leg over the other. It's warm and she doesn't especially like it, but the only indication the heat bothers her in any way is that she's drawn her wavy hair back into a messy bun at the base of her neck. Otherwise she looks as she usually does; boots and jeans and a loose t-shirt, no makeup, impossibly comfortable.

The cat likes her. Sylvie doesn't entirely understand why, but she appreciates a cat's personality. Alpine does things in her own time and Sylvie strokes her ears when she settles on the arm of the chair.

"What are you doing?" she asks. "And why?"

From:

semi_stable

"We can't all wiggle our fingers and get what we want," Bucky teases in a fond voice, because he's well aware that it isn't so simple. He smiles as Sylvie pets Alpine, amused by how taken the cat seems to be with her, but it makes sense to him. If Sylvie were an animal, she'd definitely be a cat.

When she asks the question, Bucky feels a bit sheepish, cheeks flushing a bit as he huffs out an embarrassed laugh. She's going to tease him. Both of them will, but Bucky couldn't help it. He'd seen the ad and he felt homesick for Wakanda, even though it was never really his home at all. He had enjoyed being there, and the chance to recreate a small part of it seemed so appealing to him.

"Uh, well--" At that moment, a loud bleating comes from the workshop, young and impatient sounding, and Bucky smiles. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm a bit soft when it comes to animals."

From:

the_variant

"Hadn't noticed, no," Sylvie answers innocently, still stroking Alpine's head. The cat's eyes are closed, her purr deep and rumbling in a narrow chest, and Sylvie recalls when Bucky had first found her, the way she had immediatly assumed he would be taking her home.

And look, she had been right.

The bleating makes her brows draw together and she looks in that direction, then back at Bucky. "Did you buy a sheep? Are you going to become a wool farmer?"

From:

semi_stable

"I didn't buy a sheep, but being a wool farmer sounds relaxing," Bucky says with a smirk, shrugging innocently. "I don't want to rule it out entirely."

He straightens up and heads over to the door of the workshop, and Bopp jumps up to join him. When he opens the door, out come two baby goats, one black and one white. They're young enough that they're still knobby-kneed and wobbly, tripping over each other and bleating.

"More of a hobbyist than a farmer," he says with a soft laugh. "It's only two goats."

From:

the_variant

"You're much too wholesome for me," she says in a voice that isn't entirely easy to place. There'd fondness in her tone, of course, but more than a hint of self-deprecation and possibly, beneath it all, genuine worry that he may just be too good for her. That, eventually, he and Loki will realize all the broken parts of her that make this impossible.

She strokes Alpine's head again, then rises and moves toward Bucky and the goats. The white one spots her first, bleats, then runs at her shins, hopping and kicking its little back legs, as if excited or aggressive -- in a silly goat manner -- or both.

From:

semi_stable

It isn't the reaction that Bucky is expecting, and his brows furrow slightly for a moment before he shakes his head and smiles at her. They have both had very rough lives, and they've both done terrible things. Sylvie was made to live in chaos by forces stronger than her, and Bucky knows what that's like. He knows how hard it is to fight your way back from that. Sylvie is rough around the edges, maybe a little cold at times, but she's not a bad person.

"I'm not," Bucky assures her, smiling wider as she steps down off of the porch to approach the goats. The white one runs after her while the black one allows itself to be sniffed by Bopp, who seems pleased by the new arrivals. Alpine stares from her place on the chair, unconvinced. "I took care of a small herd of goats while I was in Wakanda. It was-- peaceful, I suppose. They gave me purpose for a while."

From:

the_variant

"Are you lacking purpose here?"

Sylvie drops into a crouch, her long legs coming up on either side of her arms as she looks at the white goat. It bleats at her again and she lifts one hand to stroke its soft nose, between the tiny nubs of its horns that haven't yet grown.

She can see why Bucky likes them.

The question is a genuine one, her tone curious and interested. She's not judging him if he feels like he lacks purpose in Darrow, especially when she feels the same. She can love him, love Loki, and feel content, and yet still feel there should be something more she's doing.

From:

semi_stable

The question makes Bucky frown thoughtfully, because he hasn't really thought about that. Or, more precisely, he's tried hard not to think about it.

He takes a moment to do so now, expression softening as he watches Sylvie interact with the goats. He knows implicitly that if he were to say that he felt that he was lacking purpose, she wouldn't take it personally, nor would Loki. He's more than content with their relationship, but it can't be his whole life. They wouldn't want that, and neither would he.

"It's complicated," he says as he sits down in the grass, sticking his legs out straight on either side of the goat to keep it a little penned in. "Most of my life was about some grander purpose, and I had no say in any of it, really. There are times when it feels like I've served my purpose and I'm just living in overtime. I think-- I think right now I just want my purpose to be living my life on my own terms." He smirks and lets out a bemused huff, gesturing vaguely around them. "As much as I can while trapped in an alternate dimension, anyway."

From:

the_variant

"And your terms include baby goats," she says, looking at him from across said baby goat. It has its little head turned up as she strokes its nose and seems relaxed, though just as suddenly loses interest in Sylvie and hops over to the other goat.

They're playful, clearly learning how to move about, and Sylvie sits down as well while the goats run off together.

"As long as they're your terms, I think that's an admirable goal," she admits. "You shouldn't have to do things any other way."

From:

semi_stable

"Apparently they include baby goats," he agrees with a laugh, smiling wide. The grin softens as Sylvie pets the goat so gently, and then turns his head a bit to watch as it hops away. Bopp is there, seemingly herding them back toward the yard when they get too close to the sand, so he doesn't feel the need to watch them too closely. Bopp will alert him if he's needed. Instead, he turns his gaze to watch as Sylvie sits down next to him, smiling softly at her words.

"Neither of us should," he tells her, reaching out to take her hand and thread their fingers together, lifting them to press a kiss to her knuckles. "And what about you? Are you lacking purpose?"

From:

the_variant

"Of course I am," she answers, looking down at their linked hands when Bucky lowers them again, the back of his hand resting on her knee. "For nearly a thousand years, my only purpose was vengeance. I wanted to kill those who were responsible for my entire timeline having been erased and nothing else. Then I did exactly that and nothing changed."

He Who Remains died, the Sacred Timeline diverged, probably the beginning of another multiversal war, and Sylvie had still been alone. Perhaps more alone than ever, considering the last thing she'd done to Loki.

"Maybe it's best I lack purpose," she says. "At least for a little while."

(no subject)

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags