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[abyssum_invocat]

It's not often Sinthia is found in the bar with other people around; she still doesn't quite know how to deal with them, and it's not easy to push herself into interacting with more than a handful at any given time. A lifetime--a long lifetime--of conditioned responses to very specific stimuli is hard to push aside, no matter how mightily people might want her to do just that.

Most of the time she still doesn't have the words to explain. So she's found herself outside, sitting on the railing of what passes for the back porch--on the actual railing, bare feet tucked in close, knees bent under her chin as she watches a video screen.

It's playing a little cartoon, two hats with faces as a song is sung in the background telling the story. Catch her humming along with it if you're especially quiet.

Comments

[from_the_outside]

Sharon's still... figuring this place out. She's been wandering around by the lakeside, and watching the horses (Horses! At the end of the universe. ...Why?), but it's cooler here than in Wakanda, and she's heading back to go inside when her attention is caught by the girl on the railing.

She watches and listens for a while, a tiny smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

(It's been a while since she's seen any cartoons.)

"What're you watching?"

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia doesn't scare easily, but Sharon approaching so quietly does make her start and she flickers like a badly-cared-for hologram, dropping the tablet. As soon as she steadies she flares and cups one hand and the vieo screen arrests, stopping short of hitting the ground and spinning slowly.

"...It's a cartoon," she answers belatedly, and somewhat unhelpfully. "It was made when I was little."

[from_the_outside]

Enhanced.

Like Wanda Maximoff, maybe. Sharon comes to a half a respectful distance away, trying to give the girl her space. "Sorry," she says, holding up her hands. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She tips her head at the tablet, smiling. "I used to like watching cartoons, too."

[abyssum_invocat]

The minute that little change comes over Sharon's face Sinthia shifts; she's not getting down yet, but she wants to be able to move quickly if need be. To run if absolutely necessary, though she'd rather not.

"It's...all right. I'm trying to get used to things." Trying to catch up, she means, but she's not saying that. "I remember music like this. It makes more sense than other things."

[from_the_outside]

"Sure."

She's relaxed, standing easily nearby but not too close, and she's making sure the girl can see her hands, which are loose and empty. "I'm Sharon, by the way," she says, by way of introduction.

"I'm still pretty new around here."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Sinthia," she answers, trying for at ease and...mostly getting there. The tablet slowly rises back into her hands, and she pauses the video, setting it aside. She can play it later; there's nothing she'll miss by talking, however hard it is for her to pull the words together sometimes.

"People told me I used to come here as a child, but I don't really remember any of it. Just bits and pieces, and they don't usually make any sense." It's like trying to read a book with only a handful of legible words on each page.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon nods towards the tablet, arching her eyebrows. "That's a neat trick," she says. "People around here can do some pretty amazing things."

She nods at the rest. "Well... I hope it comes back to you, someday. If you used to come here a lot, you've probably got some pretty interesting memories."

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia lifts a shoulder and drops it again. "It's telekinesis," she says lightly. "I've had it since I was eight." A very specific age, but then most of the important points in Sinthia's life have been pretty specific. "Not the intended result, but yes. It's a neat trick."

She supposes.

"It probably won't. Not if it hasn't already. The memory pathways aren't there anymore."

[from_the_outside]

"Sorry to hear that."

She's not an agent of the Task Force anymore, not SHIELD, but that doesn't mean her instincts or natural curiosity have dulled even slightly. "I don't run into a lot of telekinetics," she says, by way of explanation.

Wanda Maximoff aside, and she's exactly sure that's the same thing, nor were they ever in the same room together. "I don't mean to pry."

[nerves_of_ice]

Once he finishes his coffee, Bucky starts outside with the intention of swinging by the greenhouse. He slows to a stop as he spots a familiar face.

"Sinthia. Hi."

[abyssum_invocat]

Her smile is slow to start, and doesn't grow very much, but it's there. It's important, because she retains a memory of him--at least one, concrete and very real--and that's more than she can say for quite a lot of people. "Hi, Bucky. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

A couple months, but she looks okay--and so does he, which is good. "You got another arm."

[nerves_of_ice]

"It has," he agrees. "And I did - well, it's a prototype version. I'm supposed to be testing it on fine motor control things right now."

[abyssum_invocat]

"It looks good."

Less 'good' as in 'handsome', more 'good' as in 'it appears functional and having the requisite number of limbs is helpful', but the nuances are not Sinthia's strong suit in explaining. She pulls her legs down to make room for him if he wants to join her on the wide balustrade of the porch rail, offering out the tablet. "Can it touch things like this?" she asks.

It might be helpful.

[nerves_of_ice]

"The woman who put it together's a genius," he tells her, and accepts the silent invitation to come sit beside her. Bucky stares thoughtfully at the tablet, then glances at Sinthia.

"I don't know if it can or not. You sure you don't mind? I don't want to mess up whatever you're watching there."

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia shakes her head, and still offers the tablet out. "It will play whatever I tell it to. And I've seen this one before."

She just likes it. It has a happy ending.

"I made it to Paris. I'm...trying to go to America."

[nerves_of_ice]

"That's progress," he exclaims, pleased on her behalf. "Paris is nice, though, if you need to spend some time there."

Carefully, he taps the screen with the tip of his left index finger, and blinks as the video pauses.

"I guess it works."

[abyssum_invocat]

She watches him tap at the screen and smiles. "It works like a normal hand. That's good," she says, though she'd be a little hard-pressed to tell him why that is.

"I don't know how long I'll stay there. I...I remember wanting to go to America when I heard about it. When I was younger, from the soldiers at the base," she says lightly. "I don't remember very much, but...everyone made it sound good. I want to see if it is."

[starrydome]

He sees her the moment he steps outside.

She is older now.

He is dressed suitably for spending time in the stable, but that can wait.

He makes sure that his footfall, soft as it may be, is audible as he walks towards her. So as not to startle her.

[abyssum_invocat]

When she hears the footsteps she glances away from the video, eyes sharp and focused, as if expecting a threat; she almost always is. But when she recognizes Elrond, that sharpness gentles and Sinthia relaxes, even though to the unwary eye she never moved from her spot. But her muscles unclench, her spine bends, her fingers relax back into their soft curves around her ankles.

"Hello, Elrond."

[starrydome]

"Well met, Sinthia," he replies.

"Are you not cold, sitting here?"

[abyssum_invocat]

She shakes her head gently, moving her legs to offer him a place to sit next to her on the railing. She has excellent balance, and even as she twists never wobbles. "No. I'm used to the cold by now."

Such is what comes of being repeatedly frozen.

"Are you cold?"

[starrydome]

He shakes his head.

"The weather is showing teeth at home. This is fairly pleasant in comparison."

He settles down next to her. Almost as comfortable as in a chair.

He is not young and neither is he of the Woodland realm. But this is fine.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Showing...teeth?" she repeats, vaguely curious at the meaning, and though it's the gentlest of emotions, it still crosses her face far more easily now than it had in the past.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

[starrydome]

"The cold hurts the skin, like animal bites," he elaborates, noting the curiosity.

"And it seems like it has. For you perhaps moreso than for me."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Oh. It must be very cold for you, then," she amends with a gentle shrug. "It's been a long time since I was somewhere that cold." Or she thinks it's been a long time; Siberia seems like years and years ago, though she really can't place a year from what memory she can dredge up.

"But you're not dressed for it right now."