milliways_bar | (no subject)

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james 'bucky' barnes

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((Sort-of-in-Milliways: Can you really call this a conversation? It's not like these two were ever good at talking to each other in life.))

Wei Wuxian stumbles downstairs. While he's technically presentably dressed with his robes properly tied, and his hair up in a messy ponytail, he looks rumpled and unsettled. Taking a seat at the bar, he blearily considers food options.

Bar solves this problem by serving up a cupcake with a lit, sparkling candle on top.

Wei Wuxian stares at it in utter confusion. What is this supposed to be?

(OOC: Warning in the OOM for Wei Wuxian being his near-suicidal/suicide idealizing self)

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(OOC: Takes place after this: https://darkeryetdarker.dreamwidth.org/)

Gaster is in the bar as well, looking similarly unsettled. He vaguely notices the candle in the cupcake.

He manages a small smile. "Is today your birthday?" he asks, more than a bit distractedly.

"... I suppose it could be? It's in the late fall." Wei Wuxian notes, scrunching his nose at what seems like a non sequitur to him.

It occurs to Gaster, distantly, that he probably doesn't understand the significance.

"That's what the cupcake is for, most likely. You're meant to blow out the candle, and make a wish."

"Ah. Is this... a frequent ceremony, or just specific years?" If so, how in the world did Bar figure out how old he is? He doesn't know how old he is, what with the gap and all. Do you count the missing years?

Gaster gives a half-shrug. "Every year, generally. That's what I did with my children."

He rubs a hand over his face. "Forgive me, I'm a bit out of sorts at the moment."

"Nothing too terrible has gone wrong, I hope?" Wei Wuxian offers solicitously, since it's infinitely easier to focus on the problems of someone else than his own personal drama.

"Not...wrong, exactly. Just...draining."

Gaster sighs.

"I'm not sure if it was a dream or not, but...I met up with an old friend last night."

"Poor dreams are always draining." Wei Wuxian agrees, the voice of experience.

Gaster nods. He's had his own experiences with bad dreams, but this one was different.

"It was nice to see him again, real or not. I hadn't realized I needed that kind of of closure."

He gives a small, wistful smile.

"He got to see the stars."

Wei Wuxian knows the feeling. Did little a-Yuan die with any memory of stars? Goodness knows they weren't visible in the Burial Mounds, the haze of resentful energy making the sky an endless grey.

"At night you came and took my hand and we wandered together in my dream,
When I woke in the morning there was no one to stop the tears that fell on my handkerchief." He quotes, borrowing from the poets - turns out that most things are not new, just continuously renewed.

Gaster's eyesockets widen a bit at the words. He never did have much of a head for poetry, but he can recognize that that's probably what it is.

"That's...more or less what happened, yes."

A thought suddenly occurs to him.

"I never did ask you your name, did I?"

"Ah, forgive this one's poor manners." Wei Wuxian hops off his stool to bow, politely. "This one is Wei Wuxian."

"Oh, it's quite alright." Gaster shakes his head with a small smile. "Pleasure to meet you properly, Wei Wuxian. My name is W.D. Gaster."

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He's figured out by now that when he wakes before dawn, he's a lot more likely to accidentally wake Sharon up if he makes coffee on his own than if he slips through the door to Milliways. And since time doesn't pass in Wakanda while he's here, his absence won't alarm her either.

As a result, when he jolts awake in the early dark hours, almost the next thing he does is walk in and make a beeline for the bar. Bucky spots a familiar face and slides into the next seat over.

"Hey."

"Bucky-xiong, my food's on fire." Wei Ying announces, plaintively, because he's tired and unsettled and he just wanted a nice snack and some wine and he was given flaming food. And not even like, the nice sort of hot flaming food, but the actual on fire type. It isn't fair.

"Uh-huh." Wei Ying looks as tired as he himself feels. It's days like this he misses the effects of caffeine - but at least the scent lets him pretend. Bucky pats the wooden bartop with gentle care. "Bar does that sometimes. It's to celebrate your birthday. The tradition comes from my world and others like it. She means well."

Remembering Wen Ning's question, he adds, "Blow out the flame, make a wish, eat the cake."

A large mug of coffee appears in front of him. "Thank you."

"Ah, I see." He's at least conversant with the idea of making wishes on flames, even if paper lanterns would be more familiar. He considers for a moment, then blows out the flame.

And then he balls up one fist and drives it (somewhat gently, not really) into Bucky's shoulder, making sure he's not actually drinking at the time.

"And that's for getting me in trouble."

"For what now?" Bucky stares at him. Sharon had mentioned she'd met him, but --

"What do you mean, in trouble?"

"You could have mentioned there was a lady in your life. Unless there isn't, in which case there's someone nosing around for information they shouldn't have." Wei Ying is pretty sure Sharon Carter will end up on the approved list, but he can't be confident of that, can he?

"No, there definitely is, but why would--"

Bucky breaks off there and stares at him for a second or two longer while a number of possibilities rapidly assemble themselves like puzzle pieces, then exhales a long, weary sigh. "Fuck."

He scrubs his right hand over his face, picks up the coffee, downs about half of it, and sets it down again before he says,

"She's - Sharon's a private person," he starts. Being ex-SHIELD, ex-CIA, and in hiding tends to have that effect. "She's, um, still getting used to things around here. I've been trying to let her settle in at her own pace instead of having everyone she meets already know things about her."

"That is fine, but she was not pleased with me refusing to tell her about potential problems with your arm." Wei Ying snorts, as he cuts the cupcake in half and offers Bucky part. "Is there anyone else that might come here I should actually give information to?"

He fought most of his first life. He's too tired to get into endless fights the second time around.

"Thanks," he says, accepting the piece of cake with some surprise. "And sorry about that. I tried to explain, but I'm a little fuzzy on the details myself, aside from 'absorbs resentful energy' and that being bad." He shrugs, and leaves it at that, before continuing,

"Steve Rogers. You can tell him anything. Shuri doesn't come here, but if she ever does you could tell her too - she's a world expert on vibranium, and the one who made that arm."

"Steve Rogers, Shuri." Wei Ying repeats, committing the names to memory. He might be known more for his misadventures than his scholarship, but that's only because of how dramatic his misadventures tend to be.

"Well, you can let your Sharon Carter know that I'll tell her whatever she wants, now. I had to be sure. The wrong sort of people could really hurt you with that information, Bucky-xiong." He scolds, lightly.

"I'll tell her," he promises. He figures he'll also try to explain how the ... miscommunication? Misunderstanding? came about in the first place.

"The wrong -- er, okay, how?" Bucky shakes his head. "This kind of thing's mostly out of my area of expertise."

Mostly.

"Yin Iron, the metal in my world that is most like what your arm is made of, was at the center of three major conflicts. The first created the Burial Mounds, a section of land so seeped in resentful energy that with only one notable exception, nothing grows there, and nothing survives, and it has been that way for generations. The second kicked off a war that nearly destroyed three of the five great sects, and completely obliterated one, killing thousands. The third killed nearly everyone I care about, and only ended with my death." Wei Ying reports grimly, Jin Zixuan's words ringing in his ears.

"If that metal has even close to the same capabilities as Yin Iron, it could unmake your world."

Edited 2021-11-08 05:07 (UTC)