Henry's fingers clack across the keyboard as he types out an email to Abraham, the news softly playing in the background.
He needed some quiet time so he retreated to the old farmhouse in upstate New York for a few weeks. It was coming up upon a difficult anniversary for him even after centuries had passed he found himself missing Edeva and the child that could have been this time of year.
So he retreated he wrote, he thought... but he didn't cut himself completely off, that never did a vampire any good.
There is a bright flash and rocking boom from his partly wooded backyard, that make his eyes fly to the window cutting the email short. He pushes his feet into his sneaker and runs toward the crater.
He looks into the crater and sees the wreckage of a World One Era plane and a young man. He rolls his eyes to the heavens and wonders why these things always happened to him.
Some thought the ancient myths and legends of Greece to be stories. Lessons to an old forgotten culture to explain what could not be explained rather than hold any real kernel of truth. But then, humanity was blinded by the short sightedness of mortality and if they could not see it, why should they believe it? But she knew the truth behind each story, each myth and magical tale of days long gone. It made it easy to do her job as a curator.
Easier still to want to learn and see each artifact and piece of history that she might not have read on Themyscira. Because she might have accepted the plight and sadness of human mortality, but there was one thing she never let go of. Hope. That belief that someday the boundaries of immortality and those lost would be crossed.
So each of those little notices her research pushed her toward, she followed. Every text she translated lead her to the places she needed to find. Particularly to a little notice, little walked path to the shores of the River of Styx. Where she dared to make her deal and pay her trials. And Hades… he was not so cruel as to deny her a simple demand at his defeat. But souls could not just walk out of the Underworld. Life always required more work than that.
And the promise was to release his soul to a body remade… if she could find a way to revive that body with no life. So she searched and scoured till she took the blood from the gorgon’s right side, the answer to that one task Hades laid before her. Now? For all her power, learning, and abilities… now she simply had to wait.
Diana had waited over ninety years living on a small sliver of hope. But the tension in her stomach and the nerves that fluttered in her chest told her that waiting now was far harder.
After helping him bathe, Mary saw Steve a few times around the house. They nodded politely and said hello, but there wasn't much more discussion than that. Mary found herself busy, having just gotten engaged. The house was abuzz with the news, so he may have heard about it himself. There was a lot to do in preparation for a wedding, even if she and Richard had not set a date yet.
Mary needed a break from all of the fuss, so she decided to take a walk around the property. It was a beautiful early summer day with a nice breeze. Being outside always helped to clear her head. She donned her favorite sun hat and set off.
Halfway down the path, she came upon Steve sitting on a bench. The smile that crossed her face was quite involuntary.
"Major Trevor. Would you mind if I joined you?" Mary stopped in front of the bench. "How is your arm feeling?"
Meeting her uncle and grandmother hadn't been quite as daunting as Steve had been preparing himself for. Mary had said once they weren't as uptight as British people could be, and she was right— they were also a little more direct when it came to Steve's intentions than he was ready for, but they seemed content to let the matter drop when Mary insisted they were friends looking to spend some time together.
Which... well, wasn't a lie exactly. Just wasn't the whole truth, either. But for now it was easier to keep things that way.
Still, it hindered some of his plans. As much as Steve enjoyed their walks and perfectly acceptable lunches in public places, he also wanted to take her out on more unusual adventures across the city sometimes. Tonight he was sneaking up to the window of her bedroom for that reason exactly. Knowing the family likely had had their dinner by now, he made sure to keep himself more or less hidden from view as he threw a tiny pebble at the window.
When that didn't get her to open it to take a peek outside, he tried a second time.
Adaptation is something of a learning process, he's come to realize. For every new thing he gets used to, there's about three new ones that catch him by surprise. But then, that is to be expected when you go under in 1918 and are somehow brought back to life nearly a hundred years later.
Steve's nothing if not adaptable, though, and after a few weeks of doing close to nothing, he started to get fidgety. He was eager to work again, to do something, to be useful in any way he could, and... well, there was only so much he was good at.
Being a soldier, for one— but war was very different these days. He was a skilled pilot and marksman, but above all that, his training as a spy was apparently a rarity even in 2015. So, he started working towards the goal of getting back into that line of work, and when a few months later SHIELD offered him a position, he was all too eager and quick to take it, lest they changed their minds.
So that's how he's ended up here. After a series of tests, easier assignments and simpler missions, he's now tasked with keeping an eye on some magnate with the ultimate goal of uncovering any information whatsoever that'll prove he's actually financing both sides of a civil war, with the intent of usurping the position as president from the person currently running his country. Granted, not America, but no less important because of it.
Steve has no doubt SHIELD has other interests at play in this, but it's not his job to question them. (It also doesn't mean he won't poke around and try to learn more about that, but anyway.)
The gala tonight is a big event, with plenty of very famous and very public faces, all of them with very deep pockets. Steve has been assigned along with Agent Romanoff, whom he informally calls Natasha more often than not, particularly since she's never once corrected him. He's never worked with her much, but they trained together a lot as he recovered, and she helped him learn a great deal about the world when it was just a strange place to him. Whatever her reasons, and regardless of being told to do so by her superiors, he's grateful for all her help.
And she will have to forgive him if that time they've spent together has made him grow to care a good deal about her.
"I think I need a hand with this... damned thing," he huffs at the mirror on the closet door. He's in a black pair of suit pants and shoes, a perfectly tucked white shirt while he struggles with a bowtie he apparently can't seem to tie properly. The blazer completing his outfit lies waiting on the bed of the bedroom hotel under their names— their fake names, of course. Happily married, supposedly. Steve can't say he has a lot of experience with that.
"That's it. I quit." He throws his hands in the air, groaning and rolling his eyes. Defeated by a plain bowtie, go figure.
The announcement of their engagement had gotten some mixed reactions so far, though no one seemed too shocked or surprised. Steve had no doubt that Martha had expected it to happen sooner or later, after all the time Mary had spent with Steve, and how often she brought him along to lunches, dinners, and all sorts of other social gatherings. There was no hiding the way they looked at each other either, their love for each other practically etched onto their faces.
Her American family hadn't reacted too strongly, in the end. Martha seemed a little skeptical about whether they'd be very lucky when they brought these news back to Downton, but it was as though she knew there was no talking Mary out of it, not now. Besides, if she knew about their sexual escapades as they suspected, then she likely thought that not getting married would be even worse. More chance of a scandal or something. Not that Steve cared either way; he wanted to marry Mary because he loved her.
The date of their departure was drawing nearer, and by now Steve had already packed most of his belongings. They still had a bit of free time to enjoy what they could of New York before leaving, and they likely wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, so he didn't want to miss anything. They'd visited a few museums, gone out for lunches and strolls in parks, and today they were finally visiting Coney Island, just like Mary had asked him once. Later he had arranged for an airplane flight, which should be a fun, exciting way to end their day.
Arrived in Coney Island, they strolled across the walkway along the bridge. It was sunny and still warm, and it was beautiful out. Steve glanced at Mary, his fingers weaved through hers as he held her hand. "Pick the first ride."
Mina's uniform was crisp and neatly pressed. It tapered slightly in at the waist, but there was nothing to be done about that. She moved through the makeshift hospital with all the authority of someone who was supposed to be there. Which meant that no one paid her much mind. No one looked close enough to notice that her right ear was pierced. Or that she wore a ring on every single finger, each one more gaudy than the last. When you moved briskly and your boots thundered and you occasionally barked an order, you could fool anyone.
And it wasn't like she hadn't earned her respect. Woman or not, she knew what she was doing. This was, what? The fourth, perhaps fifth war she'd served in? She'd never bothered counting. At her age, counting would only lead to madness.
If she was going to go bonkers, it wasn't going to be over the numbers.
She leaned over a patient, lying on a stretcher. "Change his dressing," she snapped at a passing nurse, in a deep voice that wasn't terribly genuine. Context was everything here and the nurse obediently scurried to fetch the dressing. "If only someone could do something about the bloody flies," she added, mostly to herself.
If only she could find her damn contact, then get the hell out of the hospital. She loathed being on this side of the pond. She was supposed to be in Chicago. This mission was a nuisance.
During the war, it was so rare to have a moment for themselves. Against all odds they had found one. "We have not had such a moment alone since we sailed to this land together," she observed, closing the door behind Steve. Of course, those moments alone were very different, and Diana smiled to think of them.
"So much has changed since then. I should not find any sort of joy in war, and yet without it, we might never have met."
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He needed some quiet time so he retreated to the old farmhouse in upstate New York for a few weeks. It was coming up upon a difficult anniversary for him even after centuries had passed he found himself missing Edeva and the child that could have been this time of year.
So he retreated he wrote, he thought... but he didn't cut himself completely off, that never did a vampire any good.
There is a bright flash and rocking boom from his partly wooded backyard, that make his eyes fly to the window cutting the email short. He pushes his feet into his sneaker and runs toward the crater.
He looks into the crater and sees the wreckage of a World One Era plane and a young man. He rolls his eyes to the heavens and wonders why these things always happened to him.
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God help me... tell me what I need to change. x_x
Easier still to want to learn and see each artifact and piece of history that she might not have read on Themyscira. Because she might have accepted the plight and sadness of human mortality, but there was one thing she never let go of. Hope. That belief that someday the boundaries of immortality and those lost would be crossed.
So each of those little notices her research pushed her toward, she followed. Every text she translated lead her to the places she needed to find. Particularly to a little notice, little walked path to the shores of the River of Styx. Where she dared to make her deal and pay her trials. And Hades… he was not so cruel as to deny her a simple demand at his defeat. But souls could not just walk out of the Underworld. Life always required more work than that.
And the promise was to release his soul to a body remade… if she could find a way to revive that body with no life. So she searched and scoured till she took the blood from the gorgon’s right side, the answer to that one task Hades laid before her. Now? For all her power, learning, and abilities… now she simply had to wait.
Diana had waited over ninety years living on a small sliver of hope. But the tension in her stomach and the nerves that fluttered in her chest told her that waiting now was far harder.
perfecttt
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just gonna leave a few images
<3
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Mary needed a break from all of the fuss, so she decided to take a walk around the property. It was a beautiful early summer day with a nice breeze. Being outside always helped to clear her head. She donned her favorite sun hat and set off.
Halfway down the path, she came upon Steve sitting on a bench. The smile that crossed her face was quite involuntary.
"Major Trevor. Would you mind if I joined you?" Mary stopped in front of the bench. "How is your arm feeling?"
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for thequitecontrary
Which... well, wasn't a lie exactly. Just wasn't the whole truth, either. But for now it was easier to keep things that way.
Still, it hindered some of his plans. As much as Steve enjoyed their walks and perfectly acceptable lunches in public places, he also wanted to take her out on more unusual adventures across the city sometimes. Tonight he was sneaking up to the window of her bedroom for that reason exactly. Knowing the family likely had had their dinner by now, he made sure to keep himself more or less hidden from view as he threw a tiny pebble at the window.
When that didn't get her to open it to take a peek outside, he tried a second time.
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for unmakeme
Steve's nothing if not adaptable, though, and after a few weeks of doing close to nothing, he started to get fidgety. He was eager to work again, to do something, to be useful in any way he could, and... well, there was only so much he was good at.
Being a soldier, for one— but war was very different these days. He was a skilled pilot and marksman, but above all that, his training as a spy was apparently a rarity even in 2015. So, he started working towards the goal of getting back into that line of work, and when a few months later SHIELD offered him a position, he was all too eager and quick to take it, lest they changed their minds.
So that's how he's ended up here. After a series of tests, easier assignments and simpler missions, he's now tasked with keeping an eye on some magnate with the ultimate goal of uncovering any information whatsoever that'll prove he's actually financing both sides of a civil war, with the intent of usurping the position as president from the person currently running his country. Granted, not America, but no less important because of it.
Steve has no doubt SHIELD has other interests at play in this, but it's not his job to question them. (It also doesn't mean he won't poke around and try to learn more about that, but anyway.)
The gala tonight is a big event, with plenty of very famous and very public faces, all of them with very deep pockets. Steve has been assigned along with Agent Romanoff, whom he informally calls Natasha more often than not, particularly since she's never once corrected him. He's never worked with her much, but they trained together a lot as he recovered, and she helped him learn a great deal about the world when it was just a strange place to him. Whatever her reasons, and regardless of being told to do so by her superiors, he's grateful for all her help.
And she will have to forgive him if that time they've spent together has made him grow to care a good deal about her.
"I think I need a hand with this... damned thing," he huffs at the mirror on the closet door. He's in a black pair of suit pants and shoes, a perfectly tucked white shirt while he struggles with a bowtie he apparently can't seem to tie properly. The blazer completing his outfit lies waiting on the bed of the bedroom hotel under their names— their fake names, of course. Happily married, supposedly. Steve can't say he has a lot of experience with that.
"That's it. I quit." He throws his hands in the air, groaning and rolling his eyes. Defeated by a plain bowtie, go figure.
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for thequitecontrary
Her American family hadn't reacted too strongly, in the end. Martha seemed a little skeptical about whether they'd be very lucky when they brought these news back to Downton, but it was as though she knew there was no talking Mary out of it, not now. Besides, if she knew about their sexual escapades as they suspected, then she likely thought that not getting married would be even worse. More chance of a scandal or something. Not that Steve cared either way; he wanted to marry Mary because he loved her.
The date of their departure was drawing nearer, and by now Steve had already packed most of his belongings. They still had a bit of free time to enjoy what they could of New York before leaving, and they likely wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, so he didn't want to miss anything. They'd visited a few museums, gone out for lunches and strolls in parks, and today they were finally visiting Coney Island, just like Mary had asked him once. Later he had arranged for an airplane flight, which should be a fun, exciting way to end their day.
Arrived in Coney Island, they strolled across the walkway along the bridge. It was sunny and still warm, and it was beautiful out. Steve glanced at Mary, his fingers weaved through hers as he held her hand. "Pick the first ride."
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Let me know if you want anything changed!
And it wasn't like she hadn't earned her respect. Woman or not, she knew what she was doing. This was, what? The fourth, perhaps fifth war she'd served in? She'd never bothered counting. At her age, counting would only lead to madness.
If she was going to go bonkers, it wasn't going to be over the numbers.
She leaned over a patient, lying on a stretcher. "Change his dressing," she snapped at a passing nurse, in a deep voice that wasn't terribly genuine. Context was everything here and the nurse obediently scurried to fetch the dressing. "If only someone could do something about the bloody flies," she added, mostly to herself.
If only she could find her damn contact, then get the hell out of the hospital. She loathed being on this side of the pond. She was supposed to be in Chicago. This mission was a nuisance.
looks fine to me!
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because I want some fluff
"So much has changed since then. I should not find any sort of joy in war, and yet without it, we might never have met."
yessss please ♥♥♥
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