It was dizzying.
The ceremony itself had been workable, at least it was quiet, save for the occasional chanting and clattering of ritualistic weaponry.
But the afterparty…? For a borderline hermit? Therein lay his problem.
All those people clamoured together in one place. The music. The food. The drink. The sheer opulence of an elite Wakandan gathering. All for him. To celebrate him. To welcome him to their private little country.
Bucky slunk through the crowd, the crowd that parted to gawk at the white, one-armed stranger: the newest, honorary Wakandan. A worthy recipient? Only time would tell.
Uncomfortable being a scandalizing understatement, Bucky did all he could to keep his head down and try to employ his skills of invisibility. They did not work.
There was no one factor of his discomfort. Not just being the shy, reluctant centre of attention, but being clean after so long of eau de farm being the norm. Being dressed in something other than his tatty, smelly work attire. Having food in his belly that didn't come from his own (for the most part) self-sustaining efforts. And the wine… He couldn't remember the last time he'd had wine, but asking for a beer in this crowd…? Might not go down too well and standing out any more was not an option.
It wouldn't make much difference anyway; the taste was all that mattered for now, inebriation wouldn't come for hours, if at all. And he didn't plan on staying that long to find out.
The traditional Wakandan garb may have hung loosely over Bucky's chest but that did not stop the temperature climbing beneath the light, airy material; a combination of fluster and the collective body heat of everyone in the confines of the ballroom.
I need to get out. The most pressing issue elbowed itself to his attention, a self-dictated demand that had begun to bubble since the end of the naturalisation ceremony. I need a breather.
What does one call a French door in Wakanda? Were these even French doors? Their size may have contested their title. It didn't matter just then, not to Bucky Barnes, who all but stumbled through them.
The breeze was a mercy; cool, gentle and soothing… Enough to put the stolen breath back in his lungs. The dark of the balcony, save for a few flaming torches, ushered him back to his comfort zone; back to quelling solitude.
Well… Almost.
"And I thought it was overwhelming…"
He should have known instantly, that accent was exclusive to one chocolate-locked female; but he squinted through the tranquillizing darkness for good measure. He needn't have concerned himself with a visual; it didn't match the voice anyway.
Hair down? Long, kinked, sprawling over her shoulders and down her back. Mahogany? Chestnut? Umber?
Make-up? Basic and natural, but there all the same.
Was that a dress? Of traditional Wakandan design, as the occasion commanded, but there was no mistaking it as a dress.
"Are you alright?" Bucky had trouble processing that sympathetic grimace and the tone to match it; being so utterly flummoxed would do that to anyone. "Bucky." The clicking of fingers rang in his ears and the slow, testing wave of a hand in front of his face forced a jerking blink. "I said, are you alright?"
"Yeah..." Had he the faculty for it, he might have cringed at the delay it took to force that one, rasping word out. "Just… Didn't recognize you."
Elsa said nothing; if the tiniest sniff of laughter could be called nothing. Leaning against the stone ledge of the balcony, and her glass of wine parked on the flat, it seemed Elsa already had the ideal breathing spot sought out. So, it only made sense for Bucky to join her.
"I suppose I had to make an effort." She offered by means of impish explanation, punctuated by a click of her tongue. "You saw the clientele in there; my usual attire wouldn't have cut it tonight."
"I noticed that alright." He conceded, dropping his eyes to his own glass and giving it a disinterested swirl. The small of Bucky's back ground itself on the unwavering support of the stone barrier; a barrier separating himself and Elsa from a plunge of several floors. "I kinda got the impression I wasn't on their wavelength."
"You're not. Neither am I. Which is why I'm out here." Swaying forward on the palms of her hands, Elsa supported her weight against the barrier; fixated on something on the plains, as if Bucky only had half her attention. "There are no farmers in there, Bucky. No vets either. Highly specialized human surgeons, maybe. But the likes of you and I? The ones who get their hands dirty for their living? No."
Unseating himself, Bucky partially mimicked Elsa's stance; resting his stomach flush to the barrier instead of his back. His elbow supported him on the ledge, allowing him to keep a hold of his glass.
"You won't be able to see them. It's too dark and they're too far out. But if you listen, you'll hear them." Still, Bucky stared ahead, but cocked his head ever so slightly in the hope of clarification. It seemed Elsa was not completely distracted to provide it. "Elephants. A herd of twenty-one. I aided the delivery of one of their calves back about four or five weeks ago."
Despite having eyesight no better than Bucky's (and really, with the Super Soldier serum, Bucky's was probably better), Elsa gazed out into the blackness of the Wakandan plains, almost entranced by it. In turn, the White Wolf became similarly entranced; but not by elephants or the dark. There is something so inexplicably arresting in watching someone so utterly captivated by one of their own passions.
"I never congratulated you, by the way." Out of nowhere, from the mutually spellbound silence, Elsa chimed, turning her head just as Bucky managed to right himself. "It's a wonderful thing. A new start… If that's what you're looking for."
It was just that, more than she would ever know. Not only was it a fresh start, but it was exactly what he was looking for. The next challenge was what else could he add to that fresh start to sweeten it? That was a mulling session for another time.
Bravery had never been an obstacle for James Buchanan Barnes… Until arriving in Wakanda. Fear of pursuing a woman had never been a barrier… Until meeting Dr Elsa Kincaid. Action had never evaded him… Until the predictable paralysis that dogged every meeting.
"I'm sure the pomp and ceremony are the worst parts; it should be plain sailing from here-"
"Was yours like this?"
"My…? What? I'm sorry, you've lost me."
"Your naturalization ceremony."
Elsa had been keeping one eye on the plains beyond the palace, despite there being nothing to see. Her communication with Bucky had been fleeting, distracted glances; the unlikely prospect of a herd of elephants emerging from the nothingness taking precedent. Until now.
"Ah… No. I haven't had one yet." That didn't make sense; not when (as far as he knew) Elsa had been there before him. He let it show too; having the decency to be confused and irritated on her behalf. It seemed he was the only one.
"But, you-"
"I'm still technically on a two-year Nigerian visa." Unperturbed by the perceived injustice, or rather endeared by his ill-placed grievance, Elsa treated him to that charming pull of a smile once more; the one that jolted his spine. "For the next six months. But, the late King T'Chaka…" While Elsa faltered, Bucky stayed fast; there was no guilt for that particular crime, within him or otherwise. That lay with someone else.
"He and Queen Ramonda insisted, decreed actually, that my naturalization as a Wakandan citizen would occur the moment that visa expired." Leaning off the balcony, as if satisfied her elephants would not make an appearance, Elsa found her glass instead. "I am free to leave, of course, but I think they knew I had no intention of leaving, and I had confided in Shuri as such. So… With any luck, I will be a Wakandan in six months' time."
"Why Nigeria?" A fair question, or at least Bucky thought so. And while it was quite a simple answer, Elsa still needed to tease it out in her mind before putting it into words. She had never voiced it before. Everyone privy to it knew it without her saying it. But now… To actually be able to articulate it, meant conveying more than just the answer.
"When I applied for this program…" That bewitching blue gaze dropped to her sandals, the same ones that drifted forward with the notice of one outcast, but not the other. "I knew… Or thought I knew… What the rest of the world knew of Wakanda. One of the world's poorest nations, primarily farmers… A tiny dust-ball of a country sandwiched between Nigeria and Niger. A country with nothing."
It was Bucky's turn to huff a laugh; if only the world knew. It was in the process of it, and processes can be slow. But until then… Bucky and Elsa shared a special secret that the rest of the planet would only scoff at until it knew better.
"A country so small and underdeveloped, that it did not even have its own visa program." Another line of defence against the world, Bucky assumed. "So… When I was selected, I had to apply to Nigeria for my visa to work legally in the country, I would be under the care of the embassy in Nigeria but my work would be over the border in Wakanda; a partnership between the two, if you like. Nigeria would provide for me where Wakanda could not, but my base of operation would be Wakanda."
"Now… You can imagine my outright astonishment when I was escorted over the border, and past the confines of the dome." He could imagine it alright, having experienced the same thing. Side by side against the balcony now, it was a natural transition of comfort. "I also think… Having seen Shuri at work and what she can do… I started to believe early on that I was selected less on my abilities, while those were important too, but I think they opted for someone who was less likely to want to go back to what they'd come from." Always enraptured by the little vet's smile, Bucky felt a tear in his gut when he found this one tinged with the lightest shade of melancholy. "That was me."
"The longer I was here, the more I fell in love, and the more I fell in love, the more I wanted to protect this place. My new home. To that end, their selection process was correct. I came here, thinking I would be living in a mud hut. Being paid a basic wage by Nigeria, not Wakanda. Doing a job, for people who didn't even speak the same language as me…" Bemusement had taken over the melancholy, something for Bucky to be grateful for. It hadn't escaped his notice either, how the closeness had developed; the safer option was to think nothing of it.
"Only to find none of that was true. And is that not the best way to ensure loyalty? Trust? Convince someone of a dire situation and they come anyway? To try and help regardless?"
Sounds like something Steve would say... Bucky thought while Elsa trailed off thoughtfully, taking a whetting sip of the wine she hadn't touched since before she was joined.
"Are you staying in the palace tonight?"
A seemingly random question, but when Bucky dropped his eyeline to answer it, he found himself already under nervous scrutiny.
"Just tonight." He replied, returning the stare with curiosity. "I wanna be back to the goats early though, don't wanna upset their routine too much."
"That's sweet." She commented warmly, enough for Bucky to feel it spread into his cheeks. "So… Will you be staying up much longer? It's getting late."
"I'm okay out here for now. Better out here than in there." Elsa nodded along, as if distracted within herself; her agreement in itself seeming half-involved.
"May I ask you something?" Hesitant out of self-preservation and instinct, Bucky stalled. What if she asked him something about his past? His reason for being here? Something neither of them was ready for her to know? Yes, what she'd said about trust resonated with him but… Come on. He scolded himself from nowhere, and (hopefully) not betraying it in his face. You want to establish yourself here. Of all people, she's the one to do it with. Trust her.
That was all he needed. The tilt of a shaggy head pressed her on with this renewed conviction, his expression creased with intrigue saying enough.
"This may come across as strange but do bear with me…" If eye contact could have intensified, the folding of her lips into each other, a trademark of apprehension if ever there was one, would have doubled it. "Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?"
With each second that ate into that stunned silence, Elsa's enchanting features fell a little more; the lack of an answer or action driving in a stubborn wedge of self-doubt. Dolefully, but hopefully, her heightened eyes were held by an increasing hardness in Bucky's air. Jaw clenched, eyebrows knitted, and nostrils flared, he managed to set his glass down on the ledge without breaking the stem.
"Bucky?" He ignored the petrified, humiliated squeak and straightened himself to his fuller, more imposing height. Not that he did anything with it. In fact, what he did do was far more crushing than anything he could have said with aggression or done with violence.
"Bucky…" Elsa's breath had shortened, the pleading word forced out, still with a taste of helpless incomprehension. But it couldn't have been clearer when he turned his back in favour of the "French" doors, back to the suffocating restriction of the ballroom.
"Bucky!" One last, frantic, strangled attempt that did not make it to the door before it slammed with enough force for the glass panes to rattle in their slots.
