October 1, 2014
"Why do you like plums so much?" Bellona Drager's voice was sleepy as she padded catlike across the tiny apartment to hop onto the table, settling cross-legged and watching Bucky Barnes scribble in a notebook as he gnawed on a plum as though it was helping him recall what he wanted to jot down. He glanced up and studied her for a moment before responding; over the past few weeks she'd slowly returned to her bantering self that he was used to, albeit occasionally lapsing into brooding silences that made her stare blankly at the wall for hours while her eyes frosted over and her muscles trembled. Now, her braid was loosened, a few chestnut brown strands framed her cheeks and she was passively watching him with misty blue eyes that kept pushing sleep further and further away because sleep meant relinquishing the only shred of control she possessed over her mind.
"They taste good," he shrugged as though the reason was more unconscious than conscious, "why do you like sitting on the table so much?"
"Because I like to be tall sometimes."
"Right."
"Give me a plum."
He snatched one from the small pile at his left elbow and flicked it towards her. It sailed through the air and she snagged it with unnatural speed before clamping her jaws around it to take a bite. It tasted like bittersweet nostalgia tainted with a deep melancholy.
"Are you playing with the weather again?" Bucky asked, nodding towards the windows. Even with the curtains drawn, both knew storm clouds were amassing over the city, purple with heavenly rage as they darkened the sky.
"No," she frowned, sliding off the table and crossing the room to push back the curtains better eye the gathering storm. "I don't think so…."
"Guess nature just does its own thing sometimes," he said dismissively, flipping his notebook shut and returning it to its usual spot on top of the fridge before turning to look at Bellona with air of militant gravity, as though his next words could sink ships if uttered by anyone else. "I've modified the backup escape route. The window at the top landing blew out from the wind last night. It was already a vulnerable spot but it's completely gone now. The window is approximately four feet above the fire escape — an easy distance to jump. The fire escape leads-"
"-across the alley to the roof of the building next door," Bellona nodded along, munching the plum she held while foreseeing his modifications. It had become a weekly activity.
"And it also leads down into the alley itself," Bucky seemed unfazed she'd interrupted him, in fact he'd rather expected it. "Should both these routes be compromised, the window is only three feet from the roof-"
"-and is jumping distance to the other adjacent building-"
"-which the fire escape does not lead to. Got it?"
"Understood," neither of them seemed to think twice about the mechanical reflex that ran through her tone as she reached up and tugged on her braid to reorganize the few strands that had escaped.
"Watch that," he warned her, flicking his eyes at her loosening hair as he dropped back into the seat before the table. The week prior she had done the exact same thing only to accidentally shatter one of the windows from the sudden drop in temperature.
"I got it," Bellona muttered, tossing the plum away as tendrils of ice began stretching out into the air around her. Her hands were fixing the braid when there was a low growl of thunder from the bruise-colored skies that made a shiver run down her spine. Bucky shot an accusing look at her, and she shrugged, her expression growing unnerved — storms were a constant source of perturbation for her, an easy trigger for PTSD.
"Not me," she murmured, twisted her hair back into its braid as she kept her eyes on the rumbling storm. "Wait a minute…."
"It can't be you right?" Bucky demanded, "your bracelets-"
"It's not me. But it could be."
"What?"
"I don't know if this is gonna work," she announced, jerking her hands away from her braid and hurriedly combing out half of her hair from the braid she had just fixed. Swallowing her agitation, she agily parted her locks, pulling half to one side and braiding it quickly — all the white and ice disappeared in it. The other half was in tumbling dark waves, lacking any suggestion of elemental power. It would have looked comical had she not been so suddenly resolute. She turned and bounced across the room, skidding to a halt before the door which she jerked open immediately.
"Where are you going?" Bucky's voice had a hint of astonished panic in it as he flew to his feet and followed after her.
"The roof!" She shouted before bursting out into the hallway landing just as another loud snarl of thunder rolled through the building, seeming to shake every glass window. She flinched in response to it as Bucky followed closely on her heels.
"What's on the roof?" He demanded, the look in his eyes had changed as he instinctively shifted to prepare for a fight, his jaw was tensing and Bellona could almost hear his metal arm whirring and clicking as his muscles contracted.
"A better vantage point," she said, practically breathless before she bolted up the dimly lit stairs towards the window Bucky had told her had shattered last night.
"Three feet, you said?" She murmured as she peered up out the window, having arrived there in seconds. The edge of the roof was visible, its dark brick a poor contrast against the blackening sky. Bellona turned and looked at Bucky, who had followed her up the stairs, increasingly bewildered. "Wanna give me a boost?"
"This better be worth it, Bells," he grunted but obliged, helping her climb up and out of the window. She teetered on the ledge for a heartbeat before she turned and grabbed at the edge of the roof, hauling herself upwards in one smooth motion.
Bellona was in the middle of the roof, scrutinizing the sky with an inquisitive countenance when Bucky followed her up.
"Well, we know one thing," she said calmly, without tearing her gaze from the swelling clouds.
"What?" Bucky asked after he had automatically scanned the roof and those of the surroundings buildings for potential threats.
"Your escape plan only works if I have help getting out of the window. That wastes precious time."
"I forget how short you are," he commented, a taunting grin blooming over his face. Teasing her had become increasingly common once she had gotten over giving him the cold shoulder; it was an easy way to get a reaction from her. "Maybe you should grow. It's not very intimidating, being that short."
"I'm over five feet, that's intimidating enough."
"Over five feet by a whole inch — terrifying."
"I don't need to be tall to be terrifying," Bellona's smirk was potent. "Now if this doesn't work — run."
"What are-"
Bucky was thrown into silence when Bellona bounded a few steps away from him and raised a hand directly up to the sky above, her palm flat, facing upwards. There was an ominous silence — then a loud roaring of thunder, a flash of brilliant, blinding light as a bolt streaked down from the portentous purple clouds, and impacted Bellona Drager's palm. She staggered for a moment, the raw energy coursing through her body, thousands of volts hyper-charging her cells. She found herself on her knees on the rough asphalt of the roof, trembling as unadulterated power crawled through her body. She inhaled deeply, and reached up, grasping hold of the half of her loosened hair. Closing her eyes and concentrating, she poured the energy out of her body and into her hair, once she felt the flow of electric energy begin, her fingers deftly began braiding her hair, locking the energy into her tresses, dormant until unleashed again.
Next thing she knew, she was lying spreadeagled, evidently having collapsed, her entire body tingling slightly. Bucky's voice snapped her to awareness. "Bells?"
"Yeah?" She said cheerfully, sitting up and gingerly running her fingers along the braid in which the storm's power had been transferred. She could feel the electricity burning through it, though it had all the appearance of a normal French braid.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Actually, I feel better than okay — I feel like I've overdosed on caffeine, if that was possible, of course, but with none of the negative side effects."
"You collapsed," he informed her, stretching out a hand to help her up. She took it and jumped up to her feet, grinning dynamically.
"I did?" She blinked in confusion, "is that how I ended up on the ground? Weird…."
"And the clouds are still here."
"Oh," she glanced upwards, where the inky clouds still hung over the city, but they appeared sunken and weak, as the energy had just been sucked out of them by a powerful atmospheric vacuum. "They'll dissipate in a bit. They are matter, after all. I just transferred the energy out of them, to this." She picked up her right braid and let it fall back to her shoulder.
"What about the ice?" He asked curiously, his eyes roving between the two braids as though to compare them.
"Transferred to this one," she rubbed her left braid fondly. "It's still there, but it was running out — I've been using it for so long."
"Where did it even come from? Another storm?"
"The Blizzard of 1990."
"There was a Blizzard of 1990?"
Her smile was superior as she stroked the braid again, "nope."
