Tombstone AZ, Log One
Oct. 21st, 2012 09:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
withmyshieldPart One: Arrival - The Mission
Sharon’s having one of those dreams again, the ones that make her suspect that her subconscious isn’t really on her side. At least this one isn’t about putting Amy Pond in a submarine -Sharon’s had plenty of that dream, and every permutation ends in failure, and blood. This is one of those ‘lost in the jungle’ dreams, where she’s been cut off from her support team and is probably about to get shot by hostiles or eaten by a monster. Giant lizards have been popular with her unconscious mind, lately, and she’s got a feeling that’s what’s chasing her now, as she runs in a panic through the hot tangle of branches. She brushes them away from her face again and again, irritating, itchy wool trees.
Wait, wool?
Sharon opens her eyes, and for a second is grateful to find herself in a pile of woolen clothes instead of in the jungle, but then she remembers she’s supposed to be in her bed on the space station. She jumps up, ignoring the flare of pain in her leg, and has to take a moment of pure ‘what the hell?’ because there are just too many things wrong with this picture.
She hears loud cursing from somewhere just outside the window of the old fashioned stagecoach she’s just apparently been sleeping in, and turns to look, wishing immediately that she hadn’t, because the source of the profanity is a naked man whose height gives him away instantly as Wolverine.
---
Steve's nights haven't been much more restful than Sharon's, but he's plagued by insomnia more than nightmares these days. That means that he's doing push-ups in a pair of sweatpants when the now familiar buzz comes over him, and he sits back on his heels and gets to his feet the moment the teleportation is complete. A desert, it seems, an abandoned stage coach... with Sharon inside? And Zoe getting up from the ground and wearing the shortest silk nightdress he's ever seen, which means he stares for a second and then sharply turns away, fighting a blush even as his eyes settle on a naked Logan.
"It's gotta be a dream," he remarks to himself. It's gotta be.
Zoe is getting to her feet and sighing at the dirt that's now all over her, trying to brush it off her nightie and her skin alike. "What now?" she asks-slash-complains out loud, then spots a glint of sun off of... "Our comm units are here," she adds, moving over to pick hers up.
---
Everyone else can be as useful as they want for a minute -Logan has a different priority. He grabs a saddle blanket off a nearby barrel as he passes and walks about twenty paces into the desert before he starts shouting his head off. He curses the Proserpina and her makers in every way he can think of, and throws in a few choice words about their mothers for good measure.
That he’s in his birthday suit in front of Rogers is bad enough, but the fact that they might very well be in his past about to run into Logan circa 1900 is totally unacceptable. He didn’t like the ‘old’ west back when he belonged here, and he's damn sure not excited to go back to outdoor plumbing and healing messy Colt bullet wounds. There should be some kind of law about how many saddle sores a guy has to endure in a lifetime, too.
When he finally comes back to the group, they’re all gathered outside the stagecoach, looking at their little cell phones. Logan loathes the thing, but he picks his up from the sand where he first showed up, and it’s blinking.
A message, oh swell, can’t wait! It’s a picture of a map, with a little green check mark next to it. Real cute. Guess you want that, right? What happens if I say no? He tunes in to the conversation that’s happening without him.
Sharon’s trying to be cool in spite of the fact that she’s standing in the middle of the desert wearing next to nothing but a hugely oversized Guns N Roses tee shirt, a nostalgic wardrobe choice she’s really regretting about now. Her arms are crossed over her chest mostly from stubbornness, though.
“No. Every time we play these little games, something awful happens. I’m out.”
---
"We don't know what happens if we just refuse to do what we're asked," Zoe points out, and she's wearing even less than Sharon, but she's apparently not even a little self-conscious about it.
"The more we learn about the missions we're given, the more we learn about our captors," Steve answers, and there's that stubborn edge to his voice that Sharon should recognize. It's the one that says he'll do it even if he's the only one, and no one is going to be able to change his mind.
"Whatever we're doing, we should change," Zoe adds, moving towards the abandoned stagecoach. There are piles of clothes, and some of them still in luggage. At least their captors had dumped them somewhere with hopefully appropriate clothing to choose from. "Anybody has any idea when and where we are?" It looks a little like pictures of Canceron she's seen, but that coach? It has to be an antique.
---
Logan growls an answer.
“They stopped using rigs like that around the beginning of the 20th century, on Earth, if we can even be sure that’s where we are.” Logan’s pretty sure about that, actually; it smells like Earth. He gestures to some pretty impressive mountains in the distance. “Those have to be the Rockies, so I’d say we’re somewhere out on the east side of them; Nevada or Arizona, from the look of things. And the heat.” He sweating already, which is a bad sign for how he’s gonna feel with some clothes on.
Sharon’s also thinking about the unpleasant reality of getting dressed. The pile of woolen clothes she’d woken up in is about the only thing available, and even if she isn’t all that keen on playing along, she definitely doesn’t want to do it in her skivvies. She also finds a wooden framework and tosses it to Zoe with a grim little smile.
“That’s a bustle, and if you aren’t wearing one, guys are going to get the wrong idea.” Like that you want to be able to move, run, sit...uppity stuff like that.
---
"Dressing is gonna be interesting," Zoe says, frowning at the... bustle and trying to figure out how to even wear it. But she needs more than just that anyway, and she goes digging through the pile of woolen clothes and the luggage to try and put together a proper outfit. Whatever proper means in this time and place.
"We're in a western," Steve states, because he feels that he has to, just to hear the words out loud rather than just in his mind. But at least they are - very probably - in America, and that, in all honesty, feels good, and explains why his frame relaxed when Logan identified the Rockies. It's home, even if it isn't the right time period.
---
“You’re not kidding.” Sharon helps Zoe figure out which way the bustle goes, and there’s a spare for her. Awesome. In the end they both look as good as could be expected -whoever this stuff belonged to was not strapped for cash, because there are a couple of complete ensembles in the trunks. They’re not really the right size; Zoe’s going to be tripping on hers and Sharon’s not going to be able to move her shoulders much without ripping a seam, but at least they’re covered.
Speaking of shoulders, Logan’s pretty screwed. He isn’t exactly the fit model for the 1880s, and ends up in trousers and pretty hideous poncho.
“Well? We goin’ or not?” Much as he dreads the saddle sores, there’s about nothing Logan likes less than walking in the desert, so he’s already grumpy.
---
Steve turns away while the women dress, and waits until it's alright to look at them again before he tries to find something to fit him. He's not the fit model for any time period, but after Sharon gives him a hand, he's at least in something a little better than a poncho. A shirt that's too narrow across the shoulders, but at the least the trousers fit, even if they're horribly tight, and the jacket is almost comfortable.
"We're going," he confirms as he tugs on the jacket, and winces from the boots. They're a little too small for him, but he'll bear it in silence.
Zoe's putting a cute little hat on her carefully coiffed hair, and she notices a little bump in the lining of the box she just took it from. She rips off the lining, and there are a few banknotes, or so they look like. "We're all set. I just found some money."
Steve nods at her with a small smile, and leads the way towards the road a little way off.
---
Sharon’s having one of those dreams again, the ones that make her suspect that her subconscious isn’t really on her side. At least this one isn’t about putting Amy Pond in a submarine -Sharon’s had plenty of that dream, and every permutation ends in failure, and blood. This is one of those ‘lost in the jungle’ dreams, where she’s been cut off from her support team and is probably about to get shot by hostiles or eaten by a monster. Giant lizards have been popular with her unconscious mind, lately, and she’s got a feeling that’s what’s chasing her now, as she runs in a panic through the hot tangle of branches. She brushes them away from her face again and again, irritating, itchy wool trees.
Wait, wool?
Sharon opens her eyes, and for a second is grateful to find herself in a pile of woolen clothes instead of in the jungle, but then she remembers she’s supposed to be in her bed on the space station. She jumps up, ignoring the flare of pain in her leg, and has to take a moment of pure ‘what the hell?’ because there are just too many things wrong with this picture.
She hears loud cursing from somewhere just outside the window of the old fashioned stagecoach she’s just apparently been sleeping in, and turns to look, wishing immediately that she hadn’t, because the source of the profanity is a naked man whose height gives him away instantly as Wolverine.
---
Steve's nights haven't been much more restful than Sharon's, but he's plagued by insomnia more than nightmares these days. That means that he's doing push-ups in a pair of sweatpants when the now familiar buzz comes over him, and he sits back on his heels and gets to his feet the moment the teleportation is complete. A desert, it seems, an abandoned stage coach... with Sharon inside? And Zoe getting up from the ground and wearing the shortest silk nightdress he's ever seen, which means he stares for a second and then sharply turns away, fighting a blush even as his eyes settle on a naked Logan.
"It's gotta be a dream," he remarks to himself. It's gotta be.
Zoe is getting to her feet and sighing at the dirt that's now all over her, trying to brush it off her nightie and her skin alike. "What now?" she asks-slash-complains out loud, then spots a glint of sun off of... "Our comm units are here," she adds, moving over to pick hers up.
---
Everyone else can be as useful as they want for a minute -Logan has a different priority. He grabs a saddle blanket off a nearby barrel as he passes and walks about twenty paces into the desert before he starts shouting his head off. He curses the Proserpina and her makers in every way he can think of, and throws in a few choice words about their mothers for good measure.
That he’s in his birthday suit in front of Rogers is bad enough, but the fact that they might very well be in his past about to run into Logan circa 1900 is totally unacceptable. He didn’t like the ‘old’ west back when he belonged here, and he's damn sure not excited to go back to outdoor plumbing and healing messy Colt bullet wounds. There should be some kind of law about how many saddle sores a guy has to endure in a lifetime, too.
When he finally comes back to the group, they’re all gathered outside the stagecoach, looking at their little cell phones. Logan loathes the thing, but he picks his up from the sand where he first showed up, and it’s blinking.
A message, oh swell, can’t wait! It’s a picture of a map, with a little green check mark next to it. Real cute. Guess you want that, right? What happens if I say no? He tunes in to the conversation that’s happening without him.
Sharon’s trying to be cool in spite of the fact that she’s standing in the middle of the desert wearing next to nothing but a hugely oversized Guns N Roses tee shirt, a nostalgic wardrobe choice she’s really regretting about now. Her arms are crossed over her chest mostly from stubbornness, though.
“No. Every time we play these little games, something awful happens. I’m out.”
---
"We don't know what happens if we just refuse to do what we're asked," Zoe points out, and she's wearing even less than Sharon, but she's apparently not even a little self-conscious about it.
"The more we learn about the missions we're given, the more we learn about our captors," Steve answers, and there's that stubborn edge to his voice that Sharon should recognize. It's the one that says he'll do it even if he's the only one, and no one is going to be able to change his mind.
"Whatever we're doing, we should change," Zoe adds, moving towards the abandoned stagecoach. There are piles of clothes, and some of them still in luggage. At least their captors had dumped them somewhere with hopefully appropriate clothing to choose from. "Anybody has any idea when and where we are?" It looks a little like pictures of Canceron she's seen, but that coach? It has to be an antique.
---
Logan growls an answer.
“They stopped using rigs like that around the beginning of the 20th century, on Earth, if we can even be sure that’s where we are.” Logan’s pretty sure about that, actually; it smells like Earth. He gestures to some pretty impressive mountains in the distance. “Those have to be the Rockies, so I’d say we’re somewhere out on the east side of them; Nevada or Arizona, from the look of things. And the heat.” He sweating already, which is a bad sign for how he’s gonna feel with some clothes on.
Sharon’s also thinking about the unpleasant reality of getting dressed. The pile of woolen clothes she’d woken up in is about the only thing available, and even if she isn’t all that keen on playing along, she definitely doesn’t want to do it in her skivvies. She also finds a wooden framework and tosses it to Zoe with a grim little smile.
“That’s a bustle, and if you aren’t wearing one, guys are going to get the wrong idea.” Like that you want to be able to move, run, sit...uppity stuff like that.
---
"Dressing is gonna be interesting," Zoe says, frowning at the... bustle and trying to figure out how to even wear it. But she needs more than just that anyway, and she goes digging through the pile of woolen clothes and the luggage to try and put together a proper outfit. Whatever proper means in this time and place.
"We're in a western," Steve states, because he feels that he has to, just to hear the words out loud rather than just in his mind. But at least they are - very probably - in America, and that, in all honesty, feels good, and explains why his frame relaxed when Logan identified the Rockies. It's home, even if it isn't the right time period.
---
“You’re not kidding.” Sharon helps Zoe figure out which way the bustle goes, and there’s a spare for her. Awesome. In the end they both look as good as could be expected -whoever this stuff belonged to was not strapped for cash, because there are a couple of complete ensembles in the trunks. They’re not really the right size; Zoe’s going to be tripping on hers and Sharon’s not going to be able to move her shoulders much without ripping a seam, but at least they’re covered.
Speaking of shoulders, Logan’s pretty screwed. He isn’t exactly the fit model for the 1880s, and ends up in trousers and pretty hideous poncho.
“Well? We goin’ or not?” Much as he dreads the saddle sores, there’s about nothing Logan likes less than walking in the desert, so he’s already grumpy.
---
Steve turns away while the women dress, and waits until it's alright to look at them again before he tries to find something to fit him. He's not the fit model for any time period, but after Sharon gives him a hand, he's at least in something a little better than a poncho. A shirt that's too narrow across the shoulders, but at the least the trousers fit, even if they're horribly tight, and the jacket is almost comfortable.
"We're going," he confirms as he tugs on the jacket, and winces from the boots. They're a little too small for him, but he'll bear it in silence.
Zoe's putting a cute little hat on her carefully coiffed hair, and she notices a little bump in the lining of the box she just took it from. She rips off the lining, and there are a few banknotes, or so they look like. "We're all set. I just found some money."
Steve nods at her with a small smile, and leads the way towards the road a little way off.
---
