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[It wasn't the ending they had all thought it would be.
Finding the centre of the spiral hadn't given them any more answers, it had just hurled them all out of Norfinbury without a moment's warning. Bucky had only had a brief moment to see the faces of some of the people he had come to call friends flash in front of him, before he was thudding to the floor in a filthy little apartment to the sound of traffic and warmth.
Actual, honest to God, warmth.
It hadn't taken long for him to figure out he was almost exactly where he had been, months in a snowy hell passed in a day or two. He could only assume everyone else had been so lucky and made it back to their own homes too. His time in Norfinbury has left him without the sharpness of skill he had been honing for years before that, and he slips up on only his second day back. He gets caught by a security camera and, before he knows it, the police are on his tail.
He has to flee.
He heads for the forest, large pines and sweet air and wolves, to lose himself in the wilderness for a while. He has no idea that not everyone made it back to their own homes, and that someone he knows is out here too. Lost, afraid, and being hunted for looking so very alien in a country where he likely doesn't even speak the language.
It's eleven days later, thirteen in total from the return from Norfinbury, when he catches sight of a glimpse of orange through the trees. He's immediately on alert. It's the wrong shade for any of the native animals or birds, so perhaps a reflective jacket? Hunter? He's not expecting that when he rounds the corner, knife in hand, to see that particular face.]
--Davesprite?!
Finding the centre of the spiral hadn't given them any more answers, it had just hurled them all out of Norfinbury without a moment's warning. Bucky had only had a brief moment to see the faces of some of the people he had come to call friends flash in front of him, before he was thudding to the floor in a filthy little apartment to the sound of traffic and warmth.
Actual, honest to God, warmth.
It hadn't taken long for him to figure out he was almost exactly where he had been, months in a snowy hell passed in a day or two. He could only assume everyone else had been so lucky and made it back to their own homes too. His time in Norfinbury has left him without the sharpness of skill he had been honing for years before that, and he slips up on only his second day back. He gets caught by a security camera and, before he knows it, the police are on his tail.
He has to flee.
He heads for the forest, large pines and sweet air and wolves, to lose himself in the wilderness for a while. He has no idea that not everyone made it back to their own homes, and that someone he knows is out here too. Lost, afraid, and being hunted for looking so very alien in a country where he likely doesn't even speak the language.
It's eleven days later, thirteen in total from the return from Norfinbury, when he catches sight of a glimpse of orange through the trees. He's immediately on alert. It's the wrong shade for any of the native animals or birds, so perhaps a reflective jacket? Hunter? He's not expecting that when he rounds the corner, knife in hand, to see that particular face.]
--Davesprite?!
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