2082/Old Blood

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Old Blood
Date of Scene: 12 June 2020
Location: New York Public Library
Synopsis: Old compatriots meet by chance after far, far too long. Words exchanged, old evils spoken of, and bonds renewed.
Cast of Characters: James Barnes, Ariah Olivie, Blake Riviere




James Barnes has posed:
He's loved this building since he was a kid. It was a place for him and Steve to stay warm when that wasn't a possibility at home. To read and talk softly....a refuge.

It still is, really. Even after all he's been through. He's idly browsing the shelves in the main Reading Room, dressed in a blue work shirt open over a white t-shirt, old jeans, boots....and the metal arm is covered by a black compression sleeve and glove. At his side is a big German Shepherd with black and gold fur, in a blue service dog vest.

He's still identifiably the boy she met during the war. Taller, much bulkier in terms of muscle, and his brown hair long and tied back....but it's still *him*.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah's schedule is terribly sporadic. Gone are the days of forced marching, fighting, sleeping, fighting, marching. Long, long gone. She hunts and fights when needed, rests only when necessary, and then her other thirsts take over during downtime. Reading. Knowledge. What's immortality if you don't take advantage of it? Partying and hedonism? No, not like that.

    And so, the four-foot-ten young woman, looking as unimposing as ever, is walking along a shelf row near James. Her fingertips caress the spines of books in passing, a sensual dance of touch as eyes flit from one title to the next, drinking up her options as if in a trance. She'd be unmistakable. That silver hair, those grey eyes, looking too young to be a soldier but too old to be a child. The woman pauses, fingers moving up to the edge of a book, head listing further to the side as she leans the tome off of its perch.

    "Found... you..." her voice is an icy whisper, lips curling into a ghost of a smile as she tugs her prize from the shelf, cradling it tenderly in her hands.

James Barnes has posed:
The voice is familiar. Memory's an uncertain thing with him, even now. Things are still fragmented, but he remembers the war generally quite well. Which why she'll eventually realize that the long-haired man with the dog is peering at her. The dog is glancing between her and his face, as if in search of a cue. Like this is a type of distress she has no idea how to deal with.

He's older, and yet not. It's not so much physical weathering as it is the loss of that boyish enthusiasm. It leaves the lines of his face somber in repose, almost grim.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    She always was quiet, intense. Her voice like a winter breeze, cold and soft but clear. It's also obvious she feels safe in the library, a sanctuary of knowledge. Surroundd by books. It takes her a moment to even notice that she's being stared at by man and beast. For a moment, as her head lifts, eyes rising to meet James', the only sound is that of a library. Occasional coughs, sliding of chairs, and the gentle creak of the book in Ariah's grasp.

    It takes her a moment, those dull, grey eyes searching the man's face, then they light up as a spark of recognition finally hits her. She searches her memories, finds a number of linking threads, makes the connection, and that ghost of a smile shifts to an expression of wonder.

    Then as her lips part, she utters a single word in question, "...jasmine?"

James Barnes has posed:
That has James tilting his head, a gesture almost perfectly mirrored by his canine companion. They do say that humans and their pets grow more alike as they go. The pale eyes are wary, but there's dawning recognition in his face. "I remember you," he says. The voice is raspier, lower than it was. "The war. South of France...."

His whole affect is flatter - not much emotion shown. "Yeah." No advancing to shake her hand....no real shock, even. "How are you still alive?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The effect is similar, Ariah just sort of staring up at him. The height difference is dramatic, especially surrounded by towering shelves. <It has been almost 80 years...> she murmurs in fluent French. "Morocco... SIcily... Nice..." she rattles off a few names, soft but clear. Then she remembers to take a breath, whether by reflex or design, and again, she blinks. "...could ask you the same question..." she says softly, simply, her English more than passable but her accent still thick.

James Barnes has posed:
She can see the calculation going on behind those blue eyes. Careful, thoughtful....and he finally nods. "Long story," Buck allows, as his hand falls to the dog's ears. "But it boils down to being a POW that got experimented on. Some of the experiments took, and here I am." He gestures at himself with his left hand, a flick of fingers from crown to toes. "Didn't know then what it'd done, not really." Still tight-lipped, restrained.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "You look older," she states. She doesn't look older. Her voice is still cool and clipped, with her words measured through her own linguistic issues. "Time. Scars. Hardships," she follows the gesture, grey eyes shining faintly as they trace over him from boots to bonnet. Ariah still hasn't elaborated on what brings here here to this millenium. Slowly, she closes her book, hugging it gently to her chest as she nods to the general surroundings. "Quiet place? Where we can talk?"

James Barnes has posed:
That last question, however, makes him grin....and abruptly, James's the boy from all those decades ago, eyes bright, expression almost puckish. It fades swiftly enough, but it was there. "Sure," he says. "This is about as quiet as it gets in a public place. We can find a smaller room, though, a table in the stacks, maybe." No books in his hand, as yet. Then he's turning to lead the way out of the grand expanse that is the Reading Room.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Reading room," Ariah confirms. Her book? It looks to be something relating to the arts. Music, judging by some of the patterns on the back and the spine. The change in James' expression doesn't seem to trigger any reaction from the small woman, at least outwardly. But she does fall into step at his side, skirt sweeping her legs as her shorter limbs move quicker to keep pace with the much taller man. She'd found a book and something more this day.

James Barnes has posed:
An oddity, a relic, a survivor from a different era. James leads the way off to one of the smaller reading rooms at the end of the grand one....finds them a table. The dog gets a few odd looks, but she's got her vest on, and is behaving. Then he's settling down....not coincidentally angled to see the entrances and exits. No easy sneaking up on him, of course. A nod indicates she should seat herself. His own posture's still comfortable, rather than on edge.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    That would make both of them. Survivors of a different era. The biggest difference would likely be that Ariah had been living through the last 80 odd years, not sleeping through them.

    She joins James at the table, laying her book on its surface and taking a seat near the old soldier and again gazing up at him, as if still searching for something.

    "Still a soldier..." she finally says quietly. "Bond of blood, you fought for my home. Can you keep secrets?" she asks, leaning back in her chair now, but reaching out a hand to him.

James Barnes has posed:
There's a beat of hesitation....and then Buck hitches his chair closer. Enough to allow him to lean across the table and take that offered hand. It's the human one he uses, of course. He doesn't touch things with the metal one if he can all avoid it.

There are calluses on that hand, if faint ones - he trains hard enough often enough to compensate for his own healing ability. "Yeah," he says, and leaves it at that. The pale gaze is opaque, but his expression is at least mildly curious.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    For as small as Ariah's hands are, she still possesses a firm grip. Maybe even more firm now than the man would remember, for what little time she might have spent actually at his direct aid. But it's there, a hold, a shake, and the stare she fixes James with directly is one of intensity. But she lets go, and takes another slow breath.

    "Immortal, ageless," she says quietly, then adds after a moment. "Sanguinaire." <Bloodthirsty.> To illustrate her point, she glances to see that she's not being watched by anyone else, at least from the front angle, and then opens her mouth.

    It takes a moment of focus, as she's not actively 'feeding', but her fangs extend and lock into place, giving James a brief look at what amounts to a vampire's teeth before she closes her mouth again, fangs retracting. And then she waits for the reaction.

James Barnes has posed:
There's an odd moment of....him not reacting. A sort of blank silence that doesn't convey shock so much as internal consultation, pale gaze somewhat inward-turned. Then he refocuses.

Still neither horor nor shock, just a kind of puzzlement, a little indent appearing between its brows. He's encountered vampires before, under both his 'employers'. "How?" he says, finally, just the monosyllable. Watching her with that calm opacity.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    At the least, it seems like Ariah is... normal? She's not swinging from the rafters chasing down meals, right? The spooky girl seems the same, just out of uniform. She weighs her answer, as if what she could say would affect more than just her. "I met someone. When we were marching. Told me to find her again, after Berlin was ours..."

    She trails off, looking distant for a moment, memories of the war and the aftermath coming to her before she refocuses. "No family left after everything, nowhere to go. I was taken in. Adopted. Embraced." The last word is said differently from the other, implying a different sort of 'embrace', but she had shown him her fangs, and the conclusion of what it means could be easy to come to.

James Barnes has posed:
Something alters in the quality of his silence, then. Another of those bouts of consideration. His reflexes may be quick, but he takes his time over speech, it seems. The question he finally comes out with is, ".....when it happened, did you want it?"

Like that's the crucial point. Perhaps, for him, it is.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah seems very patient. Perhaps the two of them do share some traits. Quick to act, time to speak. Of cousre, the 'young' witch has all the time in the world to consider her words. But she doesn't use it. Her answer bears little forethought, her eyes closing as she nods solemnly.

    "Oui. Yes." After she answers, her eyes open and she again meets his, not a spark of doubt in them or hint of deception.

James Barnes has posed:
"And what do you do now?" he asks. Still almost lazy, that deliberation, letting his hand fall to the dog's ears again. She shifts, turning to rest her head on his knee, and sigh. That wariness still present, for all his apparently lazy calm.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    That, however, is a question that gives Ariah pause. She blinks owlishly at James, as if trying to figure out what she does. She's more vigilante than anti-hero, if she were to put a label on it, but that stuff isn't really in her vocabulary. Slowly, her head swivels this way and that, taking in the library as if for the first time. Her gaze drifts this way and that before finally settling back on James' face. Her slender shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

    "I live. I hunt. I fight. I read. I study. I learn. I experience..." she purses her lips, giving the same 'first time again' look over the man before her. "What do you do?"

James Barnes has posed:
He's watched her turn away, watched her gaze wander, without a flicker of impatience. Visibly mulling his response, still.....and a smile curls the corner of his mouth at that question. Surprisingly, neither bitter nor cynical. "War never ends. The world will always need a good soldier." With hair like that, here? Surely not.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah seems to find that answer to be satisfactory. "I can still fight. Still can. Still do. Good soldiers can be hard to find. And many good soldiers never return..." she trails off, eyes drifting towards the sleeved prosthetic, as if looking at it in wonder.

    And back to his face once more, no issue with looking the man in the eye. "For whom and for what do you soldier for?" A question of curiosity. Not of judgement.

James Barnes has posed:
The smile fades at that one, that opacity returning. His gaze doesn't follow hers, when she looks at his arm. As if he ignored the thing hard enough, it'd let him be a real boy. "For whom I choose," he says, quietly. "But the fight I was engaged in when I met you is not actually over. Nazi ideology is still present in the world...and the dark parasite it spawned, HYDRA, also still exists. I should've been more specific - *that* war never ended."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The lack of smile is easily noticed, though the petite sorceress herself has maintained a mostly neutral expression this entire time, save hints of curiousity and wonderment to go with that ghost of a smile. Ariah listens, though, and that faint smile reverses itself, and is instead a small frown. "A blight that never fades..." she closes her eyes, her head shaking side to side slowly before they open again.

    "Do you have need of another soldier?" she asks, cold and blunt. "If <my mother> does not take issue," she says in mixed languages, and again offers up her hand, small as it is.

    "You may call upon me. <You are my brother.>"

James Barnes has posed:
A wry quirk of dark brows, for that comment. "It really is stupidly persistent, isn't it? You'd think them losing a war against pretty much everyone else there is'd be enough to turn people away from that set of ideas, but...." James shrugs, wearily disgusted.

The offer makes him pause a beat. "I.....can't speak for those I serve. I can convey your offer to them, if you're comfortable working for a larger organization, or being vetted as a possible ally." He takes her hand again, squeezes it, once. That wintry little smile reappears. "I still owe you for France," he says.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"It would make a change if they asked nicely," a voice, lightly accented in those same tones as Ariah herself speaks up. Soft, behind them and yet one could swear the source had not been there a moment ago.

A young woman with long dark hair, Blake was dressed rather simply for her: a deep red blouse, black slacks and a jacket to match, the vampiress seemingly invites herself to the conversation. Perhaps she was a face known to both, perhaps Ariah alone, but she smiles none the less.

"Then again, there are some one would happily face again without prompt or bribery."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "A plague on all peoples free..." Ariah says quietly, sharing those sentiments with James. The squeeze is returned, but with it comes again an owlish, inquisitive expression. "You do?" she asks as she blinks. "You owe nothing, <brother.> The homeland is free, but the fight persists..." she trails off.

    It's as if something on the back of her neck stands up, or her nose twitches at a familiar scent scant heartbeats before her sire makes herself known. There's no shock, there's no jolt, but the small soldier turns her head to regard Blake's arrival with a nod. "My grudge will persist so long as Nazi oppression persists... and without age or death that is a long time..."

James Barnes has posed:
No particular surprise from Buck, either. But James glances between them, one dark brow raised. "I take it you two know each other?" he says. Which is at least a step up from just demanding if she's like Ariah. He suspects - it does make sense, after all. The dog, however, perks her ears forward, sniffing the air.

Back to Ariah's question he says, "I seem to recall you saving my life back then."

Blake Riviere has posed:
There were stories of Vampire charming beasts, others of dogs going wild in their very presence. With Blake? The truth was probably somewhere in the middle, she smelled as much a predator as Ariah to things that could notice such, but otherwise she was perfectly non-threatening as she offers a nod to James' question and a fangless smile.

"Blake Riviere," she offers with a bow of her head, "forgive the interruption, a familier face and discussion of unfortunately familier evils caught my ear."

To Ariah, the woman who certainly didn't look any older simply retains that smile with a little curious tilt of her head. "One who owes you a debt?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah answers both of them in one go, looking up to Blake and back to James. "We were soldiers," she states. "...we still are. Your saved life for France. You did not need to be there, yet you did, and yet you fought for me and mine. You did your job as I did mine..." she says quietly, idly lifting one of her hands. With her arm bare, it's easy to see the faint flicker of blue-white light in the lettering etched beneath her skin, a little draw of her power, a small thread of magic dancing around her fingers as if carried on a breeze. And then as it lays to rest in her palm, it vanishes.

    "Debt or no, I aided many soldiers during our time. You may be the only left living..." she considers, casting her gaze on him once again. "You need not repay a debt when my aid was freely given, and I will gladly give it again."

James Barnes has posed:
His lip lifts in what's almost a sneer. "Oh, those guys needed to be dealt with," Buck says, sourly. "Shoulda done it sooner - I feel like America still owes the free world an apology on that front."

Then he's gesturing at one of the free chairs at the little reading table with his human hand. "James Barnes," he says. They're old enough that that name might be known to them from the newspapers of the Forties. Even if his was always paired with a certain Steve Rogers's. "Looks like it's old home week," he says.

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Ah, companion to the Captain?" she exclaims, moving to take the offered seat. She knew the name, another who'd been in Paris during some of the worst days and fought alongside others, or lured the unsuspecting occupying troop to his doom many a night before the war ended. "You are looking wonderful for your age!"

"One often is left with regrets and mistakes, things they did not do, things they did. The lives that were saved mean something and always will, regardless of those that were not."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "We did our best," Ariah says quietly, nodding. If she has any regrets, she makes no allusions to them. Her eyes drift over Blake and then James, and she re-introduces herself again. It has been close to 80 years. "Ariah Olivie. I was but a woman with a staff and a Thompson... and in many ways, I still am..." she reaches for her book, sliding it from the table to her lap.

    Music. A history of composers around the world. "An interesting reunion. One I would have never expected. But not the least bit unpleasant."

James Barnes has posed:
"Yeah," Bucky says, as if even mention of the blond's name is enough to mollify his sour mood a little. "Trailin' around after Steve for three years, shootin' Germans." The compliment about his age makes him snort. "Can't take credit for that one - there's a Nazi scientist to blame for me still bein' here."

He shrugs, spreads both hands - the left is gloved, the arm covered. "Enh, I feel like you live long enough, you run into people again. Even those you wouldn't expect."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"Life comes with unexpected suprises," Blake muses, pale and delicate fingers coming to her chin as she rests her elbow on the table with a little fond quirk of her lip. "The longer the life, the more suprises, and some of us are rather old now..."

Was a little shake of her head she looks between the pair lightly. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person Sgt. Barnes, but I hope I did not interupt you two too badly."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "It is a curiosity... how you managed to stay young.... you did not elaborate..." Ariah says quietly, almost absently, thumb lightly brushing over the cover of the book in her lap. She does look over that left arm,, however, watching it for a moment. Then her head turns, tilts, focuses her gaze on Blake. "No interruption. A reunion with <a brother>, and secrets shared. We spilled blood together. Our own and others. For France."

    She gives James a glance, then looks back to Blake, speaking in her normal, icy near monotone in clear French, <He knows what I am. I would owe him that much after so much and so long.>

James Barnes has posed:
"How I stayed that young? I was experimented on, during the war, when I was a POW. The Germans already knew what America had achieved in Rogers. They wanted their own version....and they captured me in Italy. Made me work at first, but when I got too sick to work, they handed me off to the scientists." His face gone grim and set again, the blue eyes hard.

Only a little inclination of his head, to confirm that explanation.

Blake Riviere has posed:
To be beholden to cruel masters and made to do things against your nature or will? It was something that Blake knew all too well. The circumstances of her 'embrace' had been far different to Ariah's and the one who made her what she was? Far worse. He too made the list of evils she would happily kill all over again.

Only a soft frown of understanding reveals such reflection, a nod and expression conveying sympathy to the man before she looks back to Ariah with a quirk of her brow. "<You told him in detail? Suprising...>"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    She grimaces, too, at the explanation given by James. "Their occultists weren't bad enough..." she murmurs, the witch's expression given to a degree of understanding and sympathy. Then she looks back to Blake, to answer her query. <Not in detail. Only that I had met... someone... before, and after the war. After I had nothing left. And that I was taken in and embraced, full willing. A decision I would not hesitate to accept again,> Ariah explains to her sire, almost forgetting that she's slipped fully into French.

James Barnes has posed:
"Yeah. Magic and science together, the worst of both," James sighs, quietly. No impatience shown as they drop into French with one another. He glances down at the dog, who heaves another of those big sighs.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Whatever the words in French may be, they're enough to bring a smile to Blake's lips and she reaches out a hand to gently squeeze on of Ariah's own if permitted. "Fair," she speaks, switching back to English. "We are not always the most subtle, no?" she muses aloud before looking back to James. "Well, for what it may be worth, I thank you for your actions."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "You are science, I am magic. A formidable force combined," Ariah says quietly, looking at James now. The hand that's taken is accepted, the witch turning hers over so she may rest palm to palm with Blake's. "If permitted, I would fight by your side again. I understand if you are beholden to rules and regulations that you have to adhere to, but you know my name. And you know what I stand for..." she says with a nod.

James Barnes has posed:
By the way his brow furrows, he's touched by the offer. Lips parted to reply, but then there's the subtle buzz of a silenced phone. "I gotta take this," he whispers, even as he pulls it from his pocket. But that doesn't stop him from hastily scribbling down a number and pushing it across the table to Ariaha, even as he beckons for the dog to follow. She rises and pads after him, in a jingle of tags.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Palm to palm, Blake watches James depart, a small nod of farewell given before she turns back to Ariah, a small note of emotion in those blue eyes that looked oh-so-human.

"Centuries upon centuries," she muses softly, "wars leave wounds on Soldiers. Some heal far easier than others...Perhaps helping one who helped our home would make some of those...insistant favors more fulfilling."

Gaze drifting back to the other woman, Blake offers a little squeeze of the hand once more. "A worthy cause I would not deny you. Whatever you decide."

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The unoccupied hand takes the note with the number on it, and she looks it over before sliding it into an inner pocket. Fingers curl and grasp Blake's hand as the smaller woman turns her head to look to the raven-haired beauty. "You know where I stand, <mother>, and that for this, I will stand for seeing such evil expunged. No matter the cost. Such a war we must never see again..." she says quietly, then moves to stand, taking her book.

    "I wish to bring this one home," she states quietly. "I will return there shortly."