Albert Heinrich (
silberfuchs) wrote in
thecapitol2014-11-14 10:17 am
[Open with Closed prompts] We are all our hands and holders
Who| Albert and various people
What| Doing various plotted things, and also an open prompt!
Where| Around the Tower and maybe in the city
When| Through this week, after the kid's arena (back or forward dated as desired, but not too far forward)
Warnings/Notes| Main post is a general open prompt, character specific prompts are in the comments.
With that awful and thankfully short children-only Arena behind them, Albert has focused on his physical therapy as much as possible. He's walking without a cane entirely now, working out again in the mornings - or rather, the afternoons. Jet still comes up the second the curfew is lifted and they fall asleep together for a few hours. He still feels on edge, like they're simply biding their time until the next Arena, and then the next, rats running the wheels. It's frustrating.
To keep that frustration to manageable levels he tries to find other things to occupy his mind, worthwhile goals. During curfew hours he spends time writing music again, a practice to re-hone his fine motor function with a pen but also calm his mind. During the unconfined hours of the day, in what little time he spends without his husband (or sometimes with Jet), Albert makes other plans with the friends and allies he's made here as well as potentially looking for new ones.
He can be found nearly anywhere around in the afternoon and evening, most often in the Training Center or at the piano in the lobby, testing the strings of notes and chords he'd written the night previous. If anyone wants to join him for training they're welcome to do so, and even if he does seem a little shy, he doesn't mind an audience to his playing either. He needs feedback, of course, or else how will he improve? And if someone has in mind to go out somewhere, or runs into him on the street while purchasing more paper or more raw ingredients for Bruce's habit of stress cooking throughout the night, then he'll usually be pleased to stop for a chat.
What| Doing various plotted things, and also an open prompt!
Where| Around the Tower and maybe in the city
When| Through this week, after the kid's arena (back or forward dated as desired, but not too far forward)
Warnings/Notes| Main post is a general open prompt, character specific prompts are in the comments.
With that awful and thankfully short children-only Arena behind them, Albert has focused on his physical therapy as much as possible. He's walking without a cane entirely now, working out again in the mornings - or rather, the afternoons. Jet still comes up the second the curfew is lifted and they fall asleep together for a few hours. He still feels on edge, like they're simply biding their time until the next Arena, and then the next, rats running the wheels. It's frustrating.
To keep that frustration to manageable levels he tries to find other things to occupy his mind, worthwhile goals. During curfew hours he spends time writing music again, a practice to re-hone his fine motor function with a pen but also calm his mind. During the unconfined hours of the day, in what little time he spends without his husband (or sometimes with Jet), Albert makes other plans with the friends and allies he's made here as well as potentially looking for new ones.
He can be found nearly anywhere around in the afternoon and evening, most often in the Training Center or at the piano in the lobby, testing the strings of notes and chords he'd written the night previous. If anyone wants to join him for training they're welcome to do so, and even if he does seem a little shy, he doesn't mind an audience to his playing either. He needs feedback, of course, or else how will he improve? And if someone has in mind to go out somewhere, or runs into him on the street while purchasing more paper or more raw ingredients for Bruce's habit of stress cooking throughout the night, then he'll usually be pleased to stop for a chat.

no subject
He plays out the first verse to Swinging on a Star, something he knows was popular in America at the time. He'd looked up billboard hits from the year of this birth onward out of curiosity once and while he doesn't remember most of what was listed, he does remember being surprised that this song was as popular in 1944 as it was.
no subject
Albert plays and Bucky listens. That feeling of familiarity lingers once more and by the end he realises that he's tapping his index finger along with the music against his thigh, still, he gains no images with it, he can't even recall what the song was called.
"I don't know if this is going to work." he can't help saying, looking at Albert. How patient could he be? How long until he'd had enough of trying to wake Bucky's memory?
no subject
"You could just approach it as a rediscovery of what music you like in general. Even if you don't remember anything, that alone is a good thing to come away with, to my mind." He turns his attention back to the keys, guiding the melody back towards the 40's. He moves some sheet music around one handed, pulling another popular song to the front and beginning to play.
no subject
A deep slow breath is taken, then another. He even closes his eyes, safe and secure that he is in a room with an ally and not an enemy and that his ears will pick up on any approaching danger before his eyes even count.
In and out.
The music changes.
He's on a roof. The heavy duty sniper rifle feels good and solid in his hands as he watches the apartment building the target has escaped to. Fury, Nicholas J. The target had escaped the initial attempt at assassination and led the Asset on a long chase across Washington to this very building.
There is music playing as he sets the gun to his shoulder, any familiarity it might have is brushed away in the focus of the moment as his finger closes on the trigger, sight focused on the targets approximate location through the wall.
His breathing changes, hitches. He knows this song. "I know this." he says, quiet at first, then lifting his head. "I know this one."
no subject
He moves that way, unable to really distance himself where Bucky's concerned. Never has. Perhaps he should work on that - but not right now, maybe later. If he feels he's intruding, he can excuse himself and leave them to it.
The pit of his stomach aches at hearing Bucky recognizes it. It's a bit after their time, so it's a good chance he recognizes it for the same memory it brings Steve.
"It's one of my favorites," he says it softly, giving them both a nod in greeting.
no subject
The German's gaze shifts from Steve to Bucky, trying to decide if his fellow cyborg is willing to have Steve present for this, maybe even help with suggestions of songs, or if he'd rather it be more of a private thing. It's Bucky's show, ultimately.
no subject
"You were there." he says, the fingers of his left hand twitching in memory. "I remember -- target down... return to extraction point... then you were there."
Why didn't he remember this before? Why didn't he remember encountering Steve before the fight on the helicarriers? They must have wiped him in between. "When did that happen?"
no subject
"It's a good idea, seems to be working," his voice does is pleasant, but neutral. He's honestly glad for Albert helping Bucky like this, but the memory isn't really a wonderful one to uncover - not that he blames Albert for that in the slightest. Yet, there are plenty of those that will be unearthed in time.
He looks at Bucky again, remembering himself how that night went down. "I was there," he confirms as he watches Bucky carefully. He wants to affirm that Nick is alive, but he isn't sure Bucky hearing he failed his mission is the best right now. "Couple days before the helicarriers."
no subject
He'll play again if asked, or leave if that's what's wanted, but it's up to Bucky.
no subject
He says it without much visible reaction, though the knowledge cuts, only curling his fingers into fists. It's not surprising but it still makes him angry inside, another add-on to the list of sins HYDRA committed against him.
"Did I ever hear it before?" his eyes flick to Albert, not a dismissal, just a reminder to himself the man was there. "In the war?"
no subject
"No, it's a bit after our time, we-" Steve pauses, seeming to struggle for a word, "-went down earlier that year. Songs from '44 or earlier would be more familiar."
He looks at Albert now, giving the man a nod. It's ultimately up to Bucky if either of them leave, but he wants to show his friend he doesn't at least mind his presence.
no subject
"I could try something more seasonable, perhaps a Christmas song?" A lot of the popular ones came out of the 30's and early 40's anyway, and the holidays tend to bring up happier memories for some.
He looks at Bucky, half expecting to see him shake his head and give up for how shaken the man appears.
no subject
It's a cold thought after the memory of killing the target in Steve's apartment and the knowledge that he had seen him, known him before that fight on the helicarrier. That he had seen Steve and they had probably wiped him because of that.
"I don't know." he replies to the question, head lowering, staring now at the floor between his feet. "I don't know."
There's no indication he's about to flip out or withdraw into himself in the wake of this discovery. Bucky only looks and feels lost, confronted again with the reality of his existence.
Something happier would be welcome right about now.
no subject
Shifting his gaze to Albert again, Steve gives the man a grateful look. "Yeah, I think that'd be good," he a nod to let him know it's okay. "Anything with some cheer." Something to take some weight off Bucky's mind.
He looks at his friend and puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "You got a lot of good and bad memories locked up there, you just have to take them as they come."
no subject
He settles on what he remembers of "White Christmas," knowing it's endured for some time and if Great Britain (his friend and teammate, not the country) had known it, then it's a safe bet that it was popular in most Allied countries.
no subject
He doesn't rightly understand how a simple gesture can do so much to steady him, though after the events of the last arena maybe he shouldn't be surprised. The part of him that held onto his bond with Steve Rogers through everything that was done to him is stronger than anything else. The tightness in his chest eases and he can think a little clearer, just in time to hear the notes of the new melody that Albert is playing on the piano.
This one too is half-familiar and the gentle uplifting pace of the music helps, "What's this?" he asks to the room in general, whichever of them would choose to answer. "I've heard it."