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Who: Everyone.
What: The February welcome long
Where: The merchant Dome, the "found" domes.
When: The first two weeks in February.
Notes: The merchants in the domes are becoming more hostile to newer arrived character and in return the council has opened some "found" domes for additional supplies.

February Welcome Log

An unwelcoming welcome party

The mood in the City has been different in the last few weeks ever since the Sphere has shared what’s possibly a memory of its own. Whereas before the locals were easy and open with people, there’s now a shared distrust. Flat stares come from people who were open and happy before, and conversation is a curt, simple thing, especially when it comes to any newcomers, or anyone who’s been in the City for less than six months. There’s now the whole thing of money to deal with, and while everyone’s paid extremely well, it’s something else to adjust to, and the older npcs seem to be bilking it for everything that it’s worth.

Even the welcome party itself is smaller and almost seems to taste cheap. Food is only provided in small quantities and it’s not very good. Mostly it seems to consist of day old pastries and cooks, some limp salads and whatever meals the restaurant couldn’t sell the night before. There is no wine or beer or alcohol of any kind. Instead there are watered-down fruit juices and water itself. With no ice.

Conversations that are happening between older residents are happening in hushed whispers, and if they notice characters listening, then they shift further out of hearing. If you character has some enhanced ability to hear them, hit the mod contact page and I’ll give you a conversation to overhear.

There’s some, but not for you

Some of the stalls are decrying “sudden shortages” when it comes to newer residents who are looking to buy things. Things like coffee, or expensive and complicated food items and fancier clothing are suddenly “not available” from most stalls. They’re not on display, but are currently resting under the counter for most stalls. There are occasionally stalls that offer things at fair prices, but they are few and far between. As the month progresses, the supplies to these stalls are slowly cut off. The merchants say it’s not punishment. Don’t believe them, it’s definitely punishment.

If people press at the stalls that say that they have the “shortages of supplies” the merchants become increasingly hostile. Any threats to them or their stalls are met with responses similar to the idea that the newcomers “need to learn their place here, one way or another.” Then they’ll touch the circular patch behind their neck and just say the name of the person who’s involved. Even if it doesn’t appear on the network.

What was lost can be found.

It’s big news around Sphere City: some old lost and sealed domes have been found along the edges of town. Well, at least some people have heard about it. The new people have heard well before the older people. Not only have they been found, but they’re open! Not only are they open but the stuff inside is there on a first come first serve basis. These old domes show no signs of dust, but there are some personal effects within them, pictures and the like. They definitely belonged to someone who had been pulled into the city at some point within the last seven years.

And they’re definitely worth checking out. One never knows one might find in them. Various varieties of clothing are available, as are books, food items, toys and there may or may not be some magical or important historical things hidden here or there if your character is very lucky. Mod note: Nothing world breaky or living can be found, but small things like potions or jewelry or amulets or small weapons (daggers or guns with a very limited amount of bullets.)

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“No, no. That wasn’t it.”

There’s no room for doubt with his response, and the way he shakes his head. The memory of Siberia makes him stiffen, though, as if he was just doused by freezing cold water. Siberia feels like it has been ages ago, especially since for him it had happened before waking up underground. He and Steve had worked that out then, and even if this isn’t the same Steve from back then, Tony has made his peace with it.

As much as he can, anyway. It’s still not a pleasant memory, hence the way he tenses at the mention.

He sighs under his breath. “It was an explosion. Apparently they just follow me everywhere I go,” he adds wryly. “I’m just hoping they won’t follow me here.”

He watches Steve for a moment, and it’s then that he thinks of something. Or, rather, that Steve is taking this whole talk of timelines and what he remembers last almost too well. Tony remembers the first time he had done it, how his brain had been reeling, and he takes a shot in the dark by saying almost too casually, “You know, you’re taking this whole talk of timelines really well.”

It's not a memory Steve's fond of either, especially because it felt like a prophecy come true.

His Tony never shared the details with him when they were in Atlantis, but Steve picked up bits and pieces and put them together. Back then, he never anticipated being sent back home, so when he did go back, he'd felt like he was living out someone else's life. One that was pre-determined to end a certain way. It wasn't until he was in the bunker itself, however, did Steve realize what was about to happen.

There was nothing he could do differently. He needed to get Buck out of there, and after all the puzzle pieces he'd put together about the reactor, how uncomfortable Tony had felt at the beginning, every time he went near it — Steve knew immediately then, what he'd need to do to end the fight.

He hasn't seen Tony since.

Speaking of Tony though, he seems to have moved on, and Steve is more than happy to do the same. He realizes too, as soon as Tony asks that question, that this is ... strange, too easy even, and for the second time now, however, that Steve seems intrigued.

"You are too." Curious.

"I've gone through this. Once before." He supposes there's no harm in telling Tony that. If they ever make it out of this place, he knows now that it's unlikely Tony will ever remember. "After we defeated Ultron."

Tony doesn’t hide his surprise at the response, even if he had suspected that that had been the case. After all, you don’t take these kind of things in stride if you haven’t experienced being displaced before. Could it be...?

His brain immediately backs away from that thought, though. This Steve could have been displaced anywhere. He might have woken up elsewhere, just because he knows this it doesn’t mean that he knows Atlantis. Tony knows the odds of that, after all. He has always been better than numbers than emotion, even if right now his heart is still putting up a decent fight.

“I’ve done this before, too,” he answers. “After Siberia.”

For a moment he pauses, as if he’s trying to figure out whether or not to say anything.

Finally, “You were there, too, actually. Or...a version of you. I arrived fashionably late, as always, but you’d already been there and had to fill me in on how this whole thing of waking up in new places works.”

He chews the inside of his lip for a moment, because he knows he’s approaching dangerous territory. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like. But he has gotten this far already, why not one more step?

“Where did you get ‘sent to,’ when you were displaced?”

The more details Tony gives, the more surreal this starts to feel.

Steve's grief is still there, wedged firmly inside his chest, heavy and unrelenting. But for the first time in weeks, Steve feels a sense of hope big enough to overshadow his grief, and more than ever before, he knows he needs to be cautious. He can't have expectations about this, even if nothing Tony's said so far contradicts with his own experience.

"Somewhere not so different from here."

He's hesitant to just say it and it shows in the way his eyes don't want to stay locked on Tony's. If he doesn't name it, then this hopeful feeling can last just a little longer, but Steve knows he's only prolonging the inevitable.

"Does the word ... Atlantis mean anything to you? I mean, besides the obvious."

When he finally asks, is also when Steve stops looking away. He wants to see how Tony reacts — every detail of it.

When Steve looks away, Tony’s gaze remains on him the entire time. As if he’s looking for a clue or a sign that will tell him he’s not so far off track. As if maybe he can somehow will this to happen even if his brain keeps screaming that he shouldn’t get too hopeful.

He has always been a glutton for punishment, though, and maybe that’s what this is. It’s a chance to at least have Steve close by, and even if it’s not his - again - at least this one isn’t off who knows where thanks to the Accords and Siberia.

But, before his thoughts get too far ahead, he mentions Atlantis and it’s like the air goes out of his lungs. He knows. It’s him, and Tony breathes out a chuckle that comes out in a sort of huff even if it makes his chest ache at the motion.

“Yeah. It’s...one hell of a place.”

He raps his knuckles against the side of the arc reactor that should be chest bone, but instead there’s a piece of metal that fills in that gap. The synthetic skin covering the part that’s no longer bone makes it sound more hollow than anything else, but he does it as proof. That it hadn’t been a simple accident, that this isn’t like his usual arc reactor. This one had taken a bigger chunk of flesh - quite literally.

For the first time, Tony takes a step closer to Steve, as if he’s now seeing him in a different light.

“Steve? Is it...really you?”

Steve should be able to read Tony better than he does. He knows his Tony so well, and certainly well enough to distinguish a chuckle born from joy than from politeness. In that second, Steve's already braced himself for what should be happening next.

Yeah ... I've never heard of it.

He finishes the sentence in his head for Tony, which is why, when he doesn't follow the script, Steve looks absolutely stunned. He watches, eyes stoic, as Tony taps that familiar sound from his reactor, but the way his forehead starts to wrinkle gives him away.

"Tony?"

Steve brings one of his hands to his own chest, protecting his heart, unable to believe how hard it's pounding.

"The night at the gala. The ..."

He has to make sure, but now, every new word he says is filled with a little more hope than the last.

"... fight in the cafeteria that turned into pasta and led to ..."

He trails off there, eyes darting away as he remembers that night and his cheeks start to flush. At least this time, he has his beard to hide it. But Steve swallows and looks back up.

"And the hurricane." A term they'd practically made up together, to describe the days of terror and the wreckage it left behind.

"Do you ... remember all of it?"

Because in all honesty, as real as it was, Steve had started to think it had all been a dream. Some manifestation of something he wanted but couldn't have.

Every memory that Steve recalls, it feels like he can finally breathe. He remembers. He knows, he’s not just staring at him the way that Rhodey had looked at him that day he woke up, and he can hardly believe this is really happening.

He’s here. He’s here, he’s here.

Tony’s damn tempted to throw himself at him, to kiss him how he had that last time because goddamn it he has missed him and he never thought he’d see him again. But he has enough restraint to not do it, because...well. He doesn’t know how much time has passed for Steve. What if he moved on? What if—

“Yeah,” he answers softly, a small smile on his face. “I remember all of it. The hurricane is...not as clear of a memory as the others, but I remember.”

Despite his self control at not throwing himself at Steve, he steps even closer still and brushed his fingers along his beard as his smile softens at the edges. He still expects him to disappear, but...here he is.

“...I don’t remember this part, though. Trying out facial hair, huh?”

How unbelievable this all feels to Steve manifests in the little details — the slight, emotional pinches of his brow, the smallest tremble in his smile, and when Tony brushes the edge of his beard, the little hesitation in his hand before he reaches for Tony's

This feels impossible.

"I needed a change," he says, smiling, and looking at Tony like he's something extremely precious. A week ago, Steve wasn't sure if he'd ever see Tony again for the rest of his life. Now, not only is he alive, he's his. "Do you like it?"

Despite how certain Steve is that his touch would be welcome, part of him still feels like if he touches Tony too much, this illusion will puncture. That the dream will end and he'll wake up completely isolated and alone again. But hesitantly, his free hand finds its way to Tony's waist, settling just above the hip.

Tony feels solid. Real. Secure.

“Yeah,” he answers, and his lips grow wider into a bigger smile. “It looks different, but I like it.”

Tony doesn’t look away, his eyes locked on Steve. Like him, he’s afraid he’ll disappear if he looks away and he doesn’t want to take that shot.

But then Steve’s hand is on his hip, and Tony can’t help but look down at the touch. It’s real. He is real, and it’s somehow so hard to believe. It’s so hard to let his mind actually believe it. He has been wanting this for so long that, now that the moment is actually here, he can’t actually believe it.

But Steve is still here. He’s not disappearing. He’s not waking up, and he looks up at Steve again.

“You’re really here.” He chuckles softly under his breath but it feels like it gets stuck in his throat. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

When Tony looks down, Steve gives his waist a reassuring squeeze, as if yes, he knows exactly why Tony would need to look down at something as simple as this.

"I'm here."

The words sound solid. Certain.

"I'm here."

This time, the words sound choked. And without needing to think, Steve wraps his arms around Tony — curling one around his waist and the other over his back and up to his shoulder. He closes his eyes and rests his chin behind Tony's temple, and pulls him in, still ever so careful not to apply too much pressure to Tony's chest.

"I've missed you," he whispers. "God I've missed you."

Tony has been longing for this moment ever since he woke up back home. It had been so disorientating to wake up one morning and not find Steve around. Find out that they were still angry at each other in that timeline, that not much had changed since he had woken up in Atlantis. He tried to figure out ways to see if he could somehow go back, but nothing had worked. It had been impossible.

Somehow, apparently, being stranded in Titan had been his ticket to see Steve. He doubts this is why Strange spared his life, but for the first time since the trade for the stone, he’s thankful that he’s still breathing. It makes his survivors guilt triple, but how can he not be relieved to be able to see Steve - his Steve again?

Steve is being careful not to put pressure on him, but Tony doesn’t even think about it twice before he hugs him tightly as if he’s somehow trying to get lost in Steve’s arms. His scent is different than it had been the last time he had seen him, but that warmth of his is still exactly the same and he closes his eyes as if he’s trying to take it all in.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says just as quietly. “So damn much. I thought—... I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Not even just because of the timeline differences, but because ... well, things hadn’t looked great up in space.

“I’m so damn glad to see you. To know you’re okay,” he adds as his voice catches, holding tighter onto him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

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