Kurt Wagner

Steve nodded in agreement at the observation. While their current situation wasn’t ideal, it could also be a whole hell of a lot worse, as Steve had discovered several times in the past few months. Being small again was a pain, but…it was a manageable pain this time around.

The corner of Steve’s lips quirked up in a small smile at the other’s optimism. Had Steve ever been that bright-eyed? Maybe, he must’ve been to think a five-foot-four scrap of a human being could do anything to significantly aid in the war effort, but those days felt like they were several lifetimes ago, more of a dream than a memory. With everything that happened since he came out of the ice…some days he was just glad that he hadn’t lost his faith in people.

“Well, you’re right about that at least. I just want to help out as much as I can, and I’m more effective when I can reach the top shelf.” He chuckled the sound a bit wry, but when he looked at Kurt his smile was genuine. “Must be strange for you too, bein’ different all of a sudden. Or ‘normal’, whatever that means.”

Kurt wasn’t sure why Steve was smiling, but it was a kind smile so he returned it easily. He drew his jacket tighter around him as he considered the other man. They were both cold and wet. He wanted to get somewhere warm and dry, but it was much harder to travel in the dark now, especially when his legs kept wobbling beneath him.

Kurt laughed about being short. “I’ve never been tall enough for that. I learned to climb very early, much to my mother’s delight and worry,” he remembered. At least not everything changed between the worlds. “It is very strange,” he admitted with a nod. He held out his pale hands and looked at his too many fingers. “I admit that they do not feel like mine,” he told the other.

continued from here with @kochou-gakure:

A snarling purr rumbled from Betsy at hearing his ascension to their words. At the back of her mind, something about this felt all too familiar. The reckless desire for bloodshed, not caring who she hurt to get what she wanted… It must have been one of those lifetimes Kurt had told her about. And yet it felt so easy to slip back into that unknown mold. A bit comfortable, if she had to be honest. What she couldn’t be sure of was whether she enjoyed it or not. “Ạ ͓le̖sso̠ṇ t̩o̗ ̣țe̢s̮t̹ ̹hi͙s m̪e̩m̞o̺ry̻,̭ ̮th͜ȩn.” Betsy finally released her grip on him, allowed him to fall to his feet, and headed to the nearest window. There, she spied the dropped food, the smell of it reminding her just how hungry she was. She was going to have to find something to satisfy her cravings. “A̻ ̣l̦e̖ss͢o̺n̖ ̨a̼n̘d ͖a̤ ̫f̥e̬a̞st͙.” With that she stepped out of the window and allowed herself to fall, expecting him to follow.

R̗̾e̅ͅm̮̏e͉̽m͝ͅb̠̚ẻ̘r̬͘ ̺̽y͙͝ǫ̍u͎͆r̺̕s̤̋é̫ĺ̡f̭̍,̜̏ ̤̎K͈͠u̩͋r̺̆t̍͢ ̑͟D̰̑a̞̿ȑ̥k̟̍h̘̅o̮̅l̠̅m͇̏ẽ̙.̮̐

Kurt bit back a verbal response, but the creature still laughed inside his mind anyhow, knowing that he found the name to be grating, but not something he could now deny in her presence. Betsy released Kurt and he didn’t feel like he had the strength to stand, but the creature caught them both easily. He could feel the power through it and how it longed to test their limits. When she spoke to him, he didn’t feel like he could do anything to help her, but he still felt himself follow her towards the window.  Once Betsy disappeared out the window, Kurt’s exhaustion was second in importance to him. “We need to follow her.” “I͓͋ ̩̕t̡̀h̗̑o̭͛ű͢g̺̈h̝̄t̜̀ ̝͂y͋͟o͓͋u̯̕ ̻̄w̕͟ë̹́ŕ̝ȇ̟ ͕͛ť̲o͔͑ǒ̧ ̄͜ṫ͜i̼̍ȑ̪e̞̎d̮͑.͎̍,” a sarcastic voice purred back to him. 

Gods of New York || Kurt Wagner - God of Dreams

Calling

“Tell me what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life.” - Mary Oliver

After a life full of growing up in the circus, performing for crowds, traveling all over Europe and then to other countries before the United States, and finding someone he loves, Kurt has lived the dreams of many others in his young life. Now, as the keeper of dreams, he helps to inspire others to reach for their goals and to find a deeper understanding of themselves through their dreams.

Aura of Dreams

Instead of brimstone, he now explodes into clouds of blackish blue dream sand. He can also use the sand purposefully to levitate or create granular objects. If directed at a sleeping person, he can inspire dreams. If the dream sand is touched or inhaled by someone who is awake, it causes drowsiness and a dream-filled sleep.

While awake, he cannot speak directly to people with words. Just as dreams speak to people through symbolism, he must speak to people through symbols he can create with his powers to create and manipulate the dream sand.

Those in his presence tend to find themselves reminiscing about plenty dreams they had in the past or goals that once inspired them that were forgotten. Some may feel their goals rekindled with a new ferocity.

He can enter the dreams of anyone who is asleep and speak to them normally or he can hide himself and influence their dreams from the shadows.

There was a dull thud as Betsy’s head came to rest against the door in thought. The last time they’d spoken? Before the rain, she could hardly remember much of anything. She remembered her hand being cut and Kurt helping her bandage it up, speaking of their pasts and how much he’d already forgiven her for her transgressions. Then it all felt like she was in a dream seen through frosted glass, shapes and images and words being exchanged that she didn’t remember saying. And then the rain. And Kurt looking very un-Kurt-like. “We were… on top of a skyscraper?” That didn’t sound or feel right, but her mind said otherwise. It was there, between the wrinkles and dendrites, yet she had no way of accessing those parts of her memories. “Why, do you remember something differently?”

Kurt looked at the door when he heard the thud as if he would know what that sound was. He could only guess it was Betsy’s head. When she didn’t say anything about it, he settled back down into the warm water to give her time to think.

When Betsy spoke, Kurt sat up a little more, relieved. That was a more recent memory, though she said it with no confidence. It still gave him hope that she had any idea of what happened at all.

“I remember,” Kurt assured Betsy. Normally, his tail would have been swishing through the water, but without he, he felt off-balance, even though he was sitting. “We had been playing shadow tag. We ended up on a skyscraper and we were jumping off to see who would stop their fall first,” he smiled, hoping he could help her remember.

Whatever Kurt thought of his actions, Betsy found beauty and grace with each swing of his sword. Even the rending of flesh and the unearthly screams that came from their enemies were music to her… the ears she once had. ⋘Beautiful.⋙ To make a game of this, a handful of the creatures who’d started to cower from them were thrown in his direction, intending to see more of his blades go to work. She had no care for the lives around them, only her current amusement. ⋘Show me more.⋙

Kurt lost himself in the fight, as he usually did. Knowing that these creatures were attacking them for no other reason beyond that they could, he had no mercy to offer them now that they’d realized the error in their ways.

continued from here with @kochou-gakure:

Betsy’s hand reached for his own, and black ichor found it first, curling and forming around his wrist and squeezing it painfully tight. “Śuch͛ sentim͌ēn̑tali̐ty. W͡e͒ré ̕w̑e͛ ̈́m̅i̚st̔akėn̄ i̾n ͝tḧi͝n̑kiňg̐ yòu͂ ͌v̚i̛abl͝e͂?” The mask reformed itself over Betsy’s face, though her other clawed hand ran itself through Kurt’s hair. The symbiote wasn’t going to give her the chance to respond to his offer of comfort. We̔ ̂ẃil̆l̒ ̅h̄u̿n͘t they demanded, the words curling into Kurt’s ears and mind. Ẁe͋ ̛wīl̀l̓ h̓ūnt an͆d̄ ̆ẏo͊u͆ ̀will̈ ̿abide. ̐Or ̓d̒o̒ ͑y̑o̅ű ̓w͌a̓n̄t̕ ͝yo͗ǔȓ sc͗hàtz tô ̐b̛e tŕulẙ alo͂n͝e͛? The purple across her skin began to ripple as she stood to her feet, Kurt still in her grasp and pulling him up with her. D͗o͛n’t̋ ma͘ǩe us ̎take ̅o̊u̽r ̉g̾i̋fts ͂b͠a͝c͛k.

Kurt felt Betsy’s creature curled around him and pain started to scream through his arm, but he knew he should not give it the benefit of making his pain known. He bit back his pain and listened more as it spoke to him.

Kurt didn’t fear the clawed hand that ran through his hair. “Not mistaken,” he assured it. "̻͌Mor̙͊e͓̍ ͙͝h͈̋er̚͢è̙ t͢͠han̹͞ ̗̾s̓͜ent̺͘i̹̾me̮͋n̩͂ts͔͆,"̥͊ he felt himself say, though he didn’t think the words. He thought he should find it assuring, but he didn’t.

“He͙͊ ̟͛ḵ̈n̡̅ows p͈̌ai̼̎ǹ͢.̯͒ ̟̋H̩͝e̥̚ k̟͒ň͉ow͇͝s h̝͗ŏ̤w ̻̀t͍́o̡̕ e̬͒mb͍̀rã̗c͕̀e ̯̐i̟̒t.͙̊ “

Kurt started to breath faster now, his own words alarming him and cutting through his haze faster than Betsy’s misaligned threats. “She will not be alone,” he told it, still feeling too weak to do more than move where it took him.

Catching the sight of Kurt’s hand out of the corner of his eye Steve turned to look and when he saw the handshake was being offered the small Captain unwound his hands and reached over to shake. The words made him chuckle and he nodded as he retrieved his hand, folding his arms back over the tops of his knees. “I suppose you’re right about that.” ‘Decent’ really was a relative term. Sometimes Steve thought about what it would be like if they ever managed to bring the dome down. What it would like to be somewhere where bizarre things weren’t happening every other week. Most of the time though he was distracted focusing on whatever bizarre thing happened that week.

Steve just shook his head at the additional apology. “It’s fine, really.” Clearly, they weren’t at each other’s throats any longer, so all was forgiven as far as Steve was concerned. He wasn’t the type to hold what someone did while they weren’t in control of their own person against them.

The shift in topic made Steve sigh as he gazed out into the rain. “Hopefully not too long. I’m not much use to anyone like this.” It wasn’t as bad as when he’d been seven-and-a-half years old and even smaller, but a 5′4″ ninety-five-pound super-soldier wasn’t much better.

Kurt gave a small smile at Steve’s comment. Nothing about this was easy or even logical, but the denizens were getting by as best they could and that was really all they could do. “It puts it in perspective, ja?”

Kurt finally felt like he could relax when Steve shrugged off the apology. He didn’t like to hurt people, or at least he didn’t want to like to hurt people. He supposed he’d have to find out if that was still who he was. He knew who he wanted to be.

“Dancing…?” Betsy couldn’t fathom why they would start dancing together in the middle of the street, not with everything that was going on around them. Being children was one thing, but however much time had passed was a foggy blur to her. Like watching and listening to a muted television through a foggy window in the middle of a hurricane. The loss of her powers wasn’t making it any better. Nor did it explain why Kurt was no longer blue. “Had we made a promise to dance at some point?” She absentmindedly started to work a small braid into her still-wet hair, a focal point for her thoughts so that she could try to remember something. “Uh, do you have clothes in there to change into?”

Betsy sounded so bewildered at the idea that it hurt. Kurt tried to remember what they were like before he’d been yanked out of his place here and dropped in another one without warning or reason. He struggled to remember his relationship with her or if they had much of one at all.

Kurt remembered the fire. He remembered speaking to her afterwards in the bathroom. He couldn’t clearly remember the next time they’d spoken.

Betsy’s question cut through his focus and he was glad the door was between them. Everything else he remembered about them happened in the other place, but he knew there had to have been more between them. Instead of answering her question yet, he struggled to think of a way to understand where she was. “Betsy, what’s the last time you remember us talking?” he wondered, hoping she wouldn’t say the bathroom.

Kurt tried to remember if he had a change of clothes there. “I should, yes,” he told her. He’d have spare clothes so long as no one had used them while he was gone. He could hardly blame them if they did, though he realized that not having a tail was going to make things odd for him now. “I, at least, had a room,” he told her softly.