#ayrendium

Another nod as he hurries to mimic the other’s movement; rising to his feet, hands absently smoothing out wrinkles and brushing off dust and dirt, not that it does much good for his general appearance of course but at least he tried. He opens his mouth to speak, but only a rough, garbled noise escapes him. He supposes that makes sense; you don’t use your voice enough and it kind of just.. disappears. Or at the very least sounds harsher once it is used again. Undeterred and slightly embarrassed by the noise, he licks his lips and clears his throat to try again. Maybe this time it’ll work.

He does his best to shrink back further when the other crouches, hesitance and uncertainty gripping him tightly for a moment. In some part of his mind, he realizes that the other means no harm, does not wish to hurt him, but past experiences have made him guarded. So he studies him; watches the wind ruffle his hair, stares back unblinking into his eyes and wonders distantly what it must be like to be him.

He’s curled up on a sidewalk, huddled up against the side of a building with his coat drawn tight around him to ward off the cold. He’s used to people walking by him, ignoring his presence, so the sound of a voice, of someone speaking to him causes him to look up. Azure hues widen in surprise upon seeing who it is, his breath catches in his throat for a moment before chapped lips part to speak.

‘an angel. right----- 

bucky barnes wasn’t a religious sort. the idea that there existed a God, who dictated a person's fate, was a far-fetched concept in the midst of a war, when men were dyin' left and right. certainly, no god existed in Germany, nor among the depraved && battle worn soldiers trudging the trenches, carrying injured and dead comrades off the blood drenched field. 

he had his papers, he shipped out in the morning.   bourbon in hand, he gave the other a one-sided toast and took a sip.