Death: I’ll write our character’s mourning over each other.

White clouds stretched across the expanse of the Manhattan skyline, flakes of a similar colour falling from them - adding to the blanket that fell across the cityscape. The fur lined hood she donned had long since grown damp accruing to the continuous onslaught of the unrelenting snowfall, the soft crunch of it underfoot was interspersed with distant wails of sirens or inaudible curses of an unfortunate that won the game of hide and seek with the ice patches that hid under the snow. 

The HYDRA take over of the city had been successful, evil reigned across New York meaning there were often little who dared brave the streets in a loud manner on a good day (though the weather merely afforded them with an added incentive to remain indoors). It had not been safe for the Avengers, once they had publicly been ridiculed and discredited there was little that the opposition would allow them to do to dig their reputation upward from the dirt under which they had buried it.

The operation had been subtle (as subtle as one could be when faking multiple deaths), only those who they had declared truly trustworthy were to know of the plan that would enable the Avengers to avoid enlarging the blood red targets that had been painted on their backs. Carefully cultivated LMD’s had been wiped away with the bomb that had been planted in the upper level’s of Stark Tower, both the citizens and villains - most of them - believing that the heroes had died a fitting death, the tower still laying in ruins assuring opposing parties that an imminent death could occur at any moment. 

The sorceress stopped before the line of crudely marked graves, some bearing messages of well wishing for the next life and others done by scorching, connoting disrespect even in death - assuming that it was Mephisto’s demons having grown bored again. Dulled emerald surveyed the headstones, the corners of her mouth turning downward in tandem with the furrow of her brow, lips moving in silent speech as though to affirm the names before her eyes. The frown that marred her features deepened while noticing that the last name was blocked from her vision by something that bore a coat crafted of pure white, made from the very snow that had swept across the city.

The January cold nipped at her nose, colouring the skin with a reddish hue as though determined to allow those who encountered the goddess to be made aware that she had not remained indoors. Fingers slipping from her pockets reluctantly twitched at the exposure to the harsh chill, sinking into the cotton until they came into contact with colder metal. The parts of the element that had leached the warmth from her fingertips, melted slowly as it was brushed from the mechanical helper - the name emblazoned onto the stone a capitalised ‘Tony Stark’

The small smile that curved precisely painted lips was momentary, watching Dum-E awaken from the slumber that had seemingly over come it while shaking off the remainder of its snow coat, metal arm twisting to snag at the tails of her coat as though in a bid to ensure it had her attention. The device releasing the heated material, swivelling its head to gesture to the name of its creator and once owner, tapping against it lightly before hanging its head like the machine could indeed reep emotion (could they? She didn’t know) looking up to the emerald green gaze of the blonde who’s smile faltered.

It had been too long since the prosthetic arm had undergone repairs and basic maintenance. There had been a moment when he had almost gone to someone at S.H.I.E.L.D., but he hardly felt comfortable entrusting such advanced technology to them, concerned that they would somehow damage or change too many things. Removing the temporary ‘shit’, James slotted the Russian designed prosthetic back into place, going through the basic stretches and movements to be sure that it was fully functioning and connected.

The noises the arm made as he approached the tower were far from usual, holding it to his chest with concern, only releasing it when he needed the key. Entering the tower was an experience in itself. JARVIS, resident AI, greeted him with that calm British accented voice, causing him to jump slightly. It did not seem to matter how many times they would and had come into contact, the fact the voice came from no physical form freaked him the fuck out. He almost expected something like a horror film, with the AI deciding it wanted to kill everyone. Fuck that shit.

I'm thinking this'll be a short para. We'll have to skip anyone that doesn't reply in a day, and once everyone replies once, we'll have an order. Haven't heard from Louis (Cullen mun) in a while, though.

His limbs were paralyzed, he couldn’t move neck down - his breath automatically hitched, heart beating faster, more erratically, and memories of another time, another person rose up immediately. The engineer didn’t know if the similarity of the situation had been carefully planned or not…until a green haired woman entered his line of vision. Had Tony had more control of his body, he might given her a thorough leer, but his mouth only fell open. Nonetheless, he was shocked to see her, alive, after having seen her die months ago at a battle.

He obviously should have known better.

"This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race" -- Fall Out Boy

I am an arms dealerFitting you with weapons in the form of wordsAnd don't really care which side winsAs long as the room keeps singingThat's just the business I'm in, yeahThis ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms raceThis ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms raceThis ain't a scene, it's a goddamned arms raceI'm not a shoulder to cry on