YOUR WHOLE BODY DOING WHAT BIRDS DO BEFORE FLIGHT.

original character inspired by dc's blue beetle. written by zoe (90s kid, white, she/they). est. 2015.

inconsistent activity and slow reply. 21+.

Today it's Bucky, listening to her. She has a week of library gossip to catch him up on—difficult patrons, baffling reference requests, unintentionally hilarious kids. Fynn once said that can't get a word in edgewise was a phrase made for her, when she's on a rant. That was along time ago. It's hard to imagine that she ever talked that much. Or that she laughed as much as she talked.

Maybe being back in the comfortable environment of the library is bringing it out in her. She'd like to believe that. She would like it to be true, someday. But she still feels so far from what she wants to do—who she wanted to be, when that was the person she was—and when she can't see past getting up in the morning, how can she imagine that?

But Bucky is someone completely steady. She might surprise him, or confuse him, but he never doesn't believe her. Whatever he's doing, on his side of a window to another state of being, he never leaves the frame.

"You haven't said anything in awhile." Alice pauses, trying to get her braids out of her face without touching them with sudsy hands. They swing like pendulums. "You all right?"

He doesn't answer right away. She is used to this.

@maybepeace / bucky: you are just so easy to look at.

Alice's brow furrows. She lifts a plate, then lets it slide back into the water.

Lowering herself to direct eye level with the phone, she folds her arms on the edge of the countertop. Her look is analytical, not a bit shy. It isn't impressed, either, if that was a line. Studying him in return, she doesn't think it was.

"You know where to find me."

"i think you're the only one here who understands what i just did."

she's let them believe she doesn't know enough magic to use it. she never said that, only the truth—she relies on her blades in combat. magic, she reserves for emergencies only. but she knew how they would interpret her, and she let them.

but the violet burst of magic she unleashed in that last fight was so obviously—at least to her—not something that came out of a book. strident, strong. stronger than she is alone. feeling sick, alice sits with her fingers laced behind her neck, head almost bowed to her knees. she can almost feel the scarab's legs against her nape.