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[mirrortouch]

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[ It was a bit hard to miss the effects of this flood; as soon as she'd awoken, well. Drenched in sweat and a t-shirt that didn't fit quite right anymore, she'd showered and perhaps taken a bit longer than usual to find some sort of way to adjust to this newfound - body. Afterwards, she'd thrown on a flannel that was too large for her, rolled at the sleeves, tucked into a pair of slacks that are belted firmly about her hips.

It wouldn't do to make a fuss over the network about it like everyone else was. She steals her way into the kitchen, glasses pressed firmly up her nose as she gets a banana, some coffee, and she tries to slip out relatively unnoticed.

But it's mostly the library she flocks to today, large and open and easily avoidable for the likes of most of anyone she could end up coming across. It's not that she's embarrassed. It's just that - Well, yes, she's got some degree of embarrassment. Being a female is a strange new world with which he obviously has no experience, and so Wilona does what Will does - she finds somewhere secluded, and she escapes.

Specifically, she sits cross-legged in one of the aisles with a textbook in her lap, sipping irritably at a coffee, because fuck you and your rules about food and drink in the library. ]


( feel free to come across wil in the kitchen, the library, her cellroom, or anywhere in between where she might be wandering throughout the day! replies will be coming from mirrortouched. )

Comments

[mirrortouched]

[ Barnes. She knows that name. Sergeant James Barnes. He'd said to call him Bucky.

Becky?

There's a brief moment where Wil doesn't answer, jaw mildly ajar as she assesses the situation. It's hard to hide the unabashed once-over she gives, almost appraising. Must be a new look for him. It's not a bad look. ]

Second. [ She frowns and shuts her book, some number about uncertainty and reasoning that she's really not paying much attention to. Conversationally, almost jocular, she remarks: ] Last time I was just a werewolf.

[ The caverns certainly left a much harsher impression than the first flood, and she recalls them with gritted teeth and a swipe of her hands over too-large slacks. ]

It's Bucky, right?

[imfollowinghim]

According to Steve and about half the Barge, yeah. [And there's a barely suppressed eye roll here, because she's a little tired of this particular song and dance routine.] As far as I'm concerned, I've always been like this. Your pal Bucky'll be back here in a couple days, and I'll go back to whatever Barge I got dragged here from. [Which is always kind of the disturbing part of these floods. She knows who she is and why she's here. Is she totally deluded, or is she just a hostage from some parallel ship? Becky's honestly not sure she wants to know. It's weird enough that there's some world out there where she'd been a sixteen year old kid when she'd died.] So, who're you supposed to be?

[mirrortouched]

[ Interesting. She really doesn't know? ]

I suppose that would be the nature of the flood. Different effects depending on who it is it's affecting.

[ She probably doesn't think of it that way. Becky. Bucky. Becky, now. If she feels as though she's always been like that, likely it's more confusing that nobody else seems to know it. It could lead to plenty of conclusions and even more conjecture. If Wil feels off-kilter, she wonders how Becky feels.

Wil pauses a moment at the question, swallowing coffee in lieu of an answer at first. ]

That would be, ah - Will Graham. [ Or she's meant to be. ] We spoke on the network. [ A beat. ] I didn't sound like this.

[imfollowinghim]

[It's definitely a little strange - less so with people who are more or less strangers, but the morning had been awkward, with Steve acting all weird and like she was some stranger instead of the big sister who'd always tried to have his back, no matter how shitty things got. But she's good at putting on a brave face, so for the time being, basically none of that shows.] No, I guess you didn't. [Because she remembers Will, and even if she didn't? Of course he'd (she'd?) sound different now.] So what's worse: being a woman, or being a werewolf?

[mirrortouched]

[ That's an excellent question. She actually considers it a moment. ]

Well, there wasn't a moon to be full.

[ So there's that. ]

I'm going to go ahead and skip the tacky "time of the month" joke that would be stuck in here, obligatorily. I'd take either over our - most recent of ports.

[ With this, she just musses at her hair as a bit of a nervous tic, fingers skritching into her scalp. ] I don't know what I'm doing in this body.