rogueinladysclothing | A little piece of home [Tagging Steve]

"It's open!" Hollers a somewhat muffled by the wood voice from inside. When Amelia works up the nerve to go in, she may be surprised to find Steve on his hands and knees in the middle of a newspaper strewn mess on the floor, covered head to toe in splotches of charcoal as he works on some sort of greyscale piece.

Luckily, he's wearing a pair of jeans and what was probably once a white tee shirt he got while in the Nexus. His suit is clean and hanging up on the other side of the door once she gets inside.

"How are you Amelia? Doing alright?" He'll get to his feet and give her a smile, adding another splotch of charcoal to his forehead and sandy bands as he wipes them form his eyes with the back of a hand.

The moment she steps in and sees him on the newspaper covered floor, she thinks she needs to get him a bigger room somewhere. Or at least a place with hardwood floors that can be easily cleaned up after he's done with his art.

And then she looks at him and the mess he's made of himself and she can't help but laugh softly. How many times has she walked into a scene like this? Exactly 28, but who's counting? For the briefest moment, she feels like she's somewhere else, with someone else. But when he speaks again, the memory fades and her attention is shifted completely to him.

"I'm well, thank you." She offers a small smile. "And yourself? It seems you've recovered from the party and thrown yourself back into you art. What is it this time?" Her curiosity can't be helped - not when it comes to art that leaves Steve covered literally from head to toe in charcoal dust.

"I could say the same about you. You seem a lot better than you did over the end of the month. Sorry I didn't check in with you sooner, I came down with a devil of a cold after the celebration."

Steve looks down at his hands and makes a 'welp' kind of face before wiping them off on his already splotched tee shirt. He's more careful of his feet--slipping off the cheap moccasins he'd been wearing so he wouldn't get the hotel floor dirty. He's still going to have to clean this place up but he's managed to contain his mess to the newspaper lined floor.

"It's my home again. I met up with someone who showed me pictures of the city in the future--from way up high. I was trying to recreate it from memory so I could hang it somewhere when I'm done. Bring a little bit of home with me, you know?"

"I do?" She hid so much of herself that night - is it that obvious that she's now getting more sleep? That she simply feels better? So much for being good at hiding her emotions. "It's quite all right - your health is important and I'm not offended that you took the time to heal. Besides, I was... working on a few things in that time." Can she add Queen of Understatements to her title list? Because it fits in very well with her Queen of Bad Timing one.

The effort to keep the floor clean is just another reminder that he needs a bigger, better place. She makes a quick mental note of it before taking in the drawing. A slow smile spreads across her face as she does. "Steve, it's beautiful," she says softly. "I feel like I'm really there." It's the best kind of praise she can offer, knowing as little about art as she does, but it is truly a breathtaking scene.

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers beginning to trace the embroidery along the outer seams of her pants. When she finally speaks, she doesn't bring her eyes up to meet his. "I actually... came to ask you about something similar. About... about getting a piece of home for myself. A commission, if you're willing to hear me out." That's not cryptic at all, really.

"Well, I just mean...Nevermind. Yeah, I'm feeling better." It's better to not point out the last he saw her she was bolting out of the party so fast Steve thought she'd seen a ghost. She does look better, and that's the truth.

Worry not Amelia, Steve is thinking the same thing, and he plans on talking to your employer about it in due time. Which in this case means when he doesn't look like he took a roll around in a coal mine for fun.

"Sure, I'd be happy to help, if I can." Steve gives Amelia a supportive smile. "I know how important that can be. So I'll do my best."

When she realizes why he said that later, she's going to be extremely embarrassed. First, because of the scene she caused (yet again). Second, because she never made it back in to apologize to him after she'd regained her composure. There'll be an apology to go along with that second part later.

But will he tell her? Or will she find out when she comes to visit and finds him gone? It'd be nerve wracking to find one of her few friends missing.

"I know you draw from memory, but I was wondering if you might... recreate something for me from my memory." She looks up at him slowly. "I'd... like to commission you for a portrait of my family."

Steve's polite, certainly he'd leave a message taped to the door if nothing else, letting folks know where he'd gone off to. Otherwise, he's often in the forum working.

The request is one that wipes the smile from Steve's face. It's a very personal request, and one he's not sure he can do. He's never tried to do that before.

"I've never tried that, but I'd sure be willing to give it a shot. It would take a lot of time from you, since you'd be my baseline and I'd have to ask you to describe them in great detail. Would you be alright with that?"

This is a heavy thing to ask of him, and of herself. If he gets it wrong, the only person to blame is her. She knows this, has known it for some time. Still, she wants to try. No, not wants - needs to try.

"Yes, I'll make the time for this." Her therapist said she would have to make adjustments to her schedule eventually, and this seems like the best reason to do it. "Should I... write everything down and come back? Do you need time to prepare? Whatever you need to make this happen, please let me know - I want to give you every opportunity to do this in the most comfortable way possible."

Her words are a bit rushed and breathless. Those fidgeting hands at her sides are shaking slightly. She may have a confident smile on her face, but it doesn't reach her eyes. This is the hardest thing she's done since she arrived here, even over admitting she needed help. Her family ~~was~~ is her everything, and she wants to do this right.

"I don't expect we'll get it right off the bat. What I'd like to do is sit down with you over lunch or the like, and bring my sketchbook. Feel free to write down descriptions before hand but I want to get to know them through your eyes, and having you talk about them is the best way. Then I'll make some sketches and I'll play around until you feel it's correct---if I can't do it, then you won't need to feel bad or wait to see a finished piece. Does that sound fair?"

She nods. "Yes, that's very fair." Pause. More fidgeting. "Did you... want to go now?"

It's hard not to be impatient when they're talking about seeing her family, in at least some respect, again.

"Uh? Sure. If you know a nice cafe or the like we could go, that would be nice. Try to get your thoughts in order....could you give me twenty minutes or so to grab a shower and change though?"

Steve looks a bit bashfully down at his state.

"I shouldn't go out looking like this, ehehe."

"Oh! Yes. Of course." Her cheeks flush as she takes a few steps backwards toward the door. "There's, uh, some outdoor seating at a place called the 'Stellar Harp.' They make wonderful pastries and coffee. I'll grab us a table outside and see you there whenever you're ready." She'll wait about a half second for some kind of response before she flees his room, thoroughly embarrassed by how forward she was with him. Patience is a virtue, but it's not one Amelia has very much of, not when it comes to her family. Not in situations like this.

When Steve arrives at the Harp, Amelia will, indeed, be at a table outside under a heater waiting for him. There's a cup of coffee waiting for him, still hot given the steam coming off of it. A plate with several donuts and fruit filled pastries sits on the table, along with a menu for him to look over. Amelia's own mug of coffee is lukewarm, and still mostly full. A small notebook rests open on a table with a quill settled between several pages. There's blocks of text describing the physical appearance and general disposition of each of her family members written down, but she's unsure if it's enough. All she can do now is hope what she has is enough for Steve.

Steve doesn't keep Amelia waiting for long. He's wearing his suit and tie like he was the day he stumbled into this place, sketchbook in tow and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

Once he catches sight of her, Steve makes his way over and takes a seat, grateful for the heater. Poor man doesn't have much anything in the way of insulation.

"Thanks for that." He murmurs as he sits, wrapping his bony hands briefly around the mug to warm them.

"You're welcome." Poor thing, the subtle decline of temperatures in the Nexus must be hell on him. Amelia makes a note to ask the next passing waiter about turning it up a little. And about finding Steve a coat after all of this is over.

She picks up her mug and absentmindedly takes a sip of her coffee, not at all bothered by the temperature of it. "I took the time to write down a few things," she says softly, nodding toward the open notebook. "It's basic physical and personality descriptions, but... I'm not really sure where else to start. Would you like to look at the descriptions or just... talk about them first?"

This is so awkward, and she knows she's the one to blame for it. She only hopes this doesn't turn him off from helping her with any similar requests in the future.

"Well, let me see." Steve holds out his hand to take the notebook and look it over. He skims the contents with a serious expression, trying to commit it all to memory. Steve opens his own sketchbook and jots a few notes down on the back of a page lightly, no doubt to reference when he begins drawing. His gaze flits up to Amelia and Steve nods.

"That's fine. Tell me about a family event. When everyone's together and celebrating?" He's marking out various height approximations across an empty page before he drops his gaze back down to his sketchbook and starts.

In the center, seated as though for a family portrait, he's going to start with Amelia. That will be his point of reference for everyone else. And, more importantly, it will place a small part of her with those she misses dearly.

The notebook is filled with the descriptions of five people: her mother, her father, her two brothers, and her sister. Several other names have been crossed out, as if Amelia had decided not to worry about them for this drawing. Those described are her immediate family, and they clearly mean the most to her.

She takes a moment to think about his question before she answers. "Every occasion is celebrated in as grand a manner as possible, even if that means something as simple as closing the shops for a day to get everyone together. The point is to be together, to enjoy the company, and to remind each other of the love we share. We celebrate accomplishments, births, certain changes of the season..."

Her voice drifts off and she quickly finishes off the remainder of her coffee, needing to collect herself before she continues. When she does, her expression is almost wistful as she recalls a specific memory. "The last time we really celebrated was my birthday this past spring. I had acquired a noble title for my family, so we took it as an excuse to celebrate bigger than we ever had before. We took over a section of my neighborhood, had fellow merchants set up food stalls, decorations, music, dancing - whatever my mother could think of, my father made sure it was at the party. Everyone had new finery made, my mother purchased new makeup for my sister and I, and everyone had a proper visit to a barber the day before. It was beautiful, full of laughter and merriment. I don't think we could have thrown a better party. Nothing... could have made the day... any better."

The fact that her voice is muffled at the end should draw Steve's attention more than the faltering words. She's managed to pull her hair down without her hair pin making a sound and has it clutched tightly in one hand while the other covers her face. Only a few tears have rolled down her cheeks, but the desire to keep the rest from doing the same is obvious. Her voice is shaky when she finally says, "S-sorry. I... I just need a minute."

"...Amelia...are you really okay with this?" Steve doesn't stop sketching, he wants to give her some small measure of dignity by looking back down the moment he realizes she's crying.

A doting father, a detail oriented mother...Steve moves onto them next, glancing over frequently at his notes as well as the descriptions Amelia provided. It's a rough sketch by all accounts, but he wants to get the look and feel of them right.

This is clearly very important to Amelia, and more challenging than he thought it would be. Clothing, he realizes, will be the most difficult thing, as they're not likely to wear clothes he's familiar with.

The desire to lie, to say 'I'm fine,' is hard to resist. But, somehow, she manages. "I have to do this," she says quietly. "I have to do something to keep them with me."

Slowly, she removes her hand from her face and places both hands on the table. Other than her red eyes and rosy cheeks, there's not much evidence of the tears - and she plans to keep it that way. This is important and there will be plenty of time for crying later.

"What else do you need me to describe?"

Steve turns to a fresh page in Amelia's notebook and hands it back to her.

"If you could...please try to sketch me even a rough idea of the types of clothes people wore? it won't do much good if I put them all in the suits and dresses the people in my world wear, would it."

"Feel free to write descriptions as well, but really, even a crude drawing would help me visualize things." Steve can make do referring to his own notes while Amelia works.

"What are your siblings like?"

"I can try." Drawing was never something she was good at, but she does what she can. A rough sketch of a simple gown with long sleeves and a high collar for her sister. Another rough gown with long sleeves and a modest square neckline for her mother. A sketch of a pair of tailored trousers, a simple and loose shirt, and a vest with buttons down the front for her father and brothers - and an add-in sketch of sleeve caps with a note that these should be added for her father and youngest brother. All of the drawings have notes about seams, buttons, embroidery, and undergarments, in the hopes that it'll help Steve at least a little bit. If Steve can't make things out, or make sense of them, Amelia knows a tailor who can interpret for him.

While she sketches, she addresses his question about her siblings. "I'm the eldest of all of the children in my family. My eldest brother - Marco - is three years my younger. He's the typical second child: stubborn, headstrong, wanting to prove he's better than me in every way. But he's got something that I find myself envious of some days - his own family. He's a doting father and husband, spending all of his time when he's not working reading to my very small niece and nephew and seeing to his wife's every need." There's some scribbling of notes at this point and it takes her a minute to recover from whatever bothered her about her drawing before she continues.

"My youngest brother, Ciro, is four years my younger and a scholar. While he has the tendency to be quiet, he's got one of the sharpest tongues I've ever come across. But that really only shows when he's home with the family - when others are around, he's the very essence of kindness and humility. And while he is those things even with us, we see the softness tempered with an often sarcastic manner. That's if we can get him to take his mind off of his duties as a scholar or their heir to our family title, that is." The love she has for this brother in particular is obvious. Why is yet to be explained, but the result is obvious.

"And then there's my little sister, Cecelia." She laughs softly and shakes her head before even beginning to explain. "The girl is ten years my younger, frail, and pampered because of it, but because she isn't allowed to go out much, she is content to use that to her advantage. She's full of fire and life, even if her body won't let her take advantage of it. She's forceful, but not reckless. Easily excited and almost always in a good mood, even when she's feeling her worst. Cecelia wears her heart on her sleeve, in both the best and worst ways possible. But she is the youngest child, so that is often to be expected."

Once she's done with her rough sketches a minute later, she'll offer the notebook back to Steve. "I'm sorry if they're terrible. I never was much of an artist." At least not in the normal sense, anyway.

Steve thinks Cecelia will the be simplest for him to picture. He can relate to her in so many ways. He's better now than he used to be, but..the will to live, despite one's limitations. The will to do just as much...yes. He knows he'll be able to breathe life into her on the paper, if no one else.

Not that he's giving up on trying, by no means. But if he can get close on any of them, he'll be very pleased.

"Thank you, Amelia." Steve accepts the notebook back, eyes furtively skimming the pages and flitting over to her own garments as if to doublecheck a detail or two before he keeps sketching. A family man, a scholar, and a firecracker of a little sister, living larger than her small frame allows her. Little by little, a rough image of Amelia's family is emerging on the paper.

He won't show her, not yet. But another two cups of coffee later he's got a rough group sketch to work with. He turns it around for Amelia to see.

"It's not going to be right. Not yet. Tell me what needs fixing. Eyes too wide. Nose too long. Improper posture. I want to try...and make this as close as I can. I hope it's not way off the mark."

Her breath catches in her chest when Steve turns his sketchbook around to show her. Between his skilled hands and her descriptions, he's damn close for a first try. Minor details aren't right, but she'll walk him through all of them slowly. Face shapes in proportion to her own. The length of her father's beard. The relative heights of the whole family. Small lines on her parents' faces. The fact that her father would have one hand on her mother's shoulder and the other on her sister's. Even the general feel of the fabric of the family's clothing. No detail is too small for Steve, and Amelia will work through every last one until she truly sees her family staring out of the portrait at her.

"Perfect. You... they... everything is just... perfect." There may be tears standing in her eyes as she smiles across the table at him, but there's no denying the happiness that they come from. "Steve, I... I can't possibly pay you enough for what you've given me. But anything you need or desire, and I mean anything, and I will get it for you. You have my word on that."

In spite of all of that, she's also pulling out a small pouch and counting out some gold coins for him. Sure, he's likely got some things he needs to clean up on it before he gives it to her, but that doesn't mean she's not paying him for his time today.

"Amelia." Steve's voice is gentle. He's smiling. "Put the money away. I tell you what. I'm moving soon. Trying to talk to Schon about getting a place of my own. One I can mess up if I feel like." He chuckles slightly.

"If you want to pay me back, help me move? Or maybe help me get furniture when I do so?" He's smiling. "It would mean a lot to me. I can't really do it all by myself, so.."

How does he do that? How does he manage to get her to back down without so much as a small fight? It doesn't make sense. She wants to fight back, but the soft voice and that smile? They make her feel like she has little choice in the matter - and that she prefers it that way. A touch of color comes to her cheeks as she slowly nods and puts her pouch away.

"I can do both." Beat. "O-or either. I'm not the strongest person, but I can carry things, and I'm more than happy to help you find furniture that you like. Though I admit I've never had to pick out furniture for anything before." She still lives under her parents' roof back home, so she doesn't really get a say in anything related to how its furnished or run.

And now she's smiling, too. How does Steve manage that?

Because he's Steve 'Captain America' Rogers, and when he believes in you, you believe in you too. It's the real super power he's got. That and the mother of all puppy dog eyes in his current tiny form.

"I appreciate it." He says gently. "What I'd like you to do is make some notes, let me know what I need to fix. And then I'll work on it and then you'll check it again. And only when it's alright by you will I shade it all in."

Amelia would say that such things don't affect her, but current circumstances suggest otherwise. The tension falls away from her shoulders and she settles back into her seat with a broad smile.

"We've worked through pretty much everything I can think of," she answers in a soft voice. "Perhaps I need to step away from it for a day or two to think, see what else I can think of in that time." Take notes from her ~~nightmares~~ dreams, perhaps? Her fingers pull through the strands of her hair pin slowly, making a slightly muffled jingling sound against the table.

"You're amazing, Steve. I hope you realize that."

Edited 2015-11-24 16:50 (UTC)

He nods. "Take it home with you. Make notes. Let me know how dark everyone's hair is, favorite colors, and the like. it's all going to be done in black and white, but having an idea will help me when it comes time to shading. Then we can meet in a day or so, and when I know what needs changing, I'll do that."

Steve rubs at the back of his neck at the compliment.

"I'm glad I can use my schooling to help you out, Amelia. plus, the break will give me time to go find Schon and ask about getting a place of my own."

"I prefer it in black and white," she says with a smile, "but I'll do that for you." She's very cautious as she takes back the drawing and her notebook. There will be plenty of little things she'll come up with, but in the interim, it'll be nice to feel like her family is around in some way.

No, Steve, don't do that. That reaction is natural, but it reminds her of someone in the worst way. Her smile takes a slightly sad turn as she nods to him. "Whenever you're ready to move, let me know. I'll be there to help in any way I can. And then, when you're all settled, we can revisit the drawing."

"Okay." He gives her an eager nod, dropping his hands back to his lap before studying them. They're covered in graphite from the pencil, so Steve wipes his hands--

--on his pants, but given the grease and the grime it's hard to tell the difference--

--gently on his napkin to clean them off a bit. Once he's satisfied with the state of his hands, he'll reach over and pat the back of Amelia's hand gently.

"You look tired, Amelia. That's enough for today. Okay?" She seemed so far away for a moment there, and Steve knows the feeling. Being reminded of home can bring you back. Between the drawing the talking, and all the notes, Steve knows she must be mentally exhausted.

It's not until he pats her hand that she has any idea of where she is. For the briefest moment, she looks up and sees a different face looking back at her. It takes everything she has to keep from losing control again.

"You're right," she says softly. "It's been a long day - for both of us, I assume." She doesn't want to go yet, doesn't want to lose this fleeting feeling of closeness to someone who isn't actually there. But it's best not to push any harder than she already has, best not to work herself up over something that isn't real. She stands slowly to keep her shaking legs from being too noticeable. Her hair gets thrown back up with her hair pin quickly before she collects her notebook and the drawing.

"Whenever things are settled, you be sure to come get me." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes fully, but Steve could easily blame that on her exhaustion. As she turns to walk away, she pauses, looking over her shoulder at him. "Would you like me to walk you back? I'll let you borrow my cloak, if you'd like."

...she never was very good at not being selfish for the wrong reasons.

"I'll be alright, it's not very far from here." Steve gives Amelia a grateful smile. "It might not make sense, but I don't feel right taking a lady's cloak when it's cold out. My suit jacket will do until I get back, but thanks, I mean it."

It feels a little weird turning over his sketchbook to Amelia, but he knows she needs to look it over. Besides, he has a larger piece to finish back at the hotel.

She sighs a bit dramatically, but smiles at him all the same. "All right, but you better not catch anything because of it. If I hear you're stuck in bed because you were out in the cold too long--"

"You'll bow to my every whim when I'm stuck in bed?" The small teen looks just like Amelia, but has twice the sass. "I'll be fine, I promise!"

"...just don't get sick, okay?"

She'll take care of his sketchbook - and try very hard not to pry by looking at his other sketches while she does. Nothing is going to happen to it, not if she still draws breath.

A little piece of home [Tagging Steve]

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/ea/c9/df/eac9df92d2d8e14f6a612007997e5c98.jpg

Pretty! :D

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Have more insight you can use with Nat someday. ;)

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