rogueinladysclothing | A little piece of home [Tagging Steve]

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A little piece of home [Tagging Steve]

Two months is a long time to be away from the people you love and care about most in the world. Being stuck in a multiverse with no way to get back to them is even worse. For Amelia, it's become a daily fact of life - one she wakes up every day wishing wasn't true.

Even with her progress moving forward in therapy and the rather strict schedule she keeps to, she manages to find time every day to sit in her yew tree and think. Sure, some of it is for purposes of therapy, but most of it is for herself. She has no delusions about this selfish act: she misses home and seeing her family every day, which is why she takes the time to wonder about how things are going back home.

It's during one of these day dreaming sessions that an unusual thought crosses her mind, one that requires her immediate attention. After discarding most of her weapons, chest armor, and chaps, she hurries off into the Commercial District. The walk is a familiar one, and it doesn't take long until she's face to face with a room in a swanky, 1920's Brooklyn-style hotel labeled "221." She knocks carefully, hoping she's not disturbing the occupant on the other side.

"Steve? It's Amelia. Can I... can I come in?"

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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.

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A little piece of home [Tagging Steve]

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

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