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tamingthemuseTitle: Room for Improvement (extra)
Fandom: the Avengers/ Exalted
Prompt: Torpor
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After coming home Exalted, Tony has plans and ideas all but pouring out of his ears. Back in Creation, there was magic everywhere, and a little hard work wasn’t going to stop him from finding those wells of magic in his own world.
Tony had told the other a few things about the time he had spent in the past. He had told them about how Iron Dust and White Song had worked so hard to get him back where he belonged; he told them how he had failed to keep himself separate from their way of life, had succumbed to his destiny without regret, despite how the gods and other exalts has bemoaned the results.
He had told them about those that had hunted him, both the Dragon Blooded for being one of the demons they so feared, and the dead that had wanted his technology to help them win the war. He had explained how his knowledge, so very advanced, could have changed the fate of the world, had his two companions not worked so very hard to get him home.
What he hadn’t told them before, he told them now. He spoke of the gods, not unlike Thor, had walked among the mortals, bartered with them, mingled with them. He spoke of the city that housed said gods and how the buildings had been a riot of colors and the streets a festival of noise. He told them about how the magic in that time had been imbued in the very ground they had walked upon, and since coming home, Tony hadn’t feel quite like he was as solid as he had been there.
He described the sky and air as if he had been a poet, the forests and trees that were not only alive, but had cultures of their own. He told them of the air ships that, burdened down with heavy machines that made the Victorian Age look sleek had floated in the sky like petals.
He told them about the manse that they had found at the bottom of the ocean, where they were headed now, had once been in the air, floating over the forest, like a dream come to life.
He confessed how, sometimes when he slept, he dreamed of being back there. He admitted how, sometimes when he was looking at how the world around them seemed to be constantly in torpor with dreary days and dark nights that he wished he was back there.
Without realizing it, his hand had snaked back up to clutch at his chest. His gaze had lowered at some point to where White Song, across the aisle, was holding onto Iron Dust’s hand in her own firm grasp, silent longing to be there with them twisting in his gut. It was stupid, they were right there. There was no reason for him to have this feeling of disconnect while this close.
Finally, unable to ignore the urge any longer, he reached out and touched his fingertips to her shoulder, tracing the curve down to her elbow. She turned her head to look at him, her cheek resting on her own shoulder as her blue, blue eyes stared at him.
“Sometimes,” he said, his voice thick, “I wish I were still there. This world that we live in now has nothing on that one. Even with the knowledge of what happened before, I would still want to be in that world.”
Steve hissed in a breath. “Tony,” he said carefully, and then waited for Tony to look at him. “If there were a way to go back,” here he paused, licked his lips and had to gather himself. “Would you?” he finished, the words fading into a soft whisper.
Fandom: the Avengers/ Exalted
Prompt: Torpor
Warnings: none
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After coming home Exalted, Tony has plans and ideas all but pouring out of his ears. Back in Creation, there was magic everywhere, and a little hard work wasn’t going to stop him from finding those wells of magic in his own world.
Tony had told the other a few things about the time he had spent in the past. He had told them about how Iron Dust and White Song had worked so hard to get him back where he belonged; he told them how he had failed to keep himself separate from their way of life, had succumbed to his destiny without regret, despite how the gods and other exalts has bemoaned the results.
He had told them about those that had hunted him, both the Dragon Blooded for being one of the demons they so feared, and the dead that had wanted his technology to help them win the war. He had explained how his knowledge, so very advanced, could have changed the fate of the world, had his two companions not worked so very hard to get him home.
What he hadn’t told them before, he told them now. He spoke of the gods, not unlike Thor, had walked among the mortals, bartered with them, mingled with them. He spoke of the city that housed said gods and how the buildings had been a riot of colors and the streets a festival of noise. He told them about how the magic in that time had been imbued in the very ground they had walked upon, and since coming home, Tony hadn’t feel quite like he was as solid as he had been there.
He described the sky and air as if he had been a poet, the forests and trees that were not only alive, but had cultures of their own. He told them of the air ships that, burdened down with heavy machines that made the Victorian Age look sleek had floated in the sky like petals.
He told them about the manse that they had found at the bottom of the ocean, where they were headed now, had once been in the air, floating over the forest, like a dream come to life.
He confessed how, sometimes when he slept, he dreamed of being back there. He admitted how, sometimes when he was looking at how the world around them seemed to be constantly in torpor with dreary days and dark nights that he wished he was back there.
Without realizing it, his hand had snaked back up to clutch at his chest. His gaze had lowered at some point to where White Song, across the aisle, was holding onto Iron Dust’s hand in her own firm grasp, silent longing to be there with them twisting in his gut. It was stupid, they were right there. There was no reason for him to have this feeling of disconnect while this close.
Finally, unable to ignore the urge any longer, he reached out and touched his fingertips to her shoulder, tracing the curve down to her elbow. She turned her head to look at him, her cheek resting on her own shoulder as her blue, blue eyes stared at him.
“Sometimes,” he said, his voice thick, “I wish I were still there. This world that we live in now has nothing on that one. Even with the knowledge of what happened before, I would still want to be in that world.”
Steve hissed in a breath. “Tony,” he said carefully, and then waited for Tony to look at him. “If there were a way to go back,” here he paused, licked his lips and had to gather himself. “Would you?” he finished, the words fading into a soft whisper.
