Secretive - Bucky Barnes

22 || Bye Bye, Social Life

The quietness in the room roars like a fiery inferno against my nerves, doing nothing for them but igniting their already strained strings. All eyes on me, waiting for some reaction, whether or not I would explode regarding to a simple indirect insult like a tyrant, or just let it sweep by like an unpleasant breeze in the cold winter air.

Clearing my throat, I just hope I am not too harsh. »I'd rather have the people around me not talking in the third person about me, but that seems to be a thing of any Avengers there is and will ever be.« I swallow the eye roll down with the bitterness that tries to rattle through my veins at the thought, and attempt a more pleasant tone, »Hi, I'm Nova.«

»Just Nova?« someone asks, a young voice coming from the girl with the longer, brunette hair. She has no accent, but I am sure her origin isn't the US. At least, though, she does not ask in an impolite manner, just curiously.

It is a sting in my heart nonetheless; to know they let them young people fight their wars with them. Such young souls should never bear a weight that ages them about half a decade or more.

»Just Nova.« I say, not in the mood to declare my relationship with James this early nor with anyone else. I do not want them to think of me as belonging to someone rather than standing for my own person, and technically, we are not married. Still, it would be a lie to tell them my old surname Callan.

Sam seems to pick up on the more or less tensed air in between all of us, not letting it roam for too long. As Captain America, he cannot. He is responsible for harmony as soon as there is the smallest sound of flaw concerning humanity, and hell, there will be more than a sound if we do not do something. »So, what exactly do you need our help with?«

»There may be the chance that some gods and goddesses got a little angry with me out of a misunderstanding and they may or may not come to Earth to kill me or get control over me, depending on their current mood and plans.«

»Can you, like, do something to prove who you are, first?« the Banner-Related-Woman-Next-To-Matt asks, her head tilted slightly and almost enabling her chocolate hair to touch her shoulders. We have a lot of dark haired people here, I now realize. Interesting.

Peter's voice, fitting perfectly to the age he portrays in his Highschool-wear, is somewhat small in the room, despite the fact that he physically might be the second-strongest among them, »She doesn't need to, just trust-«

But he interrupts himself as soon as there are little small white things falling down on Matt's friend like feathers hovering through the air, little small unique flakes that seem to come from nothing, be produced by nothing, and tangling themselves into her short chestnut waves.

I did not even blink, but – just as I assumed she would be – the strange woman widens her eyes at the sight of snow, mumbling something close to »This is impossible«, while Matt catches one of the snowflakes the second before it lands on the tip of her pale nose.

»Can you do something that's more than a children's tale?« Romanoff – or whatever she is called, they have not been nice enough to introduce themselves to me, yet – asks, her strong accent almost as cold as the environment she comes from.

»Like what? Do you want me to snatch one of your necks without as much as a thought? God, these Romanoff-women really don't get any better.« I know I should not be as cocky. But somehow, she managed to be a thorn in my eye the second I laid it onto her, and other than that, her sister and my relationship has not really been the best. That does not reflect all too well on the rest of the family brench.

I mean, of course, I would be careful and skeptical too. But when there is people in the same room knowing of the new person, the person requesting help, I would be a little more cautious with my words and a little less cynical.