[ To say that this isn't how he wanted to do this would imply that he wanted to do this, that he knows what he wants at all. Dust kicks out from under him as he scrapes to standing, quick enough if inelegant, a shadow moving further into view only in preparation to disappear again. But the next gust pulls him back into Steve's line of sight again like he's tethered there, not quite able to turn his back. ]
Don't. [ Called out over the wind, it's ambiguous at best. Don't come any closer, don't follow him, don't do anything stupid. His weight teeters on the balls of his feet.
He looks different this close, even under the gloom of perpetual twilight. Dark hair barely past the stubble phase rivals the scruff of his chin, but there's a sharpness to his cheekbones, a knife's-edge shine to his eyes that wasn't there in 1944, if the glimpse of folded sleeve where his left arm should be wasn't indication enough. Jacketless now, it doesn't leave much to the imagination. He keeps the opposite arm raised just so for balance, poised to bolt, but backward or forward? ]
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Don't. [ Called out over the wind, it's ambiguous at best. Don't come any closer, don't follow him, don't do anything stupid. His weight teeters on the balls of his feet.
He looks different this close, even under the gloom of perpetual twilight. Dark hair barely past the stubble phase rivals the scruff of his chin, but there's a sharpness to his cheekbones, a knife's-edge shine to his eyes that wasn't there in 1944, if the glimpse of folded sleeve where his left arm should be wasn't indication enough. Jacketless now, it doesn't leave much to the imagination. He keeps the opposite arm raised just so for balance, poised to bolt, but backward or forward? ]