1964-09-15 - Waking Up Avengered
Summary: Kamala wakes up in the Avenger's Mansion and meets.. her idol and the best romance since Twilight!
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
carol-danvers kamala rogue bucky 

That was the weirdest and coolest dream, ever! As Kamala stretches out in the guest bedroom bed, she's feeling so rested.. so ready..

..so confused..

There's a small, confused panic noised in her throat as she sits up on the bed. This isn't her room! This is way nicer than her room! Where's her beat up desk? Her comfy bed? Her plush animals - her Captain Marvel 'We Can Do It!' posters?!

The girl looks around, and tries to regain her senses. "Think, Mala, think. Last night totally wasn't a dream. You're some weird morphagenic freak now…" she considers and adds. "…that's so cool! But.. where am I? Wait, Crystal found me.. maybe I'm at her house! This looks like her type of place." So refined, so nice.

She hasn't met Tony Stark yet.

"So, I'll just find Crystal." she says, slipping out of the bed, and whews. "At least I'm still dressed." she murmurs, as she moves towards the door and opens it. Peeking out into the hallway, she looks left. Right. Left again. Then steps out. "Crystal?" she asks, in a quiet voice, and then picks up her tone. "Crystal?! Lockjaw?! Karnak?! Uh.. fish person??"

And standing outside the door is a blonde figure that looks pretty familiar, though she's dressed pretty casually right now. No spandex to be seen! She's just in a blue blouse and jeans, her hair long and worn loose and free right now as she grins, "Hey kid, you're awake. Crystal dropped a note, but wasn't too specific about it." She tilts her head, "How're you feeling?" Her voice sounds real familiar too…

Not far along a young woman practices yoga. Those asanas demonstrate tremendous command of muscles and body, for Scarlett holds to a pose that brings her arms to her lower back and her leg extended behind her, all while balancing on her toes. Effort may be minimal, but it still requires most of her concentration until that door opens. "I suspect our guest awakens," she notes, English saturated by melodies that beg to sing. Not New Yorker, her.

She flexes her knee slightly and reorients, still terribly controlled in motion and ability. Her garments are similarly suited to her work; a Pucci shirt, and supple leggings, the tunic belted at the waist. "Hello there!" Two steps and the bohemienne flits into view by Carol, flame to go with the sunny gold. "Are you hungry? We've got a lovely kitchen if so."

|ROLL| Kamala +rolls 1d100 for: 99

Keep your cool, Kamala. Don't freak out. Why would she freak out? Because there's a beautiful blonde right outside the door, that's why. "Uh, hi!" she offers, not jumping out of her skin, thank Allah. The girls takes a moment to breath and remember what she was doing. "You know Crystal?" she asks, arching her brows as she looks askance at Carol. She really looks familiar, but it's not like Kamala has up-close photos of the woman.

Or does she?

But then she's joined by the Bohemian beauty and the mousy brunette, so overshadowed by sun and flame seems to shrink just a little. "Oh! This is one of those all-girls schools, right? Like Saint Andrews?" she assumes. Because clearly Carol is a teacher and Rogue is well.. a student? She totally looks like a student. Or a student teacher. It's really hard for Kamala to figure out.

But then she realizes something. "..wait.. I stayed here? Abu and Ammi are going ground me forever! Worse!" she gets all types of bad images. "They're going to totally kill me! Oh Allah, I'm a dead girl walking. Or worse, they'll demand I marry some man they chose to protect my honor! Some big slobbingly man with crooked teeth and bad breath and a fat nose taht eats falafel all the time!"

Carol, for her part, is trying really hard not to laugh, and smiles, "Actually, I'm pretty sure we can straighten all that out, Ms. Khan." Since, well, Crystal was nice enough to drop a note with Kamala's name and a few notes.

Though fandom of a certain blonde superhero might have been glossed over. Or just not mentioned.

Then Carol nods, "Yeah, well, you were sleeping off some of the excitement. We thought this would be best, and we'll be more than happy to speak to your parents about what happened." She grins a bit at the mention of all-girl's school, "Thanks for thinking I look that young, though. This isn't a school, this is, well, the Avengers Mansion. I'm Carol, and this is Scarlett."

Those luminous green eyes hold a stark question embedded in their brilliant flame, singed around the corners by a plethora of inquiries she simply cannot bring herself to make. With a tip of her head, Scarlett casts a confounding array of thin plates over her shoulder, skimming in a skein that probably hits her waist. "From the beginning, I think, might aid in making some sense."

Carol already has the basics down, as is her wont, but the child of Greenwich Villageand ritual sacrifices to nature gods beams. Sacrifices must be necessary to achieve such a sunny disposition. "A good friend of ours brought you here to assure you were safe and well after some manner of adventures. Typically we bring only those we like back to stay. I hope you aren't offended that we set you up in a room?"

Sheltered steps take her from the door, opening an escape route preferable to a second floor window onto Fifth Avenue. The views of Central Park are lovely. "Of course, you can leave any time you should choose to, and we've a phone down the hall and around the corner in the nook with a photograph of the Empire State Building over it. Should you want to make any calls, you can." See, no reason to be afraid. What prisoner is allowed a phone call?

Well…. Don't answer that question.

The smile blossoms even the brighter, and she touches her fingers to her throat. "I'm Scarlett, by the way. Friends of the family to Crystal."

"You don't understand, Miss Carol. My parents are very very strict. I mean, once I broke hukum and was grounded from going to my fan club for like.. ever!" So it was two weeks, but still. Kamala is still kind of freaking out here. Scarlett gets a wave as well, until Carol speaks. And tells Kamala where she is.

Remember that reaction she had earlier? That wasn't at all chill and debeanore? It's gone. Completely. Kamala's jaw hits the floor.

No literally. She forgot you know - she has powers now. And her mouth is now gaping wide, and her chin is resting clearly on the floor because she was just gobsmacked by the news from Carol that she is in The Avengers Mansion.

Forget the fantastic view. Forget the fact that she might be a prisoner. She may even forget her Abu and Ammi for a moment. "Wait wait wait…"

"…are you two Avengers?" she asks in a very meek voice. Why? Because in her head she's going down the list of blonde and red-heads in the Avengers roster, and in blondes.. there are very few that match up with…

…she's staring much much harder at Carol now.

Because when you might have just met your idol, you freeze. See. More chill than Steve Rogers, this one.

Carol blinks when Kamala's jaw literally hits the floor, and looks over at Rogue with a bemused expression before she looks back to Kamala, "Well, yes, we're both Avengers." She notices the staring, then smiles, "I go by Captain Marvel, but you can just call me Carol. It's easier for both of us that way."

Do teenagers get heart attacks? Let's find out!

Here's where it gets better. This is the part where Kamala finds out her down-the-hall room-mate is not only a guy, he's the guy who supposedly blew up the World's Fair in April….and assassinated Captain America at the same incident. (Though Cap got better.) That face was all over the wanted posters. Now it's a stubbly, rather sleepy looking face - Buck's room does not have its own bathroom, so he's heading down the hall with a Dopp kit in hand. His hair's long enough to touch the back of his shoulders, currently neither knotted or pulled back.

Please don't kill the teenager. That's so unfair and the very wrong thing to do in terms of showing the community the friendly superhumans cause good things to happen, rather than bad ones. As it stands, the current Avengers reputation outside this building is probably fairly minor and the number of active redheads limited to exactly one: her. Natasha hasn't stumbled into the fold any time recently, if at all, so Scarlett it is. Her hand tips forward against the wall as she balances herself, still standing on toe point and finalizing those stretches accompanying her daily routines of limbering up.

"Indeed. Crystal is one of us, too, among a great long list of people. One gets onto the roster and it's nigh a point of honour. Something about Captain America being a great, heroic inspiration to us all." St. Elmo's fire crackles, her expression radiant. "Should we have Steve get on the phone to call your parents and assure them all is well? He has a reputation for being upright and fair, and you can be assured you got to no trouble here. No wicked slumber party, and alas, you couldn't be expected to know how to operate those buttons on a device designed by a Stark." His ears somewhere must be burning. Wherever Kamala is in her hero worship, the bohemian isn't so troubled or fixated. She glances over her shoulder, marking Bucky's presence. Lips part slightly and she gives one of those quiet smiles, a greeting as much as any.

"Ca.. Ca.. Captain Marvel." Kamala's brain sort of goes 'pop'. One could probably hear the sound if they concentrated enough. And the smoke from her ears would have been plain to see, if it actually existed. "I.. I.. I'm Kamala Khan." But Carol already knows that! The Pakistani girl is just staring for the longest time as she peers up at Carol.

"I have so many questions.." she suddenly animates. "What's your favorite color? Mine's blue! Do you like eggs? I heard you eat bacon - what does the infidel meat taste like? Did you really date Iron Man? How do you get your hair to stay so awesome - how did you not get wedgies in that leotard!" Because she totally got wedgies in that same leotard last night.

"Don't freak don't freak out.. but I write stories about you, because I wanted to be like you. I even.. I mean, I just got my powers last night, because of the terrigenesis, but I mean, I wanted to always be a hero like you and help people, and be my own Marvel and and…"

"…you can have Captain America call my parents?!" she asks Scarlett, Kamala's eyes wide and expressive as she stares openly at Rogue. "They'd totally not believe it! Now if he showed up at my house…" she tries, and before she can get any further, she's peering at Bucky. With Dopp gear. And stubble. And so wanted. "It's an attack!" Kamala suddenly exclaims, jumping in front of Carol and Rogue. "I'll protect you!" says the teenager to the two way more experienced heroes as she looks at her fists. "Get biggerfy!" she calls out so heroically and suddenly she has two huge fists that nearly fill up her part of the hallway, sealing Bucky off from the women.

Carol blinks, and actually blushes as she's… well, sure she's aware that she has fans, but she might not have ever realized their level of enthusiasm, and so she rattles off a quick set of answers, "Blue here too, and I love eggs and bacon, it tastes… well, absolutely horrible, but someone has to eat it." At the mention of Iron Man she blushes harder, "Unfortunately yes, and it's a secret and that's why I changed to the new costume." She looks about to say something else, but that's when Kamala goes KHAN SMASH to protect Rogue and her from the Wild Bucky appearing!

Which is when Carol places a hand on Kamala's arm, "Hey, it's okay, he's not a bad guy. He was not only brainwashed, but rinsed and thoroughly waxed too. It's fine. But… that's a pretty cool trick you have there, with the fists." Because Carol is thinking that with this kid, Carol buttering her up will probably help de-escalate things.

Rogue gets a sleepy, lopsided smile in return. "Hey, Scarlett," he says, as he scratches the back of his scalp. It's worth noting the metal arm is not hidden at all - Buck's only in t-shirt and jeans, barefoot.

And then Kamala. Okay. Bucky puts down the little canvas bag, very slowly and carefully, and takes a step or two back, hands up. "Listen, sister," he says, voice still gritty with sleep. "I live here. Sometimes. I'm Steve Rogers's best friend. The name's James, but you can call me Bucky or Buck. I don't have a sink in my room, and I need to shave - I can't go to work looking like a mountain man." Carol's commentary gets a wry look. "I don't bite, these days. And these ladies here know me, they can vouch for me. Lemme tell you….if I meant to cause harm, you wouldn't see me coming." Another beat, and he adds, "Danvers, you liar, bacon tastes amazing."

|ROLL| Rogue +rolls 1d100 for: 81

The bohemienne endures the bombardment of questions aimed other than at her, a situation she's not going to complain about. "I attend Columbia. I assure you, I would rather this not be a girl's school and yes, Steve can…" That's about all she can offer when fists go soaring around and past her to make a wall. That protection proves wholly unnecessary considering everyone in the hallway possesses the full means to defend themselves. Mostly. But words sometimes assist, and hers is a sonnet spun to the heavens, full of moody depths and quiet conviction.

"He has every right to be here as one of us, Ms. Khan. Mr. Barnes is a friend and, as Carol said, subjected to things most of us should never wish to experience." The stir of her thoughts plunders whatever silence was in her skull, and she raises her hand to her brow, massaging her fingertips deeply into her scalp. "So, please, no need for any additional vigilance."

Never doubt the power of a pretty blonde. Especially never doubt the pretty blonde that has the biggest fan in the world right there. Kamala stares for a moment, glaring daggers at James. "Bucky? You're not the Bucky. He died or something tragic that made Captain America a great hero.. and you have a metal arm! That's … actually kinda cool." she admits, her fists deflating and going back to their normal cute sized hands.

Of course. A sink. A shower.. wait. She's been in a cocoon for three days and then the whole thing last night, and then the sleep in the bed.

Why not just physically put the stink lines on her? Wait, did Carol just say she has a cool power? Kamala just smiles. She can't help herself.

But then Rogue chides her, and she frowns. "Sorry, Mr. Barnes." she murmurs. Though she probably just stuck her tongue out at Bucky in the process. "Wait. Barnes. He.. really is the Bucky?" she blinks a few times. "Thought he was taller."

Carol gives Kamala a sly grin, "Me too, to be honest." She then winks at Bucky, "I didn't want to torment the poor girl since she can't have any bacon, you know. Don't use up all the hot water either." She then gives Kamala a warm expression, "He really is the Bucky, and he's been through a lot. But he's come through the other side okay." And then she gives Bucky a look that, well, you can read a lot of things in a look like that, before Carol coughs slightly, "So, we do have more than one bathroom, if you wanted to get freshened up a bit?"

"I did die," Bucky admits, easily. "Several times, matter of fact. But instead of getting frozen in ice, I got taken by the Russians. That's where this came from." HE lifts the metal arm, waggles its fingers at her. Then he grins. "Mr. Barnes. Nah. And I am THE Bucky, accept no imitations." Then her comment makes him snort. "I usedta be taller'n Steve, you know," he comments, mildly. "Before the serum."

Rogue safely knows when to keep her mouth shut, especially on the matter of bacon, height, and death. Certain blends cannot be pursued safely, all things said and done. She steps back against the wall where it's safest to remain, allowing others to come and go. The songs howling in the pandemonium whispers in her ears are far too loud, at the moment, for her to much hear anything else. Turn a blind eye to it; she does.

"You were? Did you know Peggy too?" Kamala asks, because the hopeless shipper in her is Agent America forever. "Uh, right. Bathroom. Speaking of! Is.. there one nearby?" It's been three days and her body's protesting in all the wrong ways. She may have to break into the ritual 'gotta potty' dance at this rate. Once she's pointed towards one, she takes off. "Be right back!"

Carol waits, at least, until Kamala runs into the other bathroom, then Carol laughs a little, "Well, she's definitely the most… enthusiastic, person I think I've ever seen." She grins a bit ruefully, then looks over at Bucky, "Were we ever that excited as kids? I'm not sure I was."

"I know Peggy Carter very well," Bucky says, with real warmth in his expression. He gestures for the bathroom, and then looks back at Carol. "I sure was," he says, with a little laugh in his voice. Rogue gets a concerned look, but he doesn't press her.

Silence is a grace that eludes Scarlett for a time. She faces herself in a window, through a pane that overlooks the greening park as it prepares once more for a last gasp at summer before traceries of burnished copper and bronze afflict those spreading leaves. With a change of attire, the woodland at the beating heart of the city will mark another transition. Maybe there's something in the splendid vista of people walking dogs and throwing Frisbees that calms her heart.

Otherwise, it's a marked element of quiet. "I couldn't really say. However, she seems utterly taken with you. That soothes any nervousness, I hope, rather than acting as an outward sign of it that she's covering. Either way, my apologies that she took such a start at your presence, Mr. Barnes."

When she pops out of the bathroom, after throughly washing up, because cocoon stickiness is gross when it dries, she's changed. Well, she's modified the molecules of herself to form new clothing. The burkini - or tunic dress - is a dark shade of blue and has a rather familiar looking yellow lightning bolt down the front of it. Underneath is red leggings and sleeves, with a yellow bracer on her left arm. Her feet are clad in blue work style boots, and she compliments it all with a red scar around her neck. See, not much different that the leotard - but more conservative.

"Anyway.. I was wondering.. I know you call yourself Captain Marvel and all. But you used to be Miss Marvel. And since you're not using that anymore.." she toes the ground and gets the sparkly eyes, "…maybe I could?"

Carol smiles over at Kamala, "I don't think there's any problem with that, Ms. Marvel." She grins, "I can still call you Kamala, right?" The heroine nods approvingly at Kamala's costume choice, "That's a great outfit, too. I like it a lot. Definitely more comfortable than what I was wearing to start out." Let's just not talk about that, alright?

Bucky gives Scarlett one of those sidelong looks. "Mr. Barnes?" he teases her, but his tone is light. "That was my dad." Then he looks back and nods at Kamala. "I've never understood the tight suits," he admits. "I mean, other than Steve's, which has all kind of craziness built into it."

"I certainly would agree. High cut leotards are a thing designed not for comfort so much as frosting on a cupcake," Scarlett replies in time, blinking back into the present. The transition is utterly that sudden; the lights come on, the curtains rise, and there she is prepared to meet the moment with roughly the kilowatt power put off by the Hoover Dam at any given flood season. Plug her into a battery, watch it explode. "The tight suits exist more for the ideal than the practicality. But then I would be someone to talk to about skin tight things and close fit." Right. Her laughter is a thing creeping up on her, as though it might ambush her as a predator. "That is a lovely balance, and practical when the weather gets cold. But, ah, I'm spoiled for choice. That does remind me, I've an armoury to raid. Last I knew they couldn't get oranges there and would pay handsomely. I wonder if there are import taxes."

"…o-of course you can call me Kamala!" Captain Freaking Marvel is saying she's on a first namesies basis with Miss Marvel, I mean Kamala. She's having the best day ever. Even as she tugs on her costume a little. "I can't do skintight. It just.. doesn't fit what I am." That bit of her modesty shows through clearly as she nods to the others, before considering Bucky's statement. "It is rather.. tight.."

What, she's nineteen, of course the hot guy with the shield and the pecs that broke the British Invasion wouldn't get her attention. But she snaps out of it just as quickly as Rogue speaks up. "…wait. Someone's holding oranges hostage? Is it Canadians? There's ninjas from there, you know."

Carol chuckles a bit, "Canadian ninjas? I think the ones from Madripoor are bad enough as it is." She gives Kamala a wry look, "Well, if you're up for it, we can probably scrounge up some breakfast… there are amazing muffins hiding in the pantry, if you know who to ask." Carol looks a little shifty-eyed at that, then looks at Kamala, "You can't fight ninjas on an empty stomach, in any case."

Oh ho ho. Bucky's focus has latched on Rogue in earnest. "Armory?" he asks her, with a hopeful little lilt in his voice. "Where?"

The hot guy who ruined the British Invasion and made a mortal enemy of Queen Elizabeth II, cause of many astounded hmphs and worse. Will he ever live that down? Put it this way, if Bucky or his brothers show up on British soil, they may end up the first victims of treason and laws abusing lese majeste since the Order of the Garter. Or something thereabouts. Her laughter breaks too warmly and Scarlett puts her hand over her mouth. "Canadian ninjas, their politeness prohibiting them from slaying in the name of good sense and manners? I have to fear the outcome of such a battle. Not that I know so many Canadian assassins. I do know more about armouries. And you, Mr. Barnes, need to obtain yourself a proper shave before we go near that discussion. We shall, though. If that is how you wish to spend your afternoon. "

"Oh thank Allah. Cause if you didn't let me use Miss Marvel, I was gonna have to be Embiggened Girl or something square like that.. I didn't really have a backup plan if you said no." Kamala admits before she nods. "You have to watch out for their deadly Maple Leaf Formation." She says quite seriously, before getting a quiet squee as Carol invites her to breakfast. "Do.. do you have a waffle maker? Or or omelettes?" the girl is completely distracted from the brewing Bucky/Rogue friction and raiding armories being the codeword for snuggle wumpfest as she moves to follow after the blonde idol.

Carol grins, "I have been known to make a pretty mean omelette, if the occasion calls for it. C'mon Kamala, let's rustle up some food so these two can plan their armory raiding." She gives Bucky a particularly wry wink, then guides the teen downstairs to the kitchen.

His lips purse at that, in the way they do when Buck is desperately restraining one of those grins. "I don't think that's a name you'd want to use," he says to Kamala, eyes bright with amusement - he does not explain further. A nod at Rogue. "All right. Lemme go shave and clean up." Gotta be well groomed if you're about to go mess with Asgardians.

"Make sure to try the orange water muffin. It's really a thing of wonder, and I've contributed a few of the spices from my own garden to it," Scarlett calls after Kamala and Carol, happy to let the twin Marvels go about their business with only minimal fuss. "Talk to us when you know what you'd like to do. We can offer you a temporary sanctuary here or elsewhere, if you have the need for a little privacy and figuring things out. Though if you have concerns about security and control, talk to us. We can help." She touches her brow. "By the by, darling, your process of terrigenesis is practically unknown outside a precious few people. Try to keep that one under your hat unless talking to Crystal, perhaps myself, and a select few others. Your people aren't even known at all in a global sense, and they remain very much hidden. You can choose on your own the path you would take, but your society has a few rules. I'll be sure the king knows."

There's a nod at that as Kamala frowns a little. "I.. okay." she says finally. Secrets. Why did it have to be secrets? Hello, world's worst secret keeper, right here. "I'll have to uh.. meet him.. sometime." Wait, there's a King. Oh right, she remembers that now. Aside to Carol as they walk, Kamala starts in with the barrage of questions that is sure to eventually try even Captain Marvel's patience until you know - she backs off. Because she will.


Iron Marvel - Fail.

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