all the colors collide. i see it in your eyes. formerweapon

[forwakanda]

Life changed in a single instant, something T'Challa knew far better than he even wanted to because his past year could only be described as a chaotic mess. From losing his father to becoming both Panther and King to the great nation of Wakanda, he had a lot to adjust to and quickly. The country could not afford him to falter, not even a step and in some ways the pressure of it all seemed far too much for one person to carry. How did his father manage it with such ease and poise? Would he ever find the same or did he have nothing but conflict to ease his way through and towards?

The next bit of trouble revolved around Mister Barnes, someone he vowed to assist with finding peace and he never went back on his word, having far too much honour and pride for such a thing. He promised the Captain he would do all he could and he proved it by earning a terms of release for the solider into his custody. He loathed such a terminology but they were unwilling to grant the man his full freedom until he proved to be a functioning and contributing member of society. This meant building a life with a stable place to stay, a form of employment and passing through routine therapy. A mighty undertaking but a desired one over being in prison, most likely in Russia of all places.

Finished with the conference, T'Challa ran a weary hand over his face before he headed towards James' room to tell him the updates. They had already fashioned a new arm for him and T'Challa wanted him to know he had a place at the palace if he chose to stay there. He managed to clear the others and they arrived back and forth from Wakanda to the rest of the world. He knocked politely, pushing a bead to send a message to his sister about a few things. He checked one of the news feeds while he waited as well, the hologram projection filling the space of the closed door.

Comments

[formerweapon]

Palace life even as a guest was certainly something to get used to, it's a lot more lavish than what he used to staying in. Even though he knows he shouldn't overstay his welcome. Bucky couldn't be grateful for T'Challa for letting him stay and for fashioning him a new arm, it's lighter than his old one which is a nice change of pace when it comes to training with it to get used to the way it functions.

He's siting on the large king sized bed, journals sprawled in front of him as he tries to work through the fragmented memories he's collected on the pages. As the government gave in on sending over his backpack, seeing as they had no intentions for it or it's contents. Today was a conference to be held over what was to be done with him, spending the rest of his years in some god forsaken prison cell or something less than that. Hopeful it's the latter.

Bucky taps his pen on one of the journals as he picks up one of the files of information that he requested about himself, perking up at the knock on his door. Wondering if it was T'Challa bringing him any good news from the conference or an arm escort to take him away. He shifts towards the edge of the bed, placing down his pen as a place marker before making his way over to the door. Opening it with a curious sort of look that was followed by a smile as he opened the door wide enough for T'Challa to walk in.

"Your Highness, any... good news?" He asks, bowing his head a little.

[sorry this is so late, it's been a rough week plus all my free time's being eaten up by dishonored 2]

[forwakanda]

When the door opened, T'Challa pushed onto the bead to make the news feed disappear for the time being. There were so many chaotic events occurring all over the world and with the presence of Wakanda now widely known, T'Challa knew he needed to keep a close eye. A certain view events, he needed to involve himself in as well, especially those involving the Avengers, the X-men and the Fantastic Four. He needed to keep a close eye on Daredevil as well and the others surrounding him.

"I do indeed have excellent news," T'Challa greeted, motioning for Bucky so sit if he decided to. "The committee has decided to release you into my custody on the grounds of you attending therapy, securing a form of employment and a stable residence." He paused for a moment, hands folded behind his back. "You may stay here in the palace if you would like to. If you desire your own place, I can find listings for you. As for the employment, I can find you places there as well. Do you have an idea on what you would like to do?" Something preferably non-violent to prove to the committee of being more than just a 'weapon' and a 'machine.'

He walked over to the window, looking out onto his beloved country. "How is the arm working out for you? Giving you any troubles? The scientists want to run a few tests later."

[ it is completely okay! never worry about how long a reply takes. i hope things are a little better for you now. ]

[formerweapon]

Those words definitely boosted Bucky's spirits, he closed the door behind T'Challa before making himself comfortable in his former spot on the bed. Flipping to an empty page in his journal to write down the important details, not that he would forget, it just acts as a reminder.

When the king runs over the terms, there's a furrow in his brow as he writes them down. He doesn't mind going to therapy or finding a stable residence, it would be just like the safe house he had stayed at in Romania. Sure, he'd have to get used to a new lifestyle here in Wakanda but he suspected as much with the terms that were worked out. Bucky hadn't explored much of the country so he's at a bit of a loss when it comes to where the best living is and the best jobs for his skills were.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay in the palace awhile longer. At least, until i find a job first and then go from there. I wouldn't know to start on what positions would be best for me, so i'd like your opinions in that area if i may." He says as he watches the king walk over to gaze out the window.

"The arm is working out perfectly, better than the last." He looks at the palm of his metal arm before closing it into a fist and opening it again. Giving a nod about the tests, which was understandable and he couldn't say no to that.

[Slowly catching up on my inbox aaaa. Thank you for being so patient. QAQ]