His eyes finally landed on her, as bits and pieces came back to him. He vaguely recalled seeing the brunette at the street market. In fact, Magna's face was the last he remembered before everything faded into blackness. He remembered the concern in...
a French borrowing meaning "never seen"; disorder of memory characterized by the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time -- a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems novel.
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LOCATION: OUTSKIRTS OF WAKANDA - THE RIVER TRIBE
MEDICINE HUTS
T'Challa glanced around the hut, taking in the small changes and personal details Bucky had placed all over his home. The furniture was sparse, yet functional. Sure, there wasn't much to look at, but he did notice an old wooden armchair that sat between the bed and the window. It appeared to serve as a makeshift bedside table for reading material, since it was stacked with colorful books. On top was a neatly folded set of clothes. The King recognized the novel titles and smirked lightly; he was aware of Magna's visits, and that the books belonged to his private library, and couldn't help but wonder what was going on between the brunette and the former soldier. Particularly given Magna's apparent reluctance to say goodbye prior leaving for their mission.
He'd already noticed the pair multiple times, standing there, 'pretending to be just friends' whenever they weren't arguing - despite that 'all the time in the world could not pry them apart'. Well, at least according to Shuri. Those had been her words anyway. But the King would never comment on it. It wasn't his place, and he didn't really care that much. It was none of his business, after all. Furthermore, there were plenty of more pressing issues for him to worry about than the complicated relationship between the friends of Captain Rogers.
Bucky and his royal visitor had been talking for a while now, with the former offering updates regarding his progress and taking the opportunity to vehementy thank T'Challa and his people for the continuous help. That was something Bucky made sure to do every time they had a conversation. Granted, the young king was a very busy figure, but the handful of exchanges they'd shared so far were very important to the convalescing man, as brief as they were; and Bucky's gratitude never went unnoticed by T'Challa.
They walked for what felt like an hour, finally making it to the most populated region within the tribe's territory. The huts were built closer to each other, and there were several corrals and sheds in sight, much like where Bucky lived, the only difference being the quantity of animals quartered there. People paid the two no mind as they strolled around --mostly because of Bucky's current company. The King's guards kept their distance as well, per T'Challa's firm request.
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— ... Well, I am glad to hear you are doing well.- oddly enough, T'Challa placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment. The touch felt strange somehow, hardly deserved, but it reminded Bucky of Steve. And while it offered him comfort, it also opened a floodgate of emotions that were too scary to even contemplate at the moment. — ... So is my sister.
