Humans have always been storytellers. From the day they were able to write, humans have recoded stories and shared grand tales of creatures larger than life. Myths and legends explaining how the world was created, how humans came into existence or w...
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The temperature in northern Italy had dropped significantly in the past few days.
While typically boating a warm air, the sudden onset of rain and the wind switching to come in from the north had made the ground muddy and the breeze nip at the nose. With no break in the greyness above for the foreseeable future, Steve knew the chance of the endless downpour letting up was slim to none. It was a dark, rainy day and he knew no amount of pleading with whomever was up there was going to change that.
The star-spangled-man-with-a-plan sat hidden under a canvas tent, long coat protecting his torso from the chill of the wind. He could still hear the cheering and hollering at the stage that had been built just over the next hill, despite his best attempts to ignore it. After his utter disaster of a show for the soldiers stationed there, Steve had purposefully left to put distance between himself and the stage as an attempt to be alone. Even with the wind, the rain and his current distance from the stage, however, the noise still drifted far enough for his super-soldier ears to hear.
A pencil was grasped loosely between his fingers, the led carefully moved across the page of the notebook to form a picture. Steve didn't really overly care what he was drawing, simply enjoying the act of escaping reality. Doodling allowed him to forget the world temporarily and exist in a place unaffected by his surroundings; Where he could enjoy the peace and quiet- or rather, the peace and partial quiet.
He originally hadn't intended to draw what he had, but as the drawing morphed into a circus monkey riding a unicycle, Steve couldn't help but see it as a self-portrait. A coincidental but painfully accurate reflection of his predicament. Thrown into a flashy costume and paraded around from city to city acting as a mascot for the allied war effort? It wasn't exactly what Steve had in mind when he signed up for Project Rebirth. He wanted to contribute more, to actually help and make a difference.
He knew he could be doing more.
With a heavy sigh, Steve tore his eyes away from his drawing, pencil falling to rest in the crease between the pages of his notebook. The rain beat down just past the edge of his tent, soaking the dirt into a muddy sludge that slowly sunk down into the valley outside the camp.
The occasional soldier or admin staff member ran by hidden under the cover of an umbrella or jacket held above their head. They passed always in mid-jog to keep from getting too wet. None paid Steve any mind as they ran or said so much as a 'hello', giving the soldier a distinct feeling of being a ghost. An easily dismissed or unwanted presence they couldn't see. He wasn't particularly upset that nobody acknowledged him, used to sticking to the shadows and going unnoticed. That day, however, Steve wanted to be alone to calm his nerves in silence.
