...And also these.

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q Nami Natasha Romanoff Nelkeila Tarid Nux Nyssa al Ghul Octavia Blake One Peggy Carter Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève

R - U R. Daneel Olivaw Rapunzel Remy LeBeau Riku Robin Redbreast Rogue Santanico Pandemonium Shawn Hunter Stefan (Alesci) Salvatore Steve "Orion" Rogers Steven Quartz Universe Souji Seta Stiles Stilinski Syeira Tadashi Hamada Tekhetsio

V - Z Vash the Stampede Vima Sunrider Vision (The) Wanda Maximoff Wrath Yamanaka Ino

Comments

Peggy Carter

[mucked]

[ you find yourself in a small square room -- and although no windows are readily apparent, there is a kind of glowing light that hovers in the air. like the mere suggestion of flickering lamps worthy of an older world, though no immediate sources are visible. one half of the room gives way to drab-coloured lockers -- most of which are secured tight, but a few stand open. one houses an immaculately pressed uniform, complete with s.s.r. lapel buttons. its pockets hold secrets for anyone brave enough to crumple the starched fabric. old army boots stand next to polished pumps. in the next locker over, secured with a padlock, the shape of a gun-belt can just be seen. a third houses something bizarre that almost looks almost but not quite like a typewriter. the keys to these lockers must be somewhere.

the other half of the room fades into softer lines: floral wallpaper, and a well-made bed that stands next to an antique vanity. its surface is occupied by a whole standing army of cosmetics: rich lipsticks and dark polishes; powders; pluckers; pins. everything a 'modern' woman needs to keep her uniform in order. tightly tied and sitting beneath a silver-backed hairbrush is a thick army file. red ink declares it to be rather top secret. beyond that, each of vanity's drawers houses additional sundries and trinkets.

at last, caught somewhere between the two halves, something is where it shouldn't be. a complex radio system has been left abandoned on the floor, without any tidiness or table to speak of. while anyone wanders this space, it blasts a fractured rotation of sounds: a few odd clips from the captain america adventure program, the staticy sounds of war and music fit to dance to. ]

[acuition]

[ The first thing she notices is the radio, thanks to hearing far too sensitive to be anywhere near normal. The harsh sound of static and music, though still somewhat unclear, is distracting-- so before exploring, there's something that has to be taken care of.

So, if she can, she'll be turning that radio off. ]

[mucked]

[ it doesn't obey -- not directly, at least. it boasts no cord to its source, nor any working dial that does anything but change the content of its broadcast. but the radio can be stabilized upon one of the three options. stabilized, and then the volume can be turned down low enough to no longer be a distraction for her sensitive ears, but not low enough to be silenced.

which 'station' does she choose: the music, the gunfire, or the radio show? ]

[acuition]

[ She'll settle on the music, since it's the least...jarring. And quiet is better than it was. Still not ideal, but she'll take it.

And once that's settled, time to properly explore.

The file, at least, seems like it might be the most simple way to learn more about where she is, if nothing else. It's as good a place to start as any. ]

[redactions]

[ Despite the unfamiliar environment, he relaxes. The air smells like home, no dust, but wood, and something old, thought lost. The light reflecting off the buttons on the uniform catches his eye first, then the file, and the soft sounds of music as well as that damn radio show. He stoops to fidget with it, trying to keep it on Benny Goodman. ]

Agent Carter? Peggy?

[mucked]

[ her name conjures her -- dream-bound, and untethered by the superficial worries of a flesh-and-bone world. across the room, she's caught mid-ritual. but where she might normally bluster and be embarrassed, she now barely seems to care. all she does is make certain the robe is fastened at her waist before walking towards the room's centre. despite the silk and despite the stockings, there's nothing lascivious about peggy in this moment; instead, she appears...comfortable. stripped down, and outside of her armour -- as though she'd been caught deciding between the uniform or the vanity table. ]

Sergeant. [ she greets him with a bright smile and his old rank, as though her subconscious never stopped seeing him as such. ] I can't seem to get the music to stick...

[ and as if on cue, gunfire rat-a-tats its way between clarinet notes. ]

[redactions]

[ There might be nothing lascivious, but the moment she materialises Jim turns on his heel and clasps his hands behind his back, looking very determinedly at the wood panelling on her room, and idly wondering where the light is coming from. ]

Ma'am.

[ His old rank doesn't bother him, neither does the fact that he seems to be dressed in his old fatigues, and his sergeant's dog tags clink as he shifts his weight. If this is the role she sees him in — well he has a knack for fitting into people's expectations. ]

Neither can I. We might want to turn it off.

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[Wanda looks about the room she suddenly finds herself in. The lockers, the vanity, and the typewriter... all of it peculiar. She walks slowly around the room, getting a feel for its size. She walks past the opened lockers, viewing their contents, but she makes no attempt to move them or to open the locked ones.]

[She eyes the radio, as she walks around it. The program playing from it... it was giving her goose-bumps. And every time the name "Captain America" comes up, she gives a little start, as if being shocked by some static electricity. Wherever she was... she was starting to like it less and less.]

[As she nears the vanity, she spies the various cosmetics. She stops in front of the large bit of furniture, slowing running her fingers across the top of it. She feels the smoothness of the texture, but her fingers stop at the army file. She touches it tentatively... getting the very clear feeling she shouldn't open it... yet, she can't seem to help herself.]

[She looks up and around once, checking to see if someone was in the room. Despite knowing that she was the only one who appeared to be here, she couldn't completely shake this feeling as if she were being watched. She then directs her attention back towards the file, slowly flipping it open to view its contents.]

[The photograph inside causes a sharp intake of breath, as she picks it up to give it a closer look. The frail looking body was unfamiliar, but the face... the young man pictured... she knew him well. It was Steve Rogers. The Captain America she knew from back home. Why was his picture here?]

[She lowers the photo, looks over the rest of the file's contents. All of it, all of the documents inside... they appeared to be about Steve. Why? Why was this all here?]

[mucked]

[ she materializes like smoke in a speak-easy -- stocking'd feet and a silk dressing gown belted at the waist, as though she's caught mid-preparation for the day. her hair is still pinned in place, waiting to be released into precise curls.

she doesn't appear at all uneasy about her unfinished appearance, choosing instead to focus upon the file: ] Quite a change in him, hmm?

[ spoken with deep, resounding affection. ]

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[Wanda whips around in surprise upon hearing Peggy's voice behind her. She looks her over quickly, rather surprised by her choice in outfit. She hasn't seen Peggy in this kind of dress clothing before, and Wanda had to admit she looked quite stunning even in her relatively unfinished state.]

Steve- Captain Rogers, he... when was this taken?

[A million questions were flying through her mind, but that was the first one she could get out.]

[dancingmd]

[Oddly enough, Beverly feels rather comfortable in this space, even if it is from centuries before her time. Granted, most of her knowledge of this era of United States history comes from Dixon Hill and other noir holonovels or from her dance classes. And on that note (pun very much intended), she is drawn most to the radio. Crosby's warm baritone is reminding her how much she misses music here.

Unfortunately, Bing is cut off by a man declaring someone to be "Nazi scum!" Running her hands over the dials and knobs, Beverly wonders if there's a way to get it to stay fixed on the music station.]

[mucked]

[ the radio lingers a moment longer upon the rat-a-tat of gunfire, and punctuated alongside those sounds comes the sudden clatter of booted footfalls on hard ground. a little out of breath, and wearing what could only be described as mid-twentieth century tactical gear, peggy 'rounds the corner of one bank of lockets. her hair is tied back and she wears a scarf around her neck. military in form and function, though it's nothing like the dress uniform hanging to the far left.

she doesn't yet see beverly, but falls back against a shut locker with a sigh. she's trying to catch her breath. ]

[dancingmd]

[Beverly starts at the sound of boots and turns around to see Peggy leaning against the locker, out of breath. She can't place the clothing exactly, but she knows enough to know it's military, World War II. It explains a lot about how Peggy carries herself and her formal way of speaking.]

Hello? I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be in here, but I got lost.

[proudlywehailed]

[the radio is flat-out jarring when orion finds himself walking into this room. the sounds are... wrong. hard to handle. he's going toward it before he can even process the rest of the room; and moves faster when he hears the adventure program. he has to shut it off.]

[mucked]

[ before he can touch the dial, peggy appears from behind him -- walking past on his left side, and dressed for the office. blouse and pencil skirt. styled hair and that ever-present red lipstick. she seems...exasperated, with either the world at large or the adventure program particularly.

with a huff: ] It boggles the mind that anyone bothers to listen to this...tripe.

[proudlywehailed]

[orion pauses in his movement, watching peggy as she moves around the room.]

... Keeps the people's spirits up.

[tothefly]

[What Natasha finds the most interesting is the fairly clear delineation between the two halves of the room. The soft and the hard. Though, really, there isn't much of a difference between the cosmetics on the vanity and the gun hanging in the locker, is there? It's all armor, necessary and almost religiously kept. Warpaint. She knows the kind of woman who would have a room like this. Respects, her, almost. Almost.

So she wanders the room, true, but Natasha keeps her hands to herself, only finally stopping to listen to the radio, as a ridiculous narrative unfolds. Her eyes catch the file, but she only stands and listens, smiling bemusedly at the show on the air. What she can hear of it.]

Well. They didn't get your voice right at all, did they, Steve?

[Soft words, murmured to herself.]

[mucked]

[ the peggy who appears is caught in a perpetual state of unready -- hair curled, but not yet pinned. a dressing robe tied around her waist, and stocking'd feet not yet armoured in her shoes. but she doesn't seem bothered by this compromising moment. indeed, the figment seems hardly to notice it.

instead, with her arms crossed, she comes to stand next to natasha. ] The list of things they did get right is awfully short.

[tothefly]

[Not really surprising to see Peggy in here, only a little surprising to see her in this state of undress. Maybe her mental self was unprepared for visitors. Maybe she just doesn't have as much to hide as someone like Natasha. But whatever the reason, Peggy herself isn't specifically what Natasha's here for--at least, not her personally.]

It bothers you, all the things they got wrong? Making him a character instead of a man?

[mikangirl]

[Well, then.

Nami's drawn first to the vast array of cosmetics out of sheer feminine curiosity. But it's not the powders and polishes she moves to pick up; it's the army file. The former is girlish fun, but this? Anything marked top secret is bound to be of interest.

...assuming she can make out what it's all about. Everyone comes from a world vastly alien to her own, after all.]

[mucked]

[ the file is thick -- and it starts with a simple identification sheet, and a photograph. the picture is black and white and curled on its edges. it sits on top of all the rest like a gatekeeper, harbouring emotion and memory.

it yearns to be picked up. ]

[mikangirl]

[...yeah, it sure does. No harm done, right? It's top secret for someone else's world, not her own--

She picks it up before she can think better of it, flipping it open. Sorry, Peggy.]

[misterprongs]

[ james is nothing but undyingly curious, and while he's respectful of privacy -- that file...

james is drawn to it immediately, eyeing it for a long moment before the radio snaps his attention, and just before he moves to pick it up, a burst of gun fire seems to burst from the radio, causing the teenager to jolt and stare at it with a frown. ]

Come on, now --

[ and so he leaves the file where it is, straying toward the radio to stoop down, picking it up. he knows nothing about how muggle radios work, but he's certain they're not supposed to do that. ]

Bloody thing --

[mucked]

[ gunfire persists, alongside the inevitable whir and grind of tank treads in mud. shouts; screams; hard snaps. the sound seems to feel the room with two halves and, despite the ever-present crackle of radio static, it all sounds a little too...present.

footsteps punctuate the broadcast, and peggy (in tactical gear and with her hair tied back in a demure plait) appears from 'round the corner of a bank of lockers. she appears to be a little out of breath, and there's a smudge of soil on her cheek. she has a large gun in her hands, but it's pointed downwards. ] Quick, [ she commands (despite the lack of enemies nearby) ] Take cover!

[misterprongs]

[ there's a huge moment of shock (what the hell is peggy talking about?) before his instincts kick in, and james immediately ducks behind a table -- but he has the grace and chivalry to grab peggy by the arm and tug her down with him ]

What in the hell is that?

[ a bit sharply, pointing at the gun -- and idly, he wishes he had his wand, because this would be a hell of a lot easier with that. ]

And who are we taking cover from?