driftfleet | ( video )

Who: Peggy Carter and YOU.
Broadcast: Fleet-wide, from inside the Marsiva.
Action: Y, for any other newcomers between now and the Shuffle.
When: This Week.

[ let us not dwell too long upon the awkward silences and humiliating nascent moments of agent carter's awakening. let it only be said that she woke with a start (despite the afforded comfort) and the broadcast didn't quite zoom in close enough to adequately witness the depth of her horror when she first raised a tentative hand to her forehead only to find an empty glass vial still sitting there. steve's blood had been poured away: returned to his native lands by way of the east river. both guilty and triumphant, she pockets the vial in her blazer and tells herself it's a problem for another time. after all--- ]

Bollocks. [ mistaking herself for a person alone, she swears. loudly and colourfully as she crosses the bay and knocks her knuckles against the too-intact viewing window separating herself from the rest of creation -- and no familiar blue-and-green marble in sight. peggy swears again: bollocks, damnit, and hell. unable to peer into the void for much longer, she turns her back on oblivion and is confronted once more with the too-sterile hospitality deck. she may be a tidy and precise sort of woman, but this much tidiness and precision makes her stomach turn. where is the stink of new york? the heat? the mess? the humanity?

feeling charged with purpose, she springs into (moderate) action. feeling alarmingly comfortable with technology she swears she's never seen before, she plays her fingers across a panel she doesn't know will connect her to the rest of a whol damned fleet -- but she's left with the burning certainty that it'll connect her with someone. imperiously: ]

I would speak with the individual -- or individuals -- in charge of this operation. Believe me when I stress there is a whole bloody cavalcade of laws, both domestic and international, you're breaking by holding me here. I demand to...

[ some of the fire floods from her belly. a little desperate, she changes tactics: ] Is anyone there? Hello?

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[Whatever Peggy was expecting to answer the call, it probably wasn't a teenage girl, with cat ears, in full plate armor. Miah's raising an eyebrow at her outburst, but that is the only expression she's showing.]

Were they so simply stopped by laws, I imagine none of us would be here to begin with.

[ certainly not expected, no. ]

Bloody hell. [ a curse. a mild deflation. and peggy tries not to stare too hard at the cat-eared girl on the other side of the feed. gentler: ] How long has this fleet been in operation?

Many moons, but not yet a year, I believe. My arrival was quite recent.

[She's certainly used to staring, being a Warrior of Light and all, but that doesn't quite seem like the kind of staring Peggy is giving her.]

I apologize if I have startled you.

I can't in good faith say it's your fault -- nor yours to apologize for. It's a damned startling situation all 'round.

I suppose it is. Have you never seen a Miqo'te before?

[ she isn't a woman who enjoys being in the dark. even an unfamiliar term can send a crease into her expression. firmly: ] Can't say I've ever even heard the word.

It is strangely common to hear that here.

My name is Miah Lanbatal. I hail from a land called Eorzea.

Eorzea. It's a beautiful name. As is yours, Miss Lanbatal. [ manners first; interrogations later. ] Mine is Peggy Carter.

[ no reason to keep it a secret now that it's been said by others. ]

[It's a good thing Miah keeps her face painted, as there's a light flush to her cheeks under it- She's not used to people complimenting her name, but it has a lot of meaning to her.]

It is an honor, Lady Carter.

Ms. Carter, please. [ a slight flush? is she...embarrassed? ] I've got no title that would warrant being called anything but.

[ not by civilians at least. ]

As you wish. Ms. Carter, then.

[She's recovered quickly, at least.]

-- You asked about...what was the word again? Miqo'te? [ she recreates the syllables with near-perfect annunciation. ] Is that what you are, Miss Lanbatal?

Correct. I am a Keeper of the Moon Miqo'te.

[You know, just in case this wasn't fantasy enough, let's get even more weird names in there.]

And what exactly does that sort of thing entail? [ a mild frown. ] Keeping the moon, that is.

[ can a moon even be kept? it sounds almost like a religious sort of title. steeped in someone's mythology. ]

[It's such a silly, innocent question, but still so bizarre by her standards, that she can't help but give a faint smile.]

It is but one race of Miqo'te. Unlike our brethren, the Seekers of the Sun, we shun the day and wake during the night, and offer our piety to Menphina, the goddess of the moons.

... Or, that is the norm for us, but I confess to merely sleeping whenever I am able, regardless of day or night.

...You're nocturnal. By choice or by design?

Design. I still oft find the day too bright, but my duty is not kind enough to confine itself to the night. And I have wedded a Seeker of the Sun...

Doesn't that make things rather...complicated?

Is love not always complicated?

[ a small, sad huff. not quite a sigh. ]

I suppose you're right. It always is.

And perhaps still the least complicated part of our lives, there or here.

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