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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[or tossing a lifeless body out of a plane, if you're the commander.

[he sees that attack, but he still knows better. he can't gauge how she'll react properly, this way. he doesn't want to just show her who he is over the communicator, either. if she's going to find out, she should do it in person, but he's not sure if he can handle that without causing trouble, and orion knows damn well that he can't afford to cause trouble here.

[not when he's grown into a family.]

It's not for my sake. I know what I need to know.

Edited 2015-09-10 04:30 (UTC)

Well, bravo and bully for you. At least someone is feeling well inside the loop.

[ her temper sparks in every syllable. grief and the end of the war haven't calmed that part of her one bit, it seems. ]

Trust me, your loop seems to be the one to be in.

[orion's is lonely and full of things that make everybody depressed. at least she's in the majority.]

I'm going to suss you out. [ texted with all the weight of a threat. ] In due time.

[ and then there will be a reckoning for these games. because (in her naivety) that's what she mistakes this for: a cruel game. ]

Edited 2015-09-10 04:48 (UTC)

We seem to have a lot more of it here.

[than we did back home.]

Yes. So I've heard. [ she misunderstands. of course she does -- because she doesn't for the life of her even consider (for one moment) that the stranger might be who he really is. the thought doesn't so much as flutter across her mind. ] Hours upon days upon weeks upon bloody months of what amounts to little better than imprisonment. Oh, yes. Time is in abundance.

I hope you find a good use for it, Ms. Carter.

[at least he can confirm that she isn't expecting him. that makes him want to reveal himself even less; if she's not ready for it, or even suspicious, it'll hit her even harder.]

I'll see myself shot of the Marsiva, first. Not the sort of place where one finds a good use for any sort of time. Barely twenty-four hours and I'm already bored.

[ bored is the wrong word. 'bored' is bravado speaking, trying to build up a tolerance that doesn't yet exist for an impossible situation. there is nothing boring about waking up in the wayward eddies of space, and yet a kind of boorish british arrogance demands that she make a meager attempt at downplaying the drama of it all. ]

I hear the races are pretty interesting in this sector of space. You'll have plenty to do when you get on board your ship.

And what if my ship turns out to be your ship, Mister Unimportant?

[ -- because she's decided he must be a man. unfair of her, really. and yet there her thought process lands. rocket-hot and ready to judge. ]

Then I guess I'll have to step into the light.

[but god, does he hope not.]

Pray the starlight in this neck of space is most forgiving.

[ because she won't be. or so she believes, ignorant to the fact that a mere glance at his face would tear her great walls and armoured attitude down to dust and ashes. ]

It's fickle at best.

[he doesn't know that it would be so hard for her. he doesn't know for sure. but there's an instinct in him, one that's been re-cultured through the last few months of civilian life, that's telling him it wouldn't be pretty.]

Good luck, Peggy.

[ luck isn't what i need.

but that's a personal thought. a private thought. telling and raw and too honest for a conversation like this. in truth, she doesn't want to prolong what's beginning to pain her.

so she's willing to let opportunity fade, if only so she might pick it up again at a later time. the feed goes dead. ]

( video )

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;

text;