Peggy Carter (
mucked) wrote in
driftfleet2016-03-04 03:31 pm
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Entry tags:
fleetwide video + action »
Who: a newly canon-updated peggy carter and YOU.
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: ss starstruck for crewmate and any visitors.
When: beginning today, but feel free to forward date something if you like.
[ stern-faced, peggy appears upon the network. ] Does 'zero matter' mean anything to anyone? Pointed, I know, and a bit a long shot...but -- if there's anywhere I might find some resource or knowledge about such matters, then the fleet is my best hope. Otherworldly mysteries are not well within my wheelhouse.
[ there are other questions she could ask -- but no, zero matter might be the safest inquiry out of a great many others. and even then, it's barely safe at all. but it must be asked, for now she feels most preoccupied with the work conducted back home. the fleet is almost a secondary thought -- a distant, archaic priority. ]
Alternatively -- [ she sighs. until now, she hasn't been agent cater within the fleet, much preferring to be the more social and civilian version of herself. ] -- I wouldn't mind hearing a bit more about worlds. Different worlds, universes, what have you. I know none have been successful in creating a rift between this place and any other but -- surely, such rifts must exist elsewhere.
[ long story short: peggy carter took a nasty spill inside one of the sr shuttles, and is now back on her feet after being out cold for nearly a day. on the surface, it seems like nothing's the matter. not seriously so, at least. but as she goes about her ship duties, there's a glassy-eyed quality to her gaze. it takes her a little too long to remember someone's name -- as though she's reaching back by weeks or maybe months to recall details she'd been living every day.
find her in the kitchen, where she's preparing one of her two or three or sometimes four daily cups of tea. or find her in the cargo bay where she's trying to use the recreational equipment. she quickly gives up on the punching bag because although she no longer has stitches holding her guts together, there persists a tight ache in the flesh. she settles for the treadmill.
wherever else she might be encountered, her crankiness is persistent. ordinarily patient with her crew, peggy's kindness has been thinning out all week. she appears tightly wound and disengaged. ]
Broadcast: fleetwide video
Action: ss starstruck for crewmate and any visitors.
When: beginning today, but feel free to forward date something if you like.
VIDEO (FLEETWIDE)
[ stern-faced, peggy appears upon the network. ] Does 'zero matter' mean anything to anyone? Pointed, I know, and a bit a long shot...but -- if there's anywhere I might find some resource or knowledge about such matters, then the fleet is my best hope. Otherworldly mysteries are not well within my wheelhouse.
[ there are other questions she could ask -- but no, zero matter might be the safest inquiry out of a great many others. and even then, it's barely safe at all. but it must be asked, for now she feels most preoccupied with the work conducted back home. the fleet is almost a secondary thought -- a distant, archaic priority. ]
Alternatively -- [ she sighs. until now, she hasn't been agent cater within the fleet, much preferring to be the more social and civilian version of herself. ] -- I wouldn't mind hearing a bit more about worlds. Different worlds, universes, what have you. I know none have been successful in creating a rift between this place and any other but -- surely, such rifts must exist elsewhere.
ACTION (STARSTRUCK)
[ long story short: peggy carter took a nasty spill inside one of the sr shuttles, and is now back on her feet after being out cold for nearly a day. on the surface, it seems like nothing's the matter. not seriously so, at least. but as she goes about her ship duties, there's a glassy-eyed quality to her gaze. it takes her a little too long to remember someone's name -- as though she's reaching back by weeks or maybe months to recall details she'd been living every day.
find her in the kitchen, where she's preparing one of her two or three or sometimes four daily cups of tea. or find her in the cargo bay where she's trying to use the recreational equipment. she quickly gives up on the punching bag because although she no longer has stitches holding her guts together, there persists a tight ache in the flesh. she settles for the treadmill.
wherever else she might be encountered, her crankiness is persistent. ordinarily patient with her crew, peggy's kindness has been thinning out all week. she appears tightly wound and disengaged. ]
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[ she relents, but feels sour about doing so. los angeles had felt so real. and so did the threat posed by zero matter to the whole damned world. and that threat paints her with another guilty feeling when she considers max, once again, and his nuclear world. ]
M-maybe. [ doubt settles into her voice. her fingertips tap the knotted tissue on her abdomen. where did it come from, then? ] But this scar is new.
[ frustrated, she smooths her shirt back into place with crisp and sudden gestures. ]
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You misunderstand.
Just because it's the augment, doesn't mean it didn't happen... Doesn't mean you didn't... leave. [He huffs, his knee popping as he stands. He holds out the icepack for her, if she wants it, though he still keeps a clear distance.] Just... don't know how.
You're not crazy.
[That's my job.]
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and after this slow action, she takes from him the offered ice pack. peggy shifts it between her hands. ]
It was home. [ she exhales. ] I was home. Or I remember being home.
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Timelines... work strangely.
I've seen others go, before. Come and go. Not here, but in the last... hm. Universe.
[He can hardly wrap his head around it, sometimes.]
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What was happening? Here, I mean. [ her expression grows foggy. ] Are we still on that...that station? [ a frown. ] The dog!
[ steve. her face falls. for a moment, peggy looks unquestionably sad. ]
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The dog's healing. Nothing's changed.
[He reminds her, quite patiently:]
It's only been a few hours.
...
Should I go now?
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her knuckles whiten on the bed's metal head-board. ]
You may, [ she answers primly. ] If you like.
[ she won't ask him to stay; somehow, she's above that. ]
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I meant if you wanted me to go.
Leave you to... think.
[He gives pause, though, motioning at her with a disapproving frown.]
You shouldn't be moving so fast. Rest.
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[ max. his name lingers there like punctuation -- unsaid, but breathed silently. ]
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[He thinks it was eight, but it could have been more. He's not very good at measuring time, especially when there's also a sick old dog he's been treating. An old dog sleeping in the corner, because it was easier to keep an eye on them both this way.]
Pushing yourself too fast; your knuckles are white on the headboard. Shouldn't rush when there's no where to really go.
[And alright, he doesn't follow that advice at all and they both know it. But just because he doesn't listen doesn't mean it's a good idea in any situation, okay.]
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(but of course max could never have known, nor understood. eight or nine hours. her eyes scrunch shut -- both with pain and frustration.)
peggy slowly lowers herself back onto the bed. she sits -- and sees dog two for the first time since waking. what a stupid name... ]
I ought to thank you. Probably. [ but she can't quite conjure the words in the right order. ]
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It's fine.
[He honestly is a little disappointed in himself more than anything. If he'd been faster to react, he probably could have stopped her from smacking her head on the solid metal.]
Just... Don't do that. Anymore.
[He thins his lips and frowns.]
Would've rather you been up and around.
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Has he been with us the whole time? [ carefully, she nods to the dog. ]
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He's still hurt. Needed to keep an eye on him, so... I carried him in here.
He's been good.
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He's quite patient. And something like an anchor for you, I think. [ she articulates what has before now gone unsaid. the dog is the first real toe-hold max has had on the ship, aside from slow-growing associations with his crewmates. ] From here, he looks a bit like a rock. Immovable. Here to stay.
[ no matter what his pain and injury. ]
Rock. [ she watches the dog, and not max. it's very likely that beneath her careful expression she knows exactly what she's doing. ] Rock's not a bad name, you know.
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Space is big and infinite and it would be easy, to get lost in it for a long while.
So when she says here to stay so boldly, he averts his gaze.
She says Rock. The name Rockatansky tickles his ear, the voice not his own.]
... It's a strong name. Rock is solid and sturdy.
[He hums quietly.]
I, um.
[He licks his lips, trying to think. The room suddenly feels very small, and he feels too exposed, feels a million lies on his tongue, lies by omission. He's not immovable. Max. He's not here to stay. Sometimes he wants to get up, get into a SR shuttle, and go. But he can't. Not enough guzzoline to matter. Wouldn't get far. But he could try. He thinks about it more than once a day. He could try and run, see where he ends up. These are the real Plains of Silence, if he had to call them anything else--
He motions to the dog.]
He's better company, probably.
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Mm. Self-proclaimed genius with the mustache.
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[ she twirls a finger in the air (perhaps to suggest something about the ship itself). ] Our engineer? Tony? Similarly bad taste in facial hair? Yes -- that would be Howard's son, oddly enough.
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[mad shade being thrown]
... Actually, was the other one. Howard.
[Such a truly thoughtful, considering pause.]
Should've known they were related.
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[ vague volumes of protectiveness. of almost possessiveness, when it comes to her assets. her allies. howard can be something of a handful. he isn't known for his discretion, and she could see (immediately) how a man like him would vex a man like max. ]
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No. Tried to be helpful. With the dog.
[Keyword 'tried'. Max is just not very approachable, and Howard is terrible at approaching. He's not sure why he wanted to help... didn't have much to benefit from it. Max, of course, wasn't privy to Howard's brackets.]
Bothering... That's, um... What's-his-name's job. With the... [He gestures to his eyebrows. FDR has massively intense eyebrows, Peggy, it's been deemed by Max Rockatansky.] The annoying smart-mouth in our crew.
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FDR. Foster. Yes -- well, it's funny you should call it his job. [ a narrowed look, as though max's word-choice permits fdr his liberties. ] He's a persistent sort. Not very good at taking no for an answer.
[ not that he's asked her for anything ludicrous. but there had been a request to dance. ]
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F'had to lock him out of the shuttles.
[Translation: he was pissing me off and I needed the world's best earmuffs.
Too clingy. Max hates clinging. His personal space is personal, ffs.]
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[ far be it from her to spoil a fellow agent's cover, but: ] If I can bypass those locks, then so can he. Fair warning.
[ perhaps that's all the clues max needs. ]
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