driftfleet | Calibration Post 1, "Daytime"

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Calibration Post 1, "Daytime"

[ Not long after the shuffle, there's a ripple of static over the network - loud, sudden, and seemingly with no origin. It's puzzling, but there's no indication that it's going to happen again...

Until a minute later. Another surge of static comes in over the speakers, and then a voice - one some may find familiar, though not necessarily welcome, after all of this time... It's Diamond. Long time no speak, hmm?

Clearly, not all is well. She sounds very far away, for one. For another, she sounds... skeptical, almost alarmed. There may actually be real concern in her voice. ]

Again? Twice in one c--

[ Her sentence is cut short with a strangled gasp, followed by a moment of silence. What follows may be the sound of metal dragged across metal, but it's hard to place. When she speaks again, it's uncharacteristically monotonous. ]

... Bring them in.

[ A blip of lost time passes right after those words, before every passenger mysteriously wakes alone in their own unfamiliar room. The style of decor resembles that of the Marsiva's Hospitality Deck, if any passengers should remember what that's like. It sounds and smells the same as the host ship as well, all clean and chrome, but this set of rooms has only been used once, and for the very same purpose that befalls the fleet contestants now.

As for their hosts, there is no immediate sign of them, though some may recall a series of hideous, half-electronic screams before their memories begin to blur upon arrival...

Welcome back to the Marsiva, dear passengers. It's time for round two of calibrations. ]

[ This mingle will cover all non-calibration room interactions. Please continue to come back to it for the duration of the plot! You are, of course, free to post any other mingles/posts/etc. that you'd like. ]

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I -- I don't know. [ not yet, having not had the opportunity to return to anyone's mind. in a few nights, maybe, she'd learn otherwise. but for now she's left shrugging and tracing directionless circles on his kneecap. ] But if it happens again? I'll do the same thing. I'll wait it out.

[ her implication hides between words: there are worse places to be than in his thoughts. at least she can see a path towards reconciliation with him when she sees something she knows she shouldn't.

peggy tilts her chin. ] How much do you remember?

[ from her mind; from his. ]

Enough.

[ too much. he's not sure if it's a kindness or not, having distinct memories of it all. it'll stay with him for a long while, the panic he felt when she ( much, much younger ) disappeared into thin air, the hint of her tears in the wake of his memories.

all at once, he's angry again. with the atroma, with this whole situation. ]

You?

[ enough. she could have given him the same answer. although there are bits that she remembers fondly -- although tinged with steve's grief, the scene outside his flat had been a belyingly lovely moment. those 'early years', as they'd been labeled, had shown her parts of him the personnel files never quite covered. stories he'd never quite tell himself. and maybe it's unfair to appreciate them -- for anyone else, she might have felt a pang of guilt at playing witness.

on the other hand, she does feel guilt for what he had to see: the pain and panic; the interrogation; the faithlessness. she isn't quick to shape them into words for him now. ]

All of it. [ protocol cracks. peggy drags the headphones off her neck and and tosses them aside so she can instead lean her head on his shoulder. it's not a common move -- not for her. but it seems appropriate just now. ] Probably not as well as you do.

[ his memory has always been better. good lord, she half-suspects he'd remember michael's face better than she could. now. it's been so long -- sometimes she loses the details. ]

[ he moves when she does, wraps an arm around her when she leans in, his chin resting against her hair. there are things he never wanted her to know about her future. it's one thing for her to know and another thing for her to see. he takes a deep breath - it's easier to settle down in her company. ]

Don't think I'll ever forget.

[ but surely, ]

some of it wasn't all bad.

[ better focus on that than on everything else, how their respective rooms seemed to have circled around one another. images upon images, the little make-do doll, the woman in blue. ]

Is that so?

[ -- she agrees. she agrees wholeheartedly. but it's easier to play at skepticism and needle him for an answer or three. peggy fits herself against him with comfort and familiarity. it's the sort of ease she'd never expected she'd have with anyone. let alone him, once he'd been lost.

her eyes lift. ]

Like what?

[ she's identified one already: he'd wore his suit well. that's an imagine she doubts she'll forget soon -- his shoulder wedged beneath a flag-draped coffin. but at least the look of him had been stately and dignified in his grief. he'd worn it well. better than she had, after the war. ]

Well.

[ there are some heavier, yet happier things. she succeeded where he keeps failing, at picking herself up and moving on and forward and steve almost tells her what he already has, that he's proud of her, of the unyielding strength that has become her trademark, at least to him. but that's bittersweet, him being happy for the life she has lived in the wake of her losses. ]

-- You were a really cute kid.

[ aha. that's better. ]

She was a figment.

[ -- peggy insists. she denies any and all endearing accusations. perhaps the original memory was true enough: st. george, slaying the dragon and contending with a brattish brother. but everything that followed? no, that can't have been her.

not really.

could it have been? ]

If she was cute, then I suspect it's because the calibrations themselves decided that was the best possible way to get you to listen for once.

[ 'she' -- as though peggy can't stomach calling that creature what she is. a part of herself. ]

Oh, I see. So that wasn't you at all? you were a terrible child.

[ so much doubt, so much skepticism. steve was rather fond of seeing her earlier life. while peggy is so put-together, as if she's always been so stubborn and so resilient - a peek into the girl who wanted to slay dragons instead of being saved from them was a sweet thing. ]

Maybe they thought that way she'd be familiar to me.

[ it's no secret the cuteness is something he still accuses her of being. ]

[ terrible. well -- that's how amanda carter told it. but fondly. although it hadn't been covered in the vision itself, peggy can remember her mother's toast later on that same evening as the engagement party. ]

It worked. [ peggy huffs -- and thinks about the layers of pain peeled back to achieve it. ] You got out.

[ he hums his agreement. he hates to think about the moments that came before, his surge of panic and the deep tinges of sadness. at the end, they both got to see how the other had said goodbye. ]

-- She didn't want us to be here. Diamond, I mean. This has to be some sort of payback for the Heist. You heard what she said.

[ he is going to tear this ship apart even if rebuilds itself a thousand times over. ]

[ peg nods. ]

Last time, she was all for our time spent here. [ she's never discussed the calibrations before, but that's never been because of the calibrations themselves. in truth, it was during that time that he had previously arrived in the fleet -- the time he doesn't remember. they'd kissed in the marsiva halls. practically before speaking.

it's one of those memories she'd rather keep to herself. it wouldn't be fair to taunt him with it. ]

It seems one round of these might be protocol. Two? God knows what it'll do to our brains.

Doesn't sound like she's on board this time. They did something to her.

[ whoever she is, whatever she is, steve feels sorry for her. there isn't any way to help her, not even when they're up here where the staff supposedly stays. along with the weapon they've already seen. ]

-- I guess this means us finding what we found wasn't entirely planned.

[ there's a petty sort of joy to be found in that fact. ]

How long are they going to keep us here?

[ she can hear his rebellion working its way through his words. thin but necessary; he'll take his narrow victories where he can. peggy, by contrast, feels a touch more resigned. she's just kicked their cook off the starstruck -- a development she hasn't bothered to share with anyone just yet.

just like that little girl with the doll, it's her job to protect the crew from those sorts of things.

but then steve asks her a question and she gives her head a little shake. ]

It was the better part of a month. Last time. Who can say whether it'll be the same.

Until they grow bored.

[ of memories and sadness and traumas. surely it gets repetitive after a while, surely. and this, these moods, the anxiety that lingers in the corners of the ship. being forced to sit like this and wait for the next round of intruding someone's mind. ]

-- if it happens again, I'll do what you did. I'll stay outside.

[ it's indoor where the most painful memories were. ]

-- What makes you think she'll let you stay outside?

[ peggy isn't trying to be difficult. if anything, it's a bit of a joke. she's not convinced steve rogers could deny that girl the moon. she remembers the events like she might remember someone else's experiences. almost as though she'd been watching the interactions from the other side of a stage.

she huffs a breath. ]

It's a lovely back garden. Mum was always proud of it. I can't blame you for wanting to stay out there.

[ for all manner of reasons. ]

Dunno. I think she likes me.

[ but she's not wrong. steve would do anything the little one would say if only for who he knows she really is. his levels of her concern for her probably told the whole story for him. it was easier to guess what she was thinking. with peggy, it's an acquired skill. ]

It was nice seeing some sun for a change.

[ and warmer colors than the marsiva provides. ]

How are you enjoying your mornings?

[ it's a daring sort of question. he can't steal his moments as easily as before. there might be a plan forming. ]

[ peggy bites back a retort. you're her hero-doll come to live, she thinks, of course she liked you. but she finds herself unwilling to discuss the absurdity of a captain america doll whose gaudy shell had kept steve rogers's blood hidden in her dreams.

luckily, she doesn't need to try and dodge the implication. he asks her a question. she snorts. ]

They're remarkably peaceful. [ and lonely, but she won't give him the bloody benefit. ] Impeccably scheduled.

Well I don't like it.

[ big surprise. seems like he's playing captain obvious today. he makes a face. it's not just that his morning have been stolen ( stolen! ) by this entire arrangement. it's that he wakes up every single morning with a surge of panic that she might be gone. ]

Could do with a change.

Is that so?

[ of course it is. god, she could laugh if the atmosphere wasn't already somber enough. instead, however, she nuzzles nearer on their shared bench. the nook's just sheltered enough to provide a smidgen of privacy.

she won't tell him how much she's missed his reliable presence in her bed. nor will she admit to how cold the mornings feel without him. ]

And how do you propose to effect that change?

Well, you can't really be late for anything here.

[ it's a reasonable enough claim, surely. it was one thing on the starstruck with duties upon duties and a whole other things here on the marsiva when there's nothing to do but sit in front of documentaries about whales. when life gives you lemons, after all! ]

Can't help where we wake up. I'll just have to move fast enough to get to your room before you get up.

Is it at all prudent to warn me of your plans?

[ she teases. once upon a time, her teasing might have maintained a crueller bent. today, despite the turmoil of their nights, it's rather light. she doesn't have the heart to be hard on him after what he's endured dream after dream.

how many have made him relive her funeral, she wonders? and what -- what were those flowers? she never did find out. ]

I'll wake up all the earlier if I have to, Steve Rogers.

[ or at the very least she'd threaten to -- eager for the challenge. ]

Only fair. And probably smarter. I don't want to be on the receiving end of your right hook if you mistake me for someone else.

[ god, one would have to be an idiot. and to think the jackass who made that horrid radio show thought that he's the one to be feared and she's the one who needs his protection. at least now he had finally seen what she's capable of.

( one would have to be a complete idiot. ) ]

Guess you'll have to beat me to it.

[ this time, her laugh is a proper laugh. less a snort; more a chuckle. as though her right hook could ever stagger him -- she rather doubts that even the element of surprise would help her in that endeavor. ]

Or maybe I'll make it into your room first.

[ peggy counters -- eager to catch him on the back foot with her enthusiasm for some early morning company. ]

And I'll get in the way of your day.

[ while aboard the marsiva, at least. she has a hunch he might night a bit of extra care and affection. or to see her when he wakes. ]

[ something inside him uncoils, old-as-time tensions seem to disappear. it's something about her laughter that sets him at ease. he does arch an eyebrow at her statement. ]

You can't ever get in the way of my days.

[ an impossible prospect, by all means. ]

I'm going to take it as a promise, not a warning

[ peggy's begun to wonder whether they don't somehow inhabit their own odd little bubble. one wherein so long as they're together, on their own, the various incentives to feel miserable melt away for a little while.

(all the more reason to cling to the time they have, she supposes.)

peggy's shoulders roll. the headphones are cast aside, but the fish are still swimming on the screen -- slivery and quick against the deep blue. ]

Well, now I'll have to. [ show up. ] Can't go around breaking promises, can I?

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