The atmosphere has been tense in both cities ever since the new batch of refugees were shot down out of the sky. Natives and refugees alike will note that things are steadily growing worse and worse... until suddenly, the tension snaps. Chaos erupts on one seemingly ordinary night and will continue until early March, when it all comes to a head. The question is, as always... what will you do?
You may submit an AC-eligible thread set in either Olympia or Wyver for 1 OLYMPIA REP POINT OR 1 WYVER REP POINT respectively, HERE or HERE, so long as the thread involves your character complying with their faction of choice's goals and responsibilities.
As a note, faction compliance in this case refers to actions that benefit the faction in the long term. Meaning that while citizens might be revolting against one another temporarily, assisting their fellow people and business will be considered as faction compliance for the purposes of submitting REP. (For example, raiding the palace in Olympia would earn 1 Wyver REP, whereas helping put out the fires in the palace would earn 1 Olympia REP.)
You may write threads and prompts in both cities, but ICly, they should take place on different days.
Please also note that travel between factions is heavily scrutinized during the events of this log. If your character travels between cities, please report it here. EMBERS IN OUR BLOODLINES
CHAOS ERUPTS. The city hasn't been exactly peaceful for some time — discontented grumbles have been directed at anyone who exhibits even the slightest amount of pro-Wyver (anti-Olympian) sentiment — but now, the tensions have not simply worsened: they've outright snapped.
It wouldn't be unusual to start your day to the sound of breaking glass. Perhaps it's a neighbor's window, or if you're truly unlucky, it's your own. Regardless, it's clear that there are a number of people who decide that violence is the answer. Well-armed shops such as The Sharper are left alone, but The Silk Wyrms, The Wyvernest, and other smaller businesses aren't so lucky. Visit the tailor, and you'll find that someone has broken in and slashed many of the in-progress custom orders; at the dragon cafe, someone has set many of the miniature dragons loose in a bid to purge the city of anything tainted by Wyver's influence. Many shopkeeps are fearful that the culprits might return. They're offering good silver for anyone who will retrieve stolen goods, round up the missing dragons, or find proof of who the culprits were — and for protection in case the culprits return. Linger, and you'll be in a position to potentially stop a repeat attack when the rioters come back with torches and bricks.
Members of the Royal Guard have their hands full with the fights breaking out to attend to every instance of violence against the businesses. Shouting in the squares escalates into bloody brawls — and if you spend any time outside, you'll soon see why. There's a strange mist in the most populated parts of the city, which you may recognize as having similar effects to the waters of Flona Cove that lower one's inhibitions. It spurs those who would usually agree to disagree into shouting matches, and influences people who would normally shout into throwing punches. Members of the Guard, usually a mediating force, are joining the fray themselves.
Even you aren't immune to the mist's effects. Whether you're protecting your home or place of employment, chasing down vandals, rounding up escaped dragons from the dragon cafes, or even just observing what's going on with someone else, you're likely doing it much more aggressively than you typically would... but then, this level of aggression seems to be becoming Olympia's new normal.
SINNERS TO PLAY AS SAINTS. The theaters are miraculously untouched, but The Life and Death of Nithor the Exalted is no longer being put on. Instead, passers-by are being pulled onstage to play out other scenes from Olympia's glorious history. Those who don't want to play along don't have much of a choice; those orchestrating the scenes have people out in the crowds to bring people up by force if necessary.
The base scenario is simple enough: the noble Olympian puts the pathetic Wyvern in their place. Perhaps it's a fight scene: the Olympian comes out on top, of course, and the crowd roars for blood. Wyver weapons are only props, however, but the Olympian weapons? They're very, very real. Or perhaps it's a callback to when the Olympian people marked captured Wyverns with brands to assert their dominance — there is real fire, and real brands, on stage.
If you pass as Olympian, you may be pressed to perform. If you don't want to really hurt someone, you'd best learn how to fake it — refuse to play your part, and the crowd will very quickly turn against you. If you're too obviously not Olympian, or if they recognize you as someone who went off-script last time (and they have very good memory), you'll likely be pressed into the role of an unfortunate Wyvern. Hopefully your co-star is gentle...
Break a leg. Literally, as the case may be.
CRITICAL CONDITION. With all the chaos, it's only a matter of time before people start to seek medical attention. However, along the way to The Sanctuary, they'll be faced with an almost insurmountable barricade. It isn't immediately obvious who put it up, but it's clear that nobody will be getting through it without significant effort.
Approach, and a voice will ring out warning you to keep back. It's one of the employees at the clinic; she has a crossbow in her shaking hands, and if pressed, she'll admit that they put up the barricade to keep out rioters. She understands that there are people who need their help, but the decision was made to keep themselves and their supplies safe so that when the dust settles, they can set out en masse and help more people than they could if they were raided.
If you're accompanied by someone with grievous injuries, or if you're terribly injured yourself, you may be able to convince her to let you in for a quick patch-up, but they're not giving any medicines out. If you need more supplies, you'll have to figure out another way of getting it — either by overpowering the woman on watch and raiding the clinic yourself, or distracting her so that other members of your group can sneak in and take what they need.
Making matters worse is the gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds in Murkwell Hollow... and much meaner. This beast doesn't wait for eye contact before it attacks: it swoops down out of the sky when people are gathered at the barricade, snatching up anyone it can grab in its talons, fixing on whoever's closest. However, if someone who killed a vulture is present, it pursues them with relentless determination. If not dealt with, it will attempt to eat the dead and the injured without discrimination. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (except fire, which doesn't affect it), and the terrain to your advantage. It will retreat before it can be killed, presumably so that it can regroup and harry the next batch of people to get close to the barricade.
As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Institute for study for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.
PALACE BURNS. Chaos reigns for the better part of a week, and toward the end, it escalates past the point of rioting in the streets — the violence reaches Empress Simwe's palace. In the gardens where Olympians and refugees alike had lit lanterns in unity and remembrance mere weeks before, one careless (or perhaps not so careless) flame catches, spreading to the rest of the grounds and to one of the palace walls. The members of the Royal Guard, already stretched thin, are too preoccupied with trying to contain the blaze to stop anyone from pouring in through the breach.
It's an opportunity that looters and dissidents do not pass up.
Follow them in, and you'll find the elegant surroundings being torn apart. Many of the rioters are those who have it out for Simwe and are hunting for her. As she's nowhere to be found, they settle for the next best thing: setting torch to her portraits. Portraits of the late emperor, on the other hand, are left untouched. The vandals are incredibly vocal in their displeasure with Simwe's policies, and almost fanatical in their opinion that life in Olympia would be much better if Simwe had perished in her husband's place. They turn to violence when the frightened maids and other servants don't have the answers they want as they leave a trail of fire in their wake. Will you use them as a smokescreen for your own venture, or will you intervene?
Further inside, the sticky-fingered will find furnishings, clothing, jewelry — anything that isn't bolted down is fair game. In the library, the gilded titles of priceless books glitter on the shelves; in the wine cellar, Simwe's personal collection of extremely fine vintages waits to be sampled; a mirrored room furnished entirely with pillows is draped in lacy underthings; fragrant salts and bottles of perfume sit in a steam-filled bathing room; in the treasury, looters are hard at work squirrelling away silver and carrying off golden baubles. Nobody looks too closely at anyone's face unless given a reason to, but in the morning, heads will certainly roll. You could make off with your own treasure from the palace with none the wiser, or you could stop one of the looters — maybe it's even a fellow refugee — and turn them in to the guard to help restore some order to this night of chaos.
In the depths of the treasury, there is a group trying to get past a sealed door. They're an unpleasant, volatile lot, and they make a lot of noise about how if they can just get their hands on the heart of the legendary dragon, they'll be able to wipe Wyver from the map once and for all and put someone competent on the throne. After multiple failed attempts, they start offering a reward of 50 silver to anyone who makes an attempt at opening the door.
ABOUT THE DOOR: The inner treasury door is enchanted to stand up to all manner of assaults, both magical and physical. Any attempts to dispel the enchantment will fail, but characters are welcome to make attempts in exchange for cash. While minor force will be harmlessly absorbed by the shields on the door, anything of great strength will be reflected back at its point of origin — so be ready to dodge!
Whether you help the Guard put out the fire, steal from the palace, try and get past the enchanted door, or make attempts to stop the looters, your actions may have consequences later. Please report any significant actions you take here.
NOTE: Characters are welcome to steal a single minor, setting-appropriate item from the palace. Mod approval is not required. Any items of greater import in the palace are locked in a vault and inaccessible.
BLOOD ON MY HANDS LIKE THE BLOOD IN YOU
FOR GLORY. Meanwhile, in Wyver, the holiday celebrating Nithor's death may have finished, but the spirit is still high. The citizens, eagerly awaiting the results of the contest from earlier in the month, congregate at a large stadium in the East End on the morning of the 21st and encourage refugees to join them — not only will the contest winner be announced, but there will be a series of physical trials to select Wyver's best and brightest.
This yearly event is considered the true end to the holiday. They honor those who excel at the arts — whether they be standard arts or the art of combat — and with these trials, they will honor those who excel on the battlefield. King Shanrian himself speaks to kick off the festivities, holding a distinctly human skull in his hands the entire time he's in view.
 Everyone, join me in praising the winners of our citywide contest! I was, heh... quite delighted with the meat jelly dish submitted by citizens Clair and Frederick. Such creativity! Meanwhile, dear Shenya loved hearing the beautiful music provided by Diva and Tani Umenosuke. And as you all well know, his vote is my vote.
Now I speak to you on a more serious note: I encourage all of you to join the legacy of those who helped bring down the mad and oppressive Nithor. I ask you all to join the trials. Show the world that we are a people of honor. For we do not seek glory, but fairness, liberty, and truth. Citizens, do you have what it takes to represent your home?
Signing up is simple. Interested parties are to submit their name at the registration desk, and by high noon, the festivities will kick off in full.
First up is a tournament — to thin the numbers down and ensure that only the best of the best make it to the end, participants are matched to a fight until one side is incapacitated. The air is thick with excitement, and bouts continue all day and through the night. Vendors have set up temporary stalls to sell food, toiletries, pillows, and blankets for those who don't wish to miss even a moment of the action.
If you're participating, you will take part in three fights before the finalists are determined; if you are not, you will be free to watch from the audience or, if you're acquainted with people who are fighting, to go behind the scenes to assist them by bringing them water or medicine between matches or even just give them moral support. Either way, you'll notice a slight shift in the air as time goes by.
Midway through the preliminary matches, the atmosphere changes from enthusiastic to outright bloodthirsty. Observers who were content to see a knock out will call for blood. People will start to clamor for the losers to lose their lives, and audience members will find themselves itching for a fight. One wrong look and the fighting might not just be constrained to the ring.
Make it through to the finals, and your trial will be more focused on teamwork: after all, the assassins who took down Nithor had to work together to get their job done. Finalists are paired off to face a variety of beasts, some from Wyver, some from Olympia, and some from other, far-flung parts of the isles. There is no set number of winners — anyone who performs well will be honored with a prize of silver at the end — but the beasts are ferocious, and it will take coordination and exceptional skill to make it out unscathed.
Either way, it's sure to be a spectacle.
HEARTY DIETS. The city's atmosphere does not become peaceful with the conclusion of the trials. Wherever you turn, the people around you seem to be more combative than usual - and in this city, that can be quite the feat.
To mark the end of another successful set of trials, the shamans of the Altar of Volkkra make dragon's blood, which they partake in for one of their rituals, more widely available to the public. Most drink it straight, although there are some who take it mixed in with other drinks. Either way, the effects are the same:
Drinking dragon's blood will feel like drinking liquid fire. It will burn the entirety of its way down and leave you with a presence in your chest that you will carry with you for three days before wearing off. It is a warmth that seems to imbue you with the strength and confidence of the dead dragon. The adrenaline will minimize any great pains, and you will have the sense that the path you choose is right.
Unfortunately, there is a downside. The dragon blood will keep you restless until the effects wear off. Confidence will turn into mindless arrogance. If you and your companion both drink the blood, you will butt heads because you will believe the other is wrong. Additionally, you may experience the need to hoard. The shamans say it is a trial you must endure to learn not to overindulge, but to someone who has never drank before, the feeling will be overwhelming.
Dragon's blood isn't the only variety to partake in. This time of year, the blood of a variety of monsters can be found to drink; it's said that consuming a creature's blood will imbue you with that creature's power. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen — some insist it's a rumor, while others swear its veracity — but fueled by the confidence the dragon's blood has drawn out of them, the natives are very insistent that you try it out, and some may even challenge you to a blood-drinking contest.
There are some who say that they've managed to procure the blood of Olympians, and that ingesting it will sap the strength of the Olympian people and bestow it upon Wyver instead. Some Wyvern natives aren't willing to allow the blood of their most hated enemies past their lips and would instead use Olympian blood to paint out scenes of their destruction, either on the walls like the murals or on charms from the Altar of Volkkra, as it is said to have the same effect. If you're offered some of this "paint," it's probably better to accept. After all, refusal would be very un-Wyvernlike, and you wouldn't want to be marked as the next target for someone hoping to procure Olympian blood, would you?
FANNING FLAMES. Since the trials, natives have lit bonfires throughout the city as a way of showing support for their favorite contenders; the belief is that as long as the flames continue to be fed, the contender will continue to fight well. Even now that the trials are over, the flames burn bright. These contenders are Wyver's hope of victory over Olympia, after all; isn't it better to keep the fires ablaze until they've brought the Olympians to their knees?
But it isn't just wood that they're using for kindling. This time they want a more personal offering. Many of the natives will shed their own blood to throw into the fire, and still more roam the streets in search of people to feed to the flames. You might find yourself one of their targets if you've been too noticeably traveling between the cities on a regular basis, or if you've made the mistake of donning the Olympian colors of white and gold even in a subtle way. Perhaps you come off as a loyal citizen of Wyver, and they've tapped you to assist them with feeding a person to the flames — If you refuse, you might face scrutiny yourself.
Chaos is on the rise. It's a bastardization of celebration that has long since gotten out of hand, although few seem inclined to try and contain it. Those who do are mainly shouted down or silenced by other means, and if you're looking to assist them in quelling the unrest, you'll have to be subtle lest you wind up facing the citizens' ire.
Luckily, there is something to provide a distraction: a gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds from Murkwell Hollow, has come to hunt . When it descends, it makes to grab anyone with its talons, with one exception — if anyone who killed a vulture in Murkwell is nearby, it will ignore the others and focus its attempts on tearing them apart with a relentless, single-minded determination. If not driven off, the dead and the injured will become its next meal, and it has no qualms about diving into the flames to snatch up bodies, as it's unharmed by fire. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (other than fire), and the terrain to your advantage, but will retreat before it can be killed so that it can regroup and make another attempt at snatching up bodies later.
As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Altar of Volkkra for experimentation for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.
BEASTLY EXHIBITS.The shamans of Volkkra, perhaps under the influence of dragon's blood, have their own way of dealing with the unrest. Throughout the week, those protesting the chaos start to vanish, and either from rumors or direct observation it will soon become obvious why: they're being brought to the main Altar of Volkkra, all the way up on Namarak Summit. If you have been attempting to calm people down, you might just find yourselves taken; otherwise, you can tail the shamans to the summit to find what's going on for yourself.
Those taken to the main altar are blindfolded and thrust into the labyrinthine halls without a flame to guide their way. Shamans guard the entrances and exits; inside, all light but that of the Eternal Flame have been extinguished. Other shamans, who take part in the rumored experiments, roam the halls with wicked-looking knives in search of new test subjects. If they come across you, you'll need to either fight or run.
It is possible to escape this, either by overpowering them or by using your wits. It's even possible to find your way to the entrance and fight your way past the shamans guarding it — but the when the first person sets foot out of the halls, the shamans call for backup. Menacing shrieks and roars sound from inside the mazelike halls, and strange, mishmashed creatures emerge from the darkness.
They're angry, and they're willing to lash out at both refugee and shaman alike.
ABOUT THE MONSTERS: They are amalgamations of people and creatures from all over the isles, and each one is different. One might have the head of a Duldrum, the torso and arms of a man, and the lower half of a Glowing Snake; another might look like a Wispurr with a second head of an Unlucky Cat grafted onto it, and the abilities to match. The shamans seem to have been mixing and matching the features and abilities of both named and unnamed creatures as they see fit, and they've whipped them up into a frenzy — these chimeras crave blood, and will not stop until their targets are dead, or they are.
They can be killed with medium difficulty using your own weapons, supplies from the Altar, and any abilities you might possess; survive, and the shamans will let you go with 200 silver as compensation, having decided that you've proven your worth and that your strength may be an asset to Wyver in the future. If your character successfully kills a chimera, please report it here.
An AC-eligible thread in which your character complies with their faction's goals for 1 REP POINT FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE OR HERE RESPECTIVELY BY MARCH 14th 11:59 PM EST.
We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.
1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR.
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peggy carter | mcu
ii. but someone still was yelling out and stumbling
iii. as under a green sea, I saw him drowning
iv. wildcard!
iii
Hello? One of you in there?
[She glances aside to see the old apartment she used to share with Jamie has been ransacked. The door has been kicked in and hangs dangerously off the hinges. Claire takes a few steps back so that she can peer inside. Windows are shattered, furniture upturned. She wonders what happened to the people that lived there after her.
At least she hasn't seen any corpses in the street. Yet.]
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Bloody hell, Claire, don't do that!
[ But she's already walking to open the door, ushering in the other woman quickly before locking it tight. The curtains are drawn to keep outside eyes from peering in. Yes, next door was ransacked. But she's scared off whoever came to their home. She exhales, setting her pistol on the dining table, and gestures to a seat. ]
You look exhausted. [ Pot, kettle. Peggy herself isn't too badly hurt, but the day is young. The worst of it, visibly, are her knuckles from brawling and a handsome bruise blooming across her cheekbone. ] Tea? Or is that too much like pretending everything is fine and normal?
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[And maybe a little more sorry when she sees that pistol. Thank goodness Peggy isn't trigger happy. Peggy's a gracious host, but Claire's first priority wasn't to come sit and chat. Instead of sitting, she reaches for one of Peggy's hands to examine her knuckles.]
I think you've seen better days, too. I'll pass on the tea but I will take some hot water and a clean cloth.
[What? Did you already clean your hands? Well, Claire's doing it again.]
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Speaking of needs must — ]
Don't fuss, I'm all right. [ Automatically said and quite true, really. Although she's rarely had to fight with her fists so much so that they've shown the cost of it. Peggy draws her hand away just as the kettle whistles and she turns off the stove, lifts it off the element. ] Certainly better off than most people out there.
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You might want to find a pair of gloves, at the least. No one knows when this is going to end and I'm sure you'd like to have use of your hands in the aftermath.
[Like this city hasn't had to deal with an aftermath in recent memory.]
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i
like, right on the beach closer to the sea. his instinct is to try drawing the fight there, but in this case? no chance of that happening. so, instead, he finds other bodies of water. right now, that means one of the ornate fountains near the center of the city. percy breaks up fights by blasting instigators with water. efficacy-wise, it's not too bad, though it means there's a small group accumulating by his fountain; people getting angrier at him than the poor olympian or wyvern(er??) they were originally looking to beat on.
percy prefers it that way, and that's not even (all) the mist talking. better him than some poor schmuck who can't fight back.
but he finds it harder to rein in his anger, harder to remind himself he's breaking up fights among mortals, not going up against monsters.
percy holds his sword in hand, swings it in a wide arc around himself to keep the others from crowding in. ]
Back off! [ -- snarled.
not that riptide's magic blade actually could touch any mortal. not that it could hurt any mortal. and not that percy would ever threaten a mortal with a weapon that could hurt them.
but they don't know that.
still, bravado is only going to get him so far. ]
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Except it's none of that (not yet). It's young Mr Jackson with his sword and a soggy mob crowding in on him. It's drawing attention, certainly. The poor bystanders caught in the mess are escaping and Peggy intends to keep this diversion going; in fact, she'll help it do so. So she lifts her fingers to her lips and blows a sharp whistle and some heads turn to look at her. ]
Now that's hardly fair, is it? [ Hands on her hips, curled hair messy and loose, lipstick somehow still impeccable. But her body language speaks volumes: she's coiled to spring into another fight. ] All of you and just one of him?
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She has a point, [ he says, addressing the group. ] Get a few more of your ugly friends, and then it’ll be a fair fight.
[ some of those guys try to mob him again, but percy summons another burst of water to push them back. despite his jokes, he’s drawn tight like a bowstring, tense and alert, wary, thrumming with energy. percy might be out of practice, tired of the lifestyle of prophecies and quests and fights, but battle is the birthright of every half-blood.
to peggy, he adds, ] We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.
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[ Because those sure as hell were fighting words, even without the addition of a jet of water in the face. And isn't that another thing to contend with — magic? Again? Bloody hell. The pen and sword being more than a metaphor was enough. But she puts that aside for now, especially since the crowd is rumbling with displeasure at a teenager getting the best of them.
One of them throws a rock. A rock. It sails past him into the fountain and she comments, ]
Oh, now you've done it. [ Peggy shoulders her way through and stops in the middle (bad idea, likely) and puts her hands out. ] All right, you lot, let's —
[ And she's cut off by a rough shove to the shoulder. Her eyes flash and she whirls on the culprit, a gruff man no taller than her. She opens her mouth to respond and someone else pushes at her from behind, catching on the back of her blouse and hauling her back as if to say this is none of her business. So she elbows that one in the gut. Here we bloody go again. ]
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sooner or later, the crowd was going to realize that there was only one of him, powers or no, and a lot of them. something was going to be the breaking point, and this is shaping up to be it. the romans had figured out throwing things a lot sooner, back at that riot in new rome, but the romans were a lot smarter than these jerks.
a lot of things had been different then: he'd had hazel and frank by his side, piper and jason not far away, and annabeth racing back to help. here, he' s got -- well, nothing would be pretty ungrateful to his new friends, the people who've taken him in as one of their own. but he is, on some level, alone.
or he was, until peggy got here.
he thinks (he hopes) she can hold her own for the time being, because he's got his hands full too. once one starts with the rocks, another (not too bright, apparently) starts too. percy hits one away like a baseball with the flat of his blade, and then -- gets struck by another, at his bad shoulder because of course. getting clawed by a vulture wasn't bad enough! obviously!
he goes down with a cry, but thank all the gods, lands in the water. a couple of the guys try to follow, but get thrown back by a wave. ]
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ii.
Of course, none of that matters when the vulture is high enough to drop the person to their death. Steve half-wonders if he should have shot the person in the air instead - that death seems less cruel than hearing them scream as they fall, then hearing their bones break as they hit the ground. Even if they could get into the Sanctuary, it's too late for them. Steve forces himself to focus on those still alive he can save.
At Peggy's warning, Steve looks around for the nearest cover and spots some outdoor tables belonging to a nearby restaurant. ] Over there! Go! [ He'll shoot at the bird while they make a break for it. ]
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She hears Steve before she sees him, twisting around just long enough to catch the line of his gaze, and then she's moving. The girl she's helping is practically carried to the tables and she huddles low as they rush over; the girl is ushered underneath, Peggy works with a few others to haul the tables together so more people can duck for cover.
And then she's running back out to join the American, swinging her rifle around rather than the pistol at her hip. ]
Mr Trevor, [ she greets, bracing the butt stock against her shoulder and lifting to aim. As if this was any other casual afternoon and not, well. A riot. They've got to keep this damned vulture away from the crowd until people can get to safety. ] Have you got eyes on the target?
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I do. [ She has more appropriate weaponry that'll do more damage than his, but if they fire together... ] We're not letting it take anyone else, agreed?
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Oh, I don't know, [ she says airily, lining up her sights. More to her than meets the eye, indeed. She's played down her abilities in the field here, but when the city is falling apart and under attack, some priorities lapse. ] I suppose if someone is infuriating enough — [ her lips quirk briefly into something almost like a smile, then it's gone ] — but I'm feeling especially charitable this afternoon.
[ Her words are punctuated by a shriek through the air and she narrows her eyes and fires off a shot. It's clear she's an excellent markswoman but she just clips the vulture as it dives to the side. And now it's furious. ]
Bloody hell.
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ii.
but, those were thoughts for later. right now, they're facing down a terrifying giant winged vulture.
well isn't this just fantastic. ]
On it!
[ he fires his revolver quick and sure. he's pretty sure he's not going to be able to take the thing down, but he can be a pretty damn good distraction when the time came for it.
and hey. this might just be a fun challenge. ]
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Peggy doesn't spare him a second glance, focusing on the task at hand. The ensuing chaos of the crowd trying to get out of the way, particularly since so many of them are injured and seeking aid, means that it's a priority to keep it from stampeding over the rest. Peggy keeps low and starts — directing traffic, for lack of a better word, while the other man draws the bird's attention.
She waves them on, pointing to places to duck for cover as she sees them: ransacked shops with the doors kicked open, abandoned carts of produce to dive under. ]
Ocelot! [ Sharp, over her shoulder. ] We have to get these people out of here!
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Right.
[ he's far more used to civilians being the collateral damage, but what can you do? but as long as he's shooting at the bird, it seems like it's avoiding them. ]
I've got nine more shots before I have to reload. You think you can work with that?
[ and then, he guesses, it'd be his turn to help people out of the way. ]
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[ There's no time to think, not with that creature intent on swooping down and picking people off one by one. Peggy wants nothing more than to reach for her own firearm and add to the their defenses but that will leave people to fend for themselves, which arguably could get more of them killed or injured.
So she times it right; waits for the bird to pull away from Ocelot's shots, then ushers people out from behind their hiding places and into nearby buildings — shops with the windows smashed in, doors with handles snapped off. Anything with a roof. They're almost in the clear when two men trying to carry a third stumble and fall just as the vulture reemerges. ]
Damn, [ she hisses under her breath, and Peggy bolts out from behind her own cover to rush over to them. One man leaves the other two and runs to save himself, but the vulture's spotted him too. ] Damn.
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iii.
('Like this' being frustrating, bloody, and pointless.)
He waits until a lull in the action, after days of chaos and being hauled into a fucking labyrinth, to make the potentially ill-advised hike over to Olympia. He doesn't bring his phaser or anything else that might complicate the process, cooperating passively with any scrutiny for entering the city. This is dumb, he thinks, but the thought doesn't exactly send him back to Wyver. Instead he ends up scaling a wall to evade a guard who doubles back to hassle him further, tired of this dance already, skittering across a rooftop and down an access ladder on the other side. Perfectly aware of the person in the alleyway, but - oh, well.
Oof. Longer drop from ladder to ground than he anticipated. Not exactly parkour!!!11 levels of gracefulness, here, but he rebounds casually enough to suggest he's adept physically. ]
Hi, [ Jim says, attempting to dust debris off his dark jeans. When he straightens, he holds his hands up in a white flag kind of gesture. ] Haven't stolen anything or punched anybody, just tired of strange hands down my pants.
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But when the man lands in front of her, her eyes widen with recognition, and her hand drops back to her side. It's a relief, to be honest — Peggy even relaxes against the stone wall she'd been leaning against and it's clear she's running on fumes, same as anyone else out here. ]
Mr Trevor, [ comes the mistaken greeting riding on an exhale. No doubt she means Jim Kirk's doppelgänger. ] It's all right. I'm glad to see you're still in one piece.
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Me, too.
[ However: there's still a pause. In which Jim considers playing it off, asking if she had any expectation for Mr Trever to not be in one piece, but weighs the pros and cons of that. She seems sharp, despite appearing tired, and she's armed. ]
He sure gets around, that Steve. But uh, I'm not him.
[ Hands still up. Harmless, despite not being Captain Trevor. See? ]
Jim Kirk. Couple of centimeters off in-- whatever places would make him the most comfortable, and I probably have worse allergies.
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Now that earns a sharp frown — mostly confusion, but there's alarm, too. Peggy straightens against the wall and while she doesn't reach for her gun again, there's a thread of tension that runs through her body; it's a response she hadn't expected and she's bloody exhausted enough for it to not make any sense. Because it doesn't. She knows of two men here who share the same name and some similarities in their histories but don't look anything alike.
But she's never met anyone who share a face and voice. ]
What? [ Christ, did she bump her head in this mess and forget about it? Peggy closes her eyes briefly, shakes her head. ] That doesn't — [ Her eyes crack open and she stares narrowly at him. ] What?
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iii
He has heavy footsteps, but he's not trying too hard to be sneaky. The last thing he wants is to be shot by someone assuming he's trying to attack them. He calls out into the alley, voice low and hands raised.]
Is there anyone down there? I'm here to help.
[He's optimistic, but he's prepared. His eye is glowing, he's fired up from the fight and ready to strike back if someone decides to attack him.]
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She lowers her device when she hears someone approach, crouched as she is behind a few crates. But she recognises his voice immediately and she stands gingerly, sore muscles protesting. ]
Thor. [ And then his appearance registers and she pauses, startled. ] It's just me.