[ Everyone has been giving everyone else a wide berth in the wake of the kidnapping fiasco, it seems β to recover, to gather composure, to find distractions, or to dwell. Most, Peggy included, have hovered somewhere between all four and now that they're coming up on a new month and the dust has settled somewhat, it's time to reach out and see how friends have fared in the silent weeks.
The last time Percy and Peggy had seen one another or truly spoken was just outside the Institute, just minutes after the success of their rescue op (and mere seconds after learning it hadn't been as successful as they'd thought). He'd swept away in a temper and she knew better than to follow. After that, her focus had narrowed to the rest of the captives still unaccounted for and sitting vigil at Steve Rogers' bedside. (He's recovering at home, now, but the battle is only half-won β as sleep is hard for him to come by, the same holds true for her.) But she had been concerned for Percy and the way they'd left things; she doesn't know him well enough to know how he'd cope with the past month, but there's no denying it had been a difficult one for someone new to El Nysa. So she'd invited him to join her for dinner at the station, away from the hustle and bustle of life on the planet. A taste of New York could do them both some good.
She'd asked him to meet her at the mess hall and it seems she's early when she arrives. So she takes the opportunity to speak with Roman, asking if he's familiar with New York-style pizza, and if they could have two whole pies to share. Peggy is seated in a corner and bundled against Thesa's chill in a cardigan when Percy gets there. ]
Perfect timing, [ she says with a smile. She looks exhausted under the curled hair and makeup, but the warmth in her expression is utterly genuine. In front of her are two massive, piping hot pizzas: one plain cheese and tomato sauce, the other peppered with Percy's favourite toppings. ] The food just arrived.
[ where peggy wears evidence of the last few weeks in her exhaustion and bandages, percy's since been healed in one of the rivers outside of olympia's city limits, erasing all marks of chemical burns. any other changes are more subtle, visible only to someone who'd know what to look for: the high school slouch pulled taut to something warier, a blade-sharp intensity to the way he looks at the world. it's less that these things weren't there before as that they're brought into focus now; the face of a student traded in for that of a swordsman. it's become pretty clear which one el nysa needs.
still, he slopes in with a smile right back for her, wearing a new purple shirt courtesy of the natha (SPQR printed in gold, like his tattoo, circled by matching laurels), and offers a short wave before he's in earshot. ]
Gods, it even smells authentic. How is that possible? [ then -- ] Actually? I don't want to know. The fact that it is, is good enough for me.
[ The curious thing about the circumstances of their friendship is that Peggy has never really seen Percy carry himself in any other way. Their first meeting was fraught (to say the least), and the chaos that followed in its footsteps hasn't abated. This is, perhaps, the most ordinary and mundane moment they've ever shared and although it's only just started, it already feels remarkably different.
That's no bad thing. But even with the way they both wear a soldier's readiness, there's an ease to her bearing and smile. Thesa is still the safest place for them. She's not one to be lulled into a false sense of security, but the chances are high that they can get through this meal uninterrupted by the problems on the surface. ]
Roman is a wonder, [ is her only answer. ] And spoiling me rotten now that I can visit the station more often. Is it terrible how much I've missed eating at a diner? [ She gestures for him to sit and slides a plate his way. ] This is just as much a welcome sight for me as it is for you. Thank you for coming.
Thank you for inviting me, [ he corrects, taking a seat across from her.
and hopefully peggy will start digging in on the pizza soon, because percy only hesitates marginally before reaching over to pull a slice (or three) of pepperoni and olive onto his plate. ]
And, for the record? Definitely not terrible. There's nothing wrong with the food in Olympia, I guess, but it's not like this.
[ She's careful not to burn the roof of her mouth on molten cheese, but she does dig in when Percy serves himself (for her part, she selects one plain, one pepperoni and olive). She's glad to see him pleased and spreads a napkin on her lap before taking a cautious bite, herself. (Let's see how long that lipstick lasts.)
After they've both had some time to at least get halfway through a slice, she speaks. ]
I've been meaning to ask after your necklace. I can't imagine it's anything like mine.
[ percy's hand goes to his camp necklace instinctively when she asks, pulling it out from under his shirt. ]
You mean this? [ he asks, and then realizes the answer is kind of obvious. ] Yeah, no, it's from my summer camp. Everyone gets one of these, and we get a new bead at the end of each summer.
[ there are five beads currently strung on the leather cord. the first is a black bead with a small sea-green trident at the center; the second depicts the golden fleece hanging from the branch of a pine tree; the third bead has the image of a maze; the fourth bead depicts the empire state building and a number of names written in ancient greek; and the fifth has the image of a trireme. ]
[ Peggy leans in across the table for a closer look, careful not to get her blouse or cardigan on the pizza (grease on silk; a nightmare). She doesn't reach out to take the beads between her fingers because that would seem presumptuous but she does take in the symbols etched on the clay. Interesting. ]
And I assume each symbol represents something about that summer? [ A theme, perhaps, or a story. She sits back in her seat. ] That's very commemorative.
[ She nods at that, taking another bite herself and chewing thoughtfully. She'd like to ask after any one of those beads, not just for conversation but because his world is of interest to her. A place where gods of myth and legend exist, as matter of fact as anything else; the fact that Percy is a demigod, carries on with that knowledge so easily. (She doubts it is very easy. She's seen how responsibility can drape like a mantle on others.)
Finally, she settles on: ]
The trident on the first one. I suppose you've got something to do with it? [ She hasn't finished chewing, she's talking around her mouthful. ] It matches your tattoo.
[ He hasn't been sleeping well, if at all. She doesn't need to be a spy to suss that out, she can see it plain as day even if they weren't sharing a home, a bed. And she doesn't know what happened in the week he was held with the others; she doesn't know what their captors did to them, what they wanted, how they managed to get the drop on someone like Captain America. And she's been burning to ask, but Steve...
It's not that he doesn't trust her. She knows he does. But it seems he won't be drawn to speak about any of it beyond the assertion that he's fine, which she'll believe when hell freezes over. He's exhausted (and so is she, by proxy, but she won't ever let that show), his sleep is restless, she knows the nightmares are vivid. And whenever night falls, it's another fight in the tranquility of their little apartment. And she hasn't figured out how to beat it, yet.
It's late when Peggy snaps off her lamp and climbs into bed with him, gently perfumed with this world's equivalent of lavender and lotion. She tucks easily against his side, mindful of his injuries and her own (although she has recovered at a faster rate than is ordinary), and closes her eyes as she settles her head on his shoulder. But the silence stretches on, she listens to his heartbeat, and she knows he isn't falling asleep.
[ It hasn't been easy to fall asleep, and most nights since he'd been released from the Sanctuary have been spent reading (and re-reading) the small library of books they currently have collected in their cozy apartment, if not just lying awake staring up at the ceiling until darkness turned to light.
Steve has been allowed a short reprieve from Guard Duty for his troubles, which is probably a good thing considering he can barely concentrate during the day anyway. Sleep deprivation, as it turns out, affects even the strongest of men.
He has his arm wrapped around Peggy like usual, and at her question, he squeezes her shoulder gently. Steve's voice is soft, almost a little woeful if it weren't so matter-of-fact: ]
[ She keeps herself from sighing, but it's a near thing. She isn't frustrated by his answer, not in the least; what troubles her is that she doesn't have the means of helping him through it, beyond simply commiserating. She's too familiar with sleepless nights, particularly in the months after the war β dreams filled with crackling static, last words, ghostly strains of music from a dance she'll never have. The throats she slit in the dark.
But she didn't have anyone to help her through all that, then. She soldiered on alone. Steve, at least, has her. And she's made certain he knows that, without coddling him into submission. The hand resting on his chest slides up to cup his face, just as she lifts her own head to look at him, kissing his jaw softly.]
[ At that, Steve pulls her in just a little closer, leaning over to press a chaste and fond kiss into her hair. ]
Think we could talk? [ About what?
Nothing Olympia or Wyver or El Nysa. Tonight he doesn't want to think about that. Tonight he wants to pretend that somehow, in some way, they're back home together in some timeless time. ] Maybe tell me a story. A memory from home.
[ A memory from home. It's a simple request that spans so much β there were the months she mourned him, pushed away any kind of personal connection. There were the cases she took on with the SSR. Howard's antics, the odd letter from Dugan still out on the continent. She thinks of how much of her time was spent at work, of how Angie Martinelli would be better suited to telling a vivid, colourful story full of life and laughter. Every memory she has is of the war and she can't bring that into their bedroom.
She isn't a storyteller, not really. ]
When I was a girl at boarding school, [ she begins, surprising even herself, ] my friends and I broke into Headmaster Portley's quarters for β God, no reason, really. A lark? [ She huffs out a laugh. ] Bandit masks and all. We went for his wife's best knickers on a dare, if you'd believe it.
Really? [ He tries to imagine the situation, a group of girls sneaking into the Headmaster's rooms in the middle of the night on a dare.
It sounds like the kind of thing you'd hear in a story, all right. And he'd asked for one. ] Somehow I feel like I should be a little more surprised than I am.
I wasn't born a spy, [ she murmurs, voice warm with amusement. ] So, yes.
[ Peggy shifts, pillows her head on his broad chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart. The rumble of his voice under her ear is soothing, too. Maybe she's the one offering reassurance here but he plays a part in it, too. The life they've built together here can be interrupted at the drop of a hat, so she savours the quiet moments like now. ]
We were in the clear, but we passed the liquor cabinet and I couldn't resist going back for the brandy. The girls abandoned me and the headmaster caught me red-handed. I was punished for it, of course, but I was heralded as the school hero for weeks.
Could've fooled me. [ Steve jokes but his expression softens. He shifts too, making himself a little more comfortable against the mattress, an arm folding around Peggy.
It occurs to him that while there's no one else in the cosmos he loves more than her, they're still a little bit of a mystery to each other. These are stories he'd never heard, never read about in her file (not that they'd be there anyway), never had the chance to ask her about until now.
He laughs, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing her arm. ]
Not a bad thing to be, I guess. [ A school hero. ] Even if you didn't actually get to keep the drink, I assume.
[ It's been a bloody long two weeks. Barely two, but it feels like longer β probably because Steve Rogers was in the last group of captives recovered in Olympia and she was balancing on the edge of trying to keep it as professional as possible with blinding worry in the chasm below. But it's over, now. The ordeal, at least; not the recovery. That's a long road for all of them and as terrible as it may sound, she needs a respite. Ducking up to the station for a few hours could be just the thing to dial it all back, focus on something different for a spell.
After all, she's had a standing date of sorts with one Captain James Kirk for a while now. May as well honour that.
She finds him in one of the many lounge areas scattered across Thesa, a quiet corner tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the mess hall, which she very much appreciates. Peggy probably doesn't look much better than she did when they first met in the middle of the riots β the skin on her face and arms is healing, now, although it still shows signs of being in contact with poisonous haze for too long, red and cracked in places. More conspicuous are the thick bandages wrapping her right arm from her fingertips to just above the elbow, mostly hidden by her sleeve; she moves it gingerly, doesn't offer it to shake when she approaches the other man. ]
It's good to see you again, captain, [ she greets lightly. She's exhausted but somehow, her hair is neatly swept back in a roll (she can't pincurl it with her hand the way it is), she's still sharply dressed, her lipstick neat. ] Are you well?
[ She reminds him of Uhura, just a little - the way she's put together even when she's not; perfect hair and striking makeup (lipstick for Peggy, eyeliner sharp enough to stab a man for Uhura), like a uniform all its own. A sign of control. The familiarity is something akin to comforting. His own clothes are casual, black t-shirt dug up from somewhere near enough to Starfleet undershirts, silver badge clipped near the collar. ]
I think I'm in better shape than most people, [ is wry. Jeez, Carter, look at that damage. Jim stands up and lets her take a seat, some gendered manners retaining even after hundreds of years. He's got the I-guess-that's-a-coffee-maker in here working, so there's that, on the table. ]
Are they looking after people in Olympia? [ Or are you just that banged up. Jim's face and hands are little bruised still, but his shoulder injury is only just tender, sorted out by doses of some ridiculous potion or another in Wyver. (He's fine with it. Better than 20th century barbarism.) ]
[ His manners aren't lost on her; there's a flash of a smile, quiet but sincere, as she takes a seat alongside him. She still aches in places, but that may just be because she spent the past few days asleep in a chair at Steve's bedside rather than any lasting damage from the rescue mission. ]
Probably just as much as they're looking after the people in Wyver, [ is her rejoinder, wry more than anything else. Peggy flicks an assessing gaze over him, cursory but sharp; he's been through it too, then. From what she does know about Jim, that doesn't come as a surprise. Her eyes linger the longest on the badge before meeting his gaze again. ] Or maybe they just can't keep up with us leaping from one mess to the next.
[ As if they've been causing the trouble to begin with. Peggy exhales softly and sits back in her seat, draping her injured arm across her lap. ]
Funny how they're always so in tune despite everything else.
[ Synchronized, from the length of time it took to call for investigations, to leaders responding, to - most everything, honestly. Since Jim's been here, Wyver and Olympia have been in perfect tandem. The animosity has begun to feel like a complete sham.
Jim smiles a little. He's tired, too, but in good humor. ]
You've jinxed it, now. [ Faint teasing. ] So it's storytime for us, huh?
[ El Nysa's refugee history, and maybe some Starfleet rambling. ]
[ She's noticed how the cities fall into the same troubles at the same time, but until Jim mentions it, she's never really given it further thought. It's been too easy to get caught up in the local politics to consider the grand scope of things β but it's why having friends in the other city helps. It's a perspective she'd like to cultivate without drawing too much attention to the fact that she is, in fact, doing just that.
Storytime, indeed. ]
I suppose it is. [ She wonders if she should help herself to that coffee before getting started. But then: ] I've been awake about nine months so it may be a long one. Why don't you tell me how much you do know and I'll fill in the gaps?
[ Really, Jim expects everyone here who's halfway competent to be in some fashion working towards trying to fix this situation, so he's completely guileless in speaking to Peggy. And while he's pretty good with his dates in history, he's yet to remember that women probably weren't soldiers in her time, so-- you know, she seems totally normal!! ]
I know that Olympia and Wyver are rivals for cultural and historical reasons, most of which seem to be built on age-old tales. I heard about a biological attack in Olympia that spread to Wyver, but that's the only major incident I've been told about prior to my own arrival, which was being shot down over a swamp.
[ Mainly because she knows she's told him about that attack. (Or was it Steve Trevor? Both, probably. Christ.) Peggy thinks over the past few months, marvelling at how it hasn't even been a year and somehow it feels as though they've seen and done a great deal, and yet β nothing nearly on the same scale as the epidemic. Until the riots, at any rate. ]
The bomb that went off in Olympia wasn't the first of its kind. The first to use chemical warfare, yes β but a few months before my group woke up, there was a bombing in a neighbouring town. [ Her first assignment with the Guard was to apprehend the person responsible, which she did. ] After the marketplace, I suspected the two were connected. A trial run, maybe. [ She shrugs one shoulder. ] The winter gala was the last time I've seen Wyverns and Olympians tolerate each other in the same space and we were all demanded to pick a faction upon entry. After that, well β you know the rest. Airships being shot out of the sky, the protests, the riots.
[ There's a pause as she considers the main connection she's made: the prevalence of gas being used as a weapon. ]
I'm starting to wonder if we shouldn't start carrying gas masks everywhere we go. [ Her lips quirk. ] Just like in Britain during the war.
It's not the worst idea, [ is dry, about gas masks. Though Wyver's been less full of toxic fumes than Olympia - perhaps because Wyverns (Wyverians?) are susceptible to machismo peer pressure to just drink the damn stuff. Different methods for different cultures. It's smart, practiced, informed. ]
Why, though? [ he leans in, slightly, arms folded on the tabletop. It's a tired postured. ] Why do these two cities hate each other so much? They have old stories and not much else. If they sat down at a peace summit to work things out, what the hell would they even be talking about? It's obvious to anyone with a halfway functioning brain that a third party is messing with us all. Have there been any actual clashes between the cities?
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percy jackson | april 2
The last time Percy and Peggy had seen one another or truly spoken was just outside the Institute, just minutes after the success of their rescue op (and mere seconds after learning it hadn't been as successful as they'd thought). He'd swept away in a temper and she knew better than to follow. After that, her focus had narrowed to the rest of the captives still unaccounted for and sitting vigil at Steve Rogers' bedside. (He's recovering at home, now, but the battle is only half-won β as sleep is hard for him to come by, the same holds true for her.) But she had been concerned for Percy and the way they'd left things; she doesn't know him well enough to know how he'd cope with the past month, but there's no denying it had been a difficult one for someone new to El Nysa. So she'd invited him to join her for dinner at the station, away from the hustle and bustle of life on the planet. A taste of New York could do them both some good.
She'd asked him to meet her at the mess hall and it seems she's early when she arrives. So she takes the opportunity to speak with Roman, asking if he's familiar with New York-style pizza, and if they could have two whole pies to share. Peggy is seated in a corner and bundled against Thesa's chill in a cardigan when Percy gets there. ]
Perfect timing, [ she says with a smile. She looks exhausted under the curled hair and makeup, but the warmth in her expression is utterly genuine. In front of her are two massive, piping hot pizzas: one plain cheese and tomato sauce, the other peppered with Percy's favourite toppings. ] The food just arrived.
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still, he slopes in with a smile right back for her, wearing a new purple shirt courtesy of the natha (SPQR printed in gold, like his tattoo, circled by matching laurels), and offers a short wave before he's in earshot. ]
Gods, it even smells authentic. How is that possible? [ then -- ] Actually? I don't want to know. The fact that it is, is good enough for me.
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That's no bad thing. But even with the way they both wear a soldier's readiness, there's an ease to her bearing and smile. Thesa is still the safest place for them. She's not one to be lulled into a false sense of security, but the chances are high that they can get through this meal uninterrupted by the problems on the surface. ]
Roman is a wonder, [ is her only answer. ] And spoiling me rotten now that I can visit the station more often. Is it terrible how much I've missed eating at a diner? [ She gestures for him to sit and slides a plate his way. ] This is just as much a welcome sight for me as it is for you. Thank you for coming.
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and hopefully peggy will start digging in on the pizza soon, because percy only hesitates marginally before reaching over to pull a slice (or three) of pepperoni and olive onto his plate. ]
And, for the record? Definitely not terrible. There's nothing wrong with the food in Olympia, I guess, but it's not like this.
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After they've both had some time to at least get halfway through a slice, she speaks. ]
I've been meaning to ask after your necklace. I can't imagine it's anything like mine.
[ A family crest. ]
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You mean this? [ he asks, and then realizes the answer is kind of obvious. ] Yeah, no, it's from my summer camp. Everyone gets one of these, and we get a new bead at the end of each summer.
[ there are five beads currently strung on the leather cord. the first is a black bead with a small sea-green trident at the center; the second depicts the golden fleece hanging from the branch of a pine tree; the third bead has the image of a maze; the fourth bead depicts the empire state building and a number of names written in ancient greek; and the fifth has the image of a trireme. ]
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And I assume each symbol represents something about that summer? [ A theme, perhaps, or a story. She sits back in her seat. ] That's very commemorative.
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Every symbol's for something important that happened that summer. The camp counselors pick what, and it gets painted onto that year's bead.
[ he'll let go of the necklace after that, freeing his hands back up to take another bite of pizza. ]
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Finally, she settles on: ]
The trident on the first one. I suppose you've got something to do with it? [ She hasn't finished chewing, she's talking around her mouthful. ] It matches your tattoo.
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steve rogers;
It's not that he doesn't trust her. She knows he does. But it seems he won't be drawn to speak about any of it beyond the assertion that he's fine, which she'll believe when hell freezes over. He's exhausted (and so is she, by proxy, but she won't ever let that show), his sleep is restless, she knows the nightmares are vivid. And whenever night falls, it's another fight in the tranquility of their little apartment. And she hasn't figured out how to beat it, yet.
It's late when Peggy snaps off her lamp and climbs into bed with him, gently perfumed with this world's equivalent of lavender and lotion. She tucks easily against his side, mindful of his injuries and her own (although she has recovered at a faster rate than is ordinary), and closes her eyes as she settles her head on his shoulder. But the silence stretches on, she listens to his heartbeat, and she knows he isn't falling asleep.
So she offers softly, eyes still closed: ]
Shall we count sheep?
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Steve has been allowed a short reprieve from Guard Duty for his troubles, which is probably a good thing considering he can barely concentrate during the day anyway. Sleep deprivation, as it turns out, affects even the strongest of men.
He has his arm wrapped around Peggy like usual, and at her question, he squeezes her shoulder gently. Steve's voice is soft, almost a little woeful if it weren't so matter-of-fact: ]
There's gonna be a lot of them.
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But she didn't have anyone to help her through all that, then. She soldiered on alone. Steve, at least, has her. And she's made certain he knows that, without coddling him into submission. The hand resting on his chest slides up to cup his face, just as she lifts her own head to look at him, kissing his jaw softly.]
What do you propose we try this evening?
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Think we could talk? [ About what?
Nothing Olympia or Wyver or El Nysa. Tonight he doesn't want to think about that. Tonight he wants to pretend that somehow, in some way, they're back home together in some timeless time. ] Maybe tell me a story. A memory from home.
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She isn't a storyteller, not really. ]
When I was a girl at boarding school, [ she begins, surprising even herself, ] my friends and I broke into Headmaster Portley's quarters for β God, no reason, really. A lark? [ She huffs out a laugh. ] Bandit masks and all. We went for his wife's best knickers on a dare, if you'd believe it.
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Really? [ He tries to imagine the situation, a group of girls sneaking into the Headmaster's rooms in the middle of the night on a dare.
It sounds like the kind of thing you'd hear in a story, all right. And he'd asked for one. ] Somehow I feel like I should be a little more surprised than I am.
Were you caught?
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[ Peggy shifts, pillows her head on his broad chest, listening to the comforting beat of his heart. The rumble of his voice under her ear is soothing, too. Maybe she's the one offering reassurance here but he plays a part in it, too. The life they've built together here can be interrupted at the drop of a hat, so she savours the quiet moments like now. ]
We were in the clear, but we passed the liquor cabinet and I couldn't resist going back for the brandy. The girls abandoned me and the headmaster caught me red-handed. I was punished for it, of course, but I was heralded as the school hero for weeks.
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It occurs to him that while there's no one else in the cosmos he loves more than her, they're still a little bit of a mystery to each other. These are stories he'd never heard, never read about in her file (not that they'd be there anyway), never had the chance to ask her about until now.
He laughs, a hand absent-mindedly rubbing her arm. ]
Not a bad thing to be, I guess. [ A school hero. ] Even if you didn't actually get to keep the drink, I assume.
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jim kirk | march 31
After all, she's had a standing date of sorts with one Captain James Kirk for a while now. May as well honour that.
She finds him in one of the many lounge areas scattered across Thesa, a quiet corner tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the mess hall, which she very much appreciates. Peggy probably doesn't look much better than she did when they first met in the middle of the riots β the skin on her face and arms is healing, now, although it still shows signs of being in contact with poisonous haze for too long, red and cracked in places. More conspicuous are the thick bandages wrapping her right arm from her fingertips to just above the elbow, mostly hidden by her sleeve; she moves it gingerly, doesn't offer it to shake when she approaches the other man. ]
It's good to see you again, captain, [ she greets lightly. She's exhausted but somehow, her hair is neatly swept back in a roll (she can't pincurl it with her hand the way it is), she's still sharply dressed, her lipstick neat. ] Are you well?
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I think I'm in better shape than most people, [ is wry. Jeez, Carter, look at that damage. Jim stands up and lets her take a seat, some gendered manners retaining even after hundreds of years. He's got the I-guess-that's-a-coffee-maker in here working, so there's that, on the table. ]
Are they looking after people in Olympia? [ Or are you just that banged up. Jim's face and hands are little bruised still, but his shoulder injury is only just tender, sorted out by doses of some ridiculous potion or another in Wyver. (He's fine with it. Better than 20th century barbarism.) ]
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Probably just as much as they're looking after the people in Wyver, [ is her rejoinder, wry more than anything else. Peggy flicks an assessing gaze over him, cursory but sharp; he's been through it too, then. From what she does know about Jim, that doesn't come as a surprise. Her eyes linger the longest on the badge before meeting his gaze again. ] Or maybe they just can't keep up with us leaping from one mess to the next.
[ As if they've been causing the trouble to begin with. Peggy exhales softly and sits back in her seat, draping her injured arm across her lap. ]
Even so, I think I'd appreciate a few days off.
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[ Synchronized, from the length of time it took to call for investigations, to leaders responding, to - most everything, honestly. Since Jim's been here, Wyver and Olympia have been in perfect tandem. The animosity has begun to feel like a complete sham.
Jim smiles a little. He's tired, too, but in good humor. ]
You've jinxed it, now. [ Faint teasing. ] So it's storytime for us, huh?
[ El Nysa's refugee history, and maybe some Starfleet rambling. ]
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Storytime, indeed. ]
I suppose it is. [ She wonders if she should help herself to that coffee before getting started. But then: ] I've been awake about nine months so it may be a long one. Why don't you tell me how much you do know and I'll fill in the gaps?
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I know that Olympia and Wyver are rivals for cultural and historical reasons, most of which seem to be built on age-old tales. I heard about a biological attack in Olympia that spread to Wyver, but that's the only major incident I've been told about prior to my own arrival, which was being shot down over a swamp.
[ Fun times. ]
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[ Mainly because she knows she's told him about that attack. (Or was it Steve Trevor? Both, probably. Christ.) Peggy thinks over the past few months, marvelling at how it hasn't even been a year and somehow it feels as though they've seen and done a great deal, and yet β nothing nearly on the same scale as the epidemic. Until the riots, at any rate. ]
The bomb that went off in Olympia wasn't the first of its kind. The first to use chemical warfare, yes β but a few months before my group woke up, there was a bombing in a neighbouring town. [ Her first assignment with the Guard was to apprehend the person responsible, which she did. ] After the marketplace, I suspected the two were connected. A trial run, maybe. [ She shrugs one shoulder. ] The winter gala was the last time I've seen Wyverns and Olympians tolerate each other in the same space and we were all demanded to pick a faction upon entry. After that, well β you know the rest. Airships being shot out of the sky, the protests, the riots.
[ There's a pause as she considers the main connection she's made: the prevalence of gas being used as a weapon. ]
I'm starting to wonder if we shouldn't start carrying gas masks everywhere we go. [ Her lips quirk. ] Just like in Britain during the war.
crawls out of a pit towards tags
Why, though? [ he leans in, slightly, arms folded on the tabletop. It's a tired postured. ] Why do these two cities hate each other so much? They have old stories and not much else. If they sat down at a peace summit to work things out, what the hell would they even be talking about? It's obvious to anyone with a halfway functioning brain that a third party is messing with us all. Have there been any actual clashes between the cities?
same tho same
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yikes i thought i replied to this
i thought i replied to a million things over the past month but no
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