nysalogs | [ CLOSED ] he's in the army now, blowin' reveille

Entry tags:

[ CLOSED ] he's in the army now, blowin' reveille

Who: Peggy Carter (

revlon), Steve Rogers (

starspangle), Claire Fraser (

nineteenfortyfive)
What: Vintage folks meet their fellow golden oldie roommates.
When: Arrival at Olympia.
Where: House #29.
Warning(s): N/A

[ It's been a long trip. Not as long as some marches she's embarked on during the war, not by half, but it was nearly as treacherous and just as exhausting for simply going in blind. She's a woman who likes to know what she's getting into — she's certainly capable of handling it if she doesn't, but it's a new world and a new life. Not a new country. Now it's a new city.

She's given a patch at the entrance despite her firm refusal.

Hello! My name is
PEGGY CARTER!

I am in House #29!
Are you my housemate?

It's absurd. It lists her hobbies as guns, codebreaking, and crosswords in the most cheerful manner possible and it's not precisely discreet, either. But there's nothing for it. She's whisked off into a tour group before she can find anyone else she knows and deposited at her new home without preamble. It's not what she expected, not after Thesa. But beggars can't be choosers.

She opens the door with some measure of wariness. She doesn't know if her roommates are here before her — she doesn't even know who they might be — but she investigates the place all the same. Is anyone home? ]

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[Someone from her world (or something close enough to it) and her era. It's a relief, and Claire smiles before crossing the short distance over to Peggy. If it's just the two of them, then this might not be that bad.]

Keep this up and I'm going to begin to think you're following me.

[They keep running into one another. Birds of a feather.]

Care for the tour?

[She motions to the space behind her.]

There it is.

[ She huffs out a laugh, gaze following the sweep of her arm to the cramped space beyond. ]

Delightful. [ It's dry but not overly so. She marks two beds, which is perfect if it remains just the two of them. If not, then it might get slightly complicated. Still, she suspects two women who have spent considerable time on warfronts can manage. ] And for the record, I'm not following you.

[ If she were, she wouldn't be so obvious. ]

Maybe our being contemporaries led to some sort of decision for selecting roommates. I can't say I mind. [ Peggy crosses around her to peer at the kitchen, lips pursed. ] This stove, on the other hand...

[ The odds of burning this place down seem higher than she'd like. ]

[She imagines an agent would be better at any following, but she keeps that to herself. No need to state the obvious.]

It works, at least. Not that there's anything to cook... or that I'd want to eat anything found in here.

[Claire crosses her arms over her chest, sighing.]

It's better than nothing I suppose.

It certainly is. We'll make a proper home of it somehow.

[ Peggy's never really been one for making things cosy. She never personalised her desk at the SSR offices and she's lived in rented apartments and Howard's lavish suites for the past few years; she's never had to decorate. Never really had a taste for it. But this is all rather grim and it could do with a touch of warmth.

She opens the refrigerator, notes that it's empty. Of course it is. ]

Starting with a trip down to the shops. Have you had a chance to look around at all? I'm afraid I was whisked away before I could do much else. To say nothing of this ridiculous patch.

[Claire's never been one for decorating, either. She's never been in a place long enough for it to matter, and their apartment in Paris was never really theirs to do with as they pleased. Lallybroch was, of course, but it'd been Jenny's--and then their parents'--for so long that Claire didn't feel right moving things around. No need to fuss over something that didn't need fixing.

This place needs a lot of fixing, however. She's not sure if she wants to make it a home, but they could do with some food.]

Not yet. Chatted with a few people looking for their roommates [a glance down at the patch, firsts hers and then Peggy's] and then ended up here. People around here have to get their food from somewhere.

Maybe we'll find a crossword book.

[ She looks baffled for all of a second at the mention of crosswords before glancing down at the patch on her chest. It's changed, she hadn't noticed that. She makes some noise at the back of her throat, equal parts irritated and exasperated. She didn't realise it changed. Stands to reason it would, since Claire's reads the same. Lying, though; that piques her curiosity more than the time travel (only because she'd been told about that before). Peas a pod, them. ]

I don't know if I'd be able to answer a thing on one even if we did.

[ It would be full of references she wouldn't understand. But, now that she thinks of it, it would lend some great insight into this new city of theirs. It's not a bad idea. She means to explore more, possibly find a library. ]

And it's rather low on my list of priorities. I'd say food is the order of the day, perhaps some clothes. [ A pause. The glances towards one of the bedrooms, with no divider from the main room, and she wrinkles her nose a little. ] Fresh sheets, too.

Edited 2017-07-25 04:34 (UTC)

And I brushed them off, too. [A nod towards one of the beds. Is she joking? Who knows. Either way, it makes little difference. It's all dust and grime, but nothing a few adjustments couldn't freshen up.

She almost wants to tell her it's a joke, not a lie, but there's no need to explain herself. Bloody nametag. It could at least say her hobby is lying badly.]

Shall we, then? Best get a lay of the land.

[And better to do it in a pair.]

[ She smiles at that. ]

Well, it just so happens my other hobbies include reconnaissance.

[ It isn't a joke but she says it lightly enough that it could pass as one. Peggy slings her rucksack off her shoulder (her meagre belongings from the crash and what few clothes — robes — she'd kept) and sets it down on one of the beds, pulling her box handbag out from inside it. It seems a bit superfluous, but it's clearly something she'd brought from home, and what's more important is the contents: her gun, her lipstick. ]

I heard something about a market district. We might be able to put together a decent dinner if we find it.

[Ah. Agent jokes. Humor that's actually not very far from the truth, if it's not the thing itself. Claire smiles, watching Peggy with almost wonder. A handbag. Something she'd see in a department store window. It seems like an alien thing now.]

I'm not much of a chef, I'm afraid. A bit rusty.

[She can cook, but for so long it's been nothing but stews and game over campfires, if not stale bread and cheese when they could find it.]

[ At that, she pauses. Pulls a bit of a face. ]

That's rather unfortunate, [ she says after a beat, ] seeing as I was about to warn you of the same thing.

[ Campfire stews abound. There's a reason she ate at the automat more often than not, picked up food to bring to her desk, or had dear Mr Jarvis or one of Howard's chefs whip something up for her. She'd never asked for that sort of life, either, it was all a matter of circumstance. But still, beyond cobbling together a passable sandwich... ]

[Well. Claire knows she can boil a potato and toss some ingredients together to make something edible, but the jury's out on how enjoyable it might be.]

Perhaps we'll find a cafe along the way.

[Or something similar.]

[ She's not saying she's had roasted rat. But she's probably had roasted rat. ]

A cafe! [ How novel. She seems delighted by the notion. ] It has been a long while since I've had tea with someone who appreciates it.

Assuming this place understands tea to begin with. [Claire gives her a little smile before looking about. Well, nothing to lock up or clean up just yet, so she supposes they're good to go.]

Shall we?

[ No, there's nothing else to be done with this little flat for now. Peggy takes her rucksack and kicks it under the bed, settles the blanket back into place where it hangs over the side of the mattress. There's nothing too important in there but it's habit more than anything else. ]

We shall. [ She follows the other woman out and together they make their way down the street. ] It all feels so — normal, doesn't it? Being on a completely different planet aside.

Now and then. Sometimes it comes rushing back to me that there's no such thing as home anymore.

[No home, no family. Not within reach, anyway. Back to that strange feeling of lack--like there's something just outside her grasp.]

Edited 2017-08-06 06:23 (UTC)

[ She breathes out at that, voice quiet and even. ]

Well, it certainly just did for me. [ When you put it like that. ] I've always been all right with going here and there for work. Never really calling any one place home. But I'd started to feel settled when...

[ Peggy shrugs as if to say: the storm. ]

It all came to an end.

[She can relate. She had hoped so desperate that Culloden could be avoided, that their efforts in Paris had been enough, but war came anyway. And then this. She's not sure if this is better or worse than Culloden moor.

There's a part of her that wishes she could take out her anger at the unfairness of it all. It's selfish, of course, but she can't help but be upset. For a moment in time, they had everything. Home. Family.]

We were reading ourselves for a war of which I knew the outcome. We were on the losing side of history. Never quite made it that far.

I'm sorry.

[ She does mean that sincerely. She doesn't know the details, but Claire has said enough to be telling. ]

You'd mentioned it when we first spoke — about, well, time travel, for lack of a better phrase. I didn't want to pry, but now that you've said it... [ She glances askance at her. The losing side of history. God. ] I can't imagine what that must have been like.

Edited 2017-08-07 10:04 (UTC)

It's all right. [No use in being sorry now. She's only sorry that so many lives were lost in the uprising already. Dying, often painfully, and for what? They won't even see if Culloden will come to pass.

Claire glances aside at some of the buildings lining the street as she chooses her words.]

Are you familiar with the Jacobite uprising in the 1700s? The one that culminated at Culloden, in Scotland.

[ She raises her brows at that. It's been a while since school and their subjects were so carefully selected. But, perhaps unsurprisingly, Peggy does have more than a passing familiarity with military history. ]

A little, [ she admits after a moment's consideration. ] Charles Stuart, wasn't it? For the British throne.

[A nod. Most have heard if it, even if in broad strokes. Jacobites, princes vying to be king, and both sides believing their man was the one that belonged on the throne.]

I found myself in that time in Scotland. That's where I met my husband, Jamie. [We'll just gloss over the fact that he's her second husband and she said to hell with the first, more or less.] We tried to stop Culloden from happening at all. I knew what would happen to his home, his way of life. His family. I tried to change history.

[Abruptly, she laughs.]

It sounds mad, talking about it now.

[It always did, but back then, she had much more conviction.]

[ Mad, maybe. But not impossible after waking up in this place. Peggy shakes her head, smiling a little, almost a reassurance. ]

Don't you think any of us who lived through the war would take the chance to change it if we could?

[ The camps that came to light during the liberation of Eastern Europe, the trials at Nuremberg. Bucky being killed in the line of duty. Steve sacrificing his life. God, yes, would they have tried. ]

It might sound mad. But I've seen a lot of things that most people wouldn't believe, even before we got to this place. [ And those are stories for another time. ] Tell me about your husband.

[She doubts anyone would be able to sit and twiddle their thumbs in good conscience. The sentiment is appreciated, though, and Claire smiles before quickly glancing aside. The thought of Jamie never fails to sting. But she's had her bouts of crying already. Out of her system for now.]

He's a good man. It seems... too simple, to say that, but he truly is. A born leader, though he's happiest at home, working in the fields or tending to the horses. He's a stubborn bastard but God knows he's got the kindest heart I've ever encountered. He'd do anything for his family. [He's laid down his life for them, over and over. She shakes her head, looking down at her feet as they walk, the lines in the concrete passing them by.]

His laugh is infectious. If I could get him laughing, that was it.

[She takes a breath.]

It's been so long since I heard him laugh. I'd give anything right now to hear it.

[The war didn't leave much time for jokes.]

[ She listens quietly, careful not to seem as though she's watching too closely, giving the other woman some privacy even as she describes the man she loves. Because of course she loves him; marriage doesn't always mean what people think, but there's a tenderness to how Claire speaks about her husband and it makes her heart ache for her. But it's lovely, too, to hear how she cares for him. ]

He sounds wonderful. [ Peggy pauses, admits with a small smile of her own, ] And he rather reminds me of someone I know.

[ She glances at her, expression softening. ]

He... isn't here, is he. Is he on — [ She interrupts herself, remembering she isn't supposed to mention how they came to be here. ] Is he still asleep?

We're lucky women, then. People like that are rare.

[And how terrible it is to be robbed of them. Claire takes a breath, composing herself. She's done enough crying over this and she knows for a fact Jamie wouldn't want that.]

He is. Sometimes I don't know why it's me instead of him here. He's the leader, the warrior. And then other times I'm bloody glad it's not him instead of me, because this is all mad. Better I be the one questioning reality.

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