[ semi-closed ]

[revlon]

Who: Peggy Carter (revlon) & Various
What: Catch-all log
When: Late Oct - Nov
Where: Wyver, Thesa, eventually Olympia
Warning(s): N/A, subject to change

[ This is a catch-all log for the month of November! I'll (slowly) be adding promised starters in here. If you wanna hash out some plot / toss out a starter of your own / etc, feel free to PM me on this account or hit me up at dossier. ]

Comments

john watson;

[revlon]

[ They'd made plans, at the height of the epidemic, to escape to Thesa for some airconditioning and a drink. But naturally they'd kept having to reschedule as difficulties on the surface mounted and what was meant to be a break had turned into an eventual reward for getting through the last month or so. They're still in Wyver, even with the road back to Olympia opened up to them — they're told the city is still recovering, that there's still a shortage of food, that they will be able to return if they wished but not quite yet. And so their little holiday ("holiday") in the southern part of the Isles is extended.

It also means John and Peggy finally have time to have that drink. After finally getting some proper rest. It's a lot later than planned, but it had been something to look forward to and it's a welcome way to end another hot, humid day in the jungle.

They teleport up to the Station independently of each other. Peggy's already passed through the mess to pile some food onto a tray and snuck it back to one of the lounge areas, along with the bottle of whiskey she'd carried with her from Olympia. It's nearly half gone, courtesy of more than a few trying days, but plenty for the two of them. And by the time John arrives, Peggy's camped out on a sofa with her muddy boots off and legs outstretched, listening to some indistinct music with a glass in one hand, a pencil in the other, and a crossword in her lap. ]

Ah, John, [ she says when she sees him, tucking her legs under herself to allow him space on the cushions. She doesn't get up, they're well past standing on any kind of ceremony now. But she does lift her glass in greeting. ] You made it.

[enarms]

I did. [ he did. and, now here, John Watson wastes no time in dumping himself without any mind paid to posturing right down on the stretch of sofa provided by Peggy's kindly tucked away legs.

it's been a long slog. a long fucking slog. and now he's here, now they've finally found a moment to drink the last few wretched weeks out of current thought and into the memory banks, he's no intention of wasting a second of it pretending like he's got any reason to play to politenesses with one Peggy Carter. letting out an almighty sigh of breath, John allows himself a few seconds of staring, reclined against the sofaback, at the ceiling, before springing back into the game.

there are important practicalities to be dealt with before anything else, and John's already leaning for the whiskey bottle. ]

Right, where is it, I've been waiting for this for two weeks.

[ might be an exaggeration, might not be, time has long since become a sideshow to the main event of havoc wreaking itself. Hello can happen in a minute, priorities are what they are. (it's as good as hello anyway, not feeling the need to say one at all).]

[revlon]

[ Peggy smiles briefly, then sits up just enough to push the empty glass on the table towards him, pencil clinking lightly against it. ]

Help yourself. And if we need more, I'm sure Roman can rustle up something special for us.

[ Never mind that she's already helped herself to a spread for the pair of them. It's less proper food and more snacks; cheese, bread, and fruit are the more recognisable things on the tray. The rest are definitely more alien but she had been assured they'd be welcome additions to their little feast and she's fine with trying anything new. May as well. It's been a few weeks of new and she's adaptable for good reason.

The moment John fills his glass, she touches hers to his in a toast. ]

To surviving the month. May we enjoy a few weeks of the dull and dreary before going through anything half as exciting again.

[enarms]

I'll drink to that.

[ the dull and the dreary, amen. knowing full well it'll take each of them less than a week to be tired of that style of living doesn't make this moment, right now, any less victorious. a quick sip of the drink and John's giving a thick hum of appreciation, reaching to take a little piece of cheese just to luxuriate in the magnificent carefreeness of it all.

when his mouth's empty and he's settled back into the sofa again, ]

God. Do you know what I'm just as excited for as I have been for this? First cup of tea back in my hovel.

[ it's the little things, really. the everyday, taken for granted things that go missed most. ]

[revlon]

[ She laughs at that, finally setting aside her crossword to put her full attention on him. ]

God, yes. I never thought I'd miss that cramped little apartment of ours. But it was starting to get — tolerable, if not comfortable.

[ Even if she was squeezed into a bed, even if no one had any real privacy in the place even with the curtains drawn. No real walls. Peggy huffs out a breath, rubbing absently at her chin as she thinks about moving back to Olympia. Likely it'll still be very uncomfortable. Reports of the food situation haven't been good and the epidemic and hurried evacuation surely left the residential district a mess. In a lot of ways, remaining in Wyver would be ideal for now, until the other city gets back on its feet.

But she knows Olympia. At least, she knows it better than the jungle. ]

I'm actually thinking of moving out once things get settled. It would be nice for me and Steve to have our own place. [ She inclines her head. ] Not that the Frasers are difficult roommates. But, well. You know.

[enarms]

[ a bitten off laugh. yeah, he can imagine there are many reasons why that configuration might not be anyone's ideal. ]

Yeah. Just not the best, eh. [ and it's not like the starter housing they were given was exactly the best in the first place, let alone with overcrowding. it's liveable, especially for someone like John, who spent his daylight hours there sleeping and the majority of the rest of the time not there at all, but it's not the best.

truth be told, ] My housemate and I are planning on looking for somewhere else, too. We'd just made the call before all this kicked off, actually. Can't see those plans changing after going back to the place in whatever state it's in now.

[ which can only really be Worse Than Before. a sigh, John casting a weary glance Peggy's way - showily weary. the sigh of a put-upon saviour of the masses: which is what he is now, don't you know. celebrated and everything. it's nice to have the energy to play. ]

Might just move in up here until everyone's sorted that mess out.

eggsy | forward-dated to late nov(?)

[revlon]

[ The palace courtyard is open to the public. That's one of the first things Peggy Carter learned about the city of Olympia — however it isn't so people can admire the architecture up close or take a stroll around the gardens. Rather, it's because it's been dedicated as the training grounds for the Royal Guard (and anyone else who cares to jump in) and an arena of sorts for those who wish to duel and perhaps win the Empress' approval. They say she likes to watch, sometimes. Peggy, who's often assigned on patrol on the outskirts of the city, has never seen her. And after the past few weeks, she isn't sure what she'd think of the woman if she ever did catch a glimpse.

But Empress Simwe and her commander aren't on her mind this morning. No, this morning is for a spot of target practice. Peggy often goes at a punching bag or a sparring partner when she wants to release the frustrations of the day, but she'd been careful with that in Wyver. The place may have more easily turned a blind eye to a refugee firing a gun in the jungle, but scrounging in the Old City to replace the ammo she'd used? She didn't want the fuss. So within the first few days of returning to Olympia, she's back on the training grounds in the part sectioned off as a shooting range. She has no interest in showing off for the Empress or her superior officer today. Peggy just wants to get keep herself sharp.

She's had enough time now to familiarise herself with weapons she never encountered in 1947. But a gun is a gun is a gun and in war, often in enemy territory, you learn to use whatever you find and not just what you trained with. There's a selection of firearms at her side and she picks a pistol first, to warm up. The bullets ping off the steel targets with unerring precision and halfway through, she's aware she's being watched; not from on high, where Simwe might be, but someone on her level.

Peggy straightens imperceptibly and continues, and once the clip is emptied, she turns to reload. ]

It's rather rude to stare, you know. [ She says it crisply, gaze lowered to the weapon in her hands rather than her audience. ] If you're going to watch, you may as well be polite about it and introduce your— [ Peggy looks up as she rams the clip home and falters when she sees who it is. ] —self.

[ Instantly, the stern lines in her expression soften and she huffs out a breath that could almost be a laugh — a little exasperated, amused, apologetic. ]

Eggsy. [ It's not unkindly meant when she asks, ] What are you doing here?

tags back almost in late november??

[tailorable]

[ During his training with the marines and Kingsman, Eggsy excelled in marksmanship. With his pistol the only weapon gifted to him by Orbiters and all the trouble that's transpired during his short time on El Nysa, it seems wise to maintain his proficiency.

Eggsy isn't overly fond of Olympia, particularly for someone who chose to return from Wyver — he didn't like the way the epidemic was handled by the Empress and worries over those who stayed behind in Wyver. Luckily enough, a great number of his friends have made a similar choice. The English'll pick Olympia, he'd said all along. Harry, Peggy, Nightingale. He can't say he isn't pleased by ending up near them, regardless of his uncertainty.

By the time Peggy looks to him, his face has split into a wide smile. Being told off isn't normally amusing, no, but the sharp reaction from Peggy is enjoyable, if only because of the swift turn in her attitude at the sight of him. ]

Stalking you, apparently. [ He hadn't been watching for that long, had he? Just enough to appreciate her steady hand. The impressive accuracy and precision. He considers offering a cracking shot of his own as a succinct explanation for his presence, but that's too flashy for the way he and Harry (Henry, as he insists is necessary) have chosen to navigate this new world. However, he holds his Kingsman issue pistol in his right hand, safety on. ] Nah, figured I should brush up on my marksmanship, y'know?

[ with shit going down semi-regularly. ]

[revlon]

Just don't stalk me down a dark alley, [ she teases lightly, flipping the safety on her own pistol. ] The last time a friend of mine did that, I almost gave him a concussion.

[ He's seen her in a fighting pit. That's no secret. In some ways, Wyver is certainly preferable. The general impression Peggy got from the place is that what you see is what you get; not so in Olympia. Not nearly by half. The place is certainly meant to seem a little more ordered, more pristine, but nowhere is ever so tidy and secrets run rampant here. She jokes that she chose to return on account of the climate — but she's also back to keep an eye on things.

It is nice that she isn't alone here. Her friends have returned as well and she hasn't seen Eggsy lately, so she's glad to run into him now. Unexpected, of course — until he points out wanting to keep his marksmanship skills sharp. What sort of tailor knows how to fire a gun? Family background of hunting, perhaps? Peggy tips her head a fraction, then her brows raise. ]

That's a Tokarev TT-30. [ She almost sounds more surprised by the make and model rather than by the fact he has a firearm at all. The upgraded TT-33 had been issued to Soviet officers during the war, but she's familiar enough to tell the subtle difference between the two. And then some. ] Only... you've modified it, haven't you?

[ Is that a shotgun barrel, Eggsy? ]

[tailorable]

[ The fact that she notices and mentions the modification makes his brows arch sharply. He glances at the pistol, briefly evaluating the visible customisation. Not quite as subtle as Harry's brolly, in retrospect. ]

Me?

[ He pulls a face, not at all put-on or exaggerated. Hard not to be surprised that anyone would think him clever enough to be the go-go-gadget kind of guy. As soon as he thinks that, he feels slightly disappointed in himself — of course Peggy wouldn't overlook him or dismiss him in that way. It's reassuring, from the perspective of a friend. As a spy, however, he realises that he ought to present himself more conservatively. His cover doesn't include his name, but he regularly lies about the extent of his service in the Royal Marines. The military background explains away most of his survival skills and combat competencies. The special weapons remain decidedly abnormal. ]

Nah, bruv, they gave it to me this way. [ He points up with his free hand. ] Y'know, the big bosses.

[ The Orbiters, he means. And it's true enough. They gave him the suit and the gun when he first arrived, along with his garish collection of trackies. ]

Gave me my dog, too, actually. Without modifications, as far as I can tell, but it ain't been that long.

[ He means it jokingly, an easy segue away from the topic of his weapon and marksmanship practice, although he does worry that JB isn't as he was — or worse, that he'll be taken from him if he slips up. ]

[revlon]

[ It's a good answer, and a good excuse. The Orbiters — or, at least, she assumes it was them because who else would it be? — gifted her with a fancy little gadget of her own. A ring that seems to contain some kind of truth serum. She hasn't had cause to use it just yet and she doesn't wear it because she doesn't want questions asked about it. With that in mind, Eggsy having a firearm of this sort and wanting to test it out is perfectly reasonable.

Funny, how they're both hiding in plain sight with some of their most telling qualities out in the open. Funny how much people are willing to overlook when something fits the given narrative. But it's how they were taught. ]

Well, they've been very generous, haven't they? [ Peggy can tell when a conversation is being steered to safer waters, however gently. But she lets it happen. ] You're the second person I know who's gotten their dog back. [ Genuinely, ] I'm happy for you.

[ Then she steps to the side — not back, she's not done yet — to give him the space to join her. ]

Did you bring him along today? [ Her red lips quirk in a smile. ] I don't know if the poor thing would care for all the noise out here. That little shotgun of yours, for starters.

[tailorable]

[ Even this early on in his career in espionage, Eggsy has learned that he prefers to hew closer to the truth than fantasy. Lying to strangers is fine, lying to enemies is easy, but lying to his friends has already proven difficult. Every half-truth and stretch of reality stings.

But that's life. Well, his life. Beats what it was before, at least. ]

Thanks, Peggy. [ and that, too, is genuine, even as he once again skips over discussing the gun with a shrug. ] He's back at the flat with Henry, [ which perhaps reveals they're closer than the average tailor and his apprentice. Eggsy wonders if Henry's even mentioned him to others, although he knows they have their story sorted. Hours of practice in the sitting room and pop quizzes in the morning have ensured as much. ] though he doesn't mind noise too much. [ because of their shared training. He cants his head, allowing his mouth to curve into a fond smile. ] Proper Londoner and all.

[ a joke to save himself from lying later. His gaze settles on her for a moment and arches his brows sharply. ]

Is that a Walther PPK that you've got there?

nightingale;

[revlon]

[ The sun is just barely clearing the treetops, not late enough in the day to burn off the heavy dew beaded on every inch of vegetation. Wyver is an incredibly warm, humid place but it's a little more bearable this early in the morning — but as Peggy hikes out to the East End of the city, she still finds herself sweating. She can't bring herself to be as comfortably clad as the locals, likely because of her upbringing and time period, but she's made concessions with linen and cotton. That said, even in her short sleeves and loose trousers, hair tucked into a roll and off her neck, she rather wishes for a bit of a breeze. Anything to move the heaviness in the air.

She's here to meet one Mr Nightingale. She'd asked him, back in Olympia, if he'd be willing to spar with her with both fists and magic. If they're going to live in this world, she may as well adapt to how they fight. And she may not be enhanced, she may not have special abilities, but she learns quickly and is always determined to be better.

The East End of the city is far more open than the other districts, likely because of its fighting pits. They won't be disturbed here, she's sure. With the early hour, it's a little more sleepy than usual. Peggy finds a clearing that's a little more secluded amongst the trees and finishes off her breakfast (a banana) as she waits for her countryman to join her. ]

[ettersberg]

[ it is early still and more quiet than during most of the day or even most of the night at this time. nightingale's body may have returned to that of someone in their early forties, but he hasn't shaken the sleeping rhythm of someone far older. (more than that, his sleep has suffered since the war, as it did for so many, and that is something he's never managed to shake, either, though it has gotten better over the years.)

it is early, but nightingale is awake and alert as he makes his way to the agreed-upon spot in the east end of the city, loose linen pants and a dress shirt over an undershirt that he'll dress down to once they get started. when he spots peggy there already, he offers a hint of a smile. ]

Good morning.

[revlon]

[ Around the last mouthful of banana, ]

Mr Nightingale! [ Peggy chews and swallows, tossing the peel away into the bushes nearby. ] You had no trouble finding the place, I hope?

[ They've both navigated the wild with their work in the war, she supposes. Although the extent of her involvement is still a secret. For all anyone knows, Peggy's survival skills are minimal at best, even with her combat experience. But given what the other man has seen, she's sure that won't remain a mystery for long. ]

[ettersberg]

None at all.

[ there's this fancy little function on smartphones (an app, it's called an app, he knows this) and the communicators they've been given alike that offers gps guidance and a map. nightingale quite enjoys it. but even without it, the jungle not being mapped out very well, he has no trouble navigating.

there's a bag slung over one shoulder from which he pulls bandages for their hands. ] Still determined, I take it?

[revlon]

[ She flashes a smile at him, crossing the short distance between them to take a roll for herself. ]

We haven't known each other very long, Mr Nightingale, [ she tells him as she wraps her left hand first, the act obviously well practiced and efficient. Her nails are still neatly painted red, despite their surroundings and hardships thus far. ] But you'll find I'm not one easily discouraged.

harry hart | forward-dated to late nov

[revlon]

[ It feels good to be back north. Not that Wyver was entirely unpleasant, the climate aside — Peggy learned a great deal during their time in the jungle, not to mention the tighter bonds formed amongst friends (and those who are friendlier). It feels like returning to Olympia has been something of a restart in its own way, too, with finding a new apartment and jumping right back into the Royal Guard with fresh — albeit wary — eyes. So it stands to reason that Peggy would be looking to add a few new item to her wardrobe, now that she's got a place of her own and a paying job (again).

She isn't one for luxuries, even with living on the Stark estate back in Los Angeles, but she's always taken great pride in her appearance and the local fashion isn't quite suited to her tastes. The Orbiters on Thesa have been kind enough to supply her with a few pieces that are, but it seems like cheating in a way. So she seeks out the tailor shop Mr DeVere works at — to say hello, to support a local business. Why not?

She's brought along a few things of her own, for inspiration. They're certainly more brightly coloured than what she's wearing at the moment: the all-black uniform of the Guard, with the gemstone brooch pinned to her left breast. Those clothes are still her own, too, but she's just got the one set from home. She could do with another, if only to spare her the headache of laundry all the time. ]

Hello, Henry, [ she greets as she ducks inside. She's fresh off patrol on the outskirts of the city. Back to the grind, as it were. ] I hope I'm not stopping in too late in the day.

[etiquette]

[it does feel good to be back here--even if harry isn't taking this as a time to relax or simply settle in. any thoughts that this would be like an earlier retirement have been dashed with the simmer of tension between sides in the past month and the terror attacks--they may be gone now but they're not forgotten. it's nothing he couldn't handle (nor eggsy for that matter) while relocating to wyver, but olympia at least on the surface is far more suited to his tastes.

he picks up a job that mostly passes the time--tailoring, because it had been necessary for his cover all these years and honestly, harry hasn't met a hobby or a skill he hasn't ended up excelling at--languages, art, ballroom dance just to name a few. it's not at the level that kingsman's shop front had been, but it's a good way to keep a low profile considering how many times he'd been forced to show his hand or make a close call, particularly in front of rosalind and peggy. not to mention he'll never say no to the little bonuses he's allowed to take home to his own closet at the end of the day, thankfully stocked with a few of his tried and true pieces that had been left for him, including enough ties for eggsy to consistently borrow from him (which he has yet to suggest any other solution to that problem, perhaps out of some misplaced sentimentality).

he's just finishing up a few notes on his previous client's order when the bell signals someone else entering, and harry sets down his work and heads towards the front to greet what ends up being a very welcome and familiar face.]

Ah, Miss Carter. Never too late, especially not for a friend.

[he offers her a pleasant, close-lipped smile and glances towards the mannequins with several of olympia's more traditional garb--something he's still getting used to crafting.]

Glad you've made it back as well. What can I help you with today?

[revlon]

[ She follows his gaze then huffs out a breath, almost an amused laugh. ]

Nothing like those, for starters. [ It's not unkindly said, or meant. ] I'm sure the locals think we're rather eccentric for dressing the way we do, and maybe it doesn't do us any favours when it comes to blending in, but...

[ Peggy smiles — it's not quite sheepish or helpless, but along those lines. She's sure he can read what she means: she's fond of her well-tailored blouses and trousers, she manages just fine on the Olympian roads with the pairs of heels she's obtained from Thesa. As a spy, it's poor form to want to stand out at all, but it's not really a disadvantage here when they're all meant to simply be refugees from far-flung places. ]

I find I'm more comfortable in what I know. And I was hoping you'd help me. [ She hefts her bag of neatly folded clothing, just a few sample pieces of nothing overly complicated. But all distinctly 1940s in flavour, from the darts on the bust, the strong shoulders on the jackets, high waists on the bottoms, the shorter sleeves that leave the cuffs at the wrist rather than just past it. Puffed sleeves, wide collars. ] I've brought along some inspiration. Although I suppose it's all old-fashioned to you.

claire fraser | forward-dated to late nov

[revlon]

[ So they've finally moved out of that cramped little flat in the residential district and found a set of apartments in a nicer part of the city. After deciding back in Wyver that they've certainly outgrown the place they first moved into, they'd returned to Olympia and gone searching for new places almost immediately. It had been a happy coincidence to stumble across two suitable apartments not far from one another — certainly close enough to stay neighbours instead of spending half the time trying to work around busy schedules for a nice cup of tea.

Although the downside is that they're only partially furnished in comparison to the place they were assigned upon arrival. It's taken some doing to make them comfortable. It helps that they haven't got many things to unpack, but it does still seem so dreadfully... beige. Peggy is thinking that very thing as they sit in the kitchen of the one bedroom flat she now shares with Steve Rogers, surveying the dismally bare walls. ]

Does it seem silly, [ she asks the other woman, glancing over as she picks up her cup of tea, ] to want a bit of art or something? Just to cheer the place up a bit. I know there are more important things — [ like groceries, pots and pans ] — but it's rather grim, isn't it?

[nineteenfortyfive]

[She'll take the task of having to furnish the flats over the critters that came with the other. Though, of course, one critter remains with them. Nessie--a male, as Claire awkwardly discovered once he began to mature--dozes on Claire's lap, used to the sounds of the women chatting. She idly scratches the top of his head as she looks towards one of the bare walls.]

I know Steve draws, but does he paint? I wouldn't know where to begin to look for something like that. [There's a look back to Peggy. Not too eager to wander the market shops after the attack, even as unlikely as a second is.] I was thinking a few plants might make the place look less like a hospital room. Herbs in the kitchen, some flowers or hanging plants by the windows...

[She shrugs, giving the room another once over. The layout is similar to the one she has with Jamie. Good to brainstorm here, then.]

Thirty years old and I've not decorated my own place before.

[revlon]

[ She chuckles into her cup, taking a sip of tea before setting it back down. With this flat, just like their first one, the priority was a good kettle and some tea. ]

Nor I. Although plants aren't a bad idea — I did have a little one when I lived in New York.

[ But she also had a roommate who helped water the thing. Peggy was often out for work. Her lips twist into a wry sort of smile as she thinks of the other places she's lived: all properties of Howard Stark's, all lavishly decorated. And one in particular... ]

If Steve paints, he hasn't shared it with me. I'll ask him. Whatever he creates can't be half as bad as what hung in my bedroom in Los Angeles. [ She raises an eyebrow, shooting Claire a Look. ] I was staying with a friend of mine and he had a hideous self-portrait in every room. I swear it felt like his moustache was watching me sleep.

[nineteenfortyfive]

Oh, God. His name wasn't Narcissus, by any chance? [A mustachioed Narcissus. Claire sips her tea, thinking back on the homes she's had over the years. Lallybroch is her definitive home, but even that one lacked any personal touch save for the herb garden she began once settled there. A shame it's all gone, now.]

Jamie and I lived in the same bedroom his parents lived in, once. I adored it, but it did feel a bit like sleeping on sacred ground, or at the very least in a museum. [They slept on the same bed he and his siblings were conceived in and born in. A strange thought even then.] It's... nice, to have something that's different. Separate, and ours.

[A look to Peggy, wondering if she understands the sentiment. As far as Claire understands it, she and Steve have never shared quarters before coming here. Not like this.]

[revlon]

[ She laughs and interjects, ]

Howard.

[ Good man. She does miss him, even if he does border on the ridiculous sometimes. Still asleep, of course, as are most of the people they know. What would he make of this place? Or, more to the point, Steve being alive and well? And together with her now? He knew almost better than anyone alive in 1947 what Steve means to her.

So when Claire says what she does, her cheeks do warm a little and she clears her throat gently, looking down. ]

Yes, well. [ No, she and Steve haven't shared quarters like this. Foxholes, yes. An old farmhouse. But the front wasn't a home. And they had the other Commandos with them and it was more — companionable than intimate. Even if they've been sharing a bed for the past few weeks, this is a new milestone altogether. ] It's certainly a step up from what we've had. Not that I disliked sharing a place with you and your husband.