assembles: (i like icons with the back showing)
Steve Rogers / Captain America ([personal profile] assembles) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2017-07-03 08:49 am

to the morning we're cast out [closed]

Who: Steve Rogers & Peggy Carter
Where: Room 515
When: 07/03
Rating: PG
Summary: Steve has some fessing up to do.
The Story:
[ Now that the shock of Peggy's arrival here has worn off and she's settled in as much as anyone can really settle into Wonderland, Steve knows that it's time. A mixture of guilt and obligation has settled over him ever since she got here, a reminder nagging at the back of his mind that he needed to clear something up with her as soon as possible.

Because they're from different times and places now. Peggy's only a couple of years out from the war, whereas for Steve it may as well be a lifetime ago. He's had four years in the future, three in Wonderland, and when he looks at her she's still how he remembers her, except that there's more grief in her now, and it's hard to reconcile that it's grief for him that's worn her down.

Steve knows what Peggy's life becomes, or at least the broad strokes of it. She'd moved on after his death, and he's had to do his own kind of moving on, but Wonderland complicates everything.

This is a conundrum he'd had to struggle with once before, when Peggy had been here a previous time, though he'd never had the chance to resolve it back then. Not before she'd vanished.

All it takes is a text message, though he hesitates for a few minutes on hitting send. Steve has no idea how Peggy might react to the news of him and Bucky, if she'll be shocked or upset or confused or a mix of all those things. He knows how it'll sound, but all he can do is stay calm and explain himself.

Once she gives him the okay to come to her room, Steve appears within minutes and knocks firmly on her door. ]


Peggy? It's me.
mucked: (☂ if heaven and hell decide)

[personal profile] mucked 2017-07-03 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the text unnerved her. but she couldn't say why. perhaps it's because it's remains a frightfully new kind of social interaction -- brief missives sent digitally in advance of a more authentic conversation. try as she might, she can't help but interpret those pixels on the screen as anything other than something which lacks sincerity. somehow, they're worse than telegrams. and not nearly so nice as letters.

steve's message isn't alone in her disdain. every one she gets feels like that. she wonders if it's a discomfort she'll ever overcome. maybe she'll be lucky and she won't be stuck here in wonderland long enough to find out.

but if she is going to be stuck? well, at least the company continues to floor her. it's been well over a month and she has yet to properly digest the revelation that steve is alive. she hasn't spoken with him as often as she'd like but -- but she isn't the type to go throwing herself at moments which ought to sprout organically from the dirt and muck of this place. regardless, she carries herself with a silently harboured expectation.

for a dance, perhaps. or possibly more. when she thinks about it, she grows a heady mix of mournful and giddy. as such, peggy doesn't allow the thought to cross her mind too often.

except for now when she receives his message and the whole time between him sending it and him arriving causes her to be eaten away -- eroded -- by curiousity.

truth be told (embarrassing, really), she's within reach of the door when his knock arrives. peggy counts to ten, steels her heart against the sight of him, and eases the door open with an expression schooled perfectly as though she hadn't spent the last few minutes feeling like a schoolgirl again.

her face is inscrutable except for a distantly polite smile. peggy steps aside, jerking her head to indicate that he ought to enter. at the very least, she's moving better now; the wound she'd arrived with doesn't both her. ]


I rather doubted it'd be anyone else. [ wry. ] It's not as though I've been here long enough to make friends.

[ and the one earnest connection she'd made is apparently evil now, so that's a whole other kettle of drama. ]
mucked: (☂ etherized upon a table)

[personal profile] mucked 2017-07-04 11:38 am (UTC)(link)
[ -- he's got some reason to be here, she assumes. although she as-yet doesn't mind what it might be. although she's careful not to go seeking it out too doggedly, she's already fallen hard and fast for cherishing every spare moment she can glean out of him. even when he does something that makes her uneasy, such as ask after her wound.

peggy flattens a hand against the place on her lower stomach where she'd incurred the injury. the fabric of her blouse crinkles under the touch. ]
It'll scar. But it's coming along nicely. I barely notice it. These days.

[ but she doesn't want to talk about her wound. not even with him -- even now, she's remained particularly coy about its details, aside from the obvious cause-and-effect. for now, she tries to adjust the conversation around that obstacle and prove how much of a recovery she's made when she lifts a chair from where it's snug against the wall and carries it into the middle of the room. a place for him to sit.

evidently, she doesn't have company over often. ]


-- You said a majority of the people here are worth knowing. What about the minority?

[ see, she's been thinking about this a lot lately... ]
mucked: ( easystreet ) (Default)

[personal profile] mucked 2017-07-12 03:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he says something about an ointment and -- and the temptation is certainly present. but, in the end, peggy's not certain she wants to compromise the cautionary tale left by what will scar over and whorl and gnarl. maybe if it was in an area more readily visible. a hand; a shoulder; a face. recognizable marks could be an intelligence agent's downfall, as evidenced by her adventures in the last year.

peggy also eventually sits. she holds onto the edge of her bed with both hands, and crosses her feet at the ankles. it's a remarkably relaxed posture. for her. and it stays relaxed even as he brings up the example of a sly cannibal.

although she certainly does frown. ]


Sounds like something a bit more than a bad apple. [ her gut twists at the prospect. ] How long had he been at it?

[ she keeps a division between her questions and her emotions. her reaction is as clinical as she can manage. ]
mucked: (☂ so powerless and small)

[personal profile] mucked 2017-07-18 10:13 pm (UTC)(link)
[ as macabre as the conversation is, peggy can't help but glean away the impression that it's all one big placeholder. a stopgap, shielding something else from taking front and centre stage. yes, disgust twists in her gut at what he describes. and, yes, he's correct in thinking that the mirrors reach for that damn same level of disgust. but...

but although it's been some two years since she's seen him, she can read between his nerves. she can't read them exactly, of course, but peggy's made a career of watching for these tells and tics. of listening for when a thrust of a conversation is evident, or when it seems to be missing.

and this one is missing.

so peggy makes it easy on him, for once in her life. she folds her hands in her lap and leans forward by degrees. ]


But I rather doubt you came here to discuss cannibals, Steve.