+ The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to You +

[vitaelamorte]

Who: EVERYONE!
Where: EVERYWHERE!
When: Saturday, May 19th - Wednesday, May 23rd.
Rating: PG-13, warn if you're gonna go higher!
Summary: A catch-all for the Kyln / Sierra Madre event!
The Story:

For the duration of this event, the entire mansion will be part space jail, part apocalyptic wasteland desert with an abandoned hotel/casino. On the third day an escape route not previously discovered in the Kyln appears and breakouts can be planned...

...Only for everyone to find themselves walking through a large glass prison toward the toxic gas filled wasteland of a desert, the Sierra Madre. Does the prison look better than the toxic cloud outside? If you're stuck in the prison after dark beyond day 3, you'll be forced into and locked in your cell for the night. But at least locked away, nothing from the outside can hurt you. If you try to brave the actual elements in the desert it might be a little hard to breathe. The air has pockets of toxic gas and even a few seconds of exposure could prove deadly. And watch out for the Ghost People.

Inside the abandoned hotel/casino you'll find shelter from the gas and ghosts, but beware the holograms that are 50/50 with their attitude. Prison beatings, a beating from the holograms, which one Would You Rather? And whatever you do, don't try on the collars lying around unless you like to explode. Literally.

[ This is a catch-all for all your prison/desert needs! Please mark your threads clearly in the subject line with your character's name and either a cell number or just a location if you didn't feel like randomizing it or you're making a top level for a public place (like the dining hall or wandering the hotel/casino). Here's the plot post if you need it!

Have fun! ]

Comments

[directed]

[He's not expecting company; more and more breakouts are ending with success, and it would seem that quite a number of Wonderland's captives would prefer what lies beyond to this replicated prison. Even Rip's cell has notable absences, and he's been left to wonder just how many bodies will fill the bunks come lockdown. There have been unexpected benefits, however, to staying behind. The guards care as little for the remnants as they do for the ones who once made use of them, which has made something of a surplus of scraps should one know where to scrounge.

He's working on tearing the clean bits of a uniform to strips when a voice draws his attention. A boy, leaned against the bars with his offering held out. The kindness of Wonderland strikes again, and in a brief pause Rip looks over this child with his small smile and his insistence that he would be fine.

Problem is, Rip knows the look in his eye; he's seen it countless times on the London streets that served as home to starving children. No matter what he says, it's clear enough to Rip that this boy, Peter by name, is in fact rather hungry himself. The kindness of Wonderland strikes again, it would seem. So Rip shakes his head, giving Peter a faint grin.]

The offer is appreciated, but I've gotten what I need. [For himself and Peggy, currently laid up in another neighboring cell. She's sent Rip away by lobbing a bowl at him, explaining why Rip's not attending to his task at her side. They'd likely both do well with a bit of cooling off at this point, and making bandages has provided some measure of distraction.] And while I know it's far from appetizing, I suggest you take advantage of what you have. There's no telling how much longer this event will stretch on; you'll need your strength to endure it.

[stickingplaces]

[Peter seems to consider this, but he quickly attributes Rip's refusal to a probable distaste for taking food from the hands of a teenage boy. So what better to do than to lean into the part, and act ungrateful?]

You don't understand, I don't want it. Have you tasted this stuff? I was going to throw it away.

[He's setting the bowl down outside the cell as if he can hardly stand to hold it anymore. Unfortunately for Peter, his body language is calm and slow, polite on the bounds of what is, essentially, Rip's space. Old habits die hard. The motion strikes a stark contrast with the attitude he's trying to channel from the more disruptive element at Midtown High. He really needs to work on his powers of deception.]

[directed]

[Well. It would seem that Peter intends for Rip to have dinner and a show. He arches his eyebrows as he watches the display, hallmarked by all the awkwardness one might expect from a teenager who doesn't seem certain of how his own body should work. At least not in this situation, where he attempts to feign disgust and instead comes off looking entirely stiff and wooden.]

You know, it's been some time since I've seen someone so spectacularly bad at lying. [For a moment, Rip wonders if this might not somehow be what Ray Palmer had been like at Peter's age--right down to the attempt to mimic an attitude of disdain he never felt.] And obviously also quite keen on helping others. Do yourself a favor then and eat your meal. You'll be far less able to aid anyone if you continue to starve yourself.

[stickingplaces]

[Peter sighs and picks the bowl up again. Short of trying to get the guy to share it with him, he can see he's just about out of options. That doesn't mean he's out of concern, however.]

Are you hurt?

[There had to be some reason the guy wasn't trying to find his own food. And then there were the bandages.]

[directed]

A bit bruised at worst. [On his jaw, on his gut, imprints of foreign fingers in his arms. But Rip doesn't need to strain to figure out why Peter's asking. Find out the reason Rip's been after extra meals, and Peter would have new reason to argue just why Rip would be better off eating the sludge once more in Peter's hands.

The kid does mean well; Rip will give him that. But he'll also motion towards cell thirteen.]

Peggy Carter. I don't know if you've made her acquaintance, but she had a run in with the guards. [And despite how irritated she'd be to have Rip telling anyone, he continues on.] Her mobility is compromised, so I've been getting meals for her. Problem is, the guards aren't willing to just serve up extra portions.

[And from there the conclusions are easily drawn: Rip's been begging scraps for her sake rather than his own, never mind the fact that the dwindling prison population means there's more food about.]

You're free to try and convince her to take yours--but when last I saw her, she'd started throwing things. [Never mind that Rip himself had been as much the cause of it, what with his constant concern. Unlike Peter, Rip is a master of leaving out what details he wishes. He doesn't miss a single beat as he paints his picture.] I'd imagine you'd have it hurled back at your head before she took a bite.

[stickingplaces]

Peggy Carter? That awesome! I saw a documentary about her - she's Captain America's Best Girl!

[Seriously, that was the name of the documentary. Margaret Carter: Captain America's Best Girl.]

Yeesh, I should take this to those guards.

[He smiles, and gestures with the bowl, implying that they're probably more in need of TLC than she is. He doesn't realize that he's already met her - she gave him a gross sandwich with black stuff in it, but didn't give her name.]

[directed]

[Oh, but there is so much to unpack in that eagerly-given description, isn't there? Peggy Carter, forever memorialized not for her own accomplishments, but rather the affair-that-never-was between her and Steve Rogers. Never mind the fact that Peter's actually talking to the man who could claim a relationship with her now; for too long a pause, Rip simply sits and marvels at Peter's admiration, so utterly pure and naive.]

--A word of caution, mate. [Because really, Peter does seem a nice kid, and he doesn't deserve to throw himself to the metaphorical lions like that.] Should you meet her, keep that particular description to yourself, hmm?

[For his own sake.

But that moment of poorly-worded hero worship aside, Rip shakes his head when Peter implies that the guards would be the ones worse for wear.] Unfortunately, we were both outnumbered and unarmed. While I would personally love to see the guards forced to choke on their own swill, Miss Carter caught the worst of it--and she's as miffed about the results as you might expect.

[stickingplaces]

You were there! That's so unfair, I bet I missed it by five minutes - or ten. Is there anything I can do for her? Does she need bandages? No, you're doing bandages-

[Peter looks around, scanning the cell for what isn't in it. Then he realizes he's looking in the wrong cell, and without a word he vanishes off out of view. Within seconds, he's back, moving into sight much more quietly than when he'd shot off a moment ago. He puts his finger to his lips.]

Shh - she's asleep.

[Not that Peggy's brawling-buddy had been talking.]

I think I already talked to her. She gave me a sandwich... it was terrible.

[directed]

[The boy's enthusiasm would seem to know no bounds; Rip in turn arches an eyebrow up as Peter rambles on, not allowing a word to be uttered between one question and the next. Then he's gone, quick as you like, only to return later with a newfound sense of restraint.

Rip's rather curious to see just how long it might last.]

Is she? About time. [Because naturally Peggy hasn't been content to simply stay put and recover, oh no. Rip's caught her sitting, standing, even venturing outside her cell, and more than once. But even without an injury so severe as hers, this place would tax one's endurance. With her ribs, Rip has little doubt that Peggy's having to push herself infinitely harder to accomplish even the most simple things.

Of course, Peter's overeager attempts to care for her may have already woken her. Still, Rip will spare Peter by not telling him that Peggy's a light sleeper—and just how he happens to know that.

But there are other details he'll share readily enough. For example? The surprise that comes into his expression when Peter mentions that Peggy fed him.] You must have caught her at just the right moment—although she has claimed to be a rather terrible cook.

[Still. It's interesting that she would offer Peter up anything. Perhaps because they are apparently from the same world—or so one would assume, given the boy's awareness of her past.]

Good to have it confirmed.

[stickingplaces]

No no - I didn't mean it like that. I bet it's like, okay some people don't like larb, right? There's this place my Aunt and I go to, best larb in New York. I think so, she thinks so, so I took a girl there once and she hated it. She made jokes, it was actually very hurtful.

[Is this story going anywhere? Peter frowns for a moment, as though even he isn't sure.]

Oh yeah, yeah, right, maybe you'd love her cooking. That black stuff she put in that sandwich, I've never really eaten anything like that before so - it was probably just me. You'd larb it. Probably.

[May would be proud.]

[directed]

[Is the story going anywhere? Certainly Rip can't say at first, not when Peter begins to veer off course in order to detail his disappointment and heartbreak at the girl's apparently cruel spite when it came to larb.

Oh, but then there comes a pun. It's--oddly endearing and irritating all at once, and Rip looks the boy over once more.]

You did say your name was Peter, correct? [Not Raymond Palmer, although Rip wouldn't be surprised to learn there was some manner of relation. He turns back to his work--the previously abandoned bandages--but continues on with his inquiries.] The black stuff. Salty and potent, like something's been left out to go foul?

[Or so he's heard from those who rather hate the stuff. But if Peggy doesn't--well. It's just the sort of thing Rip thinks he'd do well to know about in the future.]

[stickingplaces]

[He nodded through the confirmation of his name. He didn't know Rip's name yet, but that didn't seem to bother him. As long as he'd fulfilled his side of that social obligation.]

Potent, yeah. It was strong. Bitter.

[Peter gestured with his hands - keep going - it sounded like he might not be the only one she'd served this stuff up to.]

Like if you didn't know you were supposed to put water in chicken stock it would probably taste like that.

[directed]

Marmite, then.

[And Peggy Carter apparently a fan. Well! It’s nothing Rip can quite take advantage of at the moment, but rather a new little fact that he tucks away and saves for when it might best be put to use.]

It’s British. Made from yeast extract, and the sort of thing one either greatly enjoys or utterly despises. [And really, if anyone might want to sum up Peggy in terms of a food, Rip thinks that just might be the one to hit the mark.] And I believe it was given out during her era to troops as a supplement. For the vitamins.

[There you go, Peter. Everything you never wanted to know about an absolutely disgusting spread.]

[stickingplaces]

So it's healthy

[He says, as if to say, 'that makes sense!'. Makes sense of why it tasted so... like it tasted. He's nodding. He knows enough to know that yeast is alive, so the idea of extracting anything from it leaves him with a whole lot of questions that he'd prefer not to have answered. Better to be content with the fact that Peggy Carter saw fit to look out for his health. He does look rather pleased. Until, that is, he glances around the inside of Rip's cell again.]

Oh yeah, bandages. Can I get anything else for you? For her?

[directed]

Fortified, at the very least. And it lasts without much effort made in way of storage. [Making it rather perfect for use among troops who could expect to survive on nothing but their rations for weeks, perhaps months at a time. For Peggy it would've been a taste of him--moreso given that she was working for an American unit, and for a brief moment, Rip wonders how marmite might do in a dessert.

But that is a question for when they've returned to the mansion. Peter asks a much more appropriate one for their current circumstances.] Keep your eye out for anything clean, or something that might help pass the time. A book or a deck of cards perhaps. [He'd gotten his hands on a rubber ball earlier, but Peggy's main form of entertainment with that had been to attempt to leave a welt on Rip's back with it.

(She'd been more successful with the food trays.)]

Oh, and if you're planning on offering her your meals? Eat some of them first. You won't get anywhere if she can tell you're starving yourself in an effort to be kind. Not unless a lecture is what your goal is.