+ 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

[mucked]

[ oh for chrissakes. ]

Time served counts for sod all in the absence of due process. Wouldn't you agree?

[ she won't make the argument pivot over whether he's guilty or not -- she hasn't the grey cells lively enough or the constitution, just now, to pursue that avenue once again. but peggy carter will point out a faulty premise until the space cows come home.

and then some. ]

[hypoxic]

Wonderland does a rubbish job of enabling due process to occur, Ma'am.

[He's needed to be punished for a lot of things for quite a long time now.]

[mucked]

True as that may be, [ and she won't argue that it isn't, ] you won't find an ounce of relief in choosing your punishments for yourself. Or, worse, waiting for them to be meted out as if by karma.

[ they've talked about this before, of course. that ill-fated conversation -- where she'd tried to push him into asking the people he'd wronged what they thought of the whole mess rather than simply sitting in a puddle of his own foregone conclusions like a puppy who hasn't been housebroken. ]

It's not penance, Fitz. It's arrogance.

[ although (wordlessly) she can't blame him for mistaking the two. ]

[hypoxic]

If that's what you'd like to consider it.

[He'd leave at just that, to arrogantly wallow in his own cell again. But she's injured. She'll need help getting back when she's ready.

He stays.]

[mucked]

[ there is no getting this lesson through his skull, is there? that how she considers it doesn't matter a whit compared to his own cracked and fractured version of things -- that regardless of how she might see him as guilty or not guilty (never innocent) it's not him and it's not her who can hold him to any verdict. in the absence of any legal structure, it's only those who were wronged who can damn him or absolve him.

and he won't even try to approach him, as peggy understands it, and perhaps it's because he doesn't want real penance at all. just like he avoids her eyes now, he avoids making direct and earnest contact with what it might really mean to be serving his time.

peggy draws a palm down her face. she looks odd enough without her usual cosmetic touches: no rouge, no lipstick, no mascara. the swollen lip and ashy complexion only serves to accentuate those differences. ]

You've got the capacity in you to do so much good. [ she sounds tired. exasperated, really, with the circular nature of these conversations. it's as though the part of her brain which carefully filters out sentimentality and warmth has been busted. try as she might, the frustration of her lecture is immediately tempered by her belief in him. ] And you achieve some. You help. Heaven knows, you've answered every call I've made.

[ and then there was that mission, the one he went radio silent for, that jemma couldn't shed any light upon. who was he helping then? ]

But so long as you're too busy looking for ways to clap yourself in irons? All you'll ever do is fall short of where you want to be.

[hypoxic]

[It's this that he hears, genuinely, without the struggle of tears or protests. When she stops accusing, there's less reason to be so defensive. And when he listens, he starts to take in what she has to say.

His eyes shift back to her, though they don't make it much higher than the swelling at her mouth.]

I'm responsible for the suffering of so many people. They all want to excuse it away, but I can't.

[mucked]

Forgiveness isn't solely about you. It's about them, too. In denying those people any say in your reckoning, you're also denying them their closure.

[ it's a pretty sentiment. of course, there's no certainty she would ever practice what she's preaching. still, she manages to deliver the sermon in a gentler voice than any that have come before it. partially because she's worn so thin; partially because she cares. ]

If you want something to feel guilt over? There it is.

[ it all comes back to her original diagnosis: arrogance. an arrogance she shares, perhaps, in how heavily she wears her responsibility for what eventually happens to shield. to whitehall's victims. to the future. ]

[hypoxic]

[He smiles softly, the corners of his mouth twitching up without his consent.]

You're the second person to say that to me this week. That must make it true.

[mucked]

If mere repetition rendered something true, Fitz, then life would be a helluva lot simpler.

[ but it doesn't. and it's not. and what she says is merely true in and of itself (as far as she's concerned) no matter who else is going around saying it. good on whoever it is, though, for also bringing it to his attention.

-- she turns her head, as though scoping the remaining crowd, and sighs. the shape of this conversation seems to have reminded her of something (someone) else. ]

Speaking of life being anything but simple -- I should hoof it back to cell thirteen before my Florence Nightingale decides I'm due another scolding.

[hypoxic]

[Freya had been good for more than that at the time. She'd cared for him extensively after he'd returned from the dead full of aches and disorientation. The conversation was an extra bonus.]

You oughtn't be hoofing about anywhere. Not alone, at least. Lean on me.

[mucked]

[ now, isn't this a pickle? every last scrap of her pride suggests she should turn his offer away. no, agent fitz, i can manage well enough on my own. there's no rest for the weary and wounded; there never has been. and back home, shortly after having her rebar injury stitched up, she'd been back onto her feet and limping around with as much purpose and independence as she could manage.

but she'd only just finished lecturing fitz on the perils of arrogance. and even if it wasn't what he'd meant at the time, she can still remember rip's insistence that perhaps relinquishing some ground to fitz might be exactly how to achieve the results she wants. so it takes a moment, a deep (painful) breath, but peggy decides to swallow her stubbornness for the sake of not kneecapping that near-smile she'd just seen on the agent's face.

she'd just put some wind in his sails. how dare she steal it back? ]

I suppose you're right. [ her head jerks, suggesting that he should stand up and move around her. at the very least, she'll carry herself like a commander even as he helps. ] Come over to this side. It's where the support's needed.

[hypoxic]

[He moves where she directs him, careful to give her the support she needs without pressing too deeply into anything injured. ]

Where have you been staying? [He speaks of it almost cavalierly, as if this is a resort facility.]

[mucked]

The cell I was assigned. Sort of like a prison within a prison, now.

[ meaning that she doesn't leave it much during the days. this particular foray had been something of a rarity -- a liberty taken as she'd chafed a little too much under rip's supervision. he means so well. peggy knows she does. but the oppressive ever-present community of the prison around them discourages her from meeting his care and concern with the sincerity it's owed.

so! other people get to wander around during the day before curfew brings them back to their cells. peggy, meanwhile, goes stir-crazy stuck in hers. at least the uptick in escapes means the cell itself is a little less crowded than it had been at the beginning. ]

Second level. Far end of the walkway.

[ at least she does make use of fitz's help. once on her feet, once he's positioned beside her, she fully leans on his offered arm as though he's a genuine crutch -- taking pressure and stress off her more injured side. without the usual boost of her heels, she's only shy an inch off his height. it makes for a new perspective, that's sure and certain. ]

I've been bunking down when a genuine swamp monster. [ ... ] It's been an experience.

[hypoxic]

[The difference in height is a nonissue for Fitz; he'd happily support her at any height.]

A swamp monster? [He'd had no idea there was one of those present either.] What's that been like? I imagine the smell's been terrible.

[mucked]

It's not been pleasant by any stretch but -- nor would I turn around and say it's much worse than camping rough with any of the Howling Commandos.

[ stench happens. and peggy's career has rarely allowed for sterile, tidy environs. and yet even as she argues otherwise she knows she herself won't currently be smelling like an english rose. bereft of her usual soaps and perfumes, she suspects even dugan would find something worth commenting on if he was here and took in a big old breath.

so -- perhaps the comment about smell makes her feel a touch self-conscious. uncharacteristically so. peggy seems to slump a little lower, with her posture caving in on itself. ]

I don't think he normally looks like one. [ a monster, that is. ] He would have been tough to miss 'round the mansion.

[hypoxic]

[He certainly hadn't intended anything about present company! None of them are particularly clean at the moment. And yet, the thought of swamp compounding on top of the general grime here is a little upsetting to think about.]

I might've said the same thing about a raccoon-person, and yet that one seems to have kept to himself well enough.

[mucked]

Rocket is considerably shorter. [ as if it makes a difference. as if it isn't somehow still utterly bonkers to see a raccoon walking upright and spitting swears. except even since she's crossed paths with all manner of creatures.

there's a rather endearing pony, in point of fact, cantering about. peggy never quite says so, however. ]

Oh -- but. Have you met the new lad? The young one?

[ he'd seemed to know a lot. unfortunately, he'd bounded off before peggy could properly interrogate him. ]

[hypoxic]

Raccoons tend to be, yes. [Why wouldn't that be true to life?]

I'm sure there've been a good number of new arrivals. Could you be more specific? [Sometimes Wonderland feels like it's teeming with children.]

[mucked]

The one from home. [ had she not made that obvious? oops. ] Peter.

[ they weave their way, slow and steady, through the straggling crowd -- out of the dining room. this is the easy part. it's the stairs that'll present an earnest challenge. ]

[hypoxic]

[It's a trouble Fitz has thought about at length. When he'd been injured and consigned to crutches, he'd been constantly aware of the idea that an event could pull the usual Wonderland accessibility options and force him to encounter stairs. He's prepared to coach her through the process once they're close enough.]

The bright one from high school? [Does Peggy know him as well? Fitz is excited for the chance to discuss him.] Remarkably clever, don't you think? I wasn't nearly as prepared in my first few weeks here.

[mucked]

He's certainly -- spirited.

[ she picks the word with a touch of care. it's not that she thinks him 'not clever' but rather that their interaction didn't come with an opportunity to showcase cleverness. after all, it had been a rather whirlwind introduction to the space. ]

What rotten fortune. Bad enough to wind up here, but then to have one's first event be a piece from home? I wonder how he's been coping.

[ concerned for the lad, it seems, although she's the one digging fingers into fitz's arm just to keep herself steady as they approach the stairs. ]

[hypoxic]

He might have already gone with one of the others. I can take a look round and check on him just to be sure.

[But now there are stairs, and that ought to be the focus.]

Start on the first step with your other side. I'll keep this side stable until you're ready to shift your balance.

[As long as she can keep enough weight on the side he's not holding, he can keep her from falling over. It might not be pleasant, but he's sure they can do it.]

[mucked]

Yes, yes, I know how walking wounded works.

[ -- she regrets her sharp tone the moment the words leave her lips. fitz is being helpful and patient with her, just like everyone else has been, but that doesn't make her any more gracious in accepting either of those offerings. the soft scoff and sigh is the closest she comes to voicing (another) apology. so, instead, she makes up for it by doing as he says.

she heeds.

peggy starts with her good side, takes the step, and for one too-long moment puts all responsibility for her stability and her balance on him. it comes with a grunt of pain. ]

[hypoxic]

[He doesn't take offense at the snipping this time. She's injured, and pain is always unpleasant to work through. His support is firm and steady, and he'll help her move onto the step the rest of the way.]

Good. We've just got to do this a few more times and we'll be up at the top before you know it.

[mucked]

[ up is always harder than down. universal ruddy law, isn't it? gravity works against them all -- and she feels it in every step, in every grip she takes, and when she leans on fitz just to keep herself upright. by the time they reach the mezzanine (and it was, indeed, just a handful of steps) she's winded.

red in the face is better than pale, perhaps. ]

I missed a camera. [ she explains, tired, leaning against a dirty pipe that stands in for a rail at the top of the stairs. she didn't want to explain it before, but she decides to explain it now. ] Trying to escape, I strolled straight up to one -- didn't even realize what it was until well afterward. Brought a crowd of guards down on us.

[ me. us. she gets sloppy with her pronouns as she's too busy thinking that what's-his-name, peter--? clever or not, she bets he wouldn't have made that mistake. blasted 21st century-ers. ]