Did I slip? Know I stumbled. Did I trip? 'Cause I know I fell.

[directed]

Who: Rip Hunter, Peggy Carter, Sunburst, Freya Mikaelson, Regina Mills [Closed]
Where: The Diner, Freya's Room, Other Places
When: May 30 and June 2
Rating: PG-13 Max probably. Talk of injury, Peggy getting mad, Rip possibly getting something thrown at him again.
Summary: Nachos and Tea: Rip and Peggy's first date following the event, and Rip attempting to get Peggy healing in time for the oncoming war.
The Story:

May 30 - Closed to Peggy Carter

[Wednesday arrives, and typically it would see Peggy traveling down to the second floor to spend her evening-turned-night with Rip, just as it has for months now. Yet there have been exceptions along the way; some unnecessary (if you ask him), some forced by Wonderland itself--and now tonight, as Rip beats Peggy to the metaphorical punch by knocking on her door before she has a chance to leave, bottle of whiskey in hand. His intention is to still have their friendly chatting and their drinking commence as usual; the past event would not steal that from them. Certain other aspects, however, must be sacrificed due to her injury: their more physical activity falls in that column, and Rip thinks the location can as well.

After all, it's only been a week and some days. She needn't make the trip downstairs--or it's return up while dizzy with drink or weighed down with a hangover.]

June 2 - For Freya Mikaelson, Sunburst, Regina Mills, and Peggy Carter

[The Red Queen's announcement does indeed serve as a call to arms for Rip--though not in the way the monarch of Wonderland intends. It hasn't been so long since the prison event; not nearly long enough for Peggy to have healed from her injury. Whether she intends to volunteer or not, the proclomation makes it clear that war is coming, and likely soon.

Desperate times, as they say, and Rip wastes little time before he reaches out to certain contacts. Although it is not a method he has specifically employed before, given his background and reliance on technology, Wonderland has made him quite the beggar when it comes to what Rip is used to. Stripped thus of his typical choice, he sways to the other side of the pendulumn: magic, and those practioners he's managed to forge bonds with during his time in Wonderland.

Thus, Sunburst, Regina Mills, and Freya Mikaelson all receive the following text:]

I'd like to speak to you regarding what you know of healing magic.

[Of course, there is a notable person missing from the list of those he's contacted: Peggy, it would seem, gets no say in the matter of her own healing.

Why would she need to? There's only one way Rip can allow this to end, after all.]

Comments

may 30th »

[mucked]

[ sometimes, a knock on the door is exciting. or, at the very least, notable enough to inspire a jolt of adrenaline. but this isn't one of those times -- as peggy clucks her tongue and checks her watch and realizes that an unanticipated visit risks derailing her evening. perhaps she can quickly shoo away the visitor; perhaps she can ignore them altogether. but at the arrival of a second knock, she curses to herself and sets aside the necklace she'd been struggling with -- the one she almost always wears, with the carter family crest. just the act of reaching up to fiddle with the clasp has been something of a tribulation today. not impossible, merely painful.

she only cracks the door open by a sliver at fist. head tilted, and with a stern gaze peering out into the hallway. rip hunter. of all the possible interruptions, he'd been somewhere near the bottom of her guesses. so peggy scowls before she smiles. and even then, the smile is small. it's gone by the time she lets the door swing wider, revealing that she's up and on her feet and wearing the same silk robe she was wearing when she arrived in wonderland.

it's a little like being caught red handed.

truth is, she's in the middle of getting ready to make the trip downstairs. an outfit hangs off the back of the chair, her hair is back in curls after a week of being left straight, and there's perfume drying on her skin. the room is a tidily kept tableau of her routine, suggesting that perhaps she makes a bit of an effort on these days before she turns up to see him in the evening. and certainly, by the looks of it, she had intended to head his way soon enough. ]

I think you've forgotten how this works. [ her attention sinks to the bottle of whiskey in his hand. despite what she's saying, she steps aside (leaning her weight on the door in the process) to let him enter. ] I come to you on Wednesdays.

[directed]

[It takes two knocks to get her to open the door, and at first Rip worries that he might have somehow missed her. Perhaps Peggy had prepared earlier than normal, aware it would take longer to get dressed and travel downstairs, perhaps even to catch her breath before she made her entrance thanks to the effort her injury requires. But no; it would seem she'd merely hoped her unknown visitor might go away, up to the moment when she cracks open her door and realizes just what he's done.

Seems he's caught her by surprise--and in a state of undress he hasn't seen in over a year. But of course Rip hasn't forgotten the dressing gown; of course she would keep it. Peggy's not one to waste, making a fuss whenever Rip accidentally (or accidentally) pops one of her buttons, never mind how readily the closet would provide another. The rest is welcome confirmation of what he's always assumed, but never asked. She does indeed go out of her way on Wednesdays, dresses the part, adds a touch of perfume, paints her lips a glorious shade of red.

And tonight, in spite of her protests, she lets Rip step inside. He does so quickly, expecting the invitation might be recinded should he bother to explain himself before he's made it past her door.]

Under normal circumstances, absolutely. But I thought we might alter our routine a bit. [He turns even as he walks towards her coffee table, destined to become something of a staging area. It's a fine, well-aged thing, if not flavored this time. Something simpler after the trials of a particularly irritating event, and the wounds it left behind.

He sets it on the table, but can't go much further than that. Rip's not yet familiar enough with the space to know where Peggy keeps her glasses.]

As needs must.

[mucked]

[ of course she would keep it.

apart from a few scraps of jewellery and a set of hastily resewn stitches, the dressing gown is the only thing that had come with her from home. a piece of luxury that was earned and bought and owned -- not fabricated or dreamed up from the closets like the rest of her wardrobe. so this silk, in particular, holds a tender corner of her heart. one adjacent to the space where she stows rip.

peggy is gentle when she shuts the door. the click is quiet. it remains such a rare occasion for him to visit her rather than the other way around. and practically unheard of that they should swap venues on a wednesday night. but the bottle of booze says it all, doesn't it? so peggy lingers by the door until she realizes exactly what he's waiting for -- and, clearing her throat, she walks over to the tea trolley that doubles as a bar cart. the steps are measured. slow, but steady. she's hurting but it's a pain she's grown to expect. and expecting it makes it easier to hide.

still. there is an efficiency to her movements that betrays her all the same -- no flourishes are afforded. no casual grace given. her upper body is stiff when she leans in to collect two tumblers: matching, but considerably less distinguished than the set he keeps in his room. ]

I'd call this more than a mere bit. [ she's a full few inches shorter than him on her approach. with only stockings on her feet, no shoes yet, she's forced to raise her chin when she gets nearer. she has to look up if she wants to hold his gaze with hers. ] I could have made it down to your floor. The exercise would have been good for me, you realize.

[ she pushes an empty glass into his hand. much of the vitriol from the event itself has drained out of her. recovery has been tiring; she hasn't got much energy left except that which she uses to keep up with him and his banter.

besides, absence might have made a bit more room in her heart's corner for him. she's had a week, now, to overcome the sting of his constant fussing back in the kyln. a week to miss him. ]

[directed]

[He's got ample time to watch her as Peggy crosses the room. That he would have made the trip for her no doubt doesn't even come into her thoughts; rather, she'd be rather off-put if it had, or worse, if Rip had dared suggest it. So he watches that slow and deliberate step, the way she bends and reaches for the glass. He need not have known the specifics of her injury to have learned she was injured in those moments. Rip stands far too familiar with the way Peggy moves, how she carries herself, to not realize that she's still hurting even then.

Yet stubbornly, she refuses to let that stop her. Not until she's standing in front of him, pressing a glass into his hand and of course, of course, explaining how his efforts were entirely unnecessary. Arguably detrimental.]

Well. Certainly some aspects must be forgone, yes. [It goes without saying that on this Wednesday, they couldn't indulge in more physical pleasures. Still. She stares up at him, talks about how she might want a touch of exercise, and receives her answer when Rip leans down to steal a kiss. He's had a week to miss her, to fuss less and worry more, and hope that Peggy would prove more smart than stubborn when it came to her own recovery.

He's gentle when he pulls her near; a hand on her hip and nothing more, warm where it rests on pink silk. The last time they kissed, her lip had been swollen and cut; even on the corner, there'd been the faint metallic taste of blood.

Rip's glad that that much has at least healed.] And I don't doubt that you would've made it to my room, whether you should venture that far or not. But since I've actually got rather little idea how your progress is going thus far, it seemed the wiser choice to reverse roles for tonight.

[To have him the visitor, and Peggy the host.]

[mucked]

[ her behaviour this past week has been something of a mixed bag. certainly, there are days when she pushes herself further than she should. she makes a point to attend morning training sessions -- albeit only to sit on the sidelines and let jane take on the more active aspects of leading those sessions. and she gets easily bored sitting in her room, in the afternoons, so it's possible she's tackled a few more staircases than she should. but most of her time is spent in this very room. there sits a telltale pile of diversions beside her sofa: volumes of cryptic crossword puzzles, non-fiction about the future encryption, and one or two bawdy novels shuffled into the stack.

meanwhile, standing before him, peggy allows herself to be drawn in. an arm, a hand, and the empty glass it's holding are all comfortably trapped between their bodies when they kiss. what he starts by stealing she quickly and keenly continues. pushing upwards by only a small measure allows her to better return his affections. she grabs a steadying grip on his arm, just above his elbow, and tries not to think about those certain aspects he rightly says must be sacrificed. it should be enough to enjoy this, enjoy it now, and convince herself to recognize that (after last week) this is a reassertion of routine and not a disruption of it.

and, after the kiss ends, she doesn't retreat. peggy stays sharing personal space with him -- happy enough with the familiar pressure of his palm on her hip -- and all but ignores how the moment leaves them captive between one activity (saying hello) and the next (pouring whiskey). although wonderland is a kind of prison in its own right, she finds it easier to enjoy rip's company when the bars aren't visible and much much farther away. ]

You could have called first. [ she counters. ] I could have tidied up.

[ things fall by the wayside when someone's hurt. the bed isn't made; there's not one but two tea mugs lingering beside her stack of books; a few dresser drawers sit open as though she'd been reluctant to spend the effort to slide them shut. cushions from the sofa are sitting, discarded, on the floor.

still. she knows why he didn't call -- because she knows exactly what she would have done had he called. rip had wanted an accurate idea of her progress. what better way to gauge it than to drop in, unexpected, and see the battlefield for himself? peggy breathes in, sighs out, and straightens a lapel on his coat that likely didn't need straightening in the first place. she's being stern with him, yes, but her earnest affection bleeds out in these little gestures. in how close she still stands. ]

Besides. [ her expression stays schooled -- as though she's telling the gospel truth and not at all laying any sort of groundwork. ] I was looking forward to being out and about. Even if only while en route to yours.

[directed]

[It's rather nice to have that confirmation that she isn't nearly so cross with him still as she had been at the height of the event. Indeed, seems Peggy is quite eager to return his kiss, and far less so to retreat once it's done. Even as they banter back and forth his head remains bowed, his forehead close to hers, near touching, and once more he breathes in the scent of lavender and her perfume.

Never mind that the reminder of what they started out to do remains pressed against his chest; he's got his own tumbler in one hand, but seems far more occupied with toying with the silken belt of her robe as she offers up alternatives to Rip's approach. He could've called, and instead of tidying up Rip expects he'd have found her determined to meet him halfway. What better way, after all, to keep things on her terms than deny him any opportunity to pick apart her secrets? To hide the evidence of her shortcuts and her puzzles and her reading--particularly the paperbacks that are well worn in the spines. But the damage is done already; he knows that, even if she hasn't been spending as much time as she should resting, she's spent a significant portion of it making the attempt. Things left half-finished also speak to the same; the ailing quite often do only what is absolutely necessary, and he hardly blames Peggy for the bit of mess she's left behind.

Besides!] I've seen you far more wrecked than this. [As if her appearance might be her only concern. But the momentary way his mouth tugs upwards names the tease for what it is. A callback to other Wednesdays, when she and he'd both been left an utter wreck by the time all was said and done. But what's far more curious is the seed she attempts to plant in his head next: the idea of getting out, how she'd savored the notion, now seemingly only to be denied. Rip can already see where this is going to go--but with a week now past, and Peggy moving so much better than the last time he'd seen her, perhaps it's not a notion to be dismissed out of hand.]

I suppose we can still go out. [We. The two of them, and the idea is already more acceptable with Rip knowing he'd be at her side to help if needed. He reaches between them, abandoning the fabric he's toyed with til now to instead tug her glass from her hand.] If you're really that keen on seeing my room again.

[mucked]

[ staying near allows her to take advantage of his sturdiness. leaning on him now, relying on him to take away some of the burden of standing upright, is exactly the sort of vulnerability that had caused her to bristle during the event. it seems then that the circumstances matter. that now, when she's feeling more like peggy and less like agent carter, she can almost enjoy him so dependable. right up until an idle tug on the robe's belt threatens to invite a new kind of distraction.

he'd only just finished saying his piece about forgoing some parts of their routine together. now, he invokes that routine again. and peggy plays with the idea (equally idle; in the back of her head) that she could likely coax him to her bed. nevertheless. she adjusts the tilt of her head just so she can watch his eyes, green and hiding just about as much mental math as hers do. something in the word wrecked makes her want to shiver. rip would be gentle beyond expectations, she reckons, and it would be good to feel something else for a change -- but she knows her energies are best diverted elsewhere. no matter how warm and familiar and anticipatory it is to have his palm waiting on her hip.

so it's a good thing he moves his hand. she exhales, perhaps with a touch too much force, and relinquishes the empty whiskey glass without a fight. her battle is a bigger one. ]

I wouldn't call it keen. But it's new, been new for some time now, and it's as though I've hardly had the chance to get used to it. [ his room. different, now, and she doesn't blame him. ] I'll need to rediscover all your hiding places.

[ she suggests something of an unfair advantage. certainly, he hasn't been left alone in her room long enough to discover any of <>hers. ]

June 2

[bibliocorn]

[Sunburst could make a very strong guess as to why Rip had a sudden interest in healing magic. Peggy. With the war looming ever closer, especially after the last announcement, they needed her fighting fit- perhaps moreso than most people in the mansion.

And so, he went to quickly writing down every healing spell he knew- there weren't many, ponies tended to heal in a hospital, everything was medical and precise. There were herbal remedies too, of course, but the plants required were native to Equestria, and he wasn't sure they even existed in Wonderland. Probably not.

Still, there's eventually a sturdy knock on Rip's door. Did he respond to the text? Nope, no he did not. He got too wrapped up in jotting down spells. He'll be standing, waiting for the door to open, a few rolled up scrolls floating around by his head. He's been busy, at least. ]

Re: June 2

[directed]

[Had it occurred to Rip sometime after he sent his message that perhaps text might not be the best way to communicate with a creature who lacked thumbs? Perhaps so. Still, he expects Sunburst would find a way--he's done well enough thus far, and would have had his magic back since the end of the event besides. Or even better, as it would turn out, since Sunburst forgoes the phone entirely only to knock on his door instead, with what Rip can only assume to be research floating about him.]

Sunburst; thank you for coming. [He steps aside to let the pony in; although the room is designed for human habitation, there's a rather comfortable couch near the front, and a table where the scrolls can be set.] I'm assuming you got my message.

[bibliocorn]

[Rip would be surprised to know he at least figured a way around typing- having in-built telekinesis can work wonders. Not that he always remembers to respond, of course. It's always a roll of the dice in that regard.

He wanders in, levitating the scrolls over to the table. At least living in the mansion has given him the chance to adapt to a more humanoid-based world. ]

I did. I'm afraid there aren't a lot of healing spells in Equestria- we largely work the same way it seems to do on Earth- from what I can tell from my research. Doctors, hospitals, time, that kind of thing. We have a lot of potion-remedies, buuuut unless Equestrian flora starts sprouting up in Wonderland, that's not really an avenue we can take.

[directed]

[There’s a temptation to grab one of the scrolls as it floats past him, but Rip manages to restrain his curiosity in favor of merely closing the door once Sunburst is inside. White the Queen’s announcement makes matters more pressing, Rip suspects they still have some time yet—particularly as, from what he’s been able to gather, Peggy hasn’t gone and volunteered herself for something she’s not yet fit to see through.

Rather he moves over towards the table when Sunburst settles in, taking note of the similarities, the differences he offers up. So it would seem that some of the basic structure is indeed the same; Rip nods at his brief list, confirming that the research does indeed hold. What earns a frown, however, is when Sunburst continues.]

I suppose it is to be expected. The powers that be in this world don’t seem overly fond of providing us what we might wish for from home. [A lesson Rip’s learned well during his tenure; a good look around would reveal bits and bobs of technology scattered about, circuit boards and wires, replicas of what should have been functioning machines—right down to an incredibly detailed timeship sitting on a nearby shelf. A perfectly miniaturized version of the Waverider, pulled on Rip’s very first day, and never able to function.]

Save from the vendors—which is not an option. [He glances over to Sunburst as he makes that clear by means of his tone. He cares for Peggy a great deal, but there are lines that even Rip will observe. Not having someone hand over their memories is damn well one of them.]

[bibliocorn]

Wonderland is pretty determined to make this as difficult a time as possible.

[Which is, quite frankly, super goddamn rude. Especially when they have a war looming over them and all they want to do is get someone they care about back on her feet and fighting fit again. It's not much to ask for.

His eyes do make it eventually to the timeship, lingering on it for a moment. He mentally files it away, to ask more questions about it later.]

At least not unless we've exhausted everything else, first. The spells I have could at least ease her symptoms a little- though I wouldn't be able to cast them myself. My friend Starlight is here now, though, and she absolutely has the skill, if you think Peggy would be okay with that.

[directed]

That, my friend, is a rather severe understatement.

[Right down to the small scale timeship and the replicas of time drives scattered about his shelves. Most of his first months here were spent experimenting, attempting to see what could be pulled from the closet, what parts and pieces he might be able to manifest in order to create something actually useful to getting out.

And what it wound up revealing was that for Rip Hunter, the twenty-first century was apparently the hard limit when it came to technology.

But Sunburst continues, and Rip is rather quick to correct him. The rest of it, what he says about Starlight and magic, and who can cast what, are put to the wayside in favor of this dictate.] No. While there is a great deal I am willing to do in order to see to Peggy's good health and safety, going to the vendors cannot be part of it. This world already seeks to steal bits and pieces of each of us; don't make that any easier for them than it already is.

june 2nd }

[deathlessness]

[Well that's ... an interesting question. Let's see how this plays out.]

A little, but magic in my world isn't ... immediate that way. Not unless you're using vampire blood, and I am unfortunately a bit low on that.

[That's what happens when your sources aren't on tap anymore.]

I can expedite things and ease pain, but there's no waving my hand to make things better.

[directed]

[Well. Isn't that a rather interesting fact to know about vampire blood? Trivia to file away, in case the opportunity presents itself at another time.

At present, however? Mend and make do.]

You've seen the Queen's announcement; I'll happily make use of whatever you might be able to offer. [But the devil remains ever in the details, and Rip quickly adds more.]

A comrade of mine was hurt in the last event. Cracked ribs is the worst of it. Given that whatever is meant to happen with the mirrors is now imminent, it seems wise to address the matter in whatever way remains possible.

[deathlessness]

That I can help with. There's a tea that my mother used to make that promotes healing and eases pain - it might do the trick in helping her recover faster.

[And it's fairly subtle.]

[directed]

Promotes healing—but not an instant cure.

[It might be easy to read disappointment in his words, and truthfully, Rip does feel a spark. But it’s far more important that he understand just what he’s about to subject Peggy to. Particularly given his tactics of choice—serving her a cup of tea is something that’s hardly unexpected of him, after all. He could have her drink the concoction and perhaps be none the wiser, not until the effects had taken hold.

But! She would figure it out eventually. And in such instance, the results needed to be worth the cost.]

[deathlessness]

No, unfortunately. There might be another magic user here who can be more helpful.

[Maybe Regina. Her magic seems a bit more proactive, but a lot less subtle.]

[directed]

I’ve sent out a few inquiries, but I’m also not going to snub my nose at anything that might offer an advantage.

[Other arrangements could take time, after all, depending on what obstacles arise. He considers it a moment longer, tapping his thumb against the side of the phone.]

How long would it take you to put everything together?

june 2nd;

[madehervows]

[The sound of the incoming message shocks her out of her study -- planning a murder in Wonderland takes time, after all -- and she almost doesn't reply. ... But Rip is something of a friend, and there's only a few reasons why he might be asking.]

I'd be happy to. Would you prefer to do this in person?

[directed]

If you are available, I would appreciate your time. [A few reasons indeed, particularly on the heels of the Red Queen’s proclamation, asking for volunteers. So far as he can tell Peggy hasn’t taken the opportunity—a thought which stays with Rip, even as he continues to type to Regina then.]

I’ll gladly come to you if that’s more convenient. [She’s the one doing him the favor, after all.] Or we can meet in my room. Whichever you prefer.

[madehervows]

I could use some time out of my room, so I'll come to you. Give me some time to freshen up and I'll meet you soon.

[Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Regina is knocking on Rip's door.]

[directed]

[He’s ready by the time she knocks, quick to open the door and stand aside so Regina can enter. He nods his head as she passes, offering up his thanks for her quick response.]

Make yourself comfortable. I can get you something to drink if you’d like. [Although time is likely not their friend in this matter, Rip’s rather recently dealt with someone else who’s been cooped up in her room. Although he doesn’t know the reason why Regina’s been keeping to hers, Rip can at least offer her some indulgence now that she’s escaped it.

Of course, it will also give her the opportunity to notice that Rip doesn’t seem to be hurt; he’s moving normally, quickly even, as he motions both to the little sitting area he’s got set up and a decanter kept on a nearby counter, amber liquid visible inside.]

[madehervows]

[She enters his room with a nod and murmured 'of course' of her own, taking a quick sweep of the room with her eyes. Any judgments made are left silent, because she's here for a reason.]

A glass of red, please. [Said as she makes herself comfortable and indeed, watches Rip fix her drink. While any injuries could be under his clothes, he's moving unburdened. So if it's not him...] Now, what can I do for you?

[directed]

[Curiously enough, Rip doesn't typically keep wine on hand; his most regular visitor has a penchant for whiskey, while Rip himself usually takes scotch or rum. But it's not difficult to pull a bottle--a good bottle, given his penchant for indulging certain habits throughout different points in history. He makes short work pouring and offering her a glass after that.

Fortunately, as Regina gets straight to the point.]

A comrade of mine was injured in the last event. Cracked ribs. [He takes a seat close-by, continuing on.] Given the Red Queen's announcement, it's likely that something will be happening soon in regards to this war business--and I'd rather see her in good health when it does.