sixthiterationlogs | cat in a tree (or a carter)

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: The Canyon | Inn
WHEN: mid-day November 4 | end of day November 5
OPEN TO: Steve | OTA
WARNINGS: Potential language
STATUS: Closed

For Steve

It's been colder than Peggy likes, but that's no reason to stop exploring the canyon. If anything, it's actually a good incentive as if she doesn't finish her work of mapping out the area, then she's going to end up locked out from onslaughts of snow that piles up too high to do anything about. It's why she's clad herself in her coat, grasped the rope, and starts towards the canyon.

She stops, though, outside of the house Steve is living in. It's the sort of adventure that she thinks he might like. More than that, it's the sort of thing that she imagines they might have done together at some point, had he come home from the war. "Steve, it's me," Peggy says, trying to stay brisk and refuse to allow any emotion to creep into it.

Adjusting the rope a little more, she reaches up to tweak her hair to ensure it stays pinned up.

"I've got a prospect I think you won't want to turn down."

Down The Ledge

Later, much later, Peggy feels like she's had a long experience that she's not sure she can quantify. Truly, it's a stressful thing because she'd been up on that little crumbling edge so high above everyone else that she had genuinely worried about ever coming back. There had been moments, up there, where all she could imagine was a broken leg that led to her death or something else equally as terrible.

She's made it back to the inn with some help, but she still feels shaken. The canyon map is spread out in front of her with all its conflicting information. She wants a drink more than anything else, because her whole life had flashed before her eyes and she feels like she's neglected whole parts of it and for what?

Some bloody map that still doesn't make sense.

Months and months of work and this is a dead end. Staring forlornly at it, Peggy leans down to rub sore muscles from standing on that little ledge for so long, wondering what comes next. "This bloody, awful, ridiculous thing," she swears, her voice trembling slightly as she crumples the map before her (for all the good it does, seeing as fabric doesn't crumple quite well).

It's nearly cost her her life. What else might this place try and take from her next?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She would much rather be able to know that they will have the food sources to get through both the winter and the coming spring. If they kill too much to survive the winter, the coming seasons will be quite lean. "We should really take over a house and try and grow inside, shouldn't we?" she admits, but that's not her expertise. "Honestly, I've lived through times like this before. Lean times, awful times, and it might not hurt to have a rationing schedule up."

Not that she wants to do that, but if they start slowly, it might not be such an awful crash that will hurt people.

"How could we grow inside? We need the sun for the plants and the rain. To grow enough crops to feed an expanding village, we need a field, not potted plants." She wished that there was something more they could do. Each time she saw a new arrival, she couldn't help but begin calculating the food that would be needed to feed them.

"Is there still enough room at the inn for everyone coming in?"

"With enough mirrors and open light, we might be able to make it work. Alternatively, we take down the roof," is what she says, because if they take a roof down and replace it with glass, it would get all the nutrients and sunlight that the plants need. It would also destroy someone's potential home, but it would give them a chance to survive comfortably. "I'm not sure about the inn, though I've started to think about coming here."

It's starting to get a touch lonely and distant, out there without anyone else. She finds herself missing the Griffith, though hardly Miriam Fry in all her authoritarian glory.

"It is something to consider," it might at least give them a chance at feeding everyone without fear of rationing. So far, they were safe, but who knew what could happen tomorrow or how many others would find their way to this place? "You should speak to Mark about it. I imagine he might also have some ideas." Far more than Margaery had about building such a thing.

Another thought struck her, "What will we do if the fountain freezes? It has been so cold lately. Will the water in the fountain turn to ice?" It was horrifying to think about those that might appear, trapped beneath the surface.

"Perhaps I'll stop by and speak with him to see what I can do to help." Peggy harbours absolutely no assumption that she's more intelligent than Mark when it comes to botany, but she's more than happy to roll up her sleeves and get right down to work. When Margaery suggests what she does, Peggy can't help a sympathetic look.

"It's a possibility," she says. "Though it would take quite the dip in temperatures. We can make sure we regularly check to ensure it's loosened up."

She hated to think what would happen if they forgot to check or went too long between watches. "Perhaps this will be another one of those circumstances that we can't explain and the fountain will never freeze?" It seemed odd to wish for such manipulations, but she would rather not have there be an influx of corpses in the fountain.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asked gently.

"I think the shock is beginning to wear off a little," Peggy admits, rubbing a hand over her other to warm it up, as best as she can. She breathes in sharply and has to hope that Margaery is right and that the fountain won't freeze over in the winter. "I think I just need...I need..." Peggy controls her breathing, but the lapse appears and she loses her breath for just a moment. She had been looking down at Steve and thinking about how she might be lost to all of them. She'd thought about all the loss she'd had to endure and how she'd nearly been gone. And perhaps, a part of her that thought she was so ready hadn't been so prepared.

She lifts her chin high and bars that emotion until she can process it later. "As I said, I'm still in shock, I think."

Margaery is out of her seat as Peggy seems to lose her breath, the shock and fear writing itself across her features. She places her arm around her friend's shoulders, trying to offer her a bit of warmth and comfort. It would be natural to panic after something like this, and considering she just returned, having survived a frightening situation, that panic needed to work itself through her.

"It's all right. You are both safe now."

Is she, though? Peggy can't help but wonder if this was simply a reprieve - a brief warning before something worse happens. She can't shake this awful pessimistic feeling that today was just the beginning of what this place might do. "Thank you, Margaery," Peggy manages to make herself say, a rather weary tone echoing in her voice. She might be safe and sound, but she thinks that what happened today will live in her nightmares, especially all those moments she thought she might slip and fall to her doom, right in front of Steve.

As if him having to live through it once had been bad enough, she had nearly accidentally added herself to that trauma. "I don't like being bullied away from a fight, not even by a place."

"I understand," though there was little else they could do. There was no fight whatever it was that was shifting the land and toying with them. All they could do was be more vigilant, rather than get swept up in anger or frustration. "If you go into the woods again, be certain to take someone with you." Even though she had taken someone with her to the canyon, for all the good it did.

"You should rest. You must be exhausted."

"Not yet," is her reply, giving her a searching look that borders on hopeful. "If you're not too busy, I'd appreciate a little more company right now. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to be alone," she says, rubbing the back of her neck to try and rid the headache that's slowly building there from becoming a permanent thing. "And I promise, I'm not going anywhere exploring for a while."

She can't promise to want to be a homebody, but she thinks that for a little bit, she'll give herself a pause and regroup, try to figure out a new strategy that doesn't have her out in the canyons. The village itself holds plenty of mystery and is much closer to aid.

"I'm not busy at all," she offered, placing her hand over Peggy's. "I can stay as long as you need me too." She certainly wouldn't leave her friend after such a shock, not unless she asked for space. "Nothing is more important than making certain you are all right."

She can only hope that whatever is toying with their surroundings would grow bored. They would need to venture into the forests at some point.

cat in a tree (or a carter)

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