sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: #43 - The Vincennes
WHEN: December 27th - Evening
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Open (Gathering Style)

When the gifts had arrived, Peggy had treated them at first with the same suspicion as anything else here. Things simply weren't that good to be true, but these gifts had people's names on them this time. With the exception of several that she couldn't begin to understand (such as that one from a man named Ivan, that she barely recalled interacting with), the rest were so kind and thoughtful that she soon found herself with a wealth of possessions she hadn't hoped to possess here.

The party had been borne of one single thought: I have nowhere to wear such lovely things and when she'd found the wine and liquor from others (including Tony, which didn't surprise her in the very least), she knew that she could change that. She'd posted a quick notice at the inn using some of the cardboard of a box and the lovely fountain pen Helen had given her, then did the same at many of the public buildings, inviting people to her home and inviting them to bring any food or drink they might like to provide, as well as suggesting this as an opportunity to wear their fanciest.

She set out her drinks (the ones she was willing to share) and made sure to tidy the home so that it was presentable. In her youth, back during her first engagement, she might have imagined entertaining like this on a regular basis, but that had been swept away by the war. Instead, Peggy was left hoping that such a gala would be acceptable and that she wouldn't simply be here alone tonight.

Setting her new record player (and her single record) down, she cranked it to begin playing the record that had come with it (a pressing of the Glenn Miller Band), and then she began to convince herself that there was nothing more that she could do.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What, on earth, is Utopium? I presume given the name, it's going to induce some sort of feeling of paradise but it's no drug I've ever heard of. Street drug, I presume? Some sort of amphetamine?"

Helen was honestly curious at this point and while talking shop was hardly appropriate in a party setting, neither she nor Ravi had a shop to speak of. The normal rules didn't apply.

"Designer drug flooding the market, sort of a rip off of MDMA, ecstasy..." he shares, straining to recall what he had felt like when he and Major had taken their little excursion down that road. "Extremely dangerous, in certain situations, especially given the drug trade and the fact that you see the drug dealers end up on your table, being the ME," he says, remembering that dark day and how it had sobered him up, making Ravi realize that he wasn't just playing around when it came to Utopium, and that doesn't even go into the whole Max Rager connection. "I tried it, once," he admits. "It does produce a ridiculous amount of euphoria, I can understand why it's so popular."

"As a lifestyle choice? Not entirely too smart," he says, judging as much as he feels he should (and in this case, he feels like he should judge a lot).

"No, actually, it's a terrible idea. Then again, you're speaking to a woman who dosed herself with vampire blood to make herself immortal so I don't really have the best judgment when it comes to these things."

Helen had never really admitted it out loud to anyone in the village but Ravi, at least, seemed a safe sort to confide it to. "I don't think it's working any longer, though."

Ravi gives her a judging look, but it's tempered slightly, because he's also the man who was bit by a rat through his gloves and spent a whole day worrying that he'd been about to become a zombie. At least he hadn't sought it out willingly. "Scientifically, that might have been a bit power-hungry of you," he informs her, that judging look still lingering his eyes as he gives her the nod of 'you should know better'.

That admission is curious, though. "Even with the healing waters, you think that you're ageing?"

"I've started having my menstrual cycle again," Helen said, biting her lip a bit as she thought it through.

"My cycles were suspended the entire time that I was under the influence of the Source blood, you see, so now I believe I have resumed my normal biological processes. I've also found grey hairs that I didn't have before. Granted, it's not something I can really test, or anything, and my cycles are irregular - I haven't had one every month I've been here - but it's unusual for me."

Well, that's certainly odd. He thinks it might be a little stranger if they were back home, especially seeing as there's so many questions he has, feeling like he can ask them here, but won't be able to get the sort of accurate samples he wants in order to truly understand what she's talking about. "Do you think it's a fully normalized rate?" is what he asks, because even though he can't get all the information he wants, he still thinks he's going to pursue as much as he can. "Or is it a slow snap back?"

"And how did you even do that? Why would you do that?" This time, there's no judgment in the question, simply a scientific, needy curiosity.

"Slower, possibly. My hair's not growing that quickly," Helen pointed out. "I'm not a natural brunette, you see, and I would expect that if I am ageing and my cells are dividing as they should that I would have hair growth? But I don't, not really. Not to the point where one would expect it."

Helen sighed a bit and shrugged. "It's something I wish I could test but considering I know so little about how the Source blood affected me to begin with, I wouldn't know how to start here with such limited equipment. As to why I would do such a thing? Well. I was young and foolish and ran with young and equally foolish friends. I believe it was originally Nikola's idea to drink it anyway."

"If you'd like me to take some of your blood, I could analyse it, but without anything to compare it to, it would probably be a fairly fruitless exercise," Ravi admits, given that he'd absolutely love to analyse someone's apparently vampiric blood, but all the things he wants (like a full subject and the zombie vials to test it against) just aren't here for him, which is only depressing.

"And sorry, who's Nikola?" he prods, because that's a very famous name in certain circles and, well, vampires. It could very well be the Nikola.

"Tesla," Helen said, laughing a little. "Oh, he would be upset if someone didn't instantly apply his surname to any mention of his name. He wants to be the Nikola, you know."

This was said fondly, as she loved her friend, but he did have an ego the size of some small countries.

Ravi gives a slightly pained sound when she confirms that the Nikola in question is one of the greatest scientists to have ever lived. It's not even his field and he instantly feels jealous that Helen knows him. "What was he like? Describe him to me. Did he have good features? I feel like he had good features, was the pigeon thing really that strange? And the virgin thing...?" He's rambling, he knows this, but god, he's standing with someone who knows one of the greatest minds in history.

Consider his own mind blown.

Helen can't help but laugh when he mentioned the virgin bit because that was just such a carefully curated bit of absolute nonsense that she cannot believe it still persisted in this day and age. And yet, it had.

"Pigeons, yes. The man loved his pigeons. Virgin? Hardly. I slept with him myself. I know he's no virgin. He's just choosy, is all, and he put out the virgin bit to get out of romantic entanglements so he could fake his death when it was obvious he wasn't ageing. He's immortal, you see, on account of being a vampire. The same vampire Source blood I took? The effects were a bit more...true to source with him."

It's a big scary how fast Ravi's eyes widen with blissful wonder, reaching out to grab hold of Helen's hand so that he can squeeze it. "Are you telling me that I've had transitive sex with Nikola Tesla?" he demands, his words brimming with the kind of excitement that generally precedes a pre-teen girl squealing about Harry Styles and the rest of One Direction, but honestly, can you blame him?

"Was he a good shag? I need to know," Ravi admits, feeling like a gossipy old hen, but completely unable (and unwanting) to help that.

Helen blinked at him for a moment, trying to decide if she was honestly being asked if Nikola was good in bed. There was truth, of course, and then there were lies. Which should she offer Ravi?

"Firstly, I should be offended that now you think sex with me is reduced to transitive sex with Nikola but I will answer your question. Yes, he's good in bed. I'm not going to give any further details, though, because that's...personal."

"It's Nikola Tesla," Ravi shares, giving her a look that says she ought to at least understand a little. "Which does nothing to reduce the adult funtimes we've already had, but only amplifies it," he reasons, bringing as much logic into the equation as he can. "And I don't really want more details? I mean, as privileged as I enjoy being making the transitive association, my brain doesn't really swing that way on a personal detail level, so I appreciate the lack of clarity," Ravi assures.

He sips at his drink and gives her a curious look. "You must have met some other heavy swingers, then, if you're immortal."

"Most of the influential ones, yes. I was quite instrumental in negotiating the Treaty of Versailles," Helen said, giving him a little grin.

"Then, of course, there was the whole matter of everything I did during the second great war but considering the Nazis were abhorrent creatures who were barely human, there wasn't much negotiation there."

"I mean, the history stuff is interesting, but I'm more interested in the medical and scientific side of things," he confesses. "Did you help to invent anything? Did you know Jonas Salk?" he asks. "What about when the polio vaccine was invented?" His interests definitely lie in the realm of diseases and their cures. He still holds hope that he'll be the man to discover the cure for zombieism, but that's sort of out of the picture at this point, given the lack of materials, tainted utopium, and, well, zombies.

"Oh, yes, I knew Salk," Helen said, nodding quickly.

"He was a friend of my father's. Mine too, for that matter, but at the time I was fighting to be allowed to sit for a degree at Oxford so I was a bit preoccupied with other things. Salk, Watson and Crick, the Curies. I knew all of them and worked with them to some extent. Given the nature of my longevity, I didn't want to have my name on many things. Too many questions."

"You literally were living my dreams," Ravi says, his face painted thick with jealousy, sighing with the desperation of a man who wants to join their ranks and be known for something. "Why not just change your name, though? Or pretend you're just a very clever woman with an unending line of very similar looking daughters?" he points out.

"It's my dream to be known in history for curing something once thought uncurable," he says, pouring himself a little more wine to drown his woes at not getting to rub elbows with his heroes.

"It's not about the glory, though, it's about the work. That's why I don't mind being behind the scenes. As long as the work gets done, I don't care if it's my name on it," Helen insisted.

"Curing something incurable? Well, I could take a crack at it. What is it that you're working on? Between the two of us, we have nothing but time. We could at least use our brains to give you an avenue to pursue once you get home."

"I was doing the work already, I wanted the glory, too," Ravi complains, thinking the long sleepless nights testing every condom known to mankind against the zombie virus, out of the love for his friends. That's not even mentioning the nights he'd spent trying to dig up a corpse to get its supply of tainted utopium back.

Ravi glances over his shoulder, noticing how many people are here and how small the house is. "It's a fairly private conversation," he admits, seeing as Mark is the only other person who knows the truth. "Not really party fare."

"Ahh, I understand. There's things about my life I wouldn't want to air in polite company."

Some of them being, of course, her true age and the men she'd spent her formative years around. Of course, she'd already told Ravi these things so the cat was out of the proverbial bag.

"But I will hold you to an eventual explanation, Ravi."

"When we're in private," Ravi promises, because he doesn't necessarily want to be withholding this sort of information, it's just always seemed like the safer thing. "I promise," he vows, looking far more serious than usual. "Really, I do, I'll tell you, just not with so many witnesses around."

"I'll hold you to it," Helen reminded him gently. "But, as it is, you're free to pepper me with questions whenever you like. I want to keep my mind sharp and my memories fresh. Talking about them is the best way to do that."

She'd noticed that it was harder and harder to remember things now. Not the short term, of course, but the older memories were harder to come by. She wondered if it had to do with aging normally once again or if something more foul was at play.

Ravi honestly isn't sure where he wants to start with the questions, so he decides that they're going to start somewhere completely different. "Drinks first," he announces. "Then, I'm going to come up with at least a top five list at some point, whether it's tonight or when we have a more private talk, and I'll ask them all. Spoiler alert, one of the questions is going to be about Nikola Tesla's oral abilities."

Helen coughed awkwardly, then laughed. She had never anticipated that someone would ask about whether or not Nikola was good with his mouth but she supposed she had to be prepared for anything where Ravi was concerned.

"Try not to have your mouth on me when you ask?" she said, giving him an impish grin. "Because I don't like to confuse myself."