sixthiterationlogs | wind, water, earth, and frustration

Entry tags:

wind, water, earth, and frustration

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Outside Bungalow #45
WHEN: August 7th, Afternoon
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Closed

There had been times, during the war, that Peggy had thought that the most menial of tasks had been behind her, then the SSR had come along and she'd learned the joy of taking and fulfilling lunch orders. It had been mind-numbing, but it hadn't been digging out ditches and holes to hide out the bombing. Now, in this odd little village, she's learning a whole new sort of frustration.

The bathroom in her little bungalow, along with the kitchen sink, has been backed up and flooding for almost two full days now. Every time she thinks she's got it scrubbed and dry, it starts up again. She'd thought that she was being clever, situating herself with nothing to the south but the river, but it looks as if the proximity is now doing her in.

When she wakes and hears the slosh of water, she debates picking up and leaving if not for the fact that she's settled in and she does have the advantage of not worrying what's to her south and the west, to a degree. So it's with a frustrated heart and a headache that she begins the work she's done for the last few days, ending up with several sopping pieces of fabric that she's now having to walk to one of the nearby trees, hanging each and every one of them to dry out.

If she has to use them again, she really may decide to move out.

Wiping sweat from her forehead, she notices that her nail polish has chipped to the point of non-existence and she can feel her hair frizzing up. She's not sure whether she's grateful that she's no longer obsessing over whatever's brought her here, but she's also not happy that it's as a result of sleepless nights and the issue at hand.

"Bloody flooding," she snaps, her temper running short as she stares at the way the riverbank is starting to slowly encroach closer and closer. Wherever they are, it seems the elements are not on their side between the wind and the water.

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She gives a strangled laugh that must sound rather funny, but she's really not in a joking mood anymore. She's too exhausted and sleep-deprived to really be in a mood for amusement. "I've settled down some shallow roots. I'm not entirely in the mood to move, given that I picked my home for the location."

And also, it's admitting defeat. She's a touch too stubborn to acknowledge that this is part of why she's sitting here hanging things to dry instead of picking up and moving.

"Is yours flooded?" she wonders.

He wasn't sure why she laughed, but even if it was certainly a strangled sound, he still offered a light smile to her. Laughter was a good thing even when its not a full sound. Though he knew a good chunk of the words she spoke already just from dealings with Jo, he was still having issues with full sentences and accents.

He looked lost a moment, but gathered enough that she didn't want to move.

"Maybe ask someone how to help?" He offered, a little lost. Plumbing and to much English just went over his head. At least he understood her question.

"No, don't think." he spoke making a perplexed face. "Jo has not mentioned."

"Do you know anything about it?" Peggy suggests, because she would welcome the help of a plumber or anyone who knew what to do about pipes that suddenly worked on the whims of the river's water levels versus what they were supposed to do.

She sighs as she hangs up the last of the wet cloths and gives him a smile. "I'm being rude," she says. "I'm Peggy Carter," she introduces herself. "You're my neighbour, yes?"

Thorfinn shook his head quickly. Luckily his long hair was braided up so, it didn't go flying at the quick movement of his head. "No, strange magic." He held a hand up. How else did one explain plumbing to him? Everything he didn't understand he assumed to be magic. "Water belongs in the river." He repeated his belief for the second time.

He smiled in return and looked a little confused, a second until he realized what she was asking. "Yes," he shifted the hand holding the pack to put it back to his shoulder and point to Jo's house. "There, Nice to meet, Peggy." He wondered idly what kind of name Peggy was, where her people came from. He then shifted the hand from pointing to Jo's house to his own chest, to motion to himself. "I'm Thorfinn, pleased to meet you." Pleasantries were coming along easier the more he used them. Forming words he had already learned into new phrases, crafting words that once made no sense.

She nods, grateful and somewhat pleased that she hasn't managed to mix things up and she is, indeed, meeting one of her neighbours. She wonders when Jo had picked up the man, but it's hardly like she's in a position to judge. Who knows what sort of background and relationship they have, after all?

"And yes, water does belong in the river," she says with a heavy sigh. She gets the feeling the man doesn't know much in the way of plumbing, but she could use a hand. "Will you help me with some of the rugs? They're a bit heavy when soaked."

Thorfinn saw nothing strange about living with Jo, but his youth had been spent on a war ship with a band of raiders, his winters spent in the care of whatever family in Gorm's Village decided they wanted to take care of Askeladd's ward. He was always in the homes of strangers or on their lands. At least with Jo it was something welcomed and not forced upon him.

He gave Peggy a strange look when she asked her question. He hadn't heard Rug used before so he tipped his head some. He understood help and heavy, but not what she wanted lifted or moved. "English not so good, how you need help?" He asked still looking confused and yet, he held up a finger. "Come back." He spoke and moved to go drop the timber and the bag in Jo's yard so his arms would be free to help the woman.

Peggy blinks when he moves away, but he does return. So, at least she hasn't then been abandoned by one of the first new people she's met here that didn't arrive with her that fateful day. She gestures inside and points to where one of the rugs in the hall is sopping and keeping the water from starting a lagoon-like path into the main room. "This," she says, gesturing outside. "We lift, hang," she adds, miming what they need to do.

And with luck, she won't use all her towels sopping up the mess. She does need to bathe, at some point.

He wasn't gone very long, just a moment or two before returning to her. He nodding looking the direction she pointed and followed her along into the house.

"Oh." He finally understood what she meant. The strange magic that made the water stay inside was not working right. It was much like when waves would crash over the edge of the ships back in his youth. He gave a nod an moved lift the rug up, even water saturated it wasn't much of an issue for a man used to the manual labor he was used to. "Where want?" He asked once he had it up. He knew once the rugs are out the rest wouldn't be so bad. At least with his limited knowledge.

Peggy scans the area around them to look for the best place to put the rug, seeing a tree roughly twenty feet away that they can drape the rug over in order to let it drip dry. She's going to have an extremely bare-bones home for a little while, but seeing as they're also currently living in the Edwardian past, it's hardly like she's got much decorating to do.

"There, I think," she indicates. "I'm not sure how clean the water is," she warns, mainly because there's not a good place to disinfect. She does need to check in and see if soap is on the way. "We'll be careful," she says, as much to herself as to Thorfinn.

Thorfinn didn't understand germs or their dangers. He wasn't overly concerned with any dangers from a rug or the water soaking it. Though he did not when she indicated where she wanted it. Still looking a little lost at her words. Clean water? Did it matter? He didn't think so.

Moving across the yard where she had motioned he moved towards the tree with the rug. He wasn't fond of how it felt against the exposed bits of his skin as he was wearing the tanktop shirt. It was a good thing the shirt was already dingy cause the water and rug would surely make a mess of it. At least he intended to go home and change anyway. His laundry needed done, and he didn't expect anyone else to wash his stuff. "No worry. This nothing." He spoke in return to her words of being careful. The contraction of We will, went over his head like a lot of what people say. He took it as her telling him to be careful.

Peggy's smile of appreciation broadcasts her gratitude, she hopes. There's something about being back in this sort of situation that's calming. While tensions constantly run high and things are never secure, there's something to be said for the fact that it's a community pitching in. She knows that someone is there to watch her back. It's very dependent when it comes to trust, but it also means that they're more likely to survive.

The rug is a slight bit more of a struggle for her, only because the water is making it heavier and harder to carry. Still, she's able to heft it up to the branch in question that they want to use, stepping back to survey her little community of rags and rugs, all of them drying out from the disaster. "I'll have to owe you something in thanks," she says. "Not that I have much to give."

Her smile certainly got the message across. Thorfinn understood. Where words lacked him he could usually pick up on body language well enough. Little skills that used to keep him alive, are not just skills that help him day to day. Survival was the most important thing to the small man helping her, if the community was helping out it was good. If not, he'd find a way to keep himself alive. He was hard wired for survival.

Helping her heft it over he stepped back brushing some of the water off of his arms. The water more or less soaked the shirt he was wearing but he wasn't that bothered by it. "No worry." he repeated with that same awkward smile. "More?" He asked, wondering if there was anything else she needed down. Having spent the past four years of his life in slavery he didn't really expect anything in return for helping others, which was why Jo was in charge of all the trading. Hard work however, no matter how trivial made him feel more accomplished.

"No, I think that will be the last of it," Peggy admits, surveying the space around her with satisfaction. Of course, if it rains, they're going to be in a little spot of trouble because she's only prolonging things. Then again, if she has to end up staying at someone else's for a night (or one of the spare bungalows), she supposes that it won't be the end of the world. "Is yours the same?" she wonders.

Or is it just that she's the only one to develop such bad luck? If so, she's got a word or two to share with whatever universal deity is responsible for giving her such a crapshoot.

He had to think a moment about what Peggy was asking before shaking his head some. "No, no water like that." He spoke after thinking best how to explain it. "Jo knows better." If it had happened it was while he was out. He didn't trust that water room. It went against all the logical ways he considered things to be. Though, he knew well enough that water inside was perfectly normal for 'modern' people. It just wasn't his idea of something safe.

He shrugged then, trying to convey that he doesn't fully grasp it. "This... umm." He stopped, words, so many strange new words. "Is not how home is. No water in hall. All outside. I do not understand it." He was proud of his english, but he had to pause often and recall words Jo had given him.

Peggy wishes that she had the exact same situation. She wishes that the water was all outside instead of inside, but it seems that the home she's picked has a rather precarious flooding situation that she can't quite control.

"If you have a spare room, I might decide to borrow it," she jokes with as warm a smile as she can muster. "I feel like this is a test of my patience." That, or her devotion to hard work in order to repair the situation.

"Ask Jo?" He spoke with an apologetic shrug. "Her Hall, I just stay." He tried to explain. He didn't feel he had any right to invite company over. It was Jo's house in his mind, he was forever a guest. It was something he needed to learn to get past but after the last four years of his life the idea of anything being his seemed to foreign of an idea.

"What is patience?" He asked after a second, looking up from where he tossed the bag over his shoulder.

Peggy gives him a courteous nod. She might have given him a squeeze of his shoulder were it not for the fact that they're strangers, but she does appreciate the kindness more than she can say. She lets out an amused laugh, though, at his question.

"Patience is," she begins, trying to think of the best way to explain this, "it's sitting back and not acting rashly, no matter how much you want to. It's being smart."

Thorfinn smiled in return to her laugh and gave an awkward shrug. Some words didn't translate well to him yet, but he was hungry for knowledge.

"Ahh!" He made a noise and nodded. "Þolinmæði! Patience. Yes, I understand." Sometimes he felt so proud when words connected, now knowing the proper word he smiled. "Patience important. Thank you, Peggy."

"I'm not exactly the best advocate for it sometimes," she confesses, given that she often can charge into a situation without really thinking much about it. She does rather hope that it's not that she's bullheaded, but rather that she's just stubborn about her goals. "Are you a patient man?" she asks, careful to keep her words slow.

Thorfinn's smile didn't waver, instead he nodded to her words. Now that he had an understanding of what she was asking he could answer. "Yes, not always. Comes with age." He was proud of the fact he was a patient man, though his hindsight was jaded, he was always patient when it came to things he wanted.

"Good comes from the wait." He offered his view before scratching behind one of his ears. It was a tick he had, one he does when he is unsure of himself.

"Well, then, I look forward to three centuries from now when my patience might grow in," Peggy jokes, thinking of course that she might develop it sooner, but for the moment, she thinks her brash and straight forward tactics in the field have consistently yielded results and it's difficult not to keep wanting to go with that.

"What sort of good?" she prompts gently, encouraging him to talk of his life.

Thorfinn chuckled a little, getting the jist of what she said. Some of the words like centuries were over his head but he got the basic idea. "Maybe soon." He spoke after his chuckle with a shrug, one never knew what the gods had in mind.

"Many things." he spoke as he pondered an answer. He looked over Peggy once more and smiled. "Well, take plants." he motion down as an example. "Take much long to grow big, much waiting." He tried to make sure his words made sense and he used the right ones. "Pluck to soon and no good."

He's right. Even with her own limited gardening experience, she knows that if you want a garden to turn out right, you can't rush it along. Still, it brings a fond smile to her face to think of how many times in her youth that she had forced something to happen because she was tired of waiting. "Love," she says quietly. "Love can be like that too, but sometimes, if you're patient, you lose."

Like with Steve. If only they had managed to get around to things sooner.

"I know not of love." He admitted with a shrug, it was something he had been curious about but he hadn't needed such a thing in his youth to survive, and as an adult there was never time for it. His sister had gotten on his case for being as old as he was and unmarried, but he saw no real point in it. Love didn't keep you fed, and if the words of an old drunken priest were to be believed the only love that existed was in death. "I know farm and work." He went on before looking back to her and pieces clicked.

"Love hurt you?" He had heard love could hurt.

She's not sure, sometimes, whether the old saying of 'it's better to have loved and lost' is true. She'll never regret loving Steve, but the ache that still accompanies her is a hard one to bear. "Yes," she says quietly, but her voice remains firm. "Yes, I loved someone with all my heart and I lost him."

She'd thought to death, but apparently, she'd just lost him and wasn't good enough to find him. She's not sure she'll ever forgive herself that, in the long run.

He nodded softly, thinking of Arneis for just a moment, the look of resolve when she climbed onto the cart with her dying husband knowing the trouble that would come of it. Though love was alien to him, he thought maybe that kind of pain might be the same.

"Sorry, for the loss." He spoke looking over to her sympathetically. "Maybe new chance here." he added with a shrug, since he wasn't sure what to say really.

She doesn't think that there's much of a new chance at all. The truth is that back home, she had only begun to allow herself to think of that. Between Jason and Daniel, she had thought about allowing her heart to move on because she had closed the door on Steve, but now that she knows that Steve isn't dead and that people from the future come here, this sliver of awful hope has opened and made it awful and impossible.

It's made her want to think there might be another chance. "I don't think so, not here," she admits. "I think we're just a tad too busy trying to survive, really."

Thorfinn nodded a moment before smiling her way. "Survival good, yes, but people need people. People marry and have children even while surviving. Never to late, unless your to old." He added the last bit with another shrug. "I must go, have to finish work. Nice meeting Peggy." He added a half bow to it.

It's a promising thought, though she's not entirely sure she's ready to abandon her purpose and life in order to focus on a family especially when her heart still resides with others. She musters up a smile, though, appreciative of both the help and the advice. "Thank you, Thorfinn," she says, imbuing the words as sincerely as she can. "I appreciate it, really, I do."

"Welcome, Peggy." He gave a nod of his head before turning to head back across the lawn for the porch. Looking back he remembered. "Good day!" He's been trying his best to remember all the words to be polite. After his little call he scooped the pack off the porch and vanished into Jo's home.

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wind, water, earth, and frustration

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