sixthiterationlogs | 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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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.

wind, water, earth, and frustration

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