sixthiterationlogs | (no subject)

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Peggy & Stella's House of Intrigue
WHEN: Backdate to March 4th
OPEN TO: Stella Gibson, Percival Graves
WARNINGS: n/a
STATUS: Closed to specific characters

Since she arrived, Peggy has been accumulating information. At first, with Killian's help, she'd put together a decent map picking out routes in the canyon and mapping terrain. After the incident that left her stranded for nearly a full day, she'd shifted her focus to something a little less dangerous. She'd begun to write down people's scrubs colours, their backgrounds, histories, whether they believed themselves alive or not, and began to cobble together working notes.

Now, what she needed was second opinions. She'd been staring at this puzzle longer than she could think about without growing sharp with frustration and needed the help of others to take a look at what she had and determine whether or not she'd absolutely lost her mind. It was why she'd put the kettle on, set out some of the few remaining biscuits she had left, and left word for specific parties that she trusted to offer their analytical minds on her notes.

Thank goodness she had been gifted with a pen and notebook, though even that is beginning to run out. If she decides to analyse another aspect of this strange village, she might have to simply learn how to make paper herself, which certainly wouldn't be a hardship after spending all the time learning how to fish in order to keep herself properly fed.

For now, though, patterns. Patterns and people and predictions, as if she could somehow work a way out forward if only she could see how it all came together.

Threaded | Flat

Peggy isn't the only one who's been taking notes. Stella has been a detective for over fifteen years, and there are certain habits she finds extraordinarily difficult to break — such as the need to keep notes on everything, to write things down in order to try to make some sort of logical sense of them. She'd got a collection of folders, pens and paper over Christmas, and has since put them to good use, though she's had to be careful how much of the paper she uses; the result is that she ends up fitting as much information as possible on a single page, without having considered that anyone else would want to read it. She has the paper in her diary, of course, but she'd prefer not to use that for anything else unless she has absolutely no choice.

When she'd heard Peggy had intended to invite Graves by for tea and to attempt to sort through the information they all had in order to attempt to draw some sort of conclusions about this place, she'd thought it seemed a good idea; she knew Peggy just well enough to trust her judgment, and though she'd not known Graves as long, he seemed a level-headed, intelligent person. Perhaps between the three of them, they can make at least a little sense out of a place that, at times, defies any attempt to be described or categorized.

Stella spends most of the morning sitting on the end of her bed going through her own notes — what there is of them, tightly packed on both sides of a couple of sheets of paper, somewhat organized but still written in her own almost illegible scrawl. For the briefest instant, this almost feels like being back in her hotel room in Belfast, sorting through her innumerable piles of case notes and paperwork. All she needs is a glass of whisky — though she supposes the tea will do.

She'll head for the living room if she hears the sound of Graves's arrival at the front door — but for now she is content to allow Peggy to finish up in the kitchen while she herself finishes going through her papers.