Sixth Iteration Logs

<div class="postheader">WHO: (Who is making the post)
WHERE: (Where the post takes place)
WHEN: (When the post takes place)
OPEN TO: (Who the post is open to tags from -- Specific characters, all, none, etc.)
WARNINGS: (Please warn for adult content or anything triggering) <hr></div>
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notsoangry

WHO: Bruce Banner
WHERE: Steve's House (closed), Schoolhouse (open)
WHEN: December 20th-21st
OPEN TO: Steve Rogers; OTA
WARNINGS: Spoilers for Infinity War, if you want your character to see this, now is the time!

HOUSE 18, closed to Steve Rogers

Bruce is in a good mood. His birthday went well, hey he survived another year, and he's been surrounded by friends, both new and old. The Hulk is still no where to be seen. Things could be a lot worse. He currently is focused on several projects, spinning around his brain, but he went by Steve's house just to check in on him. And honestly, sometimes he needs a distraction from his own mind. They're in the house amiably chatting about nothing in particular when suddenly a ping is on his wrist band. Bruce only glances that way in case it's an important message, but then his eyebrows furrow as it's not something he's seen before. "That's odd." There's a countdown to calendar date. "Weird. Steve, look at this, has this happened before?" He is about to ask more when a video begins to play. Bruce is confused at first, but unfortunately the moment when he realizes what is happening, it's too late. Bucky is already turning to dust before their eyes when he quickly jerks his hand away from Steve and take several steps away. He's white as a ghost, the memory washing over him all over again.

SCHOOLHOUSE, later that day and the 21st Bruce is holed up at a corner of the schoolhouse with several journals in front of him. They are the ones that are filled from cover to cover, the most integral of his notes, and he's filling in the last of one now with the most recent situation. The wristbands had a countdown, pointed toward what he believes is January 10th, and it comes accompanied with a memory. For him, it's like a cold bucket of water has not only been poured over his head, but also jammed down his throat to the point where all he feels is the ice in his veins. He can't seem to get warm. Maybe it was because the first time he was in shock and it was right after a battle, but now he seems to really be taking in the reality. The snap. His hands shake as they write and occasionally he'll stop and watch the video again. To see how realistic it is, he'll argue, but also, because he wants to know why this and why it stops there. The meanings are going to burn him in the end. He's still there the next day, looking more haggard than before, and no closer to answers.

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: House #18, Village Environs
WHEN: Late November/Early December
OPEN TO: Steve + Bucky, Steve + You
WARNINGS: PTSD and associated triggers

( don't let yourself go 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes )

sixthiteration

WHERE: Anywhere; multiple locations
WHEN: Apx. 19-27 November
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Serious illness and reactions to such, snakes, hallucinations

IMPORTANT NOTES: This is the second of two mingles. Please see the timing and general event details here.

Not putting any mod top-levels in this one — Just make sure you label your own top-level clearly as to whether it's Expedition or Recovery, and as always, whether it is OTA or not!

Please keep in mind the established plot details, but creative license is welcome and encouraged as long as it doesn't step on toes.

sixthiteration

WHERE: Anywhere; multiple locations
WHEN: Apx. 13-18 November
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Serious illness and reactions to such

IMPORTANT NOTES: This is the first of two mingles. Please see the timing and general event details here.

Illness Presents and Putting Heads Together will have their own top-levels in this post, but you may make separate top-levels for whatever you like! Anything is welcome, as long as it tangentially relates to the Worried/Sick plot.

Please keep in mind the established plot details, but creative license is welcome and encouraged as long as it doesn't step on toes.

sixthiteration

WHERE: Corn field next to the inn
WHEN: 31 October, all day and night
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Please warn as appropriate in your subject lines
NOTES: Please make sure you have read and understand the event details! If you have questions, drop them here. RECOMMENDED BUT NOT REQUIRED: Put your SCRUBS COLOR in your OTA subject line for folks doing bingo. Time your OTA for the harvest feast, the masquerade, or both. Costume matches and details for folks who did not get matched are here.

This morning, our intrepid villagers awoke to a surprise of the nicer kind: A bundle of clothing left at the foot of their bed, tied with a bow. There is also a note: Put on your new outfit and join the festivities in the corn field next to the inn.

You may be thinking, what corn field next to the inn? The one that sprung up fully-mature overnight, of course.

In the middle of the field, villagers will find an autumn feast: Tables piled with harvest time food and drink, warm and rustic decorations, the day's sunshine fending off any chill in the air.

Tuck in and enjoy, villagers, but take note: Things often look different in the dark, and you might be one of them.

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village environs
WHEN: Mid to Late October
OPEN TO: Tony Stark + Open
WARNINGS: TBD

Domestic Agendas

[ It's been a long time since Steve lived with just one person. Five years, seventy years, a few months and some change. He tries to make himself invisible as much as possible. Lets Bucky know that he's welcome to bring over Liv and Steve will find somewhere else to be if they need alone time. He reads the books he got from Father Mulcahy and gets accustomed, for the very first time, to sharing space with a cat for more than a couple of days. Steve had wanted a pet as a child, but money and multiple health concerns had nixed that plan before it ever came to fruition. The best he could do back then was sneak scraps to the alley cats that roamed the tenement buildings and belonged to nobody.

He's getting a little better at fishing now, too. Several times a week, he makes the trip down to the river and splits his haul between himself and Bucky and the Inn. His newest project is learning how to gut and cook the things, and anyone who stops by to visit is more than likely going to find themselves at the kitchen table, talked into eating Steve's latest cooking experiment. (At least he's getting fairly decent with stews. Hanging around the Inn pays off sometimes.) ]

Great Minds*

[ Steve has been trying to avoid Tony since the incidence with the breathing problems. He's glad the guy is doing okay, but has decided that trying to mend fences any further would be like slamming his head repeatedly against a brick wall. In other words, a futile exercise that may yield results in the far future but only give himself a headache in the here and now. But he does make a point of widening his jogging ritual so that he heads by the forge twice a day - once in the early morning, and once after dinner. Just in case.

And, if Tony is paying any attention when Steve happens by, he may notice a quiet, continuous stream of useless useless you're nothing emanating from the super soldier's subconscious. ]

Tricky Treats

[ On the 24th of October, at exactly high noon, Steve is frequenting the Inn to catch up on gossip and eat a meal prepared by someone with more culinary skills than he currently has. At first, everything seems normal, but his nose starts to twitch. About a minute after that starts, and he clearly isn't able to help it, a fuzzy little rabbit tail appears in the immediate vicinity of his rear end. How embarrassing.

But not the most embarrassing. Not by a long shot. Because there are also two rabbit ears sprouting from where human ears should be. And, in the midst of the usual 'What the hell' reactions, Steve is probably going to try and slip out the back door and head for his own house. Feel free to stop him on the way and strike up a conversation. He'll be bunny-ed for a whole hour. ]

((* - if you want in on mindreading shenanigans, hmu at

anthologies and we'll discuss options.))

nonstopnarcissist

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Village, Forge, Spring
WHEN: September 29th - October 7th
OPEN TO: Marked prompts are locked, ota marks are ota
WARNINGS: Swearing, descriptions of canon appropriate violence, recreational weed use

September 29th - [ Locked to Iron Bull, Kamala, Elena, Steve Rogers ]
( Here's to change )
October 1 - 7th OTA
( No tomorrow without a yesterday )

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: House 18; River
WHEN: Mid September
OPEN TO: Friends / OTA
WARNINGS: Nada, will update if necessary

HOUSE PROJECT

[ Steve has never had his own place before. Not one he picked out himself. His mother rented the one he grew up in, then he moved into an orphanage after she died, then he and Bucky moved in together after high school. In the Army, he took whatever tent or barracks they assigned. After the defrost, SHIELD found a temporary apartment in Brooklyn, and again in DC when his orders sent him to the Triskelion. Nick Fury found him a place once they'd demolished one of the world's foremost law and order organizations. Long story short - he's been jumping from one bolthole to another without really caring whether it not it's really his.

The island is different. (He's not entirely sure it is an island, but exploring that far afield is for another time.) There are no barracks here, no footlocker full of mementos from home or a uniform. Not a real set anyway, the scrubs don't count until the Observers appear and line everyone up according to color code. If they do, Steve plans to start a rebellion immediately, because he's seen what happens to people forced to wear different colors. It's one of the things that makes him uneasy about the scrubs. Like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Until that happens, though, he's chosen one of the empty houses, so another room at the inn is free to some future arrival. Over the course of the last several weeks, Steve has hauled water from the river in a borrowed bucket and scrubbed every inch of his new home. Floors, walls, windows, wiped down what furniture came with the house. Cleaning is an activity he likes, which might seem weird to anyone else, but he was so sick, or frail, as a child that housework had to be done in little bursts, else he risked a coughing fit or pushing his heart to the point of needing a hospital. It's just really nice to be able to perform tasks that everyone takes for granted. Something he tries hard not to.

And the last few days have been taken up with laundry. Stripping the beds, dragging them down to the river for cleaning, and tossing his extra set of scrubs in the process. He's strung up an old-fashioned laundry line across the front porch and rigged some pins to keep the sheets and clothing in one place until they're all dry. Interested parties can find him sketching on the porch or puttering around inside. ]

FISHING PROJECT

[ As far as city living goes, Steve likes to think he's fairly self-sufficient. He's known how to get around one since he was a child. Public transit doesn't bother him. Neither does shopping at local grocery stores. (Although modern prices are still outrageous.) He can winter a weather without heat, has made a candle almost from scratch but prefers flashlights these days, and can handle himself well in the concrete jungle.

But this place is different. He's not accustomed to living off the land, and what knowledge he has of that is paired with the depths of human misery on the European front during World War II, because the Commandos scrounged what they had to when the going got tough. So he's got a tiny bit of woodsy experience. However, that is definitely not the same thing as being able to provide a service to the village outside of drawing pretty pictures. He needs to be useful.

Therefore Steve has been trying to teach himself to fish. Loitering around the Inn week after week, listening to snippets of conversations, has gleaned him just enough information to make a fishing rod from the branch of a young sapling. And he found a sharp, pointy rock on his daily wandering, tying it to the stick with a bunch of badly woven grass. So far, his spear-fishing skills are not that great: he's caught two fish in the last week, and one of them was mostly an accident.

But that won't stop him from heading out again after breakfast, determined to learn this valuable skill for his community. ]

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Town Hall & Inn
WHEN: 6 September 2018, Evening
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Warn on your threads, please. PTSD is probably a given.
NOTES: Support group mingle! If your character needs some support after the latest meta plot or just generally, send them on over to Town Hall. Also, feel free to do top levels having to do with signing up for a tube monitoring shift. Please let me know if you want a Mark thread, I have notifs off for the post.

So, I have been down to what we all seem to be collectively calling the Bunker. It is... something, to say the least.

For some people it feels like hope and for others despair, and I can honestly see both sides of it. Some people need to feel like they have some control, even if it's illusory — Having a puzzle to possibly solve makes them feel less adrift. For others, it's too much reality, or the perception of, anyway. I can't say I'm personally convinced by any of it.

See, I've been here since the start of whatever this is, with a group that's almost entirely gone now. It's been five months since we were birthed into this expanded world, and I don't know if it's any more real than the last. That isn't me putting on a tin foil hat, that's just respecting the environment. Mars was the same way: You do what you need to do to eke out a life, to survive or even thrive, but it's dangerous to think you have any real control. Everything can go to shit in the blink of eye, and then you're tumbling around in an airlock while your entire food supply is turned to dust.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying people should stop hoping to get home, stop trying to figure it all out. I'm just saying we might all be a little easier mentally if we could express how scary it is to know, deep down, that the rug can be pulled out from under us at any moment... And then to accept that feeling that way is okay.

With that in mind, after a little meditating during my daily work in the fields, I put up two notices on the blackboard in the South Village inn:

Volunteers to monitor the bunker tubes for new arrivals, please sign up for a shift on the paper on the bar.

That's one thing we can do, at least. Just the illusion of control, but still important to some people, and definitely helpful for anybody new.

Below that:

Support Group Tonight
Town Hall - 7:00 PM
Everyone Welcome

I don't know how many people will actually show — We've got a surprisingly stubborn, resilient group, in my experience. But even if it helps just one person, it's worth doing.

iwasrussian

WHO: Natasha
WHERE: House #20
WHEN: September 2
OPEN TO: Steve and Clint
WARNINGS: None

Over eight hours Natasha dug through the computer trying to hack her way in, hoping to find answers that were more than what they had been up that point. Answers of where exactly they were, who captured them and how. Sure, the evidence was pretty straightforward but that was a conclusion that was far too jarring to accept without more. The computers had to have that information and little bit by little bit, she got something good.

As she heads towards the pod, the agent contacts the two people she trusts the most and tells them to meet her at the house.

nonstopnarcissist

WHO: Tony Stark
WHERE: Tube Room in the Bunker, Inn, Forge
WHEN: September 3rd onward
OPEN TO: Initially Bucky Barnes, then Everyone
WARNINGS: Descriptions of Dissolving, Canon typical Violence, Language, Blood, etc.

( so you take another breath. )

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: Inn
WHEN: 18 August, lunchtime
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: n/a
NOTES: This is a standard mingle post centered on the daily lunch! Come grab a bowl and meet someone new! It's meant to emphasize making new CR, but is open to whatever you like. I am turning off notifs so if you want to tag Mark, pls wait for his top-level.

I have to admit, even in a situation as strange and unpredictable as this one, it's still easy to become complacent. That's just human nature, I think. But complacency isn't always bad — About some things, yes, but the human body wasn't designed to be perpetually hyper-vigilant. There need to be things that you feel comfortable relaxing about, and yeah, sometimes to the point that you forget how significant they are.

Like the daily lunch served at the inn. Kate came up with the idea not long after I first got here, with that first batch of fountain arrivals, and I honestly don't think there's been a single decision we've collectively made that's proven to be more important. Everyone, no matter who they are, knows they can come to the inn in the afternoon and take a moment to eat a hot meal and relax. A lot of hands go into making that meal, a lot of love and effort, and I think we often forget about the significance of that simple act. But that's good. That is, I think, part of the whole point.

Today, it's stew, which is pretty common — Easier to feed dozens of people that way. There's flat bread and herbal tea and tap water that's probably infinitely cleaner than even some of the bottled stuff back home. And it's good after a morning of hard work to wash my hands, grab a bowl and simply enjoy the company around me.

sixthiteration

WHO: EVERYBODY
WHERE: EVERYWHERE
WHEN: 13 July (afternoon, main quake) - 14 July (morning, last aftershocks)
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Potential injuries, PTSD, and anxiety

The sun is still high when the earth begins its initial, almost benign sway, but seasoned villagers know well enough that what follows will be far from gentle. Vibrations ramp up swiftly, exponentially, until within the space of a few seconds, the whole world is shaking — Dishes pinging down from shelves, young trees sifting free of the earth, shingles dislodging and tumbling like rain.

After 20 seconds, the worst is done, and after 30 the shaking has ebbed completely. Some will have escaped relatively unscathed, but others will not have been so lucky...

...and the aftershocks are still to come.

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Village & Environs
WHEN: July 4 - 5
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: TBD

All American Star-Spangled Boy

[ There's nothing special about this morning, as opposed to the handful of mornings Steve has had here. He wakes up, changes his dirty scrubs for the other pair, and tidies up his room at the inn. It makes him feel better to have a little order, to be able to do something under his own steam. Then he heads out and takes a run around the village environs. He can't run thirteen miles in half an hour, not like he could back home, but just expending a little energy feels pretty good. Another little bit of control.

And after the morning jog, he heads back to the Inn for a decent breakfast and to see if there are any familiar faces around. Beyond that, he's not sure what to do with himself for the day. Supplies are limited, so he can't buy a drawing pad and charcoal pencils from the corner store, or even an easel and paints. He ends up just wandering around, staying within shouting distance of the village, with an eye out in case anyone needs help. Or just wants to chat.

Because there is absolutely nothing special about today. ]

When You Wish Upon A Star

[ Sometime well after midnight, when sleep is more of an optical illusion than a thing that is actually happening, Steve gives up on staring at the ceiling and counting non-existent sheep. Not that this island has anything as normal as sheep. He throws on some clothes and heads outside to get some fresh air.

But it's not until he gets outside that Steve realizes that the early-hours fresh air is also accompanied with some rain. Rather than turn around and stomp back inside, though, he decides to take his life in his hands and go for a walk. With no super senses. Around a world he's been in less than a month. Because he's just that stubborn.

Time to find out what trouble an insomniac former super-soldier can get into. ]

markwatney

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn front lawn
WHEN: 21 June 2018, afternoon/evening and onward
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
NOTES: A few thinsgs: You may assume your character helped set up; There are tubers in pot with the red salt, negating the warmth effect; The list of of potluck dishes is here; The list of local provisions is here

The weather is great, the sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, and it's pleasantly mild. Time for an (extremely) old-fashioned low country boil.

We've got two small fire pits built out in front of the inn, each with a massive pot filled with loads of vegetables — corn, carrots, potatoes, onions — and of course the rainbow crabs Finnick and Annie discovered not long after we arrived here. We've even got salt, if you can believe it, although the red salt in this place is pretty spicy and usually makes me sweat, so I've only put it in the one pot, and then set a bowl of it out for garnishing.

Tables and chairs have been brought out from inside, a couple of them set aside specifically for piles of plates, bowls, cups and whatever potluck provisions the rest of the village brings.

ex_enlisted288

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: Fountain, Inn
WHEN: June 19 - 20
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None yet, but will update

[ Fountain ]

[ It's over. Right? It's definitely over. A letter has been sent, friends are rescued, some of the dust is settling. Steve can sit down and take one damn minute to catch a figurative breath. To get his head together, so he can figure out what to do next. Oh, there will be a next. There's always a next. He settles down on a bench in an otherwise empty hallway in Wakanda's palace, grateful for the lack of company. That won't last, of course. Someone will come to fetch him soon but, for now, solitude.

It's great. He hunches his shoulders, elbows braced on his knees and heaves a tired sigh.

Then, abruptly, there's a lot of water surrounding him and when the hell did he fall asleep? Where the hell did he fall asleep? For a moment, there's panic and sputtering, and then Steve's instincts take over. Kick down, swim up, head for what looks like the light. It seems a long way off, though, which means he has to keep reminding himself not to take a breath and risk drowning.

He surfaces in a fountain, throwing one arm over the edge, and takes a couple of seconds to just breath. Before completing the task of hauling himself out and rolling onto the ground in a heap. And stays there, too, for ... he's not sure how long, actually. A minute, maybe two. Maybe even three. Whatever. He takes stock without moving: wet clothing, wet boots, there's something lying against his back, but he's going to have to wait until the disorientation fades. The air doesn't smell stale or like medicine, so this probably isn't a medical facility. No giant tank of icy water and god knows what else, no artificial voice offering stilted reassurances while he endures a panic attack. No hint of the needles-and-pins sensation that comes with being defrosted.

Steve takes a shaky breath. The lack of a frozen, watery tomb is. Good. Very good. Eventually, sitting up seems like a good idea, so Steve follows that instinct too, shoving hair (and water) out of his eyes and peers down at the white, wet scrubs he's currently decked out in. The heck? Then he looks up and around, blinking in confusion. There's a .. little square with a fountain behind him, and a whole lot of bushes. And trees. But not the kind of trees found in Africa.

Which means this isn't Wakanda. Well, shit. ]

[ Inn ]

[ Later, when he's has had a little time to adjust to the idea of a brand new set of omniscient beings deciding to screw around with his life (protip: he hasn't actually adjusted yet), Steve decides to do a little scouting. Of the informational variety. There are also some sketchy plans to wander around and see what can be seen and learn the layout of the immediate area. Then learn the layout of the not-so-immediate area. Here's hoping he'll only be here a couple of days. There are people, back home, who are counting on him and Steve doesn't intend to let them down.

But first, something to eat. He chooses a seat near the wall, where he can see the exits and probably anyone trying to sneak up on him for nefarious purposes. Because people don't sneak around for non-nefarious purposes in his experience. He hunches his shoulders a little, to try and negate some of the space his body takes up, and starts watching other patrons. Best way to figure out local customs, also in his experience.

And locate someone who looks like a waiter. Or who can point him in the right direction. ]

womanofvalue

WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Outside the Inn
WHEN: September 1st
OPEN TO: Steve Rogers
WARNINGS: n/a

It's been an odd few weeks most recently, what with one thing after another. Part of her feels like there are pieces of this puzzle that she's missing, because it seems far too obvious that the flu had somehow been connected to the opening to the other side of the village, not to mention that strange room of samples. It's the latter that's truly weighing on her, tugging at old, raw memories that she doesn't like to think about. Every night, she dreams about standing on the Brooklyn Bridge with what she'd thought was Steve's last vial of blood, but she'd been wrong, hadn't she?

What if they've got more of it here? What if this is some elaborate scheme to get at Erskine's serum and she's been looking past the obvious the whole time? Part of her is also aware that she's using the incident and discovery as a way to ignore the other dreams she's been having. Steve has been here with her for months now and Peggy is no closer to understanding how to open up and tell him how she feels if it isn't already glaringly obvious.

Every time she closes her eyes, she thinks about bloody Steve Rogers and how she'd kept trying to protect him even after he'd gone, like somehow she could save him when he had been frozen so far away from her. Will this just be another retreat of last time, another instance of Peggy being unable to do anything but let fate trod all over her and take away what she'd just figured out she wanted. It's these thoughts that plague the back of her mind as she wanders around the village to try and give herself inspiration and perhaps it's simply her mind directing her there or the universe pointing her that way, but she ends up finding Steve outside, working, and isn't entirely sure whether she's prepared.

Well, now she has to be, she decides, never one to shy away from something potentially difficult.

163

WHO: Steve Rogers and YOU
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, Town Hall
WHEN: 16 June
OPEN TO: Open to all
WARNINGS: No warnings as yet.
STATUS: Open to new threads

( on a steel horse i ride. )

paragon

WHO: Steve Rogers
WHERE: The inn, The Florence, about town
WHEN: Evening of January 9th
OPEN TO: Natasha Romanoff
WARNINGS: Sadly, none.
STATUS: Ongoing

It's one of the few times he's ever been grateful for the cold. Steve opens the box with his name on it that he finds on the porch one morning (he's heard of them appearing, but never gotten one himself) and knows immediately and with a deep, steadying breath, the fog of condensed air in front of his mouth a visible, ephemeral proof of his nerves, what he'll use it for. But he needs a day or two to secure time to himself in the inn's kitchen, to ask Sam to clear out that evening, and to ask Miss Kate for some of the salt she hoards so closely. For a special occasion, he ends up telling her. Hopefully, he doesn't say, though she also lets him have a pinch of pepper from her supply, and rosemary when he asks for it for the potatoes, so he figures he didn't have to.

(She warns him only to use a little, because their taste buds will feel the kick more intensely after months without, which sounds promising to Steve.)

In the meantime, the box will keep just fine, nestled in the snow by the side of the house (and secured against any foragers, like Tony's pet raccoon, of all things). When he opens it again it's two days later and a couple of hours before he plans to get started in the kitchen. The meat needs the time to thaw, after Steve carries the box to the inn with the spices. There's (unsurprisingly) little of the wine left from the Thanksgiving meal, but with the gifts last month they've preserved enough of a supply to be sufficient for cooking and a couple of full glasses, and he has no compunctions about using it for this.

After more than one trip between the inn and the house (and pressing the man named Gaius into standing lookout in case Natasha had come down the stairs in the meanwhile, though it'd involved a bit of miscommunication at first thanks to Steve's barely passable Italian and the combined efforts of Bucky and Tony on him until they'd all three formed a sort of motley guard around the entrance to the kitchen), Steve closes the door to his and Sam's place to head to the inn one last time. He looks up at the sky as he crosses the porch and heads down the steps again — it's not quite as bright as day, but the auroras illuminate everything below them well enough for none of them to need help to see where they're going at night now. Safer, too, though it's not the selling point he's planning to go with.

Steve pulls his hands out of his pockets to open the inn door, the shape of it familiar now, and once inside heads directly to the stairs. He goes to Natasha's floor and then her room, knocking once on the door. "Nat? I'm gonna take a quick look around outside before turning in, if you wanna join me."

womanofvalue

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.

Sixth Iteration

Logs

Entries tagged with marvel: steve rogers

Credits & Style Info

all it takes is a snap

when the day is long and the night is yours alone

[MINGLE] Worried/Sick 2: Snake Expedition & Recovery!

[MINGLE] Worried/Sick 1: Symptoms Manifest & Reaction

[MINGLE] Saints & Sinners Masquerade

so goodbye yellow brick road

Here's to my future, Here's to my yesterday

I'm fixing a hole where the rain gets in

[MINGLE] Post-Bunker Support Group

not the game I want to play

Look out to the future, but it tells you nothing

[MINGLE] Daily lunch

[MINGLE] Great Shakes

(no subject)

[MINGLE] Crab Boil

Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore

a sigh is just a sigh

'cause i'm a cowboy

it takes a village

(no subject)