12098/The night the pretty lady wandered in.

The night the pretty lady wandered in.
Date of Scene:	31 August 2020
Location:	Highlands of Scotland
Synopsis:	Way back in the WWII days an injured Peggy was discovered and nursed back to health by Duncan.
Cast of Characters:	Duncan MacLeod, Peggy Carter

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Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     Home. It is long since been home. He has tried a few times to make his way out of the land, but he never quite gets there. Instead he has once more set up a large homestead to settle down for a while. The war is out there, but thus far it doesn't get too close where he's set up. Either way, Duncan is sitting in the back yard, deep in meditation and enjoying the peace.

Peggy Carter has posed:
There had been the sounds of explosion, very quiet, rather distant, but something had been happening over the hill. Strange, as the fighting certainly never was close to here. Maybe it was an unfortunate car accident, or some such? Either way, the country side has been mostly quiet. Mostly, until the sound of stumbling, ragged steps on the hill to his yard can be heard. A faint scent of blood and smoke, if his nose is particularly sharp.

Peggy's not certain how long she's travelled. The first bit was running, certain her charges had been effecitve on the HYDRA outpost, but also certain that she'd been caught. Some escaped the explosion. The fight was vicious and if she stopped running, she'd probably be dead. But that was an hour ago? Maybe two? She was losing time. Her running went to stumbling, more than a few wounds still actively bleeding, though the worst in her arm she's tied off. But it's hard to keep going. Even if the estate on the old map was emptied, if she could just make it to the walls. Maybe there'd be water. Shelter. She could stop a few hours and reasess.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     He's not overly acute in the sense of smell, but deep in meditation his hearing is a little sharper than normal for sensory deprivation. He frowns as he hears the ragged footsteps and rises to his feet. The sense of another immortal does not trigger and so he makes his way out of the yard and towards the sound of the footsteps, unarmed and curious.

     While not a doctor by any means, he lived long enough to at least have some basic medical training for those around him that won't live forever. Nothing your presence finally he studies your gait and appearance as he draws closer to you. It doesn't take a leap to see you're in a lot of trouble and so he closes the distance and tells you quietly,"Here. Let me help you."

Peggy Carter has posed:
It's absolutely the strangest sight. Peggy looks nothing more like a peasant girl, in a rather plain, country side dress, though it's now marred with ash and blood in several places. Her dark hair has fallen out of it's rolls and sticks to blood on the side of her face. She even has a little cardigan of wool, one sleeve ripped off and serving as a tourniquet, but she should be at in the countryside, baking bread in a home. Not stumbling up to his distant estate.

And *certainly* not lifting a luger in his direction. She doesn't shoot, but targetting to defend herself is the first reaction her ragged body and exhausted mind has to another voice. But it's not German. And he certainly wasn't in the fight. Shakily, her hands drop. "I... I'm sorry... Might you have some... Water?" She stammers out, trying to keep cover though the gun pretty much blew it. Then she's hitting her knees. And the grass. It's just all been a little too much.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     The appearance of the weapon doesn't bother him and the fact that she is mangled doesn't phase him much either. The advantage of having lived through battles before civility such as it is now. He puts the gun in his waist band and gently picks you up to carry you to the house,"I have some water yes." he mutters softly.

     Carrying you into the house he takes you to lay you down on a less than comfortable table, but he needs to tend to wounds first and then worry about your comfort. Assessing the wounds and starting to treat them. He takes the most life threatening first and moves on.

Peggy Carter has posed:
For the first little bit, the woman is blissfully unconscious. Apparently, her mind read him as trustable enough to just give up, because she's a ragdoll in his arms. Heavier than she looks, there's a lot more trained muscle on her frame than curves and soft, peasant dress might make apparent. He's been near to trained fighters before, many times in his life. As he's looking across wounds, it's clear this woman has that sort of tone to her body.

The arm is the worst. A gunshot, through the meat of her bicep and probably having knicked an artery it's bleeding enough when he takes that torniquet free. There's another graze to her shoulder and her hip, a few lightly knife wounds, and some burns across her lower left calf. But nothing is life threatening beyond that wound at her arm. She's also got another knife strapped to her thigh and a second, smaller pistol at the small of her back. Peasant girl she was not.

About halfway through his cleaning out those wounds, she begins to stir. Dark eyes fluttering open as her head turns in his direction, confusion through her gaze. That was not back up she expected to see. A total, rather handsome, stranger.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     He works quickly, but efficiently. He's not good at the painless treatment, but he does his best. Each wound is cared for best as possible. There is a look of surprise when he finds things here and there like guns and the like. When she starts to stir he doesn't stop working, but does acknowledge her.

     "I'm Duncan and you appear to have been up to your neck in trouble miss." he comments softly. Once all her wounds are cared for he sighs and asks,"Well, do you think you could make your way to a bed or rather be carried?" The messy things are cleaned up and he does manage to keep your dignity mostly in tact,"I should have some clothes that will swallow you of course, but they are warm and less tattered.

Peggy Carter has posed:
While he might not have the most gentle hands, the young woman seems accustomed to pain. No complaints, she doesn't even cry out. There's the occasional stop or catch of her breath, but that's it. She shifts to make it a bit easier to finish bandaging up some of the lighter ones, especially that one at her hip. Modesty be damned, they were at war. If she's blushing, it's not apparent in blood loss, but she seems rather practical for that.

"Duncan...I'm... Margaret. And you had some rather nasty operators on the other side of this area. But, they've been... handled now. Mostly." She admits with a bit of a paled out smile. She looks horrily young to be at war. Probably barely 20. "...And I'll take warm clothes, for a night, at least. I am sorry to have intruded, like this." She shifts, not entirely able to move with ease, but it looks like she's going to try walking. Stubborn to her core.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     He nods and lets you go by your own power as much as possible and he comments,"It's nice to meet you Margaret." he replies soflty and does guide you a little bit. He is mindful of every breath catch and does his best to ease it, but some things can't be helped.

     "I heard some noise out there. I wondered if there was a battle or just a storm on the horizon. I didn't feel the static electricity. C'mon. I have a guest room you can change in, bathroom next to it." he comments,"Clothes in the closet."

Peggy Carter has posed:
Her left leg is unhappy, but stable. Mostly. Peggy leans just slightly against him, using his shoulder for stability, as they make their way deeper into his estate. She breathes out slow. Raggedly. The pain was miserable and she's now feeling the exhaustion through her bones. But she's alive. "An...experimental munitions factory. Thought they'd go unnoticed this far out in the highlands. We... noticed." Her accent is firmly British, complete with the habitual British tones of understatement.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     "Ahh. Always good to have explosive ordinance in your backyard." he comments,"Here in the highlands they probably would have been unnoticed if you hadn't wandered by. I tend to stay close to home of late. I don't much care for going out much."
     Once he gets you situated in the bedroom he tells you,"If you think you can change on your own I'll go get you some food and some water as well." he waits to see whether you want help or not. It's not like he wants to invade such things, but he also knows you might need the help.

Peggy Carter has posed:
"I should... Be able to manage. Thank you." Peggy gave him the smallest of smiles, thankful, but also somewhat evaluating. As a woman rather in the thick of the war, sitting on the sidelines didn't really rest well with her. At the same moment, he'd saved her life. She had no real room to judge. "And... thank you, Duncan. You could have left me there. Hell, it might have been safer if you did."

With that, she limps over to the side of the bed, starting to shift off what is left of her dress. It was enough of a mess that she'd not really be able to reuse it. She'd look like a walking subversive.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     "I'll be down the hall if you need me." he replies and heads out,"Give it fiteen minutes and food will be warm. I can't say it will fit your flavor pallat, but it will be warm and healthy." With that he closes the door to let you change in peace.

     Through the door he replies,"You're welcome. I don't leave people to die that haven't tried to kill me first." he adds and then the room is quiet again.

Peggy Carter has posed:
The commentary about the food gets a momentary, genuine laugh from her. "...I don't think I've had hot food in two weeks, Duncan. I think it will be bloody well amazing." Peggy calls back through the door. Still a little exhausted, a little dizzy, but in far better moods for simply not actively leaking blood any more. She doesn't bother with shutting the door as she changes, partially so they can keep up the conversation, partially incase she'd hit the floor again. She's not quite so steady as she looks. That was a part of being stubborn.

Gingerly, a limb at a time, she slips into the shirt he's left her. It's big enough she really wouldn't even need the slacks, but walking around in nothing but a man's shirt would be uncouth, war or not. So, she pulls on the slacks, a skeptical smirk crossing her mouth. They were not going to stay on.

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     "No promises." he calls back and you can hear the sizzle of a skillet on a fire. Before long you can smell something meat like cooking. The old man does know how to make food, just not the up to date things.

     When she ventures out she will see him cooking something over an open flame. A huge frying type pan, deep. He has a few vegetables that he chops up to add to it in a big,"The Mongolians liked to mix their food and fry it all together. Basically it is beef, onions, peppers, mushrooms, and a few spices."

Peggy Carter has posed:
For lack of a belt, and wish to simply be comfortable, Peggy's given up on the pants. His dress shirt is like a dress on her anyway, reaching most of the way down her thighs, though it exposes the bandages on her legs and some of the lighter, not actively bleeding, road rash like injuries. And the bruises which are starting to form. The young woman must have been in quite a fight. She's pulled the pins out of her hair and shaken some of the mess free before washing the blood out of the edges. A bath would be lovely later, but she's used to just splashing off nowadays.

"That... smells divine." Her London accent breathes out into the room, grumble of her stomach coming a moment later. "I haven't had... hot food in... Hell," SHe actually considers it. On assignment at least two weeks now, then the travel, "...almost three weeks."

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     "And yet here you are. The picture of health." he teases lightly as he adds the vegetables to stir it all together and let it sizzle,"Three weeks without a hot meal means you are as sturdy as you appear." he adds.

     Stirring up the food he glances over his shoulder and favors you with a smile,"Sorry I didn't have anything a little better fit, but I wasn't expecting company tonight and certainly not anyone of the fairer sex." he adds,"Not that I mind you understand, just unexpected."

Peggy Carter has posed:
"It...it's alright. There's not exactly privacy with the SOE either. You get used to cramped spaces and bodies. Some hurt, some not... everyone just trying to survive. It's war." Peggy mutters quietly, her voice a good bit older than the 20 years on her face would seem. She limps a few other steps in his direction, dragging in a deep, thankful breath of scent of food in front of her.

"Still lucky out here... hasn't really hit your back yard yet, has it? And you didn't... enlist? I know they're taking almost everyone these days..." She finally settles into a chair in his kitchen, giving up fighting through on her feet...

Duncan MacLeod has posed:
     "I have had my share of war." he replies softly,"I've seen more than my fair share of battle too." There isn't much in the way of explination,"I didn't enlist this time because I am tired of battle, war, and such things." he explains,"If it continues to get bad, maybe I won't have a choice in the matter."