Claire Fraser (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nineteenfortyfive) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
elnysa2017-08-31 03:50 pm
nineteenfortyfive) wrote in elnysa2017-08-31 03:50 pm
video | un: c.fraser
[Here is one disgruntled English lady. You might have seen various shades of this annoyance after the pods plummeted to the earth, checking for injuries (maybe on you, personally), or more recently at the Sanctuary collecting blood. Apparently, the latter is why she's deemed it necessary to post.]
Thought I'd drop a quick word, given some of my experiences since we've all come together.
Now, I understand we all come from various worlds and times, with vastly differentiating forms of medicine, but I'm sure it's safe to say that bloodletting is not the preffered sort of medicine people want here. I don't care if someone here handed you a knife, of if that's what you're used to doing. That is not how you collect blood. You use a needle, and hopefully it's held by someone that knows how to find a vein. If you'd like to learn, I'd be happy to teach you.
Secondly? Your blood, assuming you're... human, or what the biologically average human is, is going to be used by anyone who needs it, rich or poor. The blood of a king is not going to make a beggar on the street suddenly somehow contend for a throne that doesn't even bloody exist in this world.
[There's a pause in which she almost calls a certain someone named Richard out, but she's a better woman than that. Just barely.
There's a flicker of a forced smile.]
Thank you.
Thought I'd drop a quick word, given some of my experiences since we've all come together.
Now, I understand we all come from various worlds and times, with vastly differentiating forms of medicine, but I'm sure it's safe to say that bloodletting is not the preffered sort of medicine people want here. I don't care if someone here handed you a knife, of if that's what you're used to doing. That is not how you collect blood. You use a needle, and hopefully it's held by someone that knows how to find a vein. If you'd like to learn, I'd be happy to teach you.
Secondly? Your blood, assuming you're... human, or what the biologically average human is, is going to be used by anyone who needs it, rich or poor. The blood of a king is not going to make a beggar on the street suddenly somehow contend for a throne that doesn't even bloody exist in this world.
[There's a pause in which she almost calls a certain someone named Richard out, but she's a better woman than that. Just barely.
There's a flicker of a forced smile.]
Thank you.
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And my gun, come to that. But I'd rather not.
[ Does her roommate even know she has a weapon? Well, now she does. Peggy wets her lips, smiles with a sort of wryness Claire can't see but she's sure she can hear. ]
I admit I am rather curious about our mystery egg. [ Teasing, ] But whatever comes out of it is your responsibility, Mrs Fraser. Finders keepers.
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[Nope, didn't know. Knows now. Claire makes a huh sort of sound. A gun totting agent and--whatever Steve is. Muscular. No need to worry about someone breaking in during the wee hours of the morning.
Or things hatching out of eggs.]
If it's interesting, I suppose it can always be donated.
[No. No, Claire. You say this, but it's going to be pathetically cute and yours.]
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[ Well, whoops. But it's no surprise she's more than capable so a gun really isn't too unusual. She thinks. ]
What do you think it could be?
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[So, no surprise it'd be a smaller one. She's lived around people that carry swords and daggers at their hips for too long to be overly fussed.]
I have no clue, really. I don't think it's a reptilian egg, though I'm no expert on the subject matter. Just a feeling. A bird, perhaps?
[Wrong.]
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[ She pauses. ]
And for what it's worth, I'd rather a bird than a reptile. Unless it's a flamingo. They're not the most polite of creatures.
[ She speaks from personal experience. ]
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[God knows what could happen here. There's a silent shrug.]
... I can't say I've spent enough time in the company of a flamingo to know whether they're polite or not.
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[ Mr Jarvis had dubbed it "The Devil in Pink." He wasn't wrong. ]
But even if the egg is flamingo-coloured, I doubt that's what's inside. I suppose the more pressing question is how did it get there in the first place? Our apartment isn't exactly the penthouse suite. If someone snuck in, one of us would notice.
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[... why, Peggy. Why.]
I don't know. The bloody floorboards creak enough to alert us to anyone trying to sneak about. Unless it was there earlier, and neither of us noticed it? I can't explain it.
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[ To say nothing of the koala that required a tranquiliser gun. ]
I think we'd have noticed an egg like that... Well, whatever the case, it's done now. We'll check the locks at night and hopefully no more unexpected gifts turn up.
[ She's definitely going to inspect that egg, though. She's investigating a rogue bomber on the order of the Guard, after all. Can't be too careful. ]
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[A long sigh from Claire, considering the egg again.]
At least it was only an egg.
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[ Not that there's anything wrong with working at the office. Or paperwork. She's just more cut out for the field — funny, since she didn't always believe that to be the case. ]
You sound as though you have plenty of experience with royalty, however. Outside of Olympia, I mean.
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[A lady agent was fit for much more than paperwork. Even Claire can see that. As for mention of any personal knowledge of royalty, she bites back a sigh.]
I've had several encounters with King Louis XV, and my husband is a close confidant of Charles Stuart. Bonny Prince Charlie. Not my favorite people in any world, by far. Charles signed my husband's name on a decree of his intentions to reclaim the English throne as a supporter, making him a traitor to the crown. And that's without mentioning all the bloody stunts he pulled before.
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Are you nobility yourself, then? [ Wryly, ] Should I be calling you "my lady"?
[ Listen. She knows how these titles all work, she was taught as much. ]
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That makes your husband a — laird, isn't it, up in Scotland?
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[Rough times. Claire's glad he grew up--he's always been mature, older than his years, but he truly did become a man people respected. A man people would follow to their deaths, and gladly.]
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I imagine as lady of the house you put him in his place?
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[And make one hell of an asset in a world war.]
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