edge_of_forever | (no subject)

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Twenty-four hours doesn't sound like a long time, but when you're too frightened and furious to sleep through much of it, it feels like an age. By the time Tonks finds herself deposited into the big round room, she's irritable, drained and desperate to find someone who can tell her what was going on. She feels naked without her wand, but there's nothing for it-- she has to find out more information, and to do that, she's going to have to explore.

The space station Proserpina, huh? She knows about Muggles traveling into space, of course, but had never thought it would affect her. She still wouldn't believe it if she hadn't looked out the windows and seen the star-struck darkness for herself. The view was enough to distract her, but not for long. She'd spent her worry and fright in the quarantine cell and was now too tired to be anything but wary. If something's going to come out and get her, well, there's not much she can do to stop it.

It burns like acid in her throat, knowing what's happening back home-- or not knowing, as the case may be-- it sharpens her focus as she moves through the hallways, taking a catalogue of her surroundings. Constant vigilance. It's rarely out of her mind these days, and now even more so. No matter where she is, there's got to be a way to get back home, and she's going to find it even if it takes days.

A few of the doors had opened as she approached them (fancy, she thinks, snidely) but when she comes up to one that didn't, she frowned. "Open up," she tells it. Nothing happens-- not an altogether unexpected outcome. Focusing as much as her overtaxed mind allows, she holds out her hand and says convincingly, "Alohomora!"

Again, nothing. Tonks kicks the door with her ugly grey trainer and snarls, "Piss off and let me in!" The door doesn't respond-- but the person who's just snuck up on her does, and she whirls to face the interrupter with a defiant expression.

[she's got chin-length brown hair and brown eyes to start. find her trying to get into the door of your choice!]

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"Easy, sweetheart," Pullo says, holding up his hands to show that he's not making any untowards moves on her. If there's one thing he's learned since he's been here it's to be very careful of the women and everything he said and did around them. "You need one of those communicator-thingies to get anywhere around here. Though even then you can't get most places. Place is shut up tighter than a virgin's thighs."

Tonks's eyebrows rose and her chin went up a little-- both to put on a brave face, and because the bloke was two meters tall if he was an inch.

"Alright, sweetheart," she said, heavy with irony. "Where do I get one of those 'communicator-thingies', then?"

"Back in the hub," Pullo replied with a jerk of his chin. "You're new here, aren't you?" The fact that people seemed to arrive with no warning had been a bit odd at first, but then, the gods had their whims. Frankly he just hoped they'd send a few more loose women sooner rather than later.

"You need me to show you?"

"Brand spanking new," she agrees. She sizes him up again-- he doesn't act like a jailer, but she can't trust that things will just start making sense now, after what feels like a twenty-four hour long nightmare.

"Yeah, why not. Lead the way." She lets him go first. There's no way she's turning her back on someone that size, even if she had her wand.

Edited 2013-03-20 16:19 (UTC)

Pullo shuffles down the corridor, fingers plucking somewhat distractedly at the trousers he was wearing. Mystique had gotten a great deal of pleasure finding 'proper' clothes big enough for him to fit into from the wardrobe and he was humouring her for the time being, but he was already looking forward to putting his usual outfit back on as soon as he could.

Eventually they reach the hub and Pullo finds the desk where the communicators are stored, indicating the drawer with one meaty finger. "They're in there. You have to do a bunch of fancy stuff to get 'em to work, but don't ask me what. Zoe or someone'll help you if you need it."

"Zoe," she repeats, grabbing one of the gadgets and peering at it, blinking and squawking in surprise as it starts flashing into her eye. "Welcome, Nymphadora Tonks," it says to her in a cool, even voice, and she bites off a little inhale. If she didn't know Muggle technology and magic didn't mix, she'd be tempted to say that's what this was. It's unsettling, either way, and she doesn't want to look at it until she gets someone else-- this Zoe person, maybe-- to show her what it's for.

She shoves the thing into the pocket of her tracksuit bottoms and turns back to her companion, basically ready to pretend that whole scene hadn't just happened. "I'm Tonks, by the way," she says brightly. "And since you're being so helpful giving me the tour, can our next stop be somewhere I can get some decent clothes?"

"Titus Pullo," he replies, without his usual bombastic flair. "And sure, though it depends on what you mean by 'decent'." Leaving it at that, he turns and heads off towards the wardrobe room, deciding that he'll return these trousers while he's there.

With nothing to do but follow, she jogs after him, resisting the urge to make herself taller to compensate. She's not sure she wants to give herself away yet, especially if she's alone among Muggles.

"So where'd you come from, Titus Pullo?" she asks as she catches up. "Before here, I mean. Not England, I'm assuming."

"The Aventine," he tells her, and when is was met with the usual confused look he sighs and adds "In Rome." He could believe a handful of people not knowing about the Aventine, but every single person he tells is sadly clueless. If this is what passes for culture in the other part of the world, count him out.

Alohomora.

Troy and Abed exchange a look, and Abed finishes the sentence Troy has started, "Harry Potter," with a nod of confirmation.

They run across the corner, wondering which character they're going to be faced with.

Brown hair, brown eyes, not out of the movies.

Troy asks her a question, but she can clearly no more hear (or see) him than anybody else, apart from Abed. So he takes it upon himself to repeat it for her: "Which one are you?"

Given the way she's been cursing at the door, Abed has his suspicions, but he'll see if he's right or not.

The guy's maybe her age, maybe younger, looking at her with curiosity and not at all like he's afraid of her. Another prisoner, probably. But where's his uniform, if so?

"What d'you mean, which one am I?" She's pulling a face, not a nice one either. "Which one are you?"

"I'm the fast-blinking, stoic, removed, uncomfortably self-aware one," Abed answers, which isn't really the question he was asking her, but he doubts that anyone from the Harry Potter canon would know his canon. He still thinks his best bet is a sitcom, and wizards and witches aren't big on Muggle television.

Tonks just looks at him for a second, a little wary, but relaxing. She's been jumpy as hell for months now-- understandable, she thinks-- but the guy doesn't have a wand or any weapon she can recognize, so she backs off. "Uncomfortably self aware," she repeats, just because it was a funny turn of phrase. "Sounds... uncomfortable." She rakes her hair back and tucks it behind her ears. "Got a name to go with the description?"

It's uncomfortable for other people, mostly, but Abed doesn't see to point it out, because if he gives her his name, she might give him hers.

"Abed Nadir."

Peeta has given up on getting in the doors. Zoe can get him into the wardrobe room if he needs something new to wear and most of the doors on Level 5 will open eventually if he's patient but he guesses this woman (one he doesn't recognize) must be new to the frustration that is life on the station.

"It's not going to open without a communicator. Or, possibly, it's never going to open. I haven't paid much attention to which open and which don't."

"Well that doesn't help me much, does it?" she replies without turning around. She kicks the door one more time for good measure-- it doesn't do anything, of course, but it kind of makes her feel better.

Then she turns around. "Alright," she says in resignation. "What's a communicator, and where do I get one?"

"I think you should have gotten it when you showed up," Peeta says, slightly confused. "Did you start out in quarantine like the rest of us?"

He remembers quarantine and it reminded him way too much of the Games and the Capitol for his comfort. "It's a little handheld device. Here, see mine?" he says, holding it out to her.

Tonks takes it and turns it over, starting when the screen lights up, practically dropping it when the light shines in her eye. The screen flashes her a message in red letters: RETINAL MISMATCH.

She hands it back to the kid, shaking her head, muttering, "Great. I've got myself stranded in a prison full of Muggle technology." It twists her heart all of a sudden, the realization as painful as it had been when she'd woken up a day ago: she's not at home anymore. Remus, Harry, Arthur and Molly-- she'll never know what happened to them now, and they'll never know what happened to her.

Swallowing hard, she tips her chin up. She can grieve later-- now she's got to find out more about where she is. "Alright, show me where you got yours, then," she says. "And tell me more about this place while you're at it."

"Muggle? What's that?"

Peeta hasn't ever heard the term but that's not really surprising. There's a lot of differences in the English he knows and the English other people speak on the station and he knows that Panem and the districts aren't like where most people are from. This is still something that doesn't seem to fit with what he does know about other versions of the world.

"Sorry," she says, shaking her head; she'd forgotten. "Non-magic user. Someone who's not a wizard, like I am." She's not excited about asking this next bit, especially when she can guess what the answer's going to be, but she says it anyway. "Probably applies to most of the people here, huh?"

"Yes and no," Peeta explains. "There are people here with special powers. I'm not one of them, by any means, but I guess you could call that magic. I think they call one another mutants, or something?"

He doesn't feel entirely comfortable with that, if only because of the Capitol and their tricks, but maybe this woman is from a place less frightening.

Special powers-- the only powers Tonks knows about are magical ones, but if she's actually in space, there's obviously a lot of possibilities she wasn't familiar with before.

"So how long have you lot been here?" she asks as they walk. "Did you all show up together, or alone like me?"

"I've been here about a year," Peeta confirms. "There were already people here when I showed up but they usually come in pairs. People don't usually come alone, that's only been recently."

He wonders what the change means. Ever since Katniss left, he feels a little obligated to start questioning things more since she's not around to do it for him.

"They're rather solid, I'm afraid. Once you've got yourself a communicator that will help, though." Regina's expression was mildly sympathetic as Tonks whirled around to face her - though not very.

"What do I have to do to get one, then?" Tonks replies warily, sizing up the newcomer. She's dressed nicely, not in the dull grey tracksuit Tonks has already begun to hate. "And what do I have to do to get some real clothes?"

Regina purses her lips in consideration. "Well now, those are two separate questions," she says. "We can get you a comm easily enough, and that would let you into a room with pretty much anything you could want to wear, within reason." She narrows her eyes thoughtfully at Tonks, clearly sizing her up. "But I get the idea you might want to be feeling a little more like yourself sooner rather than later, so I can take you let you into the wardrobe room now if you want me to take you there first."

Edited (for clarification) 2013-03-21 23:06 (UTC)

The set of her shoulders relaxed, and Tonks smiled a bit. "Sooner rather than later, yeah. I've had about as much of this lot as I can take." She plucks at her hoodie ruefully.

"If it's no bother, I'd be much obliged," she says, just to be clear-- and then comes forward, offering her hand. "I'm Tonks."

Regina gives a slight start at the name, but quickly gathers herself and shakes the younger woman's hand. "Regina," she said, eyes narrowing as though she finds the other woman familiar and is trying to place her. "Just a few doors along, this way," she says, leading Tonks along the corridow a bit, unlocking the wardrobe room and gesturing inside. After a bit of a pause, she adds, casually, "Mostly Muggle-wear, I'm afraid."

Edited (because I can't type) 2013-03-22 12:08 (UTC)

At that, her head whips around and Tonks gives the woman another once-over, more closely assessing. "Are you-- how d'you know me?" She doesn't recognize her, but that doesn't mean anything. Her mind rifles fast through a list of all the ways someone could have found out about her, about the Order, and she steps back from the door with wary eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"That's... a long story," Regina said, pursing her lips and shaking her head. "One that I'll be happy to tell, but it's probably best done sitting down. With a drink. Rest assured that there's no Voldemort or Harry Potter here. Not yet, anyway."

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