edge_of_forever | (no subject)

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!]

Threaded | Flat

"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."

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.

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."

"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.