dora black will steal your face. (metanym) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-05-02 02:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | ch: thg: bellatrix black, ch: thg: nymphadora black, p: lucy, p: megan |
WHO: Bellatrix + Nymphadora Black.
WHAT: They woke up within minutes of one another and were released around the same time. They're both 100% certain they're back in the training round of another game.
WHERE: The hospital area!
WHEN: Shortly after waking up.
WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, also mentions of death and violence since they just came from their respective Healy games, which are The Hunger Games, for those not in the know.
The first few moments were too bright and confused. Nymphadora had been somewhere else, and then she wasn't. The part of her mind trained to analyze her surroundings said portkey, forced apparition but she didn't really have time to make a conscious decision. There was someone in front of her and she attacked, the knife from her last kill still clenched in her hands. The last thing she saw was a person in a white lab coat. Then the world went black. The second time she gained awareness, Nymphadora was lying on a bed. She felt weirdly calm - calming draught - and listened to the man talk, received the journal and the pin and clutched at her knife, noticing that the blood had been washed off her weapon and her hands, but not her clothes. Her consciousness didn't last, even as she struggled to fully wake up, to do something. She'd spent so long in that desert, though, and she was so tired; someone gave her water, and although she spit it out the first few times (poison, had to be) she finally registered that this was what came after, and drank it down. The third time she became aware, Dora was calmer. This was a hospital. The people who wouldn't talk to her were strange, but no stranger than anything else the capitol had to offer. It was worrying that her mentors hadn't found her yet, that she wasn't being prepped for an interview. And that was really the thought that she caught on, pausing where she stood, having dumped the journal and pin into her backpack and gotten up, rechecking everything on automatic. Both her parents had been victors. She - wasn't she a victor? God, if that had all been a dream, if she was being tricked like she had - Nymphadora cut herself off, biting her lip. No, no that couldn't be right. It - if it were, there was no use entertaining the thought, because what ifs never helped anyone. She had to worry about where she was right now, about what she was going to do right now. She'd already figured out the assistants wouldn't speak to her, and the scientist was nowhere to be found. Nymphadora had flipped through the journal only briefly, and was considering taking it back out when she heard a crash, and swearing. The metal tray beside one of the other beds - save for the assistants the hospital was nearly empty, and Dora had her back to a wall - had fallen over, and another girl was fighting with some assistants, against what Dora assumed was another dose of the calming draught or spell she'd had forced upon her (the reason she was playing nice right now). Dora might have moved on, except she felt like she was falling, because she'd heard that voice before, seen that face before, recorded in the 1968 games. Struggling with the assistants several beds down was Bellatrix Black. Impossible, illusion, trick. Those all ran through Nymphadora's mind, but she still took off running, grabbing the arm of the assistant holding an ominous-looking syringe. Twisted, as hard as she could. Bellatrix lashed out, kicking the off-guard assistant, and they made it halfway out of the hospital - Bellatrix had just said "Come on, don't just stand there" - before the now-familiar darkness came, this time with a pinch in Dora's back. She woke up the fourth time annoyed, because goddammit, really? and this time they were in a room. She noted her supposedly dead aunt on a bed beside her, and got up to try the door. Locked. Turning back around, she almost went to check on Bellatrix before seeing a note on the floor, half under the door. Dora bent over to pick it up, scanned the words with a grim twist to her mouth. You can come out when you're ready to behave. She dropped the note, and went to check on the other girl. Bellatrix - or whoever the hell this was, because Dora knew a thing or two about stealing faces - was still out of it, and Nymphadora put two fingers on Bella's neck, checking for a pulse. Breathing, heart beating...good. Good? Maybe good. Dora was going to pull back, going to rifle through her first aid kit to see if she had anything remotely useful, when the other girl surged up, grabbing Nymphadora's arm and tackling her. They both rolled on the ground, Nymphadora automatically struggling, but when she saw Bellatrix scrabbling for some sort of weapon her eyes widened. "Stop, Bellatrix!" Wrong name, she thought, because that was impossible - except Healy seemed capable of living for-fucking-ever, and maybe it wasn't. She punched her elbow up and out, and scrambled backwards when Bella's breath sucked in, the other girl pausing enough to allow Dora to get away. "They stuck me, too." When Bellatrix had first blinked, she had no idea what to think. In fact, she didn't even try. She attacked right out. She had, after all, just come straight out of a fight. She was stuck in the neck with a needle as she scrambled to lash at the person who had been in front of her, yelling a warcry. Everything went white, then black. The second time was much the same, except she paused to note where she was. Not in the middle of the arena, not facing some tribute girl whose name she didn't even know, but in a-- what? Hospital. Lying in a bed, in a white-walled room. She felt slightly calmer, but dizzy as well-- had they drugged her? She jumped up to find her knives, or any kind of weapon and as she screamed she was stuck with a need yet again and fell to the floor. The third time, she finally realized that she needed to keep the needles away from her. Her brain still couldn't process her surroundings, her mind was fuzzy and she just thought I need to get out of here. She struggled against the men in the coats better this time, focusing on keeping the needles away from her. And then suddenly there was someone other than the lab coats, helping her. Bellatrix wasn't one to bark twice at help, kicking the lab coated person as the other girl-- her first thought was Andromeda? but this girl's hair was lighter and Andromeda wouldn't look like a tribute, Andromeda was safely back in District 2-- grabbed the person. Bellatrix's "Come on, don't just stand there," came out of her mouth without much thought. She didn't know who this other girl was, but they made it halfway out of the hospital before a familiar stab in the neck came and she screamed a weak "FUCK" before everything went dark again. When Bellatrix awoke again, it was to the feel of a hand on her neck. She reacted without thinking, tackling the girl to the ground. When Bellatrix received a jab following a shout of her name, she paused. It took a moment for her to remember the previous events in the hospital. This girl, whoever the hell she was, had been fighting the lab coats too. Wary, she stood, looking at the other girl with a guarded stance. All right, so she reminded her of Andromeda and had fought the lab coats. That was two pluses in her favour, but Bellatrix still had no clue who she was. A tribute, obviously, and one who apparently knew her name, but not one she recognized-- but there had only been two of them left, Bellatrix and another girl. So, who was this girl? But that was less important than the obvious issue. She glanced around the hospital room-- and it was a hospital. She made no attempt to apologize for attacking, instead jumping straight to, "Do you think we're in the Capitol?" She didn't know how that would work-- if Bellatrix had won, and she didn't remember winning, then why was this other girl here? Why didn't someone, her mentor or anyone, come to her and tell her she'd won? Bellatrix wasn't a fan of things that didn't make sense, and this most definitely didn't make sense. The Capitol had been Nymphadora’s first guest, before she’d seen Bellatrix, before she’d noticed the lack of interviews, before, before, before. She had won, hadn’t she? But this wasn’t how winning went, after, and she’d been staring at Bellatrix, trying to spot some flaw in the illusion, but it wasn’t there. As a metamorphmagus, Nymphadora was good at spotting flaws in disguises. It came from watching so closely, learning people so well, so that she could become them. She couldn’t find a single flaw in this girl. As far as Dora could tell, this was Bellatrix Black. Dora shook her head. “No. It looks like it, but - what’s the last thing you remember? Before coming here?” Watching her possible aunt closely, Dora wrapped her arms around her knees, still crouching on the balls of her feet, ready to move at a second’s notice. They both looked worn out and tense, but when she licked her lips Nymphadora registered the fact that she really had been drinking water since getting here. It didn’t hurt like it had back at the arena. Bellatrix had never asked her mentor what winning went like and had no one to tell her, so for all she knew this was how it went-- why it was a thing to confuse the shit out of the victor was beyond her, but she couldn't find another answer as of yet. Raising an eyebrow at the question, she thought about that for a second. If she'd won, then she should remember that, should remember that final blow before everything else. But she didn't recall that. Actually, the last blow she remember had been the other tribute hitting her in the side with the butt of her spear, not a blow from Bella to the girl. Bellatrix had recoiled and prepared to strike, but then it was as if she had been plucked straight from that moment to here. Which was screwed up, to say the least. "I was fighting," she answered simply. Deciding that that was hardly detail, she added, "I got hit in the side with the butt of the other girl's spear, then I was about to aim for her gut with my knife--" where even were her knives, she wondered, "-- and then I was here, and there were lab coats. You?" “I...” Nymphadora tried to figure out how to say it. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had suspicions. It wasn’t time for a quarter quell, but - well, maybe it was and she just didn’t remember it. “I won,” she finally said, simply. “But those were the 1987 games.” She’d heard the cannon, the final cannon. There was no question, none at all, that she’d won. Nymphadora couldn’t question it - she couldn’t, because if that wasn’t true, she was going to crack into tiny pieces. She started chewing on the tip of her thumb, trying to think it through. She’d noticed the lack of weaponry, too - probably they’d get them back when they “behaved”. “It has to be a game. Doesn’t it? Maybe - they’re pulling tributes from other games. With - with time turners or some sort of magic.” She looked at Bellatrix, forcing her expression into something less desolate. “You’re Bellatrix. Bellatrix Black. I know illusions, and you’re not...” Nymphadora trailed off. She settled on being honest, because if this was a new level to the game of their screwed up lives, she could do worse than to be honest with someone. It would be a change of pace, at the very least. “I’m Nymphadora. Nymphadora Bellatrix Black. Andromeda’s daughter.” Bellatrix's mind blanked mid-thought when the other girl said she'd won the 1987 games. She was about to claim that what the hell, how was that even possible, but kept her mouth shut for a moment for the explanation that followed. While the idea of a girl from 1987 sitting before her, the 1987 victor apparently, was outlandish-- some new, fucked up game with time turners almost sounded plausible. After a moment of frowning, considering, it did make sense. The gamemakers were always finding some new way to screw with their tributes, so perhaps they'd been dragged from their own games to some... far-future game of returnees because they'd... well, maybe they'd just run out of kids to reap, who knew. She was about to agree that was plausible when she heard the girl say who she was. Bella couldn't help it, she let out a bark of a laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth, startled. Andromeda's daughter. Nymphadora (what a mouthful of a name). Nymphadora Bellatrix, too. "You're Andromeda's daughter?" She asked skeptically. It was even more far-fetched compared to this 'Nymphadora' being from 1987, despite the resemblance to Andromeda that Bellatrix had first noticed. "But you--" she gestured with her hand wordlessly, lacking words. Nymphadora shrugged, unable to think of any evidence to give. There was - no. Changing her image to match her mother, saying things her mother said - anyone could do that. “I was born in 1973,” she said, instead. If they’re reaping past tributes, maybe - but no, she couldn’t think about her parents just then, couldn’t begin to get her hopes up. And what sort of fucked up hopes would those be? If it was a game, only one person was coming out of this alive. That was how the Healy games worked. You won or you died. There wasn’t any inbetween. She wasn’t certain why she was bothering with this, almost. Loving people was a liability, and Dora knew that she’d already let herself talk to her probably-aunt too long, but she couldn’t stop even if she’d wanted to. And maybe it didn’t matter, at this point, because if you won and then it didn’t stop, what did winning even mean? “Your mother still gambles and drinks, and she made me learn to sew,” Dora said, finally, unable to think of anything else that was remotely useful. She shook her head, figuring that either Bellatrix would believe her or no, but either way they had more pressing worries. “Look, this place - I didn’t see much before I was knocked out the first few times, but even though it looks like the Capitol, some of it looks...more advanced. It’s at least possible that we’re just...I don’t know, fucked up re-runs.” A depressing thought, because wow, but Dora couldn’t think of any other explanation just then. Bellatrix looked the girl over, lips pursed and arms folded across her chest. At the line about her mother, Bella nodded her head slightly. Gambling and drinking, most of the district probably knew that about Druella, but few people knew about the sewing-- that Bella knew of, anyway. It wasn't irrefutable proof, no, but well. Nymphadora had the best explanations here (or, rather, the only ones) and Bella didn't know what else to do besides just go along with this girl and hope she didn't get killed. "All right, not saying I believe you're... my sister's kid--" she couldn't even imagine why Andromeda would have a kid, what an insane thing to do, "-- but all right then." "I saw white walls, but I was busy kicking and yelling," Bellatrix said. "So, it's... well, all right, if you can be from 1987, maybe this... re-run of ours is even farther in the future? So it has more advanced... stuff?" She was grasping at straws. She couldn't even wrap her head around the idea of this girl from 1987, and here she was trying to toss them even farther into the future. What fun. Dora had to laugh at that, short and sharp. She’d been doing the same, more or less. She didn’t realize it, because she wasn’t monitoring her expressions like she often did, but her own smile pulled up the same way Andromeda’s did. She’d not seen her mother since she was small - she might not remember the quirk if asked about it, really. Andromeda hadn’t smiled often, after her own games. “Yeah. If they’re taking people from different times - do they need a reason? I don’t know. So, we’re in the training portion.” Dora shrugged again, not sure how to word it, but she couldn’t come up with a better suggestion. “No one has killed us,” she pointed that out matter-of-factly, and honestly, that was telling. “And they took our weapons after the last bit, but we had them to start with. There’s a note, saying we’ll get out of this room if we behave. So...I don’t know, back to the beginning.” Joy. “Possibly against anyone who has ever won or lost in the games.” Further joy. Bella noticed it, Andromeda's smile on Nymphadora's face. It was weird, seeing a familiar expression on a stranger, but Bella just filed it away in the Well She Might Be Being Honest pile for later when things weren't insane (not that that would ever happen, really). "Do they ever need a reason for anything?" She said with a shrug. It made sense. The training portion-- it explained a lot, so Bellatrix decided to accept that as fact until she heard a better explanation. "'Behave'?" She scoffed. Jackasses. Leave it to the gamemakers to pull two girls who have been fighting people to the death for days and then be surprised when they attacked them. "Probably just people who have won, I'd think. You won, we know that, and I--" Well, she didn't know she'd won, but she had to have, didn't she? "A game with people who had lost wouldn't be much fun to watch," she said, instead of asking for confirmation on her crossed-fingers hope. She had to have won, there was no other option. Bellatrix refused to think of the non-option as such, she just couldn't. "So, a game full of experienced tributes." “Not that I’ve seen,” Dora agreed, mildly enough. Fighting to the death each year until only one child survived - apparently that got boring after a while, if the quells were anything to go by. “So, we’re in a future quarter quell.” She smiled again at Bellatrix’s mockery of the gamemakers. It would have made more sense to bring people they’d known, their mentors or even their stylists, someone to explain the new games to them. She spotted the hesitation. Nymphadora didn’t say anything, because Bellatrix didn’t want to know. Had changed what she’d said. Dora nodded. “We both have experience. So - it makes sense. We’re probably in a quarter quell.” Hesitation, again, because Dora had never, ever made an alliance as herself, but this was different. This was family. “We could stick together. Until later. The man I spoke to, he gave me a map, told me I’m in “Theta”. And if we ask nicely, they’ll...probably let us out, so we can do recon.” "A future quarter quell." Had to be pretty far-future one to have gotten so bored as to reap people straight from their games rather than out of a crowd. Bella nodded resolutely. That was a plan-- better than not having a plan. Plans could be broken and changed easily, but at least they had one. That was something. "Until later." That's all alliances were, really, until later-- of course Bella had only made one alliance and that had ended, literally, in fire. Until later, until one of them had to die. Killing Andromeda's (possible) daughter from the future wasn't a fun thought, though. She'd burn that bridge when she got to it, however, because figuring things out and figuring out their next move was more important. "We'll just say please, and... sorry. For being kill-happy," she shrugged, letting her arms fall to her sides. "We're pretty, they can't stay that mad at us for attacking them, anyway. They're gamemakers, but they're still not that bright." That wasn't true, but insulting the gamemakers made her feel just a little better. Even if they were probably overlistening to this conversation right now. This time Nymphadora was the one who snorted. They were pretty, both of them - tributes often were - and anyway, keeping two tributes locked up forever wouldn’t make for a good game. Until later was a vague promise, but Nymphadora didn’t want to think about what later might entail. She’d been named for this woman, after all, and if they were in the future - would winning mean anything? Would there be a family left to get back to? She stood up, and after a pause offered Bellatrix her hand, to help her aunt to her feet. “We may as well try the door. If they’re listening, they’ll know we won’t kill them on sight this time.” Dora thought about that statement for a second, and then smiled, a little grimly. “Probably.” Bellatrix eyed the offered hand for a moment before accepting the help. She was tired, she could feel that as she stood. Wasn't exactly surprising, considering, but a nuisance. She dusted off her clothes for no real reason but out of habit. "Probably," Bella agreed with a slight smirk herself. She went to the door, right up against it, and with the sweetest voice she could manage-- which still probably sounded annoyed, and a little demanding-- she called out, "Hello?" She waited a second, glancing at Nymphadora. "We're... quite ready to come out, now. We promise to behave!" This is absurd, she thought, trying to keep herself from just shouting out a demand to be released. Bellatrix was lucky - her niece was a lot better at faking sweet than she was. Dora knocked on the door, figuring it couldn’t hurt. “We were just startled,” she added, eyes widening as if she might cry, her voice trembling. “We won’t hurt you. Really.” Nevermind that they might, if they thought they were in danger. One or both of them must have seemed convincing, because there was a click. Glancing at Bellatrix, Nymphadora reached for the door, and this time it swung open. On a table outside were their things, along with two wands, which made her eyebrows go up in surprise and not a little amount of suspicion. Still, she collected her backpack, double-checking the contents, and added the wand after a second’s consideration. “I was told to go to Theta unit two,” she told Bellatrix, waiting for her aunt to collect herself. Bellatrix did feel lucky-- and slightly impressed. She had no doubt that this Nymphadora wasn't a sweet little crybaby-- no victor could win like that-- and knew that acting demere was a strategy she had not managed to master whatsoever. When the door swung open, Bella let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Being locked up in a room in a hospital forever hadn't been something she'd been wanting to do, ever at all. She whistled at the sight of the wands. What kind of game is this? she thought as she fingered one of them. Wands. Why would they be given wands? That was either foolhardy on the gamemakers' part or something devious-- probably the latter. She stuffed the wand in a pocket in her jacket, along with her little tin of cream and the pair knives she'd killed a boy for. She tried to think for a moment, looking down at her own journal, to think if she could remember if they'd said anything to her. She'd been so busy struggling she couldn't remember if they had. But when she flipped open her little book, a map fell out and she hurriedly looked at it. It was certainly shaped like the kind of building they'd use for a training center, if an odd one. A spot was marked on the map. "I think I'm supposed to go there are well," she said thoughtfully. At the prodding, her mind did remember a man telling her so, before she'd jumped up and gone for a weapon-- again. "Question is, what's in 'Theta Unit Two', mhmm?" Peering at the map over Bella’s shoulder (she had to lean around a bit, since at fourteen Nymphadora was more slight than Bellatrix), Dora’s eyebrows went up, and for the second time she felt a jolt of surprise. This game clearly wasn’t going to be anything either of them were familiar with. “I think we ought to go find out,” she said, after a moment, checking the placement of her knives even as she spoke. It went unsaid that this was probably a trap. But if they thought they could trap the two Blacks, well - they had another thing coming, this time. This time, they were going in prepared. Bellatrix examined other areas on the map-- there were other areas that looked like the 'Theta' one, all around this place. The name in the corner proclaimed it 'The Compound', as if 'The Training Center' just wasn't a good enough name. Figuring out the path they'd have to take to Unit 002 in Theta from where they were in the hospital, she folded it back up and stuffed it in her pocket with the wand. "Well, then let the games begin," she said unceremoniously. |