Network comm for The Land of Make Believe

Sand. In. My. Eyes! I hate this place already.

I’m in some kind of hot, sandy, fucking shithole. A fucking shithole where apparition hurts!

Am I here alone? Sev? Eames? Tracey?

NO!

This cannot be! Who ever you are that has taken me I demand you send me back this instant!

*There is a pause and when nothing happens he yells:*

NOW!

Ah sweet sobriety, how I hate thee.

Elena is gone. There I said it, and I'm not fine.

My supply is getting low.

I find this place to be exhausting. Even if I'm not doing much. Or maybe because I'm not doing much.

Does anyone here in the castle play basketball? It's...something to do.

I find myself intrigued by this society and it's dependency on these devices. It seems that you can not walk down the street without seeing at least a dozen people with one in their hands. They are certainly useful, though how the Muggles invented something like this without magic makes me curious about how their minds work. I think I might like one of my own to study.

I'm bored of my job. Who keeps a job longer than a year? Really? Apart from like... people with real jobs.

Sadly, I have bugger all else to do.

Where am I? Antonin? Bella? Who's done this?

[AU!Andromeda, who married Antonin Dolohov rather than Ted Tonks.]

I had hoped to avoid using this vile Muggle thing, but as there are no magical means of communication in this place, I am left with little choice. I'm looking for Rodolphus or Rabastan Lestrange. Can anyone tell me if they've met anyone by those names?