http://notvitiligo.livejournal.com/ (
notvitiligo.livejournal.com) wrote in
shatterverse2008-05-20 02:42 pm
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Stupid lack of girl scout training.
And cell phone charging. Because Jessica's phone is now a useless square of metal and plastic. Which means fire is the only means of getting light right now. Which means she needs to figure out how to MAKE one.
And rubbing two sticks together does not work the way it does on cartoons.
And cell phone charging. Because Jessica's phone is now a useless square of metal and plastic. Which means fire is the only means of getting light right now. Which means she needs to figure out how to MAKE one.
And rubbing two sticks together does not work the way it does on cartoons.
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Because there -is- light coming toward her, blue and steady, glowing brightly in contrast to the tunnels - brightly enough that it probably reaches her before its bearers' footsteps do.
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At the sound of foosteps, she relaxes just a little.
"Hello?"
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Sirius appears, lit by his wand, a very cheerful expression on his face.
"Care for a light?"
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Don't feel too bad, Sirius! She was expecting something more dangerous and horrifying! It's a good just!
"Um, thanks."
Because even if it's weird light, it's something that means she can see enough to NOT go plummeting down stairwells.
"Tomas took the motorbike," she explains redundantly.
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Normally Sirius would be quite crestfallen for a girl to say 'Oh it's just you' about him, but under the circumstances he has bigger problems, really.
The cell phone is squinted at, in a confused manner. "'Scuse, but what's that, then?"
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Are you kidding her?
"Cell phone. You know, things you use to call people? Ring ring, can you hear me now?"
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Pause.
"Lily reckons I ought to tell people it's the seventies where I'm from," he says, by way of explanation. "And magical folk like me, we live separately from the ones who aren't magical, so stuff they take for granted is sort of lost on me. But...er, does your fellytone work here?"
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.....
"The seventies."
There is not enough what in the world.
"Um, no. It's out of juice, and there aren't any bars, anyway."
And, because she knows that will end up with some sort of stupid interpretation, "I mean, it's... sort of like a radio. And nothing's on." She waves her hands vaguely.
"You guys at least have radios, right?"
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Sirius is, indeed, about to interpret that as having something to do with food preparation.
Evans never said you could get juice out of it, is what he is about to say...until she explains.
"Oh. Yeah, we've radios," he says, nodding. "'Course they run on magic 'stead of...whatsit....Ickletrickity?"
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"Electricity?"
This is almost like one of those stupid bully games kids play. Except usually there are witnesses and people sniggering and not this guy who is either totally sincere or a Hollywood-caliber actor making himself look dumb.
Also, glowing magic wands. That'd be a LOT of effort for a stupid game.
"I'd show you what it does if I had a charger.
"Um, and power."
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Sirius repeats the word, slowly, and nods, smiling brightly at her. "I could probably get it to run on magic for you. Take some fiddling, but I'm not one of the best students in my year for no reason."
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She takes a moment to eye him.
"Yeah, um..." Sigh. "There's nobody to call, anyway, so..."
In the spirit of not moping all over the tiles here, she adds, "You any good with making a fire, though?"
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"Those plant things thought so when Evans and I were offing 'em," he says. "Where d'you want it? And is there anything down here that's flammable?"
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Small, possibly a rat. A, um, mutant rat. She'd believe it, even if this weren't an apocalyptic wasteland.
Fortunately, they're not desperate enough for food that she'd need to try and kill it.
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See, the eyes, they start stalking closer, with her set dead in the center of their gaze.
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In theory, she could call for help. If she were the type to think to do that.
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Is it smoking a cigar?
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OK, that's weird.
And stinky.
But not something she would necessarily put past mutant New York subway rats.
There is a brief pause to calculate the risk vs. benefit scenario involving trying to wrestle a mutant (possibly crawling-with-plague) rat for a fire source. The conclusion is that rubbing sticks together sounds a lot more fruitful.
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This is actually not the weirdest thing that's ever spoken to her.
"...hi."
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"Trying not to die."
She's not sure whether she should add a "Like you." The only creepy things that have talked to her so far were already dead, but she's not ruling out talking mutant subway rats in a world with mobile carnivorous trees.
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