shatterverse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

hibym a jona,
iroh

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They scrub her up, dress her all nice in dirty grey, tie her hands behind her back and lead her blind out of her cell with the black hood knotted closed at the front. She can't breathe in the smoky street air, can't hear over the press of boos and cheers and chatter that erupts on her ears.

This is it. She's going to die.

The hangman's hands are surprisingly gentle -- but then they have to be, don't they? The crowd needs to be told who's the hero and the villain of the scene -- it's just like a play, she realises, just the endlessly-retold fable of the Bad Little Thief who was Brought To Justice. She's blithely accepted it hundreds of times as part of the gleeful crowd.

This is it. This is it. She's going to die, and they're going to mince her body so she can't come back, and--

--there's a split second's nothing as the hangman pulls the trapdoor lever, clunk, and--

--SHE SCREAMS as the wood beneath her feet vanishes, crack, and--

--hits grass, crumples, struggles, falls, screams again, is she dead?, screams again.

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"It's not one of those stuffy ones where everyone just talks, is it? Only the closest we've done to that is Ronin Guthilde. I was Plyhenna," she adds with a hint of pride, before glancing at Iroh and launching into a slightly overblown: "Let him make trust wi'the storm, for with all its howling he shall blow us not apart. Well, obviously there are fights and things, but it's all ladies and gentlemen-like, is what I mean."

And... breathe.

"Er," Iroh grins at her bemusedly. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that one. And 'The Tea Shop' is..." he hmms to himself, "Not the sort of play my nephew would approve of, let's say."

Jona has no idea how to interpret that description. But there are more pressing matters!

"Ronin Guthilde," she says, drawing out the syllables like she's explaining a difficult concept. "Penman Great."

Don't tell her you've never heard of Penman Great.

Iroh would never do that!

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar."

Okay... he would.

Jona finds this baffling!

Also, rather amusing.

"No offence, but the Fire Nation lives under a rock."

This prompts a couple of slow blinks as Iroh stops walking. "I..." He trails off. "I am beginning to suspect that something very strange is going on here." Yes, only now beginning to suspect!

After all... how could anyone not know about the war. It's only been going on for a hundred years.

"Apart from some witch or something making us disappear from one place and appear in another?"

Jona garnishes sarcasm with a grin!

"Yes," Iroh laughs, "Apart from that." He shakes his head, "I am beginning to suspect that you are not from the same place I am."

"..."

Apparently Shatterverse just acquired another resident who can speak in punctuation.

"Of course I'm not."

"I mean," Iroh clarifies, "That I do not think we're from the same world. I can't imagine anyone not having heard of the Fire Nation."

After a moment or two, Jona decides on laughing as opposed to freaking out.

"What, you mean I've been snatched away by fairies or something?"

"A distinct possibility," Iroh agrees. He sounds surprisingly unperturbed by this notion. "I notice, for instance, your hands." He holds up his own for inspection.

Jona makes bewildered faces at him. Hey, she met someone once who'd been snatched by fairies. If it's actually happened, it's not something to be casual about.

She glances at his hands, in case they've sprouted scales or something since she last looked. Nope.

"What's wrong with my hands?"

"I suspect nothing is wrong with your hands," he explains. "But I've never seen anything quite like them."

"Might just not be any swarans where you live," she objects. "Aren't any humans down in the tundras. Doesn't mean we're from different worlds."

"I've been up to the tundra. I have, in fact, traveled the world, my world at least."

But but but different worlds! And the dragging-into therof! That never ends well!

"You can'tve seen all of it!"

"True," he agrees. "But most of it. I've been to both poles, the major continents, I may not have been everywhere, but I don't think I would have missed at least hearing about... swarans?"

Jona feels justified in flailing at this juncture!

She doesn't really have any other intelligent argument to support her point, but she's never let that stop her before, so: "You could have! There aren't a lot of us!"

"But you're not cut off from the world," Iroh continues gently. "The world has been at war for a hundred years, so if you haven't heard of the Fire Nation..." he trails off and offers a sympathetic look.

Oh, hell.

"But... you have to follow lights and things, to get taken," she offers weakly.

"I..." Iroh frowns. "Really?" He looks around pointedly. He, for one, didnt follow any lights.

No worries, Jona can provide explanations. "If you don't get taken when you're a baby, they can only get you by tricking you away. With lights in the dark, the stars, and music, that kind of thing."

In a dejected tone. Because, well, the fact that she even has to explain this lends credence to the 'different worlds' theory.

"And how do you explain this?" he waves to indicate the fields that do not look at all like the prison he was in earlier today.

"Fairyland," she says promptly.

Well, it would explain why there are no buildings. (They can't create, say the stories. Only steal.)

It might also explain the fact that the clouds seem to be swooping down and alighting on the grass up ahead, like so many overgrown, wooly pidgeons.

...Hang on, what the heck?