tushanshu | Video

[The shock of pink hair attached to a young woman occupies the left half of the screen. It's obvious that she's had the crash course in use of these interesting devices, but that her familiarity with them is non-existent.

When she realizes she's not centered on camera, she scoots over a bit, double-checks, and then off she goes.]

Can't say I'm tickled pink with the theme of this particular party, but what choice've I got? I'm here, right?

[Her hands go up in a mocking 'you caught me' gesture.

Hah. Yeah, right. No one's getting off that easy. This isn't exactly what Nymphadora Tonks was planning to do with her day. Maybe if she'd had a little forewarning about being technically abducted, sure, she could have planned out using weird tech and having her soul stuck in a little dark purple stone on a ring.

She didn't get that luxury, though, so no one here gets the luxury of avoiding her questionable (and oddly mirthful) wrath.]

You see, the thing here is - I mean, the reason I've got my knickers twisted - is I was minding my own business when I got snatched up. If I hadn't been minding my own business, it'd be a different story. If I'd been hexing your turtle from a broomstick thirty feet up, sure, I could completely understand you lot being a bit miffed. Hexing a turtle's not on.

But me, I was just going through my daily rota as one does, completely innocent and not at all aware of cities on the backs of turtles.

Nevermind I was about to tuck in to my supper. That's just rude.

[With a dramatic sigh, she continues sympathetically:]

Oh, but I suppose you all couldn't help yourselves. It's the hair, isn't it? People just love the hair.

[All right; she's not that upset. Yet. She loves a good adventure, and either the reality of her predicament hasn't quite hit home - or she's going to save her fretting for a more private moment.]

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[Spoilers: he did.]

My dear, even if you do have green skin and a great ugly wart it would be ungentlemanly to draw attention to that fact.

[She sounds young. Not a teenager, but not much older. Maybe Raine's age ~~ohGodlet'snotthinkaboutthat~~. In the range of charmable, either way.]

I just have one, very important question: Do you use a wand?

[At this point, she's going to allow this conversation to run as though she was just joking about being a witch; she knows there's not much point in hiding it, considering all the things she's learned already, and the fact that she doesn't actually have much magic right now...but she can't bring herself to come right out and admit to being a witch.

Not seriously, anyway.]

What sort of witch would I be without a wand?

[A beat.]

You're not going to crack a joke about having me help you polish your wand, are you? Because, one, I've heard that one before, and two, that would be ungentlemanly.

One, I'm far too experienced to use such a tired line like that. And two, I'm far too much a gentleman to be so crass.

[He looks amused but also vaguely disgusted. Really. That's the sort of thing he'd expect from one of the Dead Men. Besides, he already has a lady to help him polish anything he might want 'polished'. Which he is also not going to say out loud. Because gentleman.]

None of the witches in my world have wands. Or broomsticks.

[A pause.]

Unless we count the ones they use to sweep their floors, but I'm honestly not sure they bother.

[That's a relief. At least at this level of acquaintanceship, he seems true to his word about being a gentleman. Tonks settles back, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, but none of the interest fading from her expression.]

There are witches where you're from?

[It's not so much a question as it is an invitation for him to elaborate on the matter.]

Oh, yes. There's, let's see ... Crones of the Cold Embrace, Maidens of the New Dawn, Brides of Blood Tears, if you want covens. Others choose to be unaffiliated and tend to work in their family groups.

[He rests his chin on his hand.]

Most of the magic folk where I come from are called sorcerers, male or female. Witches and warlocks use magic in a totally different way. It's more ritualised and ... for lack of a better word ... raw. No wands needed to apply.

[The last is said with some amusement. Wands. Wands. Next she'll be telling him she's from Harry Potter world.]

[She still wants to be careful, but...well, she's never met a witch (or warlock, or sorcerer) from another world before. How many chances like this will she get?]

How do they channel their magic? Or is that what the ritual is for? That's what a wand does, you know: it's a tool for focusing your magic, drawing it out from inside you and refining it so it's not so raw, like you said.

[Ahem.]

At least, that's what I'd guess a wand was for if I had to use one.

[Right. Neither confirm nor deny.]

Yes, I know.

[Still amused.]

My discipline usually involves a focussing tool, but it doesn't have to be a wand. It usually isn't. Mine was a cane; one of my colleagues used a gun, another a cloak. I know another who used a suit of armour.

[Shrug.]

A sorcerer's magic is filtered through their true-name; it prevents most truly terrible backlashes unless the sorcerer is ridiculously powerful. My discipline just happens to need the extra nudge. I don't know enough about the magic of witches and warlocks to say how they work, if not in the same manner. They generally don't appreciate sorcerers butting into their business.

[Pretense? What pretense?]

[This is getting a little complex.]

You're talking about witches and wiz- warlocks as though you're not one of them - but you use magic?

[Ah, wait, she's got it.]

There's a difference between them and sorcerers. For you, I mean. There's no difference for - ["Me"? No.] - people who use wands.

I thought I just said that.

[It's a benign sort of arrogance, but it's still arrogance.]

You're keeping up. Well done.

I have my moments.

[Boy, she can out-arrogant you. She is a descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, after all. It's a genetic thing to at least play very well at arrogance.]

Why don't we backtrack a little here, and you tell me your name?

[He smiles blandly, and bows from his seat.]

Solomon Wreath. And you?

Just Tonks, thanks.

[What luck! A whole society of people who never have to know her first name!]

[Tonks. Now why does that name sound--oh. Solomon's face shifts from bland amusement to delighted amusement. His tone remains bland, though, which totally doesn't match the look on his face.]

Would that happen to be Nymphadora Tonks, by any chance?

[Oh, this is going to be fun.]

[Her initial reaction is, of course, to immediately jump down his throat for announcing her unfortunate name where everyone can hear it.]

Don't call me -

[Wait a tick. How did he know her given name?]

How...?

[He just smiles. It's a lazy, amused, sly smile, not quite a smirk.]

Ah, now, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?

[He's not going to bring that subject up on a public comm--someone's bound to go nuts on him. But tease Tonks with it? Definitely.]

[This is starting to creep her out. His smile is met with a frown from her.]

I don't like this sort of surprise. Have we met before?

Not in the least.

[Still smiling. It's hard to tell whether he's unaware of the effect it's having, or knows and is doing it on purpose.]

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