Allison Hargreeves | #00.03 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
numberthree) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2020-05-04 02:58 pm
numberthree) wrote in maskormenacelogs2020-05-04 02:58 pm
i found myself in crowded rooms, feeling so alone
WHO: Teen!Rumor + You
WHERE: Nonah (or wherever, we can handwave how)
WHEN: May 4th
WHAT: Allison is hit with Wild Fey Magic, and reverts back to being 13
WARNINGS: One super temper and a mass case of flippant, ruthless uses of powers
Number Three had no clue where she was when she woke up.
The bedroom was bare and unfamiliar, and someone had put her in some weird set of pajamas. While their father might be the end all be all a totalitarian dictator, he had prepared them, if not for every situation, then with skills that could be used wherever they might find themselves. If panic touched the edges of her thoughts, she brushed it away with all the dismissal of ants. She skivvied out of the strange bed, stole a tunic shirt, and belted it at the waist, making sure her every step was silent.
She'd been kidnapped and tortured before. That wasn't anything new. But she wasn't about to stick around and wait to see what the latest flavor whatever villain who got the drop on her had in mind. Weirdly. She couldn't remember how she'd been kidnapped at all, where her uniform was. But that could wait. They could have drugged her. She could focus on that once she was home.
Number Three crept out of the bedroom into ... a house? A house full of boxes? And one where the front door only had a knob lock and deadbolt? This was too weird. But she wasn't looking a gift-horse in the mouth. She slipped out from the house, closing the door carefully, slowly, and waiting for about fifteen more feet of silent steps from the door before she started sprinting down the street, still holding her breath.
It only gets weirder and weirder. She doesn't recognize any of the street signs, and she asks someone on a sidewalk where she is, and how far from home it is. But she doesn't know the name of this place. Or anywhere else they mentioned. Weirder still when she finally found someone with a phone (or whatever this was, that was the size of her hand???), and The Academy phone number didn't work.
It's a mistake the first time she mentions The Umbrella Academy because a crowd forms out of nowhere, screaming questions (about whether she's some love child from the future? And asking any number of things that seem crazily worse. She's pretty sure someone just asked if they went in for underwear or no underwear with costumes wherever she came from).
Eventually, with or without some help, Number Three does manage to wrench herself free of the teeming crowds, that are like the crowds from home and nothing like that at all. After getting a few blocks away, she dropped on a bench. She was racking her head. This wasn't her job. This was what Luther did. Or Five, if he was allowed to.
One barefoot, forlorn, if headstrong and temperamental,
child-hero for sale to any buyers who would like to find her.
WHERE: Nonah (or wherever, we can handwave how)
WHEN: May 4th
WHAT: Allison is hit with Wild Fey Magic, and reverts back to being 13
WARNINGS: One super temper and a mass case of flippant, ruthless uses of powers
Number Three had no clue where she was when she woke up.
The bedroom was bare and unfamiliar, and someone had put her in some weird set of pajamas. While their father might be the end all be all a totalitarian dictator, he had prepared them, if not for every situation, then with skills that could be used wherever they might find themselves. If panic touched the edges of her thoughts, she brushed it away with all the dismissal of ants. She skivvied out of the strange bed, stole a tunic shirt, and belted it at the waist, making sure her every step was silent.
She'd been kidnapped and tortured before. That wasn't anything new. But she wasn't about to stick around and wait to see what the latest flavor whatever villain who got the drop on her had in mind. Weirdly. She couldn't remember how she'd been kidnapped at all, where her uniform was. But that could wait. They could have drugged her. She could focus on that once she was home.
Number Three crept out of the bedroom into ... a house? A house full of boxes? And one where the front door only had a knob lock and deadbolt? This was too weird. But she wasn't looking a gift-horse in the mouth. She slipped out from the house, closing the door carefully, slowly, and waiting for about fifteen more feet of silent steps from the door before she started sprinting down the street, still holding her breath.
It only gets weirder and weirder. She doesn't recognize any of the street signs, and she asks someone on a sidewalk where she is, and how far from home it is. But she doesn't know the name of this place. Or anywhere else they mentioned. Weirder still when she finally found someone with a phone (or whatever this was, that was the size of her hand???), and The Academy phone number didn't work.
It's a mistake the first time she mentions The Umbrella Academy because a crowd forms out of nowhere, screaming questions (about whether she's some love child from the future? And asking any number of things that seem crazily worse. She's pretty sure someone just asked if they went in for underwear or no underwear with costumes wherever she came from).
Eventually, with or without some help, Number Three does manage to wrench herself free of the teeming crowds, that are like the crowds from home and nothing like that at all. After getting a few blocks away, she dropped on a bench. She was racking her head. This wasn't her job. This was what Luther did. Or Five, if he was allowed to.
One barefoot, forlorn, if headstrong and temperamental,
child-hero for sale to any buyers who would like to find her.
no subject
Taking back the communicator from her hand, he hits the send button and gives Number Three a curt nod of his head. Meanwhile, he's already running his mind through the possibilities that this effort won't work. Perhaps Number One, in a fit of youthful impatience, broke this delicate piece of machinery and has foregone messaging altogether.
He could always be busy with—god, who cares what Luther's hobbies are? The models and LPs. Those books that Five may or may not have filched at his own convenience, once upon a time (boundaries are such a tenuous concept anyway). There's a great number of unknowns in this place, so really, it's kind of a shot in the dark.
"Want to take a walk for a minute? I noticed the locals here are a bit...loose with their gossip. It might be best not to linger in one spot." Five is still holding the device in his hand, should Luther respond, and he gestures forward to the path ahead. If the Academy is well-versed on anything, they definitely know about being mobbed by fans. (There's some things Five didn't miss, even at the end of the world.)
no subject
Made it easy to drop into her own place.
Her own skin.
To settle the line of her spine, and
the span of her shoulders, and the rise of her chin.
Like everything about it was beneath Number Three's attention.
She nodded her head in the direction away, and started them walking one direction instead of simply asking where, or even agreeing. "Yeah. I got to see that up close and personal already. Wherever this is, they still know what the Academy is, but it was weird, too. Their questions were just weird."
no subject
That's really putting mildly; obviously wherever or whenever this is, the Temps Commission has no oversight. Too many variables, too much chaos. Now, Five doesn't consider himself sentimental, but there is something about the present moment that feels right in spite of all that.
Where and when they pulled his sister from, she's still got that same spark of fire in her eyes, that defiance in her step. Just like he remembers, in fact, and the nostalgia is enough to make the edge of his mouth twitch upward. "What kind of questions did they ask?"
no subject
Like Four's fear of himself, and Six's transparent reticence.
Testing and practice were out, so it all air and empty words for Five.
She crinkled her nose up at the question, though, and it made her shift her weight from foot to foot, shoulders tipping, as she half rolled her eyes (at the sheer stupidity of 'normal' people even wherever this was). "Stupid things. Like whether we preferred the underwear on the inside or outside of our costumes look."