Harley Quinn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beforethepunchline) wrote2017-10-03 10:38 pm
beforethepunchline) wrote2017-10-03 10:38 pm
Entry tags:
[debut] if you go chasing rabbits and you know you're going to fall
It's been a long few weeks. The last while has taken her from Harleen Quinzel to Harley Quinn, from London to Leningrad, from psychiatry to fighting Nazis and monster armies. (Seriously, is she crazy or did everyone in this arc have a monster army? What is that about?) It's brought her from being alone to love. Heck, she even had a vacation under the sea.
All in all, it's been a pretty good time.
Okay, so there were the giant monster octopus things and that General Faora lady and Killer Frost, and she'd been real worried about Raven for a minute there. But they've turned it all around. Leningrad hasn't just survived the siege; it's blossoming in the depths of winter, entirely literally. That's all Pam-a-Lamb. While everyone recuperates from the last fight, she's covered Leningrad in fruits and flowers.
The air is sweet with it, redolent with rose and daisy and violet. It does nothing to help Harley stay awake where they lay, curled together on the grass, vines and flowers around them. The stingray Mera lent them, now small, floats down to rest on her hand, and Harley closes her eyes. They've had their share of war. There's no escaping the fact that, soon enough, they'll get right back into the fray. For now, though, they've earned their rest.
The air is different around her when she wakes up, warm, with a hint of aged upholstery. She sits up slowly, fingers curling tight into the seat as she looks around, heart skipping a beat.
She's on a train, that much is clear. How she got here, though, she doesn't know, and she isn't too keen on that. Appearing in places she shouldn't be with no sign of Pamela in sight, that isn't all that funny, and she's not sure, for a moment, how to make it be. She looks out the window for help, but there's just countryside rolling past, the ocean visible in the distance, a city coming into view that she doesn't recognize.
And then there's the fact no one else is on board. Oh, she can see and hear people in other cars, glimpse them through the windows in the doors, but there's not a soul in this car with her. So when the train pulls into the station and comes to a stop, it's a surprise to Harley that the door opens. She steps off the train with a handful of other passengers, and no one seems to give her so much as a second glance, which is kind of weird in itself.
She approaches the information booth, but the girl there just glances up for a moment before handing her a heavy manila envelope. "This is yours," she says, incredibly bored by it all, and then closes the window before Harley can ask any questions.
She's not sure what to make of it, that she's suddenly been handed this or that the girl seemed to recognize her as the intended recipient of the package. She's not sure what to do with the contents of the envelope either, which she starts to examine as she leaves the station. There's cash, which is great, even if it's an unfamiliar currency, but the ID is kind of creepy, and then there's a strange object of metal and glass that has Harley hesitating. She doesn't know what it is, but it looks pretty futuristic, and the cars and clothes around her ain't like anything she knows from home.
"Oh, no," she says, "time travel." She taps on the booth's glass front. "Hey, I didn't sign up for this."
All in all, it's been a pretty good time.
Okay, so there were the giant monster octopus things and that General Faora lady and Killer Frost, and she'd been real worried about Raven for a minute there. But they've turned it all around. Leningrad hasn't just survived the siege; it's blossoming in the depths of winter, entirely literally. That's all Pam-a-Lamb. While everyone recuperates from the last fight, she's covered Leningrad in fruits and flowers.
The air is sweet with it, redolent with rose and daisy and violet. It does nothing to help Harley stay awake where they lay, curled together on the grass, vines and flowers around them. The stingray Mera lent them, now small, floats down to rest on her hand, and Harley closes her eyes. They've had their share of war. There's no escaping the fact that, soon enough, they'll get right back into the fray. For now, though, they've earned their rest.
The air is different around her when she wakes up, warm, with a hint of aged upholstery. She sits up slowly, fingers curling tight into the seat as she looks around, heart skipping a beat.
She's on a train, that much is clear. How she got here, though, she doesn't know, and she isn't too keen on that. Appearing in places she shouldn't be with no sign of Pamela in sight, that isn't all that funny, and she's not sure, for a moment, how to make it be. She looks out the window for help, but there's just countryside rolling past, the ocean visible in the distance, a city coming into view that she doesn't recognize.
And then there's the fact no one else is on board. Oh, she can see and hear people in other cars, glimpse them through the windows in the doors, but there's not a soul in this car with her. So when the train pulls into the station and comes to a stop, it's a surprise to Harley that the door opens. She steps off the train with a handful of other passengers, and no one seems to give her so much as a second glance, which is kind of weird in itself.
She approaches the information booth, but the girl there just glances up for a moment before handing her a heavy manila envelope. "This is yours," she says, incredibly bored by it all, and then closes the window before Harley can ask any questions.
She's not sure what to make of it, that she's suddenly been handed this or that the girl seemed to recognize her as the intended recipient of the package. She's not sure what to do with the contents of the envelope either, which she starts to examine as she leaves the station. There's cash, which is great, even if it's an unfamiliar currency, but the ID is kind of creepy, and then there's a strange object of metal and glass that has Harley hesitating. She doesn't know what it is, but it looks pretty futuristic, and the cars and clothes around her ain't like anything she knows from home.
"Oh, no," she says, "time travel." She taps on the booth's glass front. "Hey, I didn't sign up for this."