"Bell" @atomic-bell - Tumblr Blog

She looked down at the hand, then looked up at the Owl woman and finished the bite she'd frozen midway through, chewing and swallowing before answering.

"Call me B--" She flinched, vision flashing red. "--Bell." She grit her teeth, panting, "Sorry. I'm getting these... weird flashes, lately."

cyberengle

There's a name, but she's still missing a form of ID. While Engle could try to sympathize with her plight, formality comes first to her one-track mind, so she imply tilts her head and asks again.

"Identification?"

She makes a beckoning motion and keeps her hand right where it is. It doesn't seem like she's going to budge from the table anytime soon.

atomic-bell

She blinked, again, then reached into her pocket to produce a UK Driving license that read 'Ana E. Alexander', listing her date of birth in March of 1948, from Brighton, among other things. She was really more baffled that the owl-woman was insisting on ID than she was concerned about deniability.

"So you're an Owl? Somehow? Or a woman? Is that rude? I'm so--I'm new here. And I'm still wondering if I'm hallucinating all of this."

#ic #cyberengle 1 #sorry for the wait aaaa #my brain has been weirdly blah lately

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atomic-bell

She blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked again.

"I don't know what 'HAWK' is. So no. I'm just, ah." She shrugged, taking another bite, mostly to buy herself time to stop buffering, then continued, "I guess I'm not really anyone, given I have no idea where I am. And I'm pretty sure I hit my head or something, because I'm talking to a woman with a barn owl's head."

"Is this, you know, normal, here?"

cyberengle

Her eyes seem to bore into her for a few moments more, until finally, Engle relents. If this woman is an agent of H.A.W.K., then she's not very good at her job.

"It's considered normal where I'm from," she says. "And where I am now, is called... Spirale."

"I still want to know who you are."

She holds out her hand expectantly. It's remarkably human, in spite of her head.

"Name and identification."

atomic-bell

She looked down at the hand, then looked up at the Owl woman and finished the bite she'd frozen midway through, chewing and swallowing before answering.

"Call me B--" She flinched, vision flashing red. "--Bell." She grit her teeth, panting, "Sorry. I'm getting these... weird flashes, lately."

#ic #cyberengle 1

atomic-bell

She stared at her, still buffering. This didn't make a lot of sense. Any sense, actually. Why did this woman have an owl for a head? Or why did this owl have a woman for a body? What kind of body armour was that? How badly had Adler scrambled her, exactly?

Bell shook her head, screwing her eyes shut a moment, then exhaling, slowly. This was a particularly elaborate hallucination. Her mind was constructing it to protect her from whatever it was Adler wanted. Obviously. She'd close her eyes a moment, focus on something else--the Havana mission, maybe--and the Owl-woman would be gone.

When she opened her eyes, the woman was still there. She finished her bite, set down the fork, and slapped herself in the face.

Still there.

She took another deep breath, nodding. Okay. She was just fully insane. Got it. Might as well play along. Not like she had any other options.

However, when Bell opened her mouth to speak, she seemed to have managed to contort her boot into her mouth, because instead of anything remotely tactful, the only words she could say were "...you're an owl."

cyberengle

This woman appears like she's on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

Unfortunately for her, Engle's not one to give up a line of questioning. Not when she's so close to the truth.

You're an owl, the woman says.

Engle simply says, "Correct."

She leans in, putting her weight against the table.

"Are you an agent of HAWK?"

atomic-bell

She blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked again.

"I don't know what 'HAWK' is. So no. I'm just, ah." She shrugged, taking another bite, mostly to buy herself time to stop buffering, then continued, "I guess I'm not really anyone, given I have no idea where I am. And I'm pretty sure I hit my head or something, because I'm talking to a woman with a barn owl's head."

"Is this, you know, normal, here?"

#ic #cyberengle 1 #sorry for the delay I have had a WEEK.

cyberengle

The way this woman was looking at her, it was like she's never seen an owl before. Or maybe she was an agent of H.A.W.K. who didn't expect to see a Cyber Owl here.

Of course, if she was an agent of H.A.W.K., then she'd probably flee instead of waving awkwardly at her. Either way, she has Engle's attention, and owls aren't birds that let their prey slip by.

After two slow blinks, she sits at the table, taking a seat directly across from the stranger.

She doesn't say a word. She simply tents her hands and waits to see if she'll crack under pressure.

atomic-bell

She stared at her, still buffering. This didn't make a lot of sense. Any sense, actually. Why did this woman have an owl for a head? Or why did this owl have a woman for a body? What kind of body armour was that? How badly had Adler scrambled her, exactly?

Bell shook her head, screwing her eyes shut a moment, then exhaling, slowly. This was a particularly elaborate hallucination. Her mind was constructing it to protect her from whatever it was Adler wanted. Obviously. She'd close her eyes a moment, focus on something else--the Havana mission, maybe--and the Owl-woman would be gone.

When she opened her eyes, the woman was still there. She finished her bite, set down the fork, and slapped herself in the face.

Still there.

She took another deep breath, nodding. Okay. She was just fully insane. Got it. Might as well play along. Not like she had any other options.

However, when Bell opened her mouth to speak, she seemed to have managed to contort her boot into her mouth, because instead of anything remotely tactful, the only words she could say were "...you're an owl."

#ic #cyberengle 1 #no it's worse she's got Venom in another thread too #I love subjecting normal people to fantastical settings #especially when they already have a reason to question their senses

lethalitisms

The symbiote attempts to garner his attention; Eddie hasn't left his desk since this morning. He's wanted to finish this article as soon as possible, before the news became stale, and he wanted it done before the sun was down. His symbiote, however, could tell that, given the appropriate amount of days waiting, its package had arrived. Eddie, who wanted no part in indulging its late-night online shopping, kept rooted to the chair.

It willed him to move anyways, for despite the decades worth of trust they'd built on each other, he couldn't trust it not to indulge in some ( somewhat justified ) base desires. It was either this, or eating a person, and Eddie wasn't so inclined to do the latter, so he acquiesced and allowed it to move his feet towards the door, which opened almost as soon as the second knock came by.

"Hi. You must be . . . the delivery person?"

atomic-bell

She blinked, slightly surprised that the person on the other side wasn't some kind of fantastical being, mythological deity, space alien, or similar.

"Ah, no, I'm just your neighbour down in 402. Bell? Though that's...just a callsign, really. I go by Ana Alex--" She flinched, suddenly, like something had abruptly stabbed into her temple. "...Ana's fine. Sorry. I'm still a little out-of-sorts."

The accent was hard to place, but sounded vaguely English. Somewhere in the south of the country, maybe. "Still getting used to...all of this. Whatever this is."

#ic #lethalitisms 1 #sorry bestie the brainwashing victim had a bit of a moment there #it will happen again

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atomic-bell

She blinked, staring at him. He was very drunk, and potentially hallucinating. Dragons definitely weren't real.

She stepped forward, hands in her jacket as she narrowed her eyes, "And who are you, then, dragonslayer? I'm--" she paused, identities flickering slightly, then answered, less confidently, "...Bell. I'm Bell."

The spy pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning on the table and looking over the man's bizarre appearance to distract from her own tangled thoughts. "You look like you escaped the circus."

mischiefdivine

He was drunk, which was the reason why he was peacocking about so flagrantly, and had been for the last several hours. It was rather freeing, actually. Despite all the stereotypes of the Asgardian people, it was fairly frowned upon for people to be actually drunk, and that went doubly so for princes.

Not that it had stopped him, but it meant he hadn't had chances to go out and indulge as often as he'd like.

"Not the most polite thing to say to a prince, let alone a god." He snorted, laughing as the barmaid brought him a new drink and then gestured with the glass as he spoke, "Loki, son of Odin. Dragonslayer, yes. Isn't that something worth drinking to? My brother Thor was there, of course, but everyone knows I did most of the work. You might even say I saved his life."

atomic-bell

She blinked, tilting her head. At this point, she wasn't sure if she was dying, dead, having a stroke, or if she'd simply snapped and gone fully insane, but, well, fuck it, at least it wasn't Adler.

"...like the Norse god of mischief, Loki? The one who turned into a mare, had intercourse with a stallion, and birthed a foal? That Loki?"

#ic #mischiefdivine 1 #unfortunately she is well-read and knows That Story #you're welcome

atomic-bell

She'd started wandering the city with the intentional confidence of someone used to pretending to be a native in cities they've never been in before. She followed the flow of pedestrians, surprised at how familiar the architecture looked--albeit familiarly grecian.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets and popped up her fur collar against the chill. It wasn't as bad as she was used to, but there was no point getting a cold--or even just being uncomfortable--for pride's sake.

She paused at a corner, looking up at a street sign that read 'Star Trail', thinking for a moment, before letting her feed guide her toward the smell of food. She hadn't eaten since before the Havana mission, and whatever this bizarre mindscape was, it didn't seem eager to let her forget that fact. She passed a dizzying array of restaurants, and inhabitants that encouraged her belief that she was still hallucinating, when she paused, brow furrowing. That smell--That couldn't be--

Her pace doubled, and she found herself staring at the impossible. The sign said "Kukhnya Sibir." Siberian Kitchen.

The menus were in half a dozen languages, and as she picked up one in Yakut, she saw Kymis, Kyercheh, Fried Carp and Roe, Salamat with Lepyoshki, Oladyi, Stroganina--she blinked, wiping her eyes. Why would Adler conjure this?

Or was this her own mind's conjuration? Comfort for a dying woman? She paused, hesitating. Why would this comfort her? Her memories were of England. Brighton. What was Yakut to her, except a language she knew?

She didn't care. She grabbed a table. Investigation could wait.

By the time her food and drink arrived she was fully lost in the sauce--the disconnect between who she was supposed to think she was and the comforts of home forgotten in her culinary delight.

(starter for @cyberengle)

cyberengle

As an elite agent of the Cyber Owls, Engle was expected to go anywhere around the world, so picking up a smattering of foreign languages is simply second nature to her.

This place, the Star Trail, seems to have no shortage of food both familiar and otherworldly, but Engle decides to go with something familiar to her first... even if something familiar means something in Russian.

There was a H.A.W.K. base in Moscow on her last mission. Guin was the one to infiltrate the base, but now it's up to Engle to pay Russia a visit and see what she can find.

Not that she's sneaking into the place. Still in uniform, she enters the restaurant.

A woman enjoying her meal is the first person to catch her eye. Engle stares at her disconcertingly.

atomic-bell

Midway through a bite of fried carp, she realised a woman with an owl head was staring at her.

She froze, staring back in a comedic snapshot of insanity. On one side, a brainwashed ex-KGB agent convinced she was hallucinating. On the other...a literal barn owl.

Bell kept staring at her for several uncomfortable seconds, her brain simply blank, like someone had thrown a flashbang into her prefrontal cortex. There wasn't a single thought in her head--she'd simply short-circuited. She didn't even seem to be blinking.

Finally, her brain stopped buffering, and she was struck with the insane thought that she was being rude. She set the fork down, cleared her throat, and waved, awkwardly.

"...hi."

#ic #cyberengle 1 #Bell is pretty confident she's going insane at this point. Or already has done.

mischiefdivine

"—and the dragon, of course, had been too busy trying to eat my brother, so of course it had paid little attention to me." Loki was in the middle of saying to a small group of gathered humans sitting around him at the longest table. The food at this establishment — a small but elegantly designed restaurant and tavern — was Asgardian, even if the patrons were just regular people of Archimedes. Luckily, that worked for him, as it meant that he could enjoy the tastes of home and still be able to tell outlandish stories to people without being questioned.

"And I will be happy to tell you how I gutted it and freed him from the beast's stomach, but first!" He tipped his head back, raising his mug to his lips, chugging down the remainder of his drink before smashing the vessel on the ground, with a call of, "Another!"

Eyes lazily scanning the room while the listening crowd also called for more drinks and chatted amongst each other, he waved a hand at the bartender and added, not shouting this time but still sounding in good spirits, "And one for our friend over here, too. You know, my dear, if you're going to stare, you may as well come join us instead of just eavesdropping."

atomic-bell

She blinked, staring at him. He was very drunk, and potentially hallucinating. Dragons definitely weren't real.

She stepped forward, hands in her jacket as she narrowed her eyes, "And who are you, then, dragonslayer? I'm--" she paused, identities flickering slightly, then answered, less confidently, "...Bell. I'm Bell."

The spy pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning on the table and looking over the man's bizarre appearance to distract from her own tangled thoughts. "You look like you escaped the circus."

#ic #mischiefdivine 1

Bell was stuck in her own head again, not for the first time wondering how much of any of this was real and how much was an elaborate hallucination. It was a special kind of hell to not know what your own reality was, and she almost didn't notice the absolutely bizarre little twig of a man, until the loud sound of glass shattering jarred her from her reverie.

It was some kind of fancy restaurant again, and there was a little wet dog of a man sitting at a table with shattered glass at his feet and the most ridiculous self-aggrandising expression on his face.

(Starter for @mischiefdivine)

#ic #mischiefdivine 1 #an extremely funny concept ty for the mental image

She didn't know what was in the package that arrived on her front step labelled '407 - Eddie Brock', but it wasn't really her business. She sighed, picked it up, and headed to the condo in question, knocking briefly. For all she knew it was a bomb, but she didn't really care, so long as it didn't explode in her hands.

Maybe that was cold, but she didn't know anyone here, and as far as she could tell this was some kind of elaborate hallucination, anyway.

She knocked again.

(Starter for @lethalitisms)

#ic #lethalitisms 1 #the package is a macguffin it can be whatever you want it to be xD