This ain't Kansas, Puddin' [active // open]
Characters: Harley Quinn, Open to any and all :>
Content: Miss Quinn arrives in the Big Apple.
Location: Somewhere in Tribeca.
Time of day: Late evening.
Warnings: Harley is nuts?
Harley stood, hand on her hip, staring up at the skyline marred by buildings broken and in disrepair. Whatever it was that had done this much damage had done it fast, hard, and without any care for it's surroundings. A weapon? Another masked weirdo to join the ranks of Gotham's finest? Harley almost scoffed at the idea. This didn't look or feel much like Gotham, with the exception of that heavy sort of feeling that tended to mull around inside your gut late at night when you happened to catch yourself all alone.
The absence of the Bat Signal was a plus, at the very least.
Her head felt somewhat foggy, as if she were at a loss whenever she tried to collect her thoughts - a familiar and unsettling sensation, the kind one gets behind the glass of an Arkham Asylum cell with your veins full of drugs. No; she didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. And she was beginning to get nervous.
"P-Puddin'?" She chirped, voice shaky and small as she surveyed her barren surroundings; an empty street in what could've been an entirely barren city for all she knew. It didn't make sense. She couldn't remember leaving bed, never mind getting all dolled up and taking the trip to some Creeps City. It was giving her the willies. She hugged herself, slowly inching forward, the apprehensive look on her face betraying her concern. The more time droned on, the more she was starting to feel like there'd been some sort of mistake. Mr. J wouldn't just drop her off in the middle of nowhere, would he? No - her Puddin' would never do something like that to her. Mr. J was a real stand-up kind-a guy. Sure, he got rough with her sometimes, but she liked that. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle. And it only proved that he loved her.
She was jolted from her train of thought as something scurried across the top of one of her boots, making her jump back and nearly crawl right out of her skin as she screamed; she stomped petulantly seconds later, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, which quickly melted into a long, self-pitying moan. A rat. A stinkin' rat. She sank down to hug herself on the side-walk, her chin on her knees.
"Face it, Harl," she muttered to herself. "This is the dumps. You've either gone off the deep end for sure, or you're about to get eaten by something big 'n scary. Either way, rats are the least of your problems."
And she imagined she'd be finding the truth, one way or another, very soon.
Content: Miss Quinn arrives in the Big Apple.
Location: Somewhere in Tribeca.
Time of day: Late evening.
Warnings: Harley is nuts?
Harley stood, hand on her hip, staring up at the skyline marred by buildings broken and in disrepair. Whatever it was that had done this much damage had done it fast, hard, and without any care for it's surroundings. A weapon? Another masked weirdo to join the ranks of Gotham's finest? Harley almost scoffed at the idea. This didn't look or feel much like Gotham, with the exception of that heavy sort of feeling that tended to mull around inside your gut late at night when you happened to catch yourself all alone.
The absence of the Bat Signal was a plus, at the very least.
Her head felt somewhat foggy, as if she were at a loss whenever she tried to collect her thoughts - a familiar and unsettling sensation, the kind one gets behind the glass of an Arkham Asylum cell with your veins full of drugs. No; she didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. And she was beginning to get nervous.
"P-Puddin'?" She chirped, voice shaky and small as she surveyed her barren surroundings; an empty street in what could've been an entirely barren city for all she knew. It didn't make sense. She couldn't remember leaving bed, never mind getting all dolled up and taking the trip to some Creeps City. It was giving her the willies. She hugged herself, slowly inching forward, the apprehensive look on her face betraying her concern. The more time droned on, the more she was starting to feel like there'd been some sort of mistake. Mr. J wouldn't just drop her off in the middle of nowhere, would he? No - her Puddin' would never do something like that to her. Mr. J was a real stand-up kind-a guy. Sure, he got rough with her sometimes, but she liked that. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle. And it only proved that he loved her.
She was jolted from her train of thought as something scurried across the top of one of her boots, making her jump back and nearly crawl right out of her skin as she screamed; she stomped petulantly seconds later, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, which quickly melted into a long, self-pitying moan. A rat. A stinkin' rat. She sank down to hug herself on the side-walk, her chin on her knees.
"Face it, Harl," she muttered to herself. "This is the dumps. You've either gone off the deep end for sure, or you're about to get eaten by something big 'n scary. Either way, rats are the least of your problems."
And she imagined she'd be finding the truth, one way or another, very soon.