Sylvie's debut

Okay, the TemPad was gone, but as soon as the TVA came for her, she could hopefully wrangle herself a new one. Her first order of business was to find a place from which to ambush her pursuers.

No. Scratch that. Her first order of business was to find clothes. This place looked like Earth, but it couldn't be, could it? Earth's skies weren't that grey, and the light had more of the spectrum to it. Even she looked black and white, her legs and chest and back all grey, and her furiously blushing face merely a slightly darker grey.

Though maybe that was to presume this place made sense. She'd definitely come in here holding a TemPad, and instead she had a useless sponge clutched in her hand. In fact, it was the only flicker of color, a bright flash of yellow.

In a panic, Sylvie threw it in the face of one of the people standing around on the street, trying to draw their attention away. It wasn't like a sponge was going to be of much help.

Okay. The streets were too exposed, and there were people milling around. Taking a deep breath, Sylvie leapt and threw herself over a fence, a hint of Asgardian and/or Jotun strength giving her the boost she needed, hoping that the garden on the far side would offer her more privacy.

She landed, rolling on a fresh patch of grass, and quickly sat up. For the moment, the place looked quiet. Arms still clutched over her bare body, Sylvie looked around, trying to get her bearings. She stayed curled up on the ground, using the fence for shelter.

There was a washing line strung up outside this house - it wasn't in use, but it gave her a flicker of hope. If she explored the gardens, hopefully she'd be able to find a change of clothes somewhere, and do so before the TVA came for her.

The fences went a little higher than her waist. At least if she was this low, she wouldn't be seen so easily, even if she in turn couldn't make it so far anywhere.

No. Sylvie braced herself; she couldn't just curl up and hide with the TVA on her tail. For all she knew, they were a second away from appearing in the street. She didn't have a TemPad, and she didn't even have clothes. If she was going to confront whatever agents were sent here, she'd rather feel comfortable using her hands for more than covering herself.

Which meant moving. Sylvie looked despondently into the empty house in front of her, then shifted on the ground, and then sprang back to her feet to vault over the fence into theneighboring garden.

And crashed into a hedge. Branches snapped noisily and she rolled out onto the grey grass, groaning. She could've sworn she heard muffled voices laughing, and immediately sat up, blushing and snapping her arms shut over her chest, but she didn't see anyone. Irate, Sylvie crawled towards the relative cover of the back of the garden, surveying this next house.

Ugh. Rough start. If she did found a house where people were home, she'd rather make a stealthier approach than that.

Taking a deep breath, Sylvie looked from side to side again, still off-put by this place's bizarre lack of color.

Thens he leapt back up to her feet and jumped over the next fence; that time it felt like she'd landed smoothly, until she realized her foot was in a flowerpot and tripped as soon as she tried to take a step.

Again, she heard that inexplicable laughter of a crowd. That time, though, she wasn't alone - she was sprawled out on a well-maintained lawn, butt up in the air, and someone was staring with raised eyebrows through the window at the back of his house.

Face hot, Sylvie scrambled to sit up, then stand, an arm over her breasts and a hand over her core. Awkwardly she looked at the stranger - he hadn't blinked.

Well if he wasn't going to come out to offer help, she wasn't going to feel bad. Making a conscious effort to not look back over her shoulder - the last thing she wanted was to know if anyone was looking into the garden - she ran at his door and brute-**** it open.

"Wait a minute!" he said, clearly surprised.

Blushing, Sylvie flashed her breasts and moved her hand to grab his head, and prepared to enchant.

She'd enchanted a lot of minds over the centuries. Some resisted, some had strength, some minds were harder to pin down - she hadn't felt anything like this though. It wasn't that his mind was strong, it was that it was occupied. A flicker of green energy danced at her fingertips, and it was truly green rather than the washed-out shades of her body, and was repelled by a violent flash of scarlet.

She'd sensed minds under conditioning before. There hadn't been any she couldn't break - that, though, was terrifyingly strong.

Wincing, Sylvie stumbled back, staring at the man in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, his eyes momentarily wide.

"Shut up," Sylvie snapped. "Clothes. You have to have more. Where are they?"

"What?" he said. Something in his eyes looked sharper, for a moment, green and red energy dancing in minute detail by his brow.

"Clothes. When you change for tomorrow, or whenever," Sylvie said. "Yours. Where are they?"

"I don't have access," he said.

"What?" Sylvie said.

"There are rooms, I can't..." he looked pained. "I wear what she wants me to. This changes. I don't change it. Can you..."

His voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over. Then he tilted his head.

"I know I wanted a new woman, but I didn't think it would be a nude one," he said vaguely. The unsettling, distant laughter sounded again.

Conditioning. She'd been responsible for that glazed-over look in a lot of people's eyes; Sylvie moved away from the clearly-controlled man, backing away both from him, and from the back door.

She ran up the stairs as soon as she saw them, eager both for the privacy, and looking for a wardrobe. One door repelled her with a flash of red (there were muffled sounds coming from the other side), though another she was able to get into. She wrenched open cupboards and drawers until she found the wardrobe.

Inside, all hung up in a row, were clothes she couldn't make sense of. They were... flickering, each one alternating between designs, shades, and if she were to guess, even era, several times a second. In desperation, she tried to touch one; more red repelled her hands.

What was this place?

At least she was beginning to make sense of what had happened to her TemPad. This place... affected things, made them subject to certain rules.

If she was lucky, maybe she'd end up as dressed as everyone else. She didn't feel lucky - she also didn't want to linger in a place with such a clearly powerful spell cast over it.

She looked out of the bedroom, to see the homeowner ascending the stairs. Not wanting to face someone else, she ran at the window, relying on her enhanced resilience to barrel through and land again in the back garden. Arms over her body, she ran again to the next house.

There were no immediate pitfalls when she landed there. Indeed, there was a woman doing gardening - though it took only the briefest touch to ascertain that her mind was just as occupied as the man. Blushing, Sylvie sprinted past her, leaping over a handful more gardens before crouching down, hoping this one would stay quiet.

A black and white town full of people she couldn't enchant.

Not ideal. Sylvie swallowed.

And where were the TVA? Were they scared to come here? The place was certainly... disconcerting.

Sylvie looked up. There was a woman in the neighboring house, with dark hair, looking down from her top floor window. Nervously, Sylvie adjusted her arms, vainly trying to cover more.

The woman stared. Quickly, Sylvie moved closer to the house, hoping that angle would make her more obscured.

Only, when there, she heard voices. In a split-second of panic, Sylvie jumped up.

She landed on the roof, a small outcropping without a second floor, where she couldn't be seen by the neighbor, or from any inhabitants of this house. She let herself take a breath.

What was she going to do if the TVA didn't come? She couldn't stay here. She definitely couldn't stay if this spell was catching.

Although what kind of spell was it? Was the laugh track part of it? How far did it go?

Something creaked.

Sylvie only realized what as the roof gave way beneath her, and she crashed down to the floor in front of a total stranger. There was the faint, ghostly sound of laughter again.

Sylvie hastily rolled over, then sat up, pressing her legs together and quickly crossing her arms, trying to cover herself as best she could. She just had to end up in the town without any accessible clothes, and nothing that avoided this weird spell.

And now there was a woman that was staring at her. It was hard to describe someone in black and white; her hair was grey, her skin grey, her eyes grey, and her head was tilted in an uncomfortable kind of curiosity.

"No need to stare," Sylvie muttered.

She seemed like she was in some kitchen, old-fashioned even by the poor standards of Midgard. You'd think she'd be better at standing up without using her arms by now; she wobbled for a moment, then tried to kick herself up to her feet, for the moment more concerned with keeping her modesty than her dignity. Too many people had seen her naked already.

"You shouldn't be here," the woman said.

"Oh, believe me, it wasn't planned," Sylvie muttered.

There was no weird laugh track this time, Sylvie noted. She'd puzzle out what that meant in a second. She got to her feet, swaying unsteadily, still trying to hide behind her arms.

Enchantment was out, stealing clothes seemed to be out, maybe improvising would be better. She could steal a curtain or bedsheet or at least a towel, if she'd given up on proper clothing; it wasn't like anyone in this world was a threat to her. It would last her until she figured this place out.

"You have a role," the woman said.

Sylvie wasn't paying attention to her, looking past her to the main room. There were drapes in there. Perfect.

She went to dismissively brush past the stranger, and felt a hand grab her wrist. She tried to pull her arm out and... that was a strong grip. Surprisingly strong. Sylvie looked down, and saw a flash of red.

Oh. It seemed she'd found the source of the spell.

"Now wait a..." Sylvie began.

"Play your part," the woman said.

Something rushed into Sylvie's head, battering past the meagre defenses she hadn't maintained for centuries. She was strong, yes, but this woman had power. She felt grief, longing, denial - she felt a name, Wanda, wrap her up tightly in scarlet energy.

A vague echo of a TV show, black and white, laughter...

And then Sylvie's eyes went wide as she saw the role Wanda was slotting her into. She opened her mouth to protest...

Before her expression went blank. Then she offered Wanda a sunny smile.

"Nice day, isn't it?" Sylvie said brightly, dropping her arms to her sides. Wanda smiled back.

"Forgetting something there, Sylvie?" Wanda said. Even her voice sounded different now, lighter.

"Am I?" Sylvie said.

She looked down, and gave a suddenly high-pitched squeal and ran out the back door, forgetting even her attempt to get curtains, blissfully oblivious to the part of her mind that was yelling a hundred better ideas than streaking nude down the street.