Application for Dale Smither from "Heroes"!

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

((Another Hero? SAY IT AIN'T SO. :P Spoilers for the episode 'Unexpected', just to be safe. And approved by Sylar-mun. ^^)

The first thing Dale did, when she felt able to move again, was bring her hand quickly to her forehead. Which was whole and smooth and blissfully devoid of, say, blood and bits of brain matter. Not that this state of affairs wasn't infinitely preferable to, you know, having bits of leftover brain sticking out, but it would be nice to know how she had gotten from one state to the other.

She put her hand shakily back down, aware of her own heart dancing away at triple the rate it should be. She didn't try to slow it, though, not yet. It wasn't nearly long enough ago that some unconscious part of her had heard it stop.

On a slightly less urgent note, her iPod had stopped working. That was annoying.

Mental once-over thus completed, Dale gradually became aware of her surroundings: the slightly-too-small chair she was balanced on; the cavernous, castle-like room; the footsteps and murmurs of conversation beyond the walls; the piece of paper rustling loudly as it fluttered in front of her face.

--Wait, what?

--Yes, there was definitely a piece of paper there, with fresh writing shining on it, and a quill in a pot dancing alongside it. What the hell?

1. What is your favorite cheese? Why is it your favorite?

"My favourite cheese?" she said aloud, bewildered. "I die and the first thing I'm asked about is cheese?"

The paper continued to float, unapologetically.

"...Um," said Dale. "All right, what the hell." She captured the paper in one hand and pressed it to a handy table, then retrieved the quill with trepidation. She'd never written with anything more archaic than a Biro: it'd been her brother who was into all that Dungeons-and-Dragons, I-am-Flagon-of-Hemsgard stuff. The paper was covered in blots before she was done, as were the sleeves of her blue overalls, and the landscape in general.

Cheddar, I guess. Strong cheddar. But not the dry, stinky kind. Because there's no gormet cheesemonger in Bozeman.

2. Who would you kill first, Barney or Carrottop?

Again with the brain-flailing. What the...?

Barney, she scritched out hesitantly. Though to be brutally honest, it wasn't so much a considered decision as the first one that popped into her head.

3. What time is it where you are?

She glanced at her wrist out of habit, but there was no watch there, and hadn't been for a month or more. The ticking was too distracting. But she did remember it being late, and the moon almost high enough to see by.

A little after midnight.

4. If you were Albus Dumbledore returned from the dead, which member of the Order of the Phoenix would you sexually harass? How would you harass them? If you are Albus Dumbledore, please answer as if you were Sirius Black.

"...You're not serious."

The continued existence of the writing on the paper seemed to indicate that yes, it was.

"What kind of question is that?"

The kind of question, it appeared, that would not go away simply by being glared at.

After a few thoughtful seconds, Dale scrawled an inkblotty: I don't know who any of them are. It seemed a useful loophole.

5. If you are pushing to be in:

She skimmed down the list of possible... whatevers, and didn't have a clue what any of them meant. Just to be safe, she decided to answer all of them. They all sounded as cracked as each other.

A. Slytherin - please state the clever, witty name of the bar in which you bartend, in the dark.

"Why would I bartend in the dark?" she wondered aloud. "Uh..."

The Bluebottle, she wrote at last. Whether it was witty or not was up to whoever had written the questions; she'd admit that she wasn't the greatest judge of that, though it did seem funny to her.

B. Gryffindor – Debate whether Harry should ultimately end up married to Fred or George. Use examples from a variety of world mythologies to bolster your argument.

...

Was it just her, or were the questions getting exponentially weirder?

Whichever he loves more. I don't have the first clue who any of them are, so I'm hardly the best person to ask.

C. Ravenclaw – You guys are supposed to be smart. Explain why my desk is inundated with paperwork at all times, even though I’m constantly disposing of it.

At last, an easy one. Because paperwork comes in faster than it goes out. You could try getting someone to help. Or a really big paper-shredder.

D. Hufflepuff – Prove you are not useless.

Dale grinned. Because where I come from, if you don't have a working car you're pretty much screwed. People can give or take artists and actors and so on, but they'll always need mechanics.

She felt that summed it up fairly well.

6. Offer a bribe to the members of this community so that they will not squib you. Items used in bribery do not necessarily have to belong to the person offering the bribe. Do not threaten us rather than offering a bribe. A threat indicates you either don't really want to be here, or don't have enough sense to answer the question properly. The hat will automatically squib you, regardless of other votes, if you do.

...Well, she got from the context that being 'squibbed' was a bad thing, but it still struck her as annoying to expect a perfect stranger to have to bribe their way out of having it done to them. So she frowned at the paper, and poked it with the quill, sending yet another blot spreading across its surface.

It'd suck to start making enemies about the place, though. She still didn't know where the hell she was, or what had happened to her to get her here and in one piece.

Thus: If you have a broken car or bike or something, I can fix it, she conceded. If I can find my tools, or if you have some.

Who was going to be reading this, anyway?

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. D.S.
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. D.S.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. D.S.
One day, marmalade will rule the world."

Blink. Blink.

" ...D.S.?"

Comments

[fatherofwolves.livejournal.com]

(( *dies* oh sweet Lord, will it never cease? Well, I'll see your Heroes character and raise you a Song of Ice and Fire character. Soon the talking cats will descend upon us all. That, or this will become Heroes Hocus and the rest of us will seek balmier shores.))

Flagon of Hemsgard, maybe not. A Westerosi lord and former King's Hand? This Hogwarts could provide.

"What speak you, madam, of a 'bike'? This word I have not before heard." A dignified gentleman in his late thirties approached from another corner of the Sorting Room. He was somberly dressed in grey breeches and tunic, and a dark cloak over it all. His hair was still brown though going early to gray; his face was lean and not ill-favored, his eyes kindly if not warm.

Also, he was holding his head in his hands. The hood of his cloak covered the stump where his head should have sat.

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

Dale looked up, half-expecting to see someone really short. Because, well, that would be a more reasonable assumption than that his voice is coming from his midriff because his head is not on his shoulders.

"Holy--"

Are they holding Halloween early this year? Did she not get the memo?

"--uh, okay."

It's a... cosplayer, isn't that the word for it? Well, each to his own, though she gives him a look best summed up as "wtf".

"Bike. Motorbike." She eyes the tunic and cloak. "A mechanical horse with wheels. Where am I?"

[fatherofwolves.livejournal.com]

(( *weeps. Seriously. Considers apping 'Random Bartender #4, from Heroes' to get on the bandwagon* ))

"You are in a land foreign to me. More than that I cannot say reliably. I am told this is a school for the training of sorcerers." From the way the man pronounced the word, not quite disdainful but with a perceptible edge, one might take it that a sorcerer was not a good thing to be. "I am told also this is in the country called Scotland, which is a land of which I had never heard before death ferried me hither. I regret my inability to put your mind further at rest, madam." Holding his head carefully clear of his torso, he honored her with a slight and abbreviated bow. "I am Eddard Stark, formerly Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. It is a poor welcome this place offers, if I am the only one to offer it; but for what it is worth I give it nonetheless, and offer the protection of my household should you require it."

[blue-ataru.livejournal.com]

"Welcome to Hogwarts, and my sympathies on your death." As another technically-dead student, Aayla was very sympathetic, but... "You're a mechanic? What type of cars and bikes do you work on, ground or air? Have you ever worked on a ship of any sort?"

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

"...Thanks," said Dale, resisting the urge to add 'you're blue and you have head-tentacles'. Because there's a time and a place for stating the obvious. The... woman? did get a whole lot of staring, though. Staaaaaaaaaaare. See?

"Mainly just people's everyday vehicles," she said. "Family cars. People-carriers. One guy I know has a vintage motorbike that breaks down on a weekly basis. We're about as far from the sea as you can get in Bozeman, so I haven't had a whole lot of chances to work on ships. Be interesting, though."

[blue-ataru.livejournal.com]

Aayla ignored the stare and gave a small laugh. "Not the kind of ship I'm talking about--where's Bozeman exactly, is it a planet or a city? In any case, it's nice to meet someone else who likes to fix things. I used to want to be a mechanic when I was younger. There's a sad shortage of things to work on here." She held out a hand in greeting. "Aayla Secura."

[nervous-guy.livejournal.com]

...Wait. ...Something didn't add up here!

Dale. Right. So he was reading that right. And yet when he looked up... A woman!

Dale. Woman.

Gah! Doug wasn't going to dwell on it too much. Maybe it was just something like Dr. Cox calling half of the world by girls' names. Orrrr she just had really mean parents. Oh, heck, what did it matter to him what she called herself, sheesh.

"I got my pants stuck in a paper shredder once!" he offered by some sort of means of greetings, eyes widening a bit. "I was trying to get rid of one of those credit card offers things?" And then just nodded, in some 'mmmyep' sort of way. And then suddenly threw his hands up, eyes wide. "I got out, though! Don't worry!"

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

Yes. Woman. You'd have be stretching it a bit to call her 'the fairer sex', and she'd probably just have laughed if anyone did, but still: woooo-maaaan.

She blinked at him, because what do you say in answer to something like that?

Dale settled for the handy, all purpose: "...Good for you." Not unfriendly in tone, but still with a healthy side-order of 'huh?'

[nervous-guy.livejournal.com]

Good for him? That he almost lost his leg? Shredded a perfectly good pair of khakis? Huh! Doug didn't get it!

He nodded for a few long more seconds, looking Dale over again as if he was just understanding this situation. ...Wow, she was covered in a lot of gunk. He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a little, and tilt his head. "Do you, uh. You want some antibacterial stuff? Cuz, I mean, I got it!" Not that he was insinuating that she was yucky or anything. ...Nope. ...He was a professional.

[carri3-whit3.livejournal.com]

You wouldn't know how t'clean a sewin' machine, would you? An', I don't know, give it a tuneup or somethin'?

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

"Mainly I work with vehicles," Dale said apologetically. "Could give it a go, though."

[carri3-whit3.livejournal.com]

I'd sure be glad if you would. I volunteered t'make costumes for a play they're puttin' on here, an' I've a feelin' it's gonna see a lot of use once they get the thaing cast.

Would Hufflepuff be okay with you? It's for people who can do useful stuff. Sewin', in my case, an' fixin' thaings in yours, I'm thinkin'.

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

((I'd send Peter in so that they could bitch about Sylar, but he's, er, busy >>; So, House it is, I'm sorry :P))

House was normally the kind of person to sit silently in the shadows on the Sorting Room and silently mock the applicants without approaching them. Unless they could do something for him, which this woman possibly could - his motorbike had been making odd noises lately.

Also, the rather frantic manner in which she'd checked her forehead when she appeared was nothing less than fascinating. Slowly, he approached, thumping his cane a little too hard on the floor and looking at Dale like she were a medical specimen with an interesting anomaly. Hey, post-dead people (which she clearly was) were funny.

"Sucks to be you, whatever just happened. You'll find a lot of recently dead people here. Including zombies," he said cheerfully by way of greeting. House gave her absolutely no time to reply before he resumed talking again. "You said you fix bikes? Mine's been making unhealthy sounds. Personally, I think Wilson's fat ass has just crushed the poor vehicle one too many times, but it never hurts to get a check up."

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

Dale's face twitched a little every time the cane came down. Because. Ow.

She rolled her head, trying to bring her focus away from the thuds, and met his look with two raised eyebrows. That expression of his was reminding her of something, and though she couldn't remember exactly what, it was giving her the creeps.

"Yeah, I fix bikes," she said warily, standing to meet him. "You better have some tools, though. Think mine all got left in the land of the living."

[canes-can-kill.livejournal.com]

Amused, House an arched an eyebrow at the subtle flinching. Either she she didn't like canes very much, or the sound was roughly the equivalent of nails on a blackboard - he'd met some people with weird dislikes of certain sounds.

"Tools aren't a problem," he dismissed. He was sure the house elves, horrible little bastards that they were, would be able to find something. Besides, he had a theory to try out. "So," he thumped his cane on the floor, obnoxiously loud. "At least you look healthy." Thump. "For the recently dead, I mean." Thump, thump. "You should see some of the other idiots who turn up here." Thump. "At least you don't still have blood spurting out of you. You've got to look on the bright side, I always say."

((Reposted to fix HTML))

[dinosaurman.livejournal.com]

"There's not much of anything in Bozeman," Grant said. "Which is part of why I like it."

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

"Best place in the world for tedium," Dale grinned. "Are you a visitor there? Don't think I've seen you around.

"Dale Smither," she added, offering a hand.

[dinosaurman.livejournal.com]

((Re-posted for reading comprehension skills!))

He laughed. "No, I live there," he said, shaking her hand. "Lived, actually. I haven't been back in a while. I taught at the university (www.montana.edu). Alan Grant." Hogwarts must have been really hard up for students if it was taking people from the same small town. "Did you own your own shop, or did you work for somebody else?"

[insane-mil-cmdr.livejournal.com]

Crais read through the application slowly, his English-language reading skills still a bit shaky. At 'mechanics' he looked up, studied Dale, glanced back at the application, looked back again at Dale. A small frown tightened the corners of his mouth.

"...Furlow (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Furlow)?"

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

Dale gave him a questioning look. "...I'm sorry?"

[ka-click.livejournal.com]

"Good at building things?" Asks the bunny on a miniature flying carpet. Cause, he could use some help with his set building.

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

...

...

"Pretty good," Dale said. Staring. This place was giving her plenty of practice at staring.

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

"I may be in the market for car or bike acquisition! Can I take a raincheck on that repair offer?" My, the Hat was in a cheery mood today.

[damnrap.livejournal.com]

"A-- absolutely," said Dale, and then felt fairly relieved that she'd said that instead of 'what the hell, a talking hat?'. Though after the rabbit, and the floating book, the weirdness became sort of relative.

"I can customise it a bit, if you need... special handlebars or anything," she added. Which was as close as she felt she could tactfully get to 'you have no hands or feet to drive with'.

Hufflepuff!

[ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com]

Your bribe has been accepted!

Welcome to Hufflepuff!