bringmethatnpc | (no subject)

Deep in a bayou near the mouth of the Pantano River, a wooden shack sits among twisted vines, high roots, and still, stagnant water. Moonlight illuminates the scene, and the shack is lit from within by what seems like hundreds of candles. A single lantern at the entrance beckons all those who dare to step over the threshold.

Not long ago, only a few days or so, the shack and tangle of surrounding trees was the site of a wake for Captain Jack Sparrow.

The shack had been overflowing with pirates that night. Tia Dalma offered drinks to fight the chill and the sorrow, and the return of another dead pirate gave the crew hope where previously there had been none. Some of those pirates seemed to disappear that night. No one asked too many questions, however, as the shack is bigger than it appears on the outside and the unexpected is to be expected wherever Tia Dalma is found.

But now the missing parties are starting to return. Some are even accompanied by people who had not been there before.

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After a while, dark eyes flick towards the witch, and Tia Dalma smiles, as if in recognition. She doesn't seem surprised at all by Tonks' presence, but then why would she be? She can recognize a witch as easily as she can recognize her own face in a mirror.

She's far away; one slim brown hand lifts, loose and lazy, and beckons as though she has something she wants the witch to see.

Tonks raises an eyebrow. She gazes at Tia Dalma a moment longer, and then carefully crosses the room, one hand on her belly inside the loose waistcoat.

There's a chair over here, near a table that's covered in low-burning candles and scattered knick-knacks: crab claws and glass beads, strings of gaudy necklaces and a few quite old playing cards that are a bit bent at the corners.

"And who is this?" says the strange woman whose house this is, smiling with something like satisfaction and with curiousity flickering in her eyes. "A stowaway, ay?"

Somewhat warily, "She's called Charlotte." Her eyes flicker down to the table, to the odd and seemingly unconnected paraphernalia. They look innocuous, all taken singly. But there's something about it all that radiates a feeling that Tonks recognizes in an odd sort of way.

Her smile gentles, and she sits, lifting her skirts gracefully and then smoothing them, letting them fall in tatters to the floor about her chair. Her eyes go from the table to Tonks, and her head tips to one side while she considers the witch.

"You know this," she says, only half-asking it herself, sitting back and waiting.

"Mm-hm," replies Nymphadora, gazing at the table for a moment and then back up at her host. "Well, I mean-- not this. But... yes."

Tia Dalma gazes implacably back at her, and then sweeps a delicate hand over the table's contents in a loose gesture very reminiscent of those generally used by a certain now-lost sea captain.

It's part invitation, and part satisfied showing. "Ah," she says, curious. "Then how, hm?"

A wry, almost-smile. "Well, for starters,I never was much of a one for Divination. But." Holding her hand aloft, there is a brief shimmer, like heat above the sand, and then a ball of blue flame pops into existence.

"Ahhhh."

She doesn't move, but there is a sudden and powerful surge of interest towards Tonks, the blue fire reflecting in her wide eyes. "A pretty trick," she says, craftily.

She has seen something like it before, if not quite the same: but Light in the darkness will ever gain her quick attention.

"Thank you." The light disappears, and Tonks' hand drops to her side. "I've a few handy tricks."

But she doesn't intend letting them all be known to this woman. Not just now, at least.

"And you? What is it you can bring about with all of this?" She gestures to the table, with its scattering of trinkets.