With a loud pop Tonks apparated into the designated arrival zone. She looked around first before shifting her bag to her other shoulder. Butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach and though she did feel a bit queasy, she was doing a damn fine job of hiding it.

All she had to then was to find Charlie and things would go from there. Yeah, she told herself, that was all there was too it.

I can't have done all of those things. I can't have.

I'm... [She raises her hand to her face as she stumbles a bit to the side. Tonks is dressed like Nymphadora but she doesn't look like her, not much anymore.] What's going on?

((OOC: The Nymphadora facade is starting to crack and Tonks is starting to emerge. It's going to be a struggle. :D))

You'll not get rid of me that easily.

She just had to be allowed to live.

No one's made it out yet.

[She's unaware that she's entered the second level. Nymphadora approaches two wolves and drops a piece of red fabric in front of them. The wolves busy themselves with memorizing the scent as she speaks.] Find her. Terrorize her. [She then turns around and leaves, vanishing back into a large hedge maze.]

[Tonks is on top of City Hall, dressed in black leather.] Anyone want to get their brood on?

[Leather is Tonks' new best friend though she doesn't much look like Tonks.] In these exceedingly dark and trying times, many of you are left to fend for yourself. Never fear! Tonks is here!

Need a mercenary? I'm your woman. Need some protection? Tell me who to hit. No job is too small and no jobs too big. My prices are fair, my deeds are great.

Act now and get in on the epic fantasy rate at half cost!

My name is Nymphadora Tonks. Don’t call me Nymphadora. I’d rather be called Tonks.

Nymphadora means ‘gift of the nymphs’. Ever since I can remember I’ve tried to figure out why my Mum named me that. I realize that the Blacks like to forego traditional names but it’s not like my mother is your average Black. Most of them are gits so why did she do this to me? I’ve asked, I’ve asked more than a few times. She just tells me that Nymphadora is a perfectly fine name. I’ve even asked Dad why he let her do that to me. He just says that I know how she is and yeah, I know exactly how she is.

But I mean... Nymphadora? Do I look like a present? Do I remotely resemble a nymph? The quick and dirty answer is no. I’m not graceful. I don’t have that magical gift of being alluring that nymphs are supposed to have. Most of the time I’m about as graceful as a bull in a china shop. I’m cute but I’m not exotic like, oh I don’t know, say a veela is.

And don’t get me started about the grief I get because of my name. I swear to Merlin if one more person calls me Nympho I’ll bend their knees backward. I like a good shag as much as the next girl but I’m not quite that bad.

Yeah, Tonks may sound like the squawk of a drunken goose but it’s loads more preferable. If you can’t quite manage Tonks, Dora will do.