If she's being realistic - and that's something she usually is by default rather than trying to be -, it's not the first war torn wasteland she's ever been dropped into. It's not even the first one she's seen without a familiar face or two flanking her. The time travel and the dimension hopping is undeniably freaky (and she does, sometimes, get scared - finds herself sleepless in the middle of the night and wishing for a security clearance level five dossier to thumb through), but she can admit it's not outside the realm of possibility.

So Natasha does what she had always done: she adapts. In Exsilium that seems to mean pretending things are fine and normal even when they're neither. Which is how she ends up in the library, carefully moving through the stacks of volumes both familiar and utterly, completely alien. Only half the books even look like books, the other half stray files and database numbers for access on the library's systems. She doesn't think of herself as much of a reader (which isn't entirely true, not always), but there's a strange kind of stability in the shelves and in the organization, unchanged like something preserved in a museum.

She knows a thing or two about preservation.