posilutely: (029)
Queenie Goldstein ([personal profile] posilutely) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs2017-08-10 07:12 pm

Thank you for all the joy and pain; [1 Locked, 2 OTA]

WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: Various; see below
WHEN: ditto
OPEN TO: 1 locked, 2 OTA
WARNINGS: n/a


House #7 - Mid-Late July - Locked to Sonny


It's the locket that confirms it.

When it had first turned up, Tina hadn't been sure if she wanted to trust it, but she'd taking to wearing it anyway. Just like she'd done at home, there wasn't hardly a time when it wasn't around her neck. Queenie's been wandering the village for a couple days now, and seeing it laying there on Tina's vanity table is like a punch right to the gut, her last bit of hope swept clean away in the matter of a moment.

And with Jacob apparently gone, too, it just makes a sad sort of sense, even if it makes her heart hurt to think about.

From the first time she'd felt that tingle of worry, Queenie's been telling herself it's probably better. If Tina's got out, if she's got home, it's gonna be better for them all -- It has to be, right? If anybody can figure out how to bust them out of this place, it's Teenie.

And if they've made her forget, well... maybe that's better too. She hated it here.

But telling herself these things just ain't the same as believing them, and sitting on the front steps of Sonny's house in her new dress, she can't keep herself from crying.


Behind House #17 - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


The funny thing about Tina being gone is that Queenie knows exactly what she'd say about it: That Queenie oughta stay busy and just get on with it. And sure, there's days when she just wants to fall right down onto the floor and stay there wallowing in how empty the house feels now, or how she accidentally made lunch for two, but that voice in the back of her head is awful quick to give her a kick in the pants, just like Teen herself would do.

Some days it's tough to find enough to fill the day, though, and she's been trying some things she probably would be better off to just let alone.

Today, it's splitting firewood. To say she's awful at it without wand would be the understatement of at least two centuries.

She got herself an axe from the inn, but she can't seem to hit the wood at the right angle or hard enough. She's pinged herself with bits of bark at least 20 times, and in the hour she's been out behind the house, she's got exactly 3 pieces of firewood to show for it, and one of them barely counts, if she's honest about it.


7I Shore - Mid-Late August - OTA (3 thread limit)


All of a sudden, they've got themselves an ocean, and all Queenie can do is stare at it.

The beach ain't much good for sunbathing with all its little pebbles, and it takes her a good fifteen minutes just to find a place to put her towel down. But it's the water that's the bigger problem, lapping softly at the shore like it couldn't just swallow her right up if it wanted.

Dressed in her cut-offs and sleeveless shirt, she wades in to her ankles but then just stands there, staring first at the wide, hazy horizon, and then down at the water swirling around her feet.
3ofswords: (head tilt)

7I Shore

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-08-11 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
Kira isn't sure he can have eyes in this place and not know who Queenie is. If it wasn't Credence waxing poetic about her inner and outer beauty, or Sonny doing his damnedest to ask for condoms without saying why, he'd know her well enough from lunches at the inn. Hell, he'd know her most days for the feeling he's attached to those curls: a golden net casting again and again into the sea.

Coming up on her today, she's only standing, only staring over the water. It seems odd to find her alone, but maybe that's why he hasn't made a point of taking up her time too often. Alone is something easier to find this side of the walls, and he's made the trek several times since news of the peach tree came back.

It's easier to justify a walk on the beach with something to bring home. "What brings you all the way out here," he asks, wandering into the surf to give his approach some noise. He almost follows up with a question about Sonny, remembering the trouble the man was having earlier, but his rewewed sense of the world has held for these few weeks. "How are you," he asks instead.
3ofswords: (wondering)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-08-13 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
"It's not too hard," he assures her: he even managed to get Credence floating, once he coaxed him out of his button-down. "It mostly comes down to trusting yourself and figuring out how to float."

He hasn't been swimming in the--sea, he and Ravi had settled on, no telling if it's less than an ocean with the human eye. Just his trips into and out of the fountain, soaking in the spring, and escaping the heat at the waterfall. "They made us learn for school, in case we ever fell off the ferry, I guess."

Casting a glance sideways to her attire, then out to the gentle waves, he offers: "I could help, if you wanted. I taught Credence."
3ofswords: (Default)

[personal profile] 3ofswords 2017-08-16 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
"I mean, fingers crossed, if they ever flood the canyon that badly we float up to the top and get out of here," he answers with a shrug, thinking either unlikely. The shore they're standing on has a long way to encroach before it touches anywhere that they're living--which probably means he should be building an ark for the next round of bullshit.

Looking down at his shorts, he wades deeper in, walking through the approaching waves. "We can start today if you want, it's only going to get colder from here on out."
ottimismo: (and useless in times like these)

[personal profile] ottimismo 2017-08-11 02:34 am (UTC)(link)
There have been a lot of people disappearing, as of late. Cougar's gone, which Sonny finds himself more sad about than anything else. He'd been a good friend, and one of the very first people he'd ever talked to upon stumbling into the village. A few other people have left, and Sonny can only hope that it just means they're going home.

Still, there's apart of him that can't stop thinking about the worst case scenario. After all, why would they be brought here to just be randomly let go with no rhyme or reason? It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense, and it's driving him crazy.

He's spent the day occupying himself, trying not to think about their situation, or his own spiraling state of hopelessness. He feels like he hasn't genuinely smiled in weeks. There's a hint of one, though, when he sees Queenie sitting on his front step. Somehow, she's capable of making him smile just by existing. He doesn't realize she's crying until he hears it.

"Queenie?" The smile has dropped, and there's a bit of alarm in his voice when he reaches her, dropping to his knees in front of her. It's impossible to keep his white scrubs clean in this place, and he doesn't care that the knees of them are stained with dirt now. "What's wrong? What happened?"
ottimismo: (in the face of my depravity)

[personal profile] ottimismo 2017-08-16 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh. Sonny can practically feel his heart cracking in his chest, and not just because Queenie's in tears. He'd liked Tina, even though their personalities had clashed horribly. It was hard to dislike someone who cared as much about his girlfriend as he did, and besides, Tina was a very realistic, grounded person. Sonny's always appreciated that with his flighty optimism.

He knows how it feels to have that hole in your heart, when you're missing someone you love. It's been too long since he's seen his sisters.

"Hey," he says softly, moving to sit beside her on the steps. His arm slips around her waist, pulling her close to his side and tucking her head under his chin. "Thinking like that will drive you crazy. I'm sure she's back home just waiting for you to join her."

He's not sure if he believes it himself anymore. But as long as Queenie does, that's what matters.
repressings: <user name="goldsteins">, DNT (14)

house 17;

[personal profile] repressings 2017-08-11 06:56 pm (UTC)(link)
Credence is writing. He's very happy about the fact that he can write--the pen Stella had given him for christmas hasn't yet ran out of ink, and Credence suspects it's magic--and now that there's someone who knows how to make paper, he's confident he can write and write without worrying about supplies.

Currently, he has his new journal bound in an encyclopedia, and he's on the mission for the best spot to curl up and put pen to paper. He's thinking maybe the town hall, or by the fountain, when he hears a chop of wood by Tina and Queenie's house.

Maybe Sonny's helping, he thinks, and that's immediately followed by maybe Sonny knows the perfect writing spot, and so Credence, hugging his new journal, makes his way to the back. What he finds isn't Sonny, but Queenie of all people, looking just about as out of her element as someone could possibly be.

"Miss Queenie?" Credence's gaze sweeps over to the pile of wood that's more like a few bundle of sticks.

"Hello," Is what he says after, trying to put two and two together as to why Queenie's doing it herself. Surely, she could get anyone in the village to chop wood for her so long as she smiles their direction?
repressings: <user name="goldsteins">, DNT (35)

[personal profile] repressings 2017-08-14 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Sure," he says easily, and even offers the tiniest of smiles. It's Queenie, after all--Queenie deserves at least an effort.

Speaking of effort, his gaze sweeps down, taking everything in, and stopping at the pile again. Queenie's asking if he's all right--he's okay, he has to be--but there's something missing. He can't put his finger on it, and Credence, being usually perceptive, finds this strange. Maybe he'll ask Tina, later.

"Did you need some help?"
repressings: <user name="goldsteins">, DNT (44)

[personal profile] repressings 2017-08-16 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Not at home," Credence answers her truthfully, and tries his best to smile. There's still something odd, something off about her. Credence can read people fairly well unless his own emotions cloud it--it comes from tiptoeing around Ma--but he still lacks social skills. This is one of those times where they're not exactly hand in hand, and he's at a loss.

But at the very least, he can help out.

"You're doing fine. The first time I tried, I was too scared to swing the axe." This is how you comfort people, right? He sets a small piece of wood on the stump and glances back.

"How's Miss Tina?"
scepterschild: (Serious)

Behind House - August 14th

[personal profile] scepterschild 2017-08-15 02:40 am (UTC)(link)
Wanda hadn't met Queenie's sister but she had seen the dark haired woman around the village a handful of times. Both Tina and Wanda suffered from a lack of social skills mixed with an intense work ethic, which meant that they were too similar to ever sit down and talk. Wanda remembered Queenie from the time when she still had her powers. There had been something about the other woman that Wanda found interesting. Part of it had been Queenie's kindness but there had been something else there too. That alone drew her to the sounds of Queenie's struggle behind her home.

Wanda was wearing a pair of jean shorts and a sports bra that she had pilfered from one of the disappeared villagers. Her long dark brown hair was tied up as the heat continued it's oppressive assault against the village. It was getting better but Wanda had never been a fan of heat.

She paused and watched Queenie for a few seconds before stepping forward. "Do you want help?" She asked, her accent pulling at the end of her syllables.

Wanda didn't know why Queenie wasn't using a wedge to split wood. It used less energy and was the way that she had once done it, she had been younger then and the wood had been a tough opponent without the help of a wedge.
scepterschild: (Imma drink my fucking coffee)

[personal profile] scepterschild 2017-08-18 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
It was obvious that she had no idea what she was doing but Wanda didn’t feel the need to say so since Queenie had already pointed it out. "There are different ways to cut wood." She walked over to the woodpile, picking up a piece of wood that was shaped a little bit like a wedge. "You can use pure strength." Like Erik often did. "Or techniques."

Wanda held out her hand to Queenie. "I can show you."