You can try hard, don't mean a thing; [Arrival & OTA]

[posilutely]

WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: Fountain and Inn kitchen
WHEN: 22 & 23 February
OPEN TO: Graves, Credence and YOU
WARNINGS: Potential spoilers for Fantastic Beasts
STATUS: Closed to new threads

---

fountain (for graves & credence);

As far as prime places to wake up out of a deep, snuggly sleep go, Queenie is pretty darned sure this one goes at the very bottom of her list. In the muddy mental place between sleeping and waking, when her body jolts sharply forward, upward, she thinks she's done a doozy and disapparated in her sleep. Just last week, there had been a story in the papers about a little old lady minding her sweet business in Queens who ended up in the middle of a No-Maj cheese factory. She'd accidentally fallen asleep with her wand her in her hand and sneezed. It happens, it really does.

And oh, Queenie's gone and added insult to injury and ended up smack in the middle of the ocean -- No, the Hudson -- and her wand isn't in her hand anymore. She's going to drown out here and Tina will be all alone, and gosh, she'll be so ashamed of Queenie she'll probably have to make something up about it. Trembling hand clutched bravely to her breast, my sister Queenie died battling a rabid fire crab. She saved three starving orphans and an 80-year-old nun.

Because the thing is... Queenie Goldstein never learned to swim.

When she sputters to the surface, she's gotten there by sheer instinct alone, her muscles flailing with rigid panic. She coughs, spitting up water and then gulping more down, arms frantically slapping before she sinks once again.


inn kitchen, the next day (ota);

Every inch of Queenie's body feels utterly worn out. The confusion of finding herself just about as far away from New York City as it's apparently possible to get is lingering, crouching at the back of her mind, but she guesses she oughta be grateful that she's too tired to do more than just shove it aside and get on with... well, whatever the heck this is.

Just now, breakfast.

Without a wand.

Hands on her hips, she's crouched down in front of one of the ranges, peering inside the heavy opened door at the neat pile of firewood inside. "Oh, applesauce," she mutters, and then puffs out a breath that stirs the short hair skimming her cheeks. She's never had to light a fire without magic before, not once.

Comments

[mund]

The eulogy that Tina will have to deliver, if everything doesn't go to hell in a handbasket, will hopefully not be needed for a long time yet, because someone's in the vicinity, bearing witness to the entire debacle.

Graves (and lately Credence, too, who has returned to his habit of shadowing him in the evenings) visits the fountain often, keeping tabs on the frequency of new arrivals -- and of the new arrivals themselves. Credence has improved from the last time he'd been struck by lightning, and is proving to be better company than before. Nothing like a violent accident to put things in perspective, apparently. Still, he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

This evening, Graves muses on how most of the arrivals seem quite capable of swimming (he's long wondered if there are any who drowned within its confines before, and has received no answers), although this particular incident is proving to be an exception. Graves is by the fountain, close enough to catch a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair plastered to her face, and oh, what a face it is, it's --

-- Queenie.

The surprise of seeing Queenie Goldstein, of all people, turn up in this village makes him pause, but only for a heartbeat of a moment before he's shedding his coat and handing it to Credence. Queenie can't swim, if her flailing in panic is anything to go by.

"Hold this." He tells him briskly, kicking off his shoes, and that's all he says when he jumps in for her. She's too far from the edge to catch a hold of it, and he's by her side in seconds, reaching her from behind so that her flailing limbs won't catch him anywhere.

"Queenie!" He says loudly, demanding her attention as he treads water behind her, staying out of reach. "Queenie. I'm getting you out, but you need to stop flailing around. Calm down!"

[posilutely]

Relief sings through her -- Someone has found her against the odds, is going to get her out of this mess, and she does calm down a little, even though the instructions are garbled by the steady stream of water pouring down atop her --

Wait, what in the heck? Is she in a waterfall?

She turns her head to look over her shoulder, would try to smile if she wasn't still coughing, but even through the veil of water she can see clearly enough who it is, knows that voice and knows that face and would screech if she could.

Oh no, oh no, she doesn't have a wand, she doesn't have anything, she can't even swim and she's going to die, she's going to drown or be drowned, and she tries to pull away, a frantic frothing as she reaches for something, anything, but only finds a smooth column with no handholds and the underside of a wide bowl --

Is she in a fountain?

One of her legs flails out and makes contact with something soft, a bright surge of triumph amid her panic as she sinks again and sputters once more to the surface.

[repressings]

Oh dear.

That's the only thought that flits through Credence's mind, because the moment Graves takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes, all hell breaks loose. He jumps in, the blonde flails--Queenie? Does Graves know her? And--

Credence's eyes widen to an unbelievable degree.

Has the girl just kicked the leader of the Wizarding world?

"Sir!" His voice is panicked, rising in pitch and ferver as he drops the coat and rushes over to the edge.

"Mr. Graves, are you alright, I--it's you!" He recognizes her, now. The problem is he's too stunned to do anything. His rescue attempt is horrible; he's at the edge gawking uselessly.

[mund]

She's panicking. She's panicking and lashing out and Graves swears when she kicks him in the thigh, the impact of it enough to surprise him. He sets himself out of possible reach immediately, rapidly flicking through possible options.

Not far away, he hears Credence cry out, and spares a moment to bark, "Credence, stay where you are!"

The last thing he needs is to save two people at once, especially when one is proving difficult enough to save. Annoyed and knowing she's running out of time, he tries again. He has to get her out, and quickly, and he doesn't want to be the one to explain to Tina why he'd let her sister drown. He draws closer, moving behind her to ensure that she has less room to hit him again. "Listen to me, I'm here to save you. For Morrigan's sake, stop thrashing around and let me take you to shore!"

[posilutely]

Terrified, unfocused, she isn't picking up much, but there's a glimmer of sincerity there, the teensiest thread of hope that gives her permission to thrash a little less, to grasp a hard hold onto his awful, terrible, murderous arm to keep herself afloat.

She doesn't know why he'd want her alive, but if he does... Well, she can count those chickens once they're hatched, can't she? It's frigid and she's in a fountain -- The deepest fountain she's ever seen in her life -- and if pushing herself off the worst wizard ever to set foot on the planet will help her get a hold of the edge so she can pull herself free, so be it.

And if Tina ever accuses her of being impractical again, Queenie's definitely going to have something to say about it.

She hefts herself forward, graceless arms swinging out, misjudging the distance and sinking again with a burbled cry. Her fingertips skim against cement when she sputters up again, nearly there and then coughing up cold water and bile as her skinny arms slap up and over. Shuddering, wide-eyed, she hangs there, not sure she can muster the energy to hoist herself out.

[scrounged]

Rey had taken to spend a lot of time hanging around the inn, not only because it was far warmer than her little house and had far more company, but because her own cooking skills were limited and there was often someone who'd be happy to share a meal. This morning she's just stepped inside to warm herself, but she can't help but notice that Queenie looks troubled.

"Are you all right?"

[posilutely]

"Oh," Queenie says, and sits back on her heels to turn a chagrined smile on the girl -- Something with an R, she thinks, a short name, and it's right there, that single letter teasing her but keeping hold of the goods.

"Yeah, I'm just a little turned around is all," Queenie promises, and then brightens. "You would know how to light a fire, wouldn't you, sweetie?" She knows how to do all kinds of handy things, this one. Queenie might not be able to read her name, but the pride in that much is obvious.

[scrounged]

She's relieved to find that it's something so straightforward, something she knows how to help with. Lighting fires was different here to on Jakku - but then, everything was - using wood rather than carefully rationed oil, though the principle was the same. Rey looks around for a flint, knowing the kitchen must have several, and stacks up wood in the range.

"Come and watch, so you know how to do it yourself next time," she suggests, scooting sideways a little to make room for Queenie as the sparks appear from the flint.

[posilutely]

Delighted, Queenie tucks herself up next to the girl, watching the process with keen focus. She's never considered how she might feel, being unable to cook -- Just the idea of it would have been silly before yesterday. Whoever heard of not being able to light the stove? But if she can't get around not using magic, it's going to be a real bear.

"You're just a natural," she says, her smile warm as she glances to the girl. "What's your name, sweetie?"

[ottimismo]

Today, like every other day, Sonny is going through his usual routine. Waking up, making his way to the makeshift church to pray, and then heading for the Inn to help with cooking and cleaning and chatting with whoever happens to be there that morning. Eventually, he'll have to find other ways to spend his time — this is getting to stale, too routine, and he needs to find a way to keep himself busier.

But for now, he's passing through the kitchen, pulling out dishes to get things ready for breakfast to be made. He doesn't notice at first that she's new, that he hasn't seen her around before. She speaks and he pauses, holding a glass bowl, and looks over at her.

"We have applesauce?"

[posilutely]

"What?" Queenie asks with an upward glance, and then shakes her head, curls bobbing. "You know, I really don't know. But it's just an expression. Like shucks." She smiles, a faint curve of her lips that grows into a full-blown grin as she watches him.

"Well you just need something important to do, don't you, honey?" she asks, green eyes bright with this scrap of knowledge. "To help people. You could help me?" It isn't what he wants, not by a long shot really, but that doesn't change that she could use a hand.

"I know it's kinda small potatoes, but do you know how to light this thing?"

[ottimismo]

He blinks, surprised, and wonders how she was able to read him so well. She's not wrong, in any sense. He does need something to do. Not necessarily something important, but something to take up even the tiniest bit of time in his day. And helping people, as it is, is one of his favorite things to do. It's why he became a cop, and a lawyer, because those were as close as he could get to being a superhero.

"Yeah," he says, with a bright smile. "Yeah, no problem. I'd love to help."

He kneels down in front of the stove, moving some of the wood around to get it ready for lighting. "It took me forever to learn how to do this. All I've ever used is an electric stove back home."

[posilutely]

With magic seemingly at such a low ebb, it's good to have the confirmation of who is and isn't a No-Maj, and Queenie happily scoots aside, forcing herself to watch the lighting process and not the man himself. Even after Jacob, it's such a thrill to be around a No-Maj, to actually be talking to one.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing," she beams, looking at him despite herself as she tries to suss out a name, D and S all tangled up. It happens sometimes, with nicknames. Back home, she'd be better at this. Here, she's got to ask.

"What's your name, honey?"

Kitchen!

[candor1]

A knock at the back door doesn't wait to be answered before the door swing opens; and a pile of firewood with legs comes in. It makes its way to its customary place beside the stove, before parting company with its legs—revealing it was, of course, a man carrying enough firewood to obscure his upper half. He sets it into a relatively tidy pile, stretches his back as he straightens, and looks at Queenie. His expression acquires new interest at once: a new face.

"New arrival?" he asks—knowing the answer, conforming to conversational ritual.

[posilutely]

Looking back at him over her shoulder, Queenie smiles, warm and wide. "Right on the nose," she confirms. Her gaze lingers a touch too long, too intently, eyes bright as she catches hold of what little she can -- This straining to read people is really the pits.

"I don't suppose you know how to light a fire in this thing, do you?" she asks him with a birdlike tilt of her head. He plays things close to the vest, this one, but there's a recent happiness in there he can't hide.

[candor1]

He catches her gaze for a moment, meeting the intensity back. He turns his into a (masking) amusement. He can tell when someone's trying to read him. (Though he would never guess, in her case, how. Perhaps if he'd had any firsthand experience with Force-users… but they're considered all-but extinct in his time.)

"Of course," he answers readily, digging in his pocket for his flint and steel. He courteously maneuvers around her to kneel at the stove and get to lighting it. He makes sure it's well ablaze before standing and turning to her again.

"Hello and welcome, by the way," he says, offering his hand. "I'm Cassian."




[OOC: P.S. opposite of opt-out: I'm a sucker for mindreading, please pick up absolutely anything you'd like, ever ^_^ ]

[posilutely]

"Well sure you are," Queenie enthuses, like his name was a secret she was hoping to tell. He makes such quick work of the stove that she's delighted all-around -- With the fire, with the flash of his name she got before he said it, with the proffered hand.

She gives him a solid shake before nodding to his flint and steel. "You just walk around with that in your pocket?" Sometimes she has such trouble imagining what it must be like for No-Majs, having to think their way around everything. She knows better than to say so in mixed company, but she thinks they're clever as all get out.

inn

[notabirdcostume]

Sam was used to new faces popping into the kitchen occassionally. He's not so territorial of it that he would ever chase anyone out. Of course, he's learned that some people have more skill than others to offer when it comes to preparing food and he's never going to be one to back down from helping someone learn. That was part of the fun of cooking really, doing it with others.

He didn't always come in for breakfast. He preferred the evening crowd. However, it was fun to change things up sometimes and he did have a weakness for breakfast foods. It was he first items he'd learned to cook.

So, when he entered the kitchen that morning he wasn't too surprised to find a woman in front of a range and looking perplexed. "Mornin', you having trouble getting it started? I have to admit it took me awhile to get used to, as well," Sam said, offering her a reassuring smile.

[posilutely]

Oh, he's just adorable, bursting with helpfulness and cheerful to boot, and Queenie can't help but grin up at him, her eyes brightening.

"I am," she admits with a quick nod of her head. "And aren't you just the sweetest thing, sweeping in here to help?" His name is something with an S... Sam? Sam. Her shoulders sink a little with relief at the mental confirmation.

"I feel a little silly, but I've never had to do it quite like this before."

/just pretend sam gives her a good lesson on proper muggle stove/oven lighting

[notabirdcostume]

"Hey, I'm sure anyone else would have done the same. It can be a little tricky if you're new -- I know I had to get the hang of it with some help, so I figure I should return the favor, right," he replies. "You're certainly not the first person who's had trouble with it," Sam adds.

As he says this, he's already moving over to get the fire going so they can start actually working with the kitchen appliance that used to be such a convenience back home. Who thought he'd have to go so far back as to find himself missing even a conventional oven, let alone a microwave. But, once you had the hang of lighting the stove the old fashioned way it wasn't too hard.

Of course, before he gets started, he makes sure to explain how to light the fire in the correct place and how to get it warm and ready to cook with. Once he's got it going, he holds out a hand, "I'm Sam by the way. You'll see me a lot if you're someone who plans on spending any time in the kitchen."

[posilutely]

"You're just a peach, is what you are," Queenie enthuses, caught for a moment staring at the lovely little blaze in the stove before standing and giving Sam's hand a solid shake. She's not altogether sure she'll be able to replicate the lighting, but at least she's got an idea of where she should be heading next time she tries.

"Oh, you cook, don't you, honey?" She grins back at him. "I just love to cook." Her curls bob as she shakes her head, remembering herself. "I'm Queenie."

Inn Kitchen

[scepterschild]

Wanda occasionally found herself at the inn though she rarely sat out in the main area. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run into Pietro or not so she took a few steps to avoid him. Instead she'd be wandering around the kitchen or make something to eat for anyone who was interested. She had many skills but cooking was one of the few things that calmed her, at least compared to anything else she was able to do here.

It distracted her and helped her clear her mind of her troubled thoughts.

"Do you need help?" She came up behind Queenie, her accent light as she walked into the kitchen. Wanda didn't have access to all of her powers but she had enough to lend a hand here and there and she could help start a fire if that's what Queenie needed.

Sorry this took so long, I must have accidentally deleted the notif!

[posilutely]

There are two -- No, three things which Queenie finds instantly delightful about this young lady. The first is that it's just so obvious that she's all twisted up over something -- Which is a terrible thing, it really is, and Queenie isn't glad about that part of it. But it's broadcast loudly enough, is a full enough emotion that she doesn't even really have to stretch to pick up on it, and it's just been frustrating as all get out adjusting to having people so clammed up on her.

The second is that this girl knows magic. Maybe not Queenie's sort of magic -- There's a different flavor to the way she thinks about it -- but it's still magic, and that counts.

The third is that she's going to help Queenie get out of this pickle, and that means she's a sweetheart.

"I do," Queenie answers with a nod as she looks up, her eyes bright with knowledge but mouth kept firmly shut. She's not very good at it, the whole keeping her talents to herself thing, but she's trying to not scare people away.

"I've never had to light a stove like this before."

It's cool. Queenie is so adorable.

[scepterschild]

Wanda nodded her head. "It takes some getting used too." Not that she was planning to use conventional methods to light the stove. She stepped forward and eyed the wood before reaching her powers out towards it. Red mist seeped from her finger tips as Wanda quickly forced the red mist down, creating friction and then fire.

A small smile tugged at her lips; at least she can do this much.

Wanda's head turned up to look at Queenie. She didn't know that her emotions were so clearly read. It was harder for her own mind powers here and at most she could pick up that others were standing close to her, anything else involved a lot of focus and sometimes ended in a headache.

"Did you just arrive?" It was easy small talk, another distraction.

[posilutely]

"Oh," Queenie whispers as she watches the mist, her eyes round. She hadn't been wrong: This is definitely a different sort of magic from what she's used to, but handy, too.

"I did," she confirms with a nod a moment later, when she finally pulls her attention away. "I've never seen anything like that," she immediately segues with a glance back to the tidy little fire now burning inside the belly of the stove. "Is that a spell, or something you can just do?"