My heart will lead me there soon [Locked & OTA]

[posilutely]

WHO: Queenie Goldstein
WHERE: Graves' House/Inn & Hot Springs
WHEN: 1 week after her arrival & March 22, evening
OPEN TO: Graves, Credence & All
WARNINGS: Half-naked witch? IDK
STATUS: Closed

---

backdated: about a week after arrival (for graves & credence)

Queenie Goldstein is not the sort of girl who looks a gift horse in the mouth, she really isn't. Ask anyone -- She's just a regular ray of sunshine. Too much of one, some people think, but Queenie's always felt it's better to err on the side of being grateful.

She and Teen, they didn't always have a lot. Somebody needed to find a silver lining for them both.

It would be a real understatement to say that it's been a challenge to maintain her typical upbeat demeanor since she found herself whisked so abruptly away from New York City's familiar clatter. She knows the silver lining's there, but there's only so much the universe can ask of a gal when she's been pulled from her home, her job, the only family she's got left. Does she have a roof over her head? Yes. Does she have food to eat? Absolutely, even if it makes her feel awfully guilty to not have much to give in exchange. She's got a couple of familiar faces around, too, even if technically they both tie her stomach up in knots.

It could be so much worse. She's been trying to remember that this whole last week as the full weight of reality settled on her slender shoulders. She really has. Some days it's just harder than others.

So, it's no real surprise that when she woke up today and found a big, ol' box sitting on her kitchen table, and then she opened the box and saw what was inside, that she had to sit down and cry for a minute. But a minute was all she was giving it; she dried her face on a towel, plucked herself up, and did the only thing she could do: She made cocoa.

The first she carries next door, a single tea cup shivering in her hands as she waits on the porch, hoping that Mr. Graves is home. A little later, she carries another to the inn, saucer fit over its top to protect the hot liquid inside as she looks for a skinny, sad boy with wide eyes.


current: at the hot springs (ota)

The hot springs has, by far, been the flat-out, absolute best thing Queenie has discovered about this place. A chance encounter on the road a couple of weeks ago, a teenage girl with big, tired eyes and a towel looped over her arm, dark hair still pinned high on her head.

I don't want a scar, is what the girl had said when she'd pulled up her sleeve to show the ghostly web of lines tracing her skin. It's great for your hair, too.

Queenie's been slipping out into the forest every few days since.

The girl hadn't been wrong; curls once limp were now bright and bouncy again, and Queenie just felt better each time she took the time to go the springs. She could swear she had more energy than ever before, but even if she didn't, she thinks she'd go anyway. Sure, she's got a tub at home, but it's just not the same.

Today she's carried along a couple of bath towels and an empty teapot to fill with water to carry home. They're set neatly aside under the nearest tree, under a low branch draped with her coat and clothes, black cotton fluttering gently in the warm mist skating off the water. She's kept on her underthings -- She's not that bold, no matter what her sister might think -- but there's not all that much left to the imagination as she gratefully sinks in, all the way up to her shoulders.

Comments

Hot Springs

[chosenbytheocean]

Once learning of the hot springs, Moana found herself heading there almost every other day. She loved the warmth of the water and it was one of the few places in this realm that reminded her of home. She didn't have to wear the layers and layers of clothing or worry about catching a cold.

She wasn't surprised to see someone else there when she arrived though she hadn't spoken to Queenie formally before now. Moana remembered seeing her in the inn or the kitchen at one point but she'd been to busy to stop and say hello. Right now she had no where to be so she wanted to take the chance to make a friend.

"Hello! Is it okay if I join you?"

[posilutely]

Queenie's distracted enough by the water's warm embrace that she doesn't even notice she's got company until it's right there talking to her. She only startles a little, a quick jump of her shoulders that shifts immediately to bright eyes and a wide smile.

It's obvious enough just from the outside that this girl is friendly and open, which is Queenie's favorite sort of person. But it's her mind that's the real treat, taking simple delight in the prospect of making a friend.

"Aren't you just the sweetest thing?" Queenie says, and then nods. "Of course you can. I love making new friends, honey."

[chosenbytheocean]

"Thank you."

Moana smiled and began to kick off her boots. She didn't mind stripping down, she was used to seeing people with very little clothing on since she lived on a tropical island. She kept her bra and underwear on before dipping her toe into the water water. It felt amazing.

"I haven't seen you much. Did you just arrive here?" Once Moana settled into the water she pulled her hair over her shoulder and began to run her fingers through the thick curls. There was no way that Moana couldn't be happy in the hot spring. It was a familiar heat with the comforting touch of the water.

[posilutely]

That Queenie has to take a moment to think on, her head tilting as she squints, trying to tally up days that started to run together after the first few. There's no work days or weekends here to keep an easy track of these things.

"Probably about a month," she finally says, although she she doesn't look very certain about the accuracy of her answer. "It feels about that. Have you been here a long time?"

This whole time, she's been thinking how wild it is that people have been here months and months, that they've just settled right into a new life, but look at herself -- A month gone, zoomed right past before she knew it.

[chosenbytheocean]

"Over two months." Moana rolled her shoulders in a shrug as she lowered herself into the water. Her hair fanned around her and softened from the heat. She briefly dipped her head beneath the water before standing and stepped towards the edge. Her fingers run through her hair as she turned her dark eyes towards Queenie.

"It feels like longer." Every day Moana thinks about her family, her island and the ocean. She didn't want to admit it but she missed the ocean most of all. "The cold made it feel longer." She really hated the cold which made the warm springs all the more alluring.

"Do you come to the spring often? Is your home warm too?"

[ottimismo]

It's not often that Sonny finds himself wandering outside of the village limits. Woodland is already uncharted territory for him under normal circumstances, having been born and raised in the city. The closest he gets to nature back home is Central Park, usually, and occasionally one of Staten Island's beaches. It's definitely not the same as an actual forest, like the sort that surrounds the village.

He knows there are bad things in the woods. Creatures and animals that are likely to be predatory. At least, that's what he's been told.

But today, he ventures in just a little bit, doing some exploring out of curiosity and sheer boredom. He's really got to find more to do around here — start learning new skills or finding another way to help out. It'll be nice when it comes time to start planting things. That will keep him busy. But for now, he'll keep himself busy by walking through some of the woods, seeing what he can find.

First, he finds an abundance of vibrant, green foliage, which seems not-quite-right given the season and the weather. Then, he finds clothes draped over a tree branch. Then he finds Queenie in what appears to be a hot spring, which he heard existed, but hadn't ever seen.

"Oh--" He turns around immediately, putting his back to her, face flushing immediately. "I'm-- Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was over here, I'm just--"

Stuttering and falling over his words, clearly.

[posilutely]

Well, it's good to know that Sonny is still just about the most adorable thing she's ever seen, and Queenie bites against a little smile as she watches him fluster. The back facing her now would be beet red in embarrassment if that were possible, she thinks, and she hates that she can't dip into his thoughts a bit more fully, extract just the right means to get him to relax. People are so much more tricky when you can't cheat at them.

"You're just...?" she gently prompts, sinking further into the water so that it laps at the underside of her chin. "You oughta come in, the water's just about the best thing you ever felt, and there's plenty of room."

[ottimismo]

He's pretty sure getting into the hot spring with her is actual the worst idea ever, actually. He already has trouble not blushing like an idiot whenever he talks to her — sitting half-naked in warm spring water is only going to amplify that by a million. And as it is, he still can't even bring himself to turn back around and face her. Though at least half of that is likely because he doesn't want her to see him blushing.

That ship has already sailed, really. But that's beside the point.

"I was just exploring," he says, his voice only a little more even than it was before. "The woods. I've never been out here, but I've heard it's dangerous."

[posilutely]

"Dangerous?" Queenie echoes as she moves a bit closer, ripples trailing in her wake. Her brow pinches, frustration mingling with her expression of concern, getting nothing more from Sonny's thoughts than a vague sense of dread amidst waves and waves of acute embarrassment.

"Dangerous how?" she continues, shoulders slumping as she gives up on gleaning any real details, knows she won't do a darned thing but give herself a headache if she keeps on pushing.

"I guess it's a good thing you came out here," she adds, just a little coaxing in the hopes he'll at least turn around. It's not as if she's naked.

[ottimismo]

Sonny hesitates for just a second, but then he half-turns to face her, looking directly at her for only a moment before asserting his gaze elsewhere, letting it linger on the oddly bright foliage surrounding the hot spring instead. Of he were more scientifically inclined, he might realize it has something to do with the water. But he's not, so he only finds it confusing and strange.

"Yeah. Like wild animals and stuff. I've never seen any, but I've heard they wander around out here. Like bears and moose."

Are moose dangerous? Maybe they just spook like deer do. He looks at her again, pointedly looking directly into her eyes rather than anywhere else, and smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. He wishes he saw her as more of a sister or a mentor like he does with most of the other women in the village, rather than a very pretty girl with the most attractively bubbly personality he's ever met, someone he finds himself wanting to befriend further and spend much more time with.

"I don't think I'd be much help against a bear."

[mund]

Graves is in a significantly better mood when he answers the door, recovering from the entire firefly fiasco in good time -- although not quickly enough, if you ask him. As it stands, he's more than happy to put it behind him, and something flickers in his eyes when he sees Queenie on the porch, with a teacup and saucer in her hands.

"Queenie." If he's surprised (he is), he doesn't let on. It's not often that people call on him -- Credence is an exception -- and it's less often that they'd bring whatever it is she holds in that teacup. Coffee? He doesn't smell coffee. It's the second time she's come over with something to offer, and Graves opens the door wider to let her in.

The house is warmer inside than out; Graves has a fire running, and has charmed the place to keep the heat in. A minor charm, something that thankfully hasn't been taken away from him. Queenie is a sight for sore eyes even in clothes that would look deeply unflattering on someone else, but something about her looks strangely, curiously drawn.

(Has she been crying?)

"Come in. I haven't thanked you for the soup."

Hot Springs

[hawkeyesniper]

Riza hadn't forgotten about the springs -- not after the evening they'd had most of the women here. It was really nice, but even so she found it strange she didn't come out here more often. It felt good and the rejuvenation didn't hurt -- though she still didn't completely trust it so she tried to keep her visits short and spread out.

This time, of course, she came with a companion. A puppy that was quickly growing bigger as the weeks passed and hadn't left her side much since. His training, was of course, getting a lot better. Riza had learned quickly that, whatever breed he was, he was very intelligent and that meant she had to keep him in check if she wanted to make sure he was going to remain obedient. Still, he hadn't been too much to handle so far, which was a relief. The young dog's superior senses, of course, picked up on the fact that they weren't alone before Riza even saw the clothes in the trees.

He let out a warning bark, nuzzling Riza and she looked ahead to notice the person slipping into the spring. She recognized her from around, though they hadn't really had a chance to talk much. Riza called out, "Sorry to sneak up on you. Should I come back later?"

[posilutely]

Startled by the bark, Queenie snaps her focus around just as she's stepping into the water, grateful for her firm foothold in the silty bottom of the pool. She doesn't stumble, but it's a close run thing, the water rippling out from the sway of her body.

Her expression of surprise quickly gives way to a smile, and she shakes her head. "Oh, it's okay, sugar. Come on in, I'm not shy."

She looks to the puppy and then back to his owner, eyebrows arched. "Does he know how to swim yet?"

[hawkeyesniper]

Riza would have to work on Arado's approach to others. While she appreciated him being protective, she also didn't need him scaring people unnecessarily. It was a fine line, but he'd already proven that he was able to learn quickly and subtle commands and discipline would not be beyond him at all.

She could think through all of that later though. For the moment she was having a pleasant exchange at the spring. Riza considered that she hadn't come here for a conversation and that she was a little self conscious--but she'd already been here once. Riza looked down at her dog, "I'm not sure. This would be his first time. Most dogs take to water pretty well though."

[posilutely]

"I've never had a dog," Queenie confesses as she continues her forward trek into the warm depths of the water. The pool is just wonderful, so much better even than a nice, deep tub, and her body responds instantly, all the little tensions she'd overlooked carrying bleeding out of her muscles the moment she sinks into the water.

Up to her shoulders now, she glances back at the woman on shore and smiles. "There's not a thing to be self-conscious about, I promise," she says.

[hawkeyesniper]

Well, it wasn't like she hadn't done this before. Riza gets Arado to sit and then begins taking her scrubs off. They were probably due for a washing soon as well, but for the mean time Riza just wanted to utilize the spring and feel better. She leaves her undergarments on, but does take her hair down. The strap and the long hair only hide the top portion of the large tattoo on her back, along with the burn scar on her shoulder. For the most part though the design on her back is fairly visible.

She crosses over to the spring, stepping in and keeping one eye on the dog as he waits on the shore. She smirks at him, "I'll let you have your turn in a minute. Let me enjoy this without a pup splashing around first. Stay." Arado wags his tail and Riza will assume that's his way of showing he understands. She turns her attention back to the woman, "Sorry about that. I suppose we can't exactly book an appointment for the spring."

at the springs

[ad_dicendum]

One of the many things lacking in this place is proper bathing infrastructure. He's not used to the idea of bathing as a solitary thing done in the confines of a bathroom, but to a communal experience that is a part of the social life of the city, or of the household on the larger private villas. He had been told about the spring, though, and ever since, he's made sure to come here on a regular basis. He may still be unable to shave or to trim his hair, but he can bathe like a Roman.

He's tended to find himself here without meeting any of the others, and he's expecting the same today when he approaches, with one of the towels from the Inn in his pack since he has no strigil.

He isn't alone, though; when he emerges from the treeline, it's to see someone very definitely settled into the the spring, clothes hanging from a branch to make up for the lack of pegs.

Mixed bathing is not common in Rome, but it's also not unheard of.

The problem is that he doesn't know the words in English ask if she would mind him being there. Many women he knows would; they're alone, and he's a stranger. So his cheeks start turning a deeper, redder shade, as he gives a heavily accented apology.

"I apologise to you."

[posilutely]

Queenie turns, water lapping at the crest of her shoulders, and immediately shakes her head. Reading thoughts isn't effortless here like it had always been back home, but his embarrassment is easy enough to see.

"Oh honey, that's okay," she says, and gestures for him to come on in. "There's lots of room."

She doesn't know how much he understands her, and she's never been all that great getting a good read off people who think in anything but American English, but she gist is there. It's sweet, really, that he'd come all this way just to have a bath and then think about turning right back around again to keep her from being uncomfortable.

[ad_dicendum]

Her accent isn't quite what he's been slowly getting used to, and there are some words he doesn't understand, but fortunately, the woman knows how to make her meaning clear. The gesture she makes is one of welcome, and her tone is, too. He's glad this much is relevant here. In Rome, there are plenty of people who think mixed bathing is an outrage, and though women here mix with men so much more than they do in Rome, it's been hard for Gracchus to predict what will and won't be similar to his own experiences here.

"Thank you," he says, relief filling his voice and relaxing his body a little. It's another of the formations he'd learned from the Greek and English book, but he's heard it in enough conversations over the meal table to know that it's correct.

Unlike Roman women, though, this woman is still wearing a layer of clothing, so when Gracchus steps behind a tree to strip down, he leaves his underwear on.

When he returns, he walks around the edge of the pool a little to give her some space, then wades in. It's good, the feel of hot water all around him, good, and familiar, when so much else here isn't.

"Water is good," he says, and pauses to try to remember the next word. "Hot."

[posilutely]

This is far from the first man Queenie's ever seen a man shirtless, but she forces her gaze away anyway, not embarrassed by his nakedness but rather aware enough that it's not ladylike to stare even if she wants to. She's never been particularly moved by a pretty face on its own, but there's no denying he's handsome, and polite, too, so she sits on her impulse to peek and waits to look back until she hears the lap of water as he settles into the pool.

"Isn't it just divine?" she answers with a nod, her smile wide and indulgent. On instinct, she moves a step closer, then ducks back again, Tina on her shoulder and fussing in her ear.

"You're still learning English, huh, honey?"

[ad_dicendum]

Divine. He knows that word, because it's one of those words in English that's so similar to Latin that he can guess at its meaning, particularly now that he's learned how English-speakers pronounce the 'v' sound he's always pronounced so differently to them. Divine is an accurate description, where something like this occurs without the complicated heating systems the Romans use in their own baths.

Gracchus smiles back at her, relieved as he still so often is to find someone who is willing to speak to him with his uneasy English. She is a beautiful woman, with striking looks that speak more of distant foreign lands than Roman ones, like so many other people here. It's the clear kindness she extends, though, that strikes the deepest impression. Her accent may be unusual, her terms of addressing him unfamiliar, but her intention is clearly friendly.

He hunches his shoulders so that they slip under the warm water, then lifts his hands to splash his face.

"I did not speak English before here," he agrees. "I speak Latin and Greek. But some are teaching me."

As he's so often finding, he doesn't know the words to express what he's feeling: the confusion, the frustration at the inability to say anything but the simplest sentences to the people here. Even then, he can't always say what he wants, because he doesn't know what the words are.

hot chocolate;

[repressings]

He'd been up all night reading again. It's always the same - Credence picks up the book he owns and has read a million times, but he reads it again and again and doesn't stop until there's the sun rising through his window.

So he does his chores and doesn't complain in the least. It's his fault, after all. He could just have stopped reading, dog-eared the page and slept, but a small part of him thinks that because he finds happiness in the printed word, if he stops it will magically disappear.

It's noon when he naps, and nearly two in the afternoon when he startles awake. Two hours is not briefly closing his eyes like he'd intended--it's a solid chunk of time he should be awake and helping in some form, and as he opens his room's door with a loud thunk from his urgency he's frantically patting his severe haircut down to avoid cowlicks, heading to the inn.

Goodness. He's sleeping like Kira, now, and that's quite a dreadful habit to get into.

In his slightly frantic state, he nearly bowls over the blonde with the cup in her hand, and he reflexively apologizes before he even realizes who it is. If anything, once he realizes it's the girl from the fountain - Graves' secretary, was it? - he feels even worse.

"Miss Queenie, I didn't mean to--I'm sorry, did you spill any of it?"

[posilutely]

"Oh—" Queenie startles and wobbles the cup, has that bitter, now-familiar moment of remembering she can't avert crisis with magic, but then steadies everything quickly enough, the saucer clattering atop the cup but doing the job of keeping the liquid inside. She takes a peek to confirm that all is well and then shakes her head.

"It's fine, sugar," she promises, her smile warm but worried at the edges -- He's so sweet, so constantly fearful of setting a toe out of line, and she understands better now why Tina had been so fiercely protective of him, why she'd burned up with so much anger at his mother.

"It's for you, actually," she says, and holds the cup forward with an encouraging arch of her eyebrows. "To say thank you for helping me out that day at the fountain."

[repressings]

Sugar, Queenie says, and it's so natural and innocent and guided towards Credence that he's caught off guard. Not that he'll ever show it, no, he's learned to button things up tight in the Barebone family, but his jaw flexes just a tad, and he thinks again of how Queenie's hair looks like cotton candy, and how that seems to match her personality.

Queenie is either someone who's gone through so much strife in her life she's turned into this, or doesn't know a thing about what really happens everywhere. Credence is betting on the former. Plus, Queenie's smiled at Credence. That's enough to make his heart flutter, just a little.

"For me?"

Credence looks at queenie this time, and while he's a bit confused, there's something else, there. He looks hopeful, and he cautiously looks down at it. He's still not used to presents.

"...I didn't get you anything," He mumbles, as if Queenie saying thank you for the fountain means he has to somehow return the favour.

[posilutely]

Queenie doesn't laugh, although the impulse is there -- Not cruelly, not mockingly, just something tender and joyful at his sheer, guileless sweetness, like an apple right off the tree. But he's been laughed at an awful lot, and she wouldn't want him to misunderstand.

"You don't need to get me anything, honey," she explains, resisting too the urge to reach out and touch -- A quick cup of his cheek, a squeeze of his shoulder, a point of contact to reassure, confirm the moment is real. "This is a thank you. You already did something for me." She hesitates a tick and then smiles again with a motion to the cup, its cocoa waiting sweet and warm beneath the saucer like a secret. "Plus, I've never made cocoa this way before, and I really need someone to try it for me."