Queenie Goldstein (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
posilutely) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-03-22 12:23 am
posilutely) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-03-22 12:23 am
My heart will lead me there soon [Locked & OTA]
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.
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.
no subject
"It's awfully different," she allows, not at all an answer, and then allows, "I think I'd like it better if my sister was here. I've been living with her my whole life until this place. It feels kinda like I can't get my balance."
All that is true, of course -- Sharply so -- but there's more she can't say, about the innate strangeness of living without magic, or the possibly sinister reasons for having been dropped here in the first place. How she's got familiar faces from home, but that's all they are -- Familiar, but not close, not people she can hold dear.
no subject
"I know what you mean." She spoke in a soft voice, one that was thoughtful and sweet but also a little sad. "I miss my family, my island. I have my mom and dad and my grandmother, I don't have siblings but I grew up with everyone on the island. They're as much of my family as my parents are." Moana knew that the world was splashed with gray hues but it was something that was hard for her to understand.
Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I miss the ocean."
She was young, she resisted the cruelties of the world and substituted her own truths. For now, it worked out but it wouldn't last forever. "I do care about those I've met here but it... isn't the same; not really."
no subject
"I lived close to the ocean, too," she says as she swings her focus back to Moana, forcing her expression to brighten a bit. "But it was nothing like what you had back home. I can see how you'd miss it."
no subject
"There are forces that bring us together and keep us apart. As long as those I care about are in my memories… they aren’t really gone, are they?" She wanted to believe it but as strong as Moana was, she had times where she doubted herself. She’d wonder if what she was doing was right, if there was a reason to be strong or if she was just blinding herself to the world around her.
"The ocean is still the ocean. No matter where you are."
no subject
"It sounds like your grandma was a smart lady," she adds with smile, the love coming off Moana just as clear as anything.
no subject
Her dark brown eyes looked back over at Queenie with a smile. "She really is." Moana loved her so much.
"Ah, thank you for letting me join you. The water feels so good." It was so easy to talk and comfortable with the swirling heat, gathering around Moana's shoulders as she dipped herself lower into the water. She'd never leave if it was a viable option.
no subject
The water is nice -- Just about the nicest thing about this whole, confusing place, Queenie thinks (certain people excepted). She drifts a bit closer to Moana, her head tilting.
"I come out here about every other day. If you wanna make it a regular thing, meeting up, I'd definitely be glad to have you."
no subject
"About this time?"
no subject
Not that she'd mind more company, but so many of them seem to get flustered or not know quite what to do. It's something she's used to, but she still feels a bit bad for them.