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sixthiterationlogs2017-03-25 04:31 pm
goldsteins) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-03-25 04:31 pm
001 | arrival
WHO: Tina Goldstein
WHERE: The Fountain & Around
WHEN: 3/25 Onwards
OPEN TO: Closed arrival to Queenie, OTA threads to anyone else
WARNINGS: Nothing applicable at the moment
STATUS: OTA sans Queenie thread
FOUNTAIN// ARRIVAL
(This is locked to Queenie, but should you want to do something with it let me know! It's merely because I prefer not to have a lot of initial reaction threads. )
Tina is usually not so quick to wake up in the mornings. The nature of her job forced her to be an earlier riser, but even then she had to wake up a little earlier than most. It took at least one cup of coffee to make her ready for the day (some days more if a case kept her later than usual). The sudden jerking motion, as if from a fitful of sleep, to wakefulness is more than enough to set her sense alive. Her brain whirled half groggily become aware very quickly that this was certainly not where she was supposed to be.
It's December in New York. Most of the water inland was frozen over, so she has to be somewhere else. It's distinctly somehow warmer than it had been and that's more than enough to set off further bells. Bells that she can't really take heed to at the moment as she forces herself upwards. Grateful, not for the first time, of the training that Aurors were pressured to go through of all kinds. Panicking right then would surely be her downfall. A few moments later her hand grasps the sides of a slick wall, uses it to guide, and lets out a strangled breath as her hand grips the edge and her head emerges from the water.
She gives herself a moment to catch her breath before giving a frustrated noise and hoisting herself out of the water. The immediate danger seemingly gone for now, the woman can't help but still remain on high alert. What kind of Auror doesn't have a wand? She mentally scolds herself, but it's easily returned with a simple: The kind who was sleeping peacefully in their home until five minutes ago. The realization sobers her from the adrenaline high of a few minutes prior and she takes in her immediate surroundings: Buildings she would certainly not find in their part of New York.
A tensity sets her shoulders and for the first time she glances down at herself: Definitely not the comfortable pajamas she had worn to bed. Her mouth formed a thin line and she rises to her feet, hefts the weight off her back-- a bag-- and glares at it as if it's the problem here (there was a lot of problems here).
"What in the name of Deliverence Dane is going on?" She growled to herself neverminding at the moment how absurd she most look as she unzips the thing hoping against hope somehow a wand would be in there. Hope, of course, doesn't work and she hardly looks as absurd as the last person to arrive. Or the person before them.
LATER// AROUND THE VILLAGE
Once she's settled and dry, Tina finds she can't sit any longer. As much as she wants to sit and talk to her sister-- to make up for an apparent lack of being there-- she's restless. The house Queenie had settled in was nice, far larger than their one bedroom they shared in New York, but it reeked of unfamiliarity. The idea of simply having her own room after all this time was simply disconcerting and saying as much wasn't going to help anyone (of course, however, her sister knew her better than anyone could read her in ways she didn't like to be). Tina just had to get out and do something: Anything.
Even taking in the village left her uneasy. The functionalities of things didn't seem so strange, but she's used to taller buildings, crowded streets, millions of people. There was overcrowding New York and here it seemed overly spacious. The fog certainly doesn't help. When the weather was right the fog rolled over Manhattan and on a good day it was difficult to see where you were going and as homey as that feeling was it's inherently wrong. Tina feels more disconcerted by the moment as she takes in the various houses and buildings, frowning at how it can seem so empty and stepping away quickly if she comes too close to someone.
She doesn't seem to offer any words of apologies in that moment: Or at least the excuse me doesn't sound entirely apologetic. It's not as if people running into each other in overpopulated New York wasn't normal nor was it really easy to see anything. The disgruntlement is obvious in her tone if and when she does even if she manages a somewhat apologetic look.
THE WOODS// A FEW DAYS LATER
Being busy is just part of who Tina is and investigating is another. Once she's set on where things are in the village she can't help but test the limits: Just because someone says they're trapped doesn't make it any easier for the woman to believe. Her time in any expanse of forest is few and far between. Most of her job involved city arrests and her Ilvermorny days were kept to the school (not into the surrounding woods on Mount Greylock). In spite of that she's determinedly made her way into the woods.
The woman certainly doesn't move with any sense of ease in the woods, but she's careful enough. Taking in the growth and wondering just how large the woods are. If there's really no way out. Right now, however, she's merely curious-- taking in the area as opposed to even trying to find a way to escape. It's hardly as if she's prepared for that at all.
Unfortunately for her, inexperience in a forest shows and now and then the noises of animals moving or the rustling of trees makes her stiffen up. At one point she catches sight of a deer out of the corner of her eye and stops-- Turning to it in surprise and gives out a puff of a breath.
"Now this is ridiculous," She mumbles to herself unhelpfully deciding then that she's certainly had enough for the day and turns to find her way back to the village. Which is another thing altogether: Mapping a city she can do. A forest? Not so much.
WHERE: The Fountain & Around
WHEN: 3/25 Onwards
OPEN TO: Closed arrival to Queenie, OTA threads to anyone else
WARNINGS: Nothing applicable at the moment
STATUS: OTA sans Queenie thread
FOUNTAIN// ARRIVAL
(This is locked to Queenie, but should you want to do something with it let me know! It's merely because I prefer not to have a lot of initial reaction threads. )
Tina is usually not so quick to wake up in the mornings. The nature of her job forced her to be an earlier riser, but even then she had to wake up a little earlier than most. It took at least one cup of coffee to make her ready for the day (some days more if a case kept her later than usual). The sudden jerking motion, as if from a fitful of sleep, to wakefulness is more than enough to set her sense alive. Her brain whirled half groggily become aware very quickly that this was certainly not where she was supposed to be.
It's December in New York. Most of the water inland was frozen over, so she has to be somewhere else. It's distinctly somehow warmer than it had been and that's more than enough to set off further bells. Bells that she can't really take heed to at the moment as she forces herself upwards. Grateful, not for the first time, of the training that Aurors were pressured to go through of all kinds. Panicking right then would surely be her downfall. A few moments later her hand grasps the sides of a slick wall, uses it to guide, and lets out a strangled breath as her hand grips the edge and her head emerges from the water.
She gives herself a moment to catch her breath before giving a frustrated noise and hoisting herself out of the water. The immediate danger seemingly gone for now, the woman can't help but still remain on high alert. What kind of Auror doesn't have a wand? She mentally scolds herself, but it's easily returned with a simple: The kind who was sleeping peacefully in their home until five minutes ago. The realization sobers her from the adrenaline high of a few minutes prior and she takes in her immediate surroundings: Buildings she would certainly not find in their part of New York.
A tensity sets her shoulders and for the first time she glances down at herself: Definitely not the comfortable pajamas she had worn to bed. Her mouth formed a thin line and she rises to her feet, hefts the weight off her back-- a bag-- and glares at it as if it's the problem here (there was a lot of problems here).
"What in the name of Deliverence Dane is going on?" She growled to herself neverminding at the moment how absurd she most look as she unzips the thing hoping against hope somehow a wand would be in there. Hope, of course, doesn't work and she hardly looks as absurd as the last person to arrive. Or the person before them.
LATER// AROUND THE VILLAGE
Once she's settled and dry, Tina finds she can't sit any longer. As much as she wants to sit and talk to her sister-- to make up for an apparent lack of being there-- she's restless. The house Queenie had settled in was nice, far larger than their one bedroom they shared in New York, but it reeked of unfamiliarity. The idea of simply having her own room after all this time was simply disconcerting and saying as much wasn't going to help anyone (of course, however, her sister knew her better than anyone could read her in ways she didn't like to be). Tina just had to get out and do something: Anything.
Even taking in the village left her uneasy. The functionalities of things didn't seem so strange, but she's used to taller buildings, crowded streets, millions of people. There was overcrowding New York and here it seemed overly spacious. The fog certainly doesn't help. When the weather was right the fog rolled over Manhattan and on a good day it was difficult to see where you were going and as homey as that feeling was it's inherently wrong. Tina feels more disconcerted by the moment as she takes in the various houses and buildings, frowning at how it can seem so empty and stepping away quickly if she comes too close to someone.
She doesn't seem to offer any words of apologies in that moment: Or at least the excuse me doesn't sound entirely apologetic. It's not as if people running into each other in overpopulated New York wasn't normal nor was it really easy to see anything. The disgruntlement is obvious in her tone if and when she does even if she manages a somewhat apologetic look.
THE WOODS// A FEW DAYS LATER
Being busy is just part of who Tina is and investigating is another. Once she's set on where things are in the village she can't help but test the limits: Just because someone says they're trapped doesn't make it any easier for the woman to believe. Her time in any expanse of forest is few and far between. Most of her job involved city arrests and her Ilvermorny days were kept to the school (not into the surrounding woods on Mount Greylock). In spite of that she's determinedly made her way into the woods.
The woman certainly doesn't move with any sense of ease in the woods, but she's careful enough. Taking in the growth and wondering just how large the woods are. If there's really no way out. Right now, however, she's merely curious-- taking in the area as opposed to even trying to find a way to escape. It's hardly as if she's prepared for that at all.
Unfortunately for her, inexperience in a forest shows and now and then the noises of animals moving or the rustling of trees makes her stiffen up. At one point she catches sight of a deer out of the corner of her eye and stops-- Turning to it in surprise and gives out a puff of a breath.
"Now this is ridiculous," She mumbles to herself unhelpfully deciding then that she's certainly had enough for the day and turns to find her way back to the village. Which is another thing altogether: Mapping a city she can do. A forest? Not so much.
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And so, from the moment she sputtered from the fountain up to now, it's never been a matter of if Tina showed up, it's been when.
Newt and Jacob being here have made it seem all the more like an inevitability, and Queenie's been antsy for a full week, checking the fountain anytime she's got a good excuse (and plenty of times when she doesn't). It's going to happen, she just knows it will.
And then, of course, it just... does.
She hears her sister's familiar tone of exasperation before she sees her -- The fog's been an absolute terror for weeks now. Grinning, Queenie bolts forward down the path through the trees, and all but flings herself at Tina, mist swirling in her wake.
"Oh, you're going to just hate it here," she says, voice brimming over with happiness, still squeezing Tina tight.
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But, no, that can't possibly be it because as much of a flurry as the movement was it wasn't to harm her (or at least intentionally). The thought passes even more quickly as her hands slip from the bag and it's undoubtedly her sister's voice in her ears. "Queenie?" She remarks incredulously, an uncertainty to the breadth of the word. Tina's mind is still swimming from the post few minutes. Had it really only been minutes?
It had.
Reflexively she moves her arms to wrap around the other woman. Whatever else this may be this was her sister-- undoubtedly-- and her action makes the woman worried. It's as if she was surprised to see her, but they had went to bed in the same room mere hours before.
"What exactly is here?" She questioned with a puff of defeat, "Queenie, what's going on?"
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"We gotta get you inside, there's nothin' but soup for it if you catch a cold," she says as her gaze sweeps over the bedraggled picture of her sister. The brilliance of her smile fades a bit; she hadn't really thought much past simply having her sister here, but of course Tina's gonna want answers. Tina's the certified queen of answers.
"I got a house with a fireplace, so you can just plunk down in front of it and... well, I'll try to tell you what's goin' on, but I don't think you're gonna to like it much." Because if there's one thing Tina likes, it's when things make sense, and there's not a lick of sense in this whole place, in Queenie's opinion.
"Come on. I hate this fog," she adds, and squints out into the mist. "It always makes me feel like somebody's watching me."
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The bookbag had fallen when Queenie pulled away, so Tina made busywork of picking it up and zipping it up once more (it felt pretty useless at the moment without a wand). She's straightening just as quickly, however, and shooting her sister a wary look. There's far too many questions etched in her face: A house? How long had she been here to have a house? Why did she have a house? More questions followed in a whirlwind and the older woman can't help but feel entirely misplaced.
Which, of course she was.
She's aware she should be worried about the cold or getting sick, but her mind remains buzzing with unexpected information. Sliding over it quickly in wondering of her sister and instinct that's too familiar kicks in. Tina shakes her head, zips the bag back up, and throws it over her shoulder in a manner that is all too irritable. Once it's settled on her back, she takes a chattering breath before reaching out to grip her sister's hand. It's a familiar gesture. Tina wasn't the most physical a person, but Queenie was different. Especially in times when things seem to be balled up, terrifying, or lonely: Sometimes the physical reminder her sister was there grounded her. While she would claim she was often being there for Queenie, it was undeniable that sometimes she needed the same thing.
"I already don't like it," Tina finally remarked, the corners of her lips still turned downwards in an ever present frown. Her hand held Queenie's for as long as she'd let her and for a moment Tina feels the situation is reversed. Queenie is the one who was here, knew, and had the answers (or some semblance of them). It was all the more unsettling. She finds she's glad that Queenie doesn't use the word home for that house or her heart might have sunken even lower.
"Alright, no standing around here," She continued solidly, trying to imbue the familiar sense of authority to her voice but not quite making it, "lead the way? And you could try answering on the way. I'm not gonna break any." In many ways she was trained for unpredictable situations, but even MACUSA didn't train for this kind of thing.
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the woods // jyn's going through a lot so i'm so. so sorry for this, lol.
Was right.
Attachments make one weak. Vulnerability leads to havoc and ruin. Love, in all its forms, is nothing more than a death sentence - no better than twenty years in a prison camp, where no one makes it past five.
She's spent the last - how long? Three hours? Four? Five? - running, from perimeter to perimeter, trying to find him. Unable to relent and unable to give voice to what she knows is true: he's gone. She's caked in dirt and sweat and grime, breathing ragged and labored, feet dragging with each step. She mutters his name every few seconds, unable to admit that she may never be able to call his name again and see his face, hear his voice, touch his skin. She remembers how it had been a prayer for her, when she'd first arrived, learned he'd been here. How it kept her moving, kept her breathing until she'd found his arms wrapped fiercely around her. It does the same now - only, she knows the ending won't be as joyful.
She somehow manages to hear the mutterings of another person - a woman, she thinks - and it snaps her out of her haze. Panicked eyes scan like quadnocs, finding a woman she doesn't recognize looking rather confused. She adjusts her trajectory, sets course for the stranger.
"Have you seen a man with dark hair wandering about?" she calls out when she's within earshot. "Black scrubs, dark eyes?" Please, she thinks, Please. Let him be here.
<333!
She curses herself for being so quick to make tense these days, but this is alien terrain and she's wandless. Whatever worries she seems to have fades, however, when she notes the younger woman's question the smallest hints of an uncertain frown appearing on her lips. Did someone get lost in the woods...? Tina doesn't really have to think all that much about the question as she gives an immediate shake of her head.
"Sorry," She responds firmly, her voice softening some, "I've only been here a couple of days. The only person I've seen in black scrubs enough to recognize is my sister."
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She finds a nearby tree, presses her other palm to it for stability as she hunches over, the threat of bile and whatever little food she might've had the sensibility to eat gurgling in her gut, foreboding expulsion onto the grass below.
"He can't be gone," she whimpers quietly, squeezing her eyes shut until she can see the ghosts of the stars they'd spent their life among, the same ones they'd peered at against the cold earth, warmed only by the heat of each other's bodies. They'd debated whether their home was somewhere among them - if perhaps that flickering sparkle was Yavin IV, or perhaps that brighter orb was what was left of Jedha. The thought of stars and planets and space now makes her want to vomit, makes her guts twist and ache in ways she hasn't known since ..
"You haven't seen anyone else?" she asks again, angling her head back enough to scan the woman's face. There's nothing distrusting in her face, nothing to imply she's putting on airs of any kind. It isn't fair, Jyn thinks, for her to take this out on her - for this stranger to see the rubble left after the quake. "Why are you out here alone?" It isn't an accusation or an implication of any impropriety. The question is rooted in concern - the only thing Jyn can seem to find amidst the chaos raging inside of her.
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It's like someone has died and she supposes in a place like this maybe it is as close as that. What would she do if Queenie wasn't here? Just disappeared without any knowing? Her heart twists in her gut with an understanding that her sister had been here alone and it was almost a reversal, she can't really imagine it. She takes in a breath, taking half a step forward to the younger woman. The tensity she usually seems to wear softening in reflex.
"Not really anyone, sorry. But I'll keep a look out," Tina remarked with a crack in her voice, an attempted softness that she's not always quite used to. Reaching within several feet of the tree the other was at and stopping uncomfortable, hand going to pull back her hair hastily. "Couldn't sit still any. Wanted to check things out for myself."
Not trying to leave, certainly not without Queenie or preparation. She was curious though and answers were things she thrived for. Investigations a part of her. "No offense," She added in minutely, knowing it might offend irregardless, "maybe we should get you back to the village? You look like you could need a rest." As if the other woman hadn't rested in a while-- A sentiment she could understand. If it was someone she cared for missing she'd be the same. She wouldn't rest until she found them or knew without a doubt, but still a concern filled her and she wants to do something even as she feels helpless to do so.
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AROUND THE VILLAGE
Moana's voice sounded sweet compared to the dense moisture and oppressiveness of the fog. She had a small basket in her arms filled with fish she had caught that morning. She was getting good at using the small net she'd made. Her lips were positioned in a warm smile while her dark eyes reflected her strength and innocence.
"Are you hungry? I'm going to make fish." Which she was used to eating however she missed eating more fruit. Sadly there wasn't much left in the inns storage.
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The girl before her doesn't look harmful now does her intentions seem suspicious, but Tina still can't help the skeptical way she looks at the younger woman. "I'm fine," she answered measurable. It was half a lie, of course, she's on edge and irritated, but that's to be expected. She's certainly not going to take it out on the young woman if she can help it. She ignores the way her stomach seems to flip at the idea of food, either from hunger or an inability to eat at the moment she didn't care to know (unfortunately, Tina had a terrible habit of forgetting to eat when she was sick).
"I'll be fine," She addressed once more, offering the smallest forms of a flickering smile, "I wouldn't want to take food from anyone else, but thank you." A part of her wants to ask if she makes a habit of offering food to people, but she doesn't; It's both rude and the rules here are different. Different rules are simply part of her struggle.
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In order to survive you had to life and be happy too.
Her smile softened. "Are you sure? I always make extra for those at the inn. It's why I caught so many fish. It's a lot of fun actually. I can give people a bit of a taste of where I'm from." Moana's diet consisted of a lot of fish and then farm animals.
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"If you're going to insist on it," Tina tried, some attempted lightness coming to her tone, "I would love to." A beat as she considered if she should say something else, a finger coming to brush through her hair. There's still so much she wants to-- no needs-- to learn.
"You do a lot of fishing where you're from?"
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Few Days Later
He ends up out in the woods, because Jacob's still getting used to having this much nature so close to him, so totally different from Central Park. Of course, it also means that he gets a little extra twitchy when he hears sounds, because his imagination keeps running away from him, inventing strange beasts in his head that might come after him.
"Who's, who's there?" he calls out, a touch nervously, when he hears the crack of a twig somewhere nearby and he's not entirely sure what's out there in the fog.
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This wasn't New York, however, and if her sister knew there wasn't away she'd let him get away if she could help it.
Heaving a sigh, the woman worried on her lower lip taking a step over a large branch. "It's only me," She called in return. Realizing quickly that doesn't exactly help she waits a moment before the figure came into view. If she had any doubts in her ability to remember voices it fades entirely as the portly man came into view. "Wasn't trying to scare you or anything; I just needed a look out here for myself."
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"Didja find anything?" he asks, not sure why he's poking at her to tell him that there's something lurking in the woods, but on the other hand, it seems like the polite thing to do, right?
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"No," She answered, a grim line setting across her mouth, "well, yes, if you considered I found what I expected to: nothing." The words settle over her some an acceptance that leaving wasn't so easy-- magic or no. She couldn't have apparated out without knowing what was close by without running the risk of being splinched.
"What has you out here?" Tina inquires, brown eyes turning to the man momentarily.
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village;
Truthfully, he likes the idea that in fog this thick, he can be swallowed up. It doesn't matter if he's a good person, or a bad person, or a human or a wizard or anyone, really. All that matters is what's five feet in front of you. It's not isolation, Credence argues with himself. He's felt that far too much, even in a crowded church. It's a pleasant sort of peace. Maybe that's because walking feels that way to him and allows him to think, and the thick fog merely means no one notices him and allows his thoughts to better solidify.
Or maybe he just likes fog and there's no real, deep meaning behind it. Credence knows not to go further than the village outskirts, and with Mr. Graves feeling better from his fever, it's his first walk in a while. He thinks of nothing and everything at the same time, and it's just the way he likes it. Credence is used to finding small amounts of solace in places unforgiving. This village is no exception.
As he rounds the corner, he sees a figure in the fog. He can't quite see who, but Credence keeps his walk slow and soft, bunching his hands in his black peacoat's pockets. He doesn't think much of it - at the very least the words 'new arrival' don't ever cross his mind, but as they get closer he's sure they look so much like the girl that saved him. The woman that works for Mr. Graves, but more importantly, the woman who had shown him the only kindness he'd ever known. They --she-- has Tina's hair, and a stoic, concentrating look on her face, and --
-- and Credence stops walking altogether, eyes wide, unable to stop staring with his mouth agape. It is Tina, he's so sure of it, and as they collide Credence doesn't even so much as flinch.
"You," He manages, and that's all he can do. His voice feels hoarse all of the sudden, and his heart feels like it's beating far too fast. He feels dizzy, like it can't possibly be true. Like this can't possibly be Tina.
But she's here. She's here and Credence is dumbstruck.
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Yet, even though she is well aware that wasn't her fault she can't help the flame of anger and guilt that boils her insides. The idea he was here when she'd failed to help him offers a complicated sort of feeling: She should be happy he is alive and well, perhaps even a chance to be happy. Yet the feeling of failure still rests at the pit of her stomach and she's uncertain of if she can even face the young man without crying.
In a village this size, however, there was no way to escape it. Not when he was so close. Nor did she want to, but she needed to get her bearings. Tina hated the powerless feeling that had sat within her since she'd arrived. It may have been roughly only a day since then, but she hates it and her sister's description of an angry wet cat had been astute. Said angry cat was going to be in for a surprise as she makes her way down the street. Brown eyes had set solidly in the distance until it was much too late. Her feet had started to move the other way before she looked at the body, but she recognized the form even before he speaks.
Her breath catches in her throat, a strangled sound of surprise. She knew he was there, but it was different seeing the young man in the present. A foot maneuvered backwards, putting a distance between them as she glanced over him critically trying to pull answers out with sheer willpower in that brief second. Was he well? Was anyone hurting him here? Did he find some semblance of relief? The thoughts round themselves into a tight ball in her mind and as quickly as the whirlwind comes she lets it out with a puff of breath, almost a choking sound really. A surprise there as moisture threatens at the corners of her eyes.
"Credence," Tina says in form of an answer, the sound of her voice cracking under the weight of the word. A hand reaches for him and then sits lamely in the air, hesitant at the affection. Her lips set so grimly the last few hours turn to a wary smile, small and far too uncertain.
"Queenie said you were here."
That, it seems, was all she could say at the moment. All the words that dared escape as roiling emotions threatened to cripple her.
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He even looks her in the eye.
Suddenly, Credence can't do it. He can do it because he notices the face she makes, not disgusted, not sad, but something, and it kicks in that she hadn't been expecting this, either. Not quite like this, not quite here.
Credence sniffs, trying to pull his face taught, trying not to dip too into his shoulders. It fails, and he feels a strange, strained lump in his throat.
"Miss Queenie is very nice," He manages, and in a single sentence he has come undone. He's cried once and only once out of happiness. When Christmas had arrived, and he'd gotten presents from the villagers, a great big hoard of things like sweets, and clothes, and everything he'd ever missed growing up in the Barebone residence. This isn't quite like crying out of happiness, but he takes a step back as well, hastily rubbing his eyes with a scarred palm and sniffing a little louder. It's a whirlwind of emotions.
"I'm sorry," He manages, and it's awkward but so is he. It's hard to tell what he's apologizing for, even to himself. He's sorry for crying. He's sorry for immediately feeling like he's done something wrong. He's sorry for harming so very many people that cold winter's night in New York City. He's sorry Tina's here. Mostly, he's sorry that he's happy she is.
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THE WOODS// A FEW DAYS LATER
He at least doesn't mind the color of his scrubs, only if it does still indicate that which he wishes, if people are paying attention at all.
He pays enough attention out here, to be aware of what animals are treading through, and to keep his own imprint on the area to a minimum. His bag stays with him at all times, and he has his peacoat wrapped around him, hands shoved into his pockets as he moves along.
Newt stops, however, when he hears another person almost trampling through the underbrush, curious as he moves closer to investigate, and then hears her voice.
"Tina?" Newt calls it out, voice still oddly quiet though it is raised to be heard.
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Tina's not in tune enough with the woods to dictate human movement from creature-- a matter that makes her fidgety in her trek especially when she hears something. She doesn't expect the annoyed muttering to earn her answer, least of all from a familiar voice. Even knowing the man was here isn't enough to stop a faint surprise at hearing him when she hadn't expected to for some months (or, if perhaps he decided against coming back, ever). Newt's voice is one she can't forget and from the day she met him was always soft enough her ears took a minute to catch it.
It was unmistakably the man's voice.
Swallowing, she turned back towards where the man's voice had come from. "Newt?" She answered, stressing the last syllable as she glanced towards the forest floor to make sure she wouldn't trip over anything before backtracking a few steps.
"Shoulda known you'd be hiding way out here, huh?" Her comment is far from judging. She speaks with a light teasing, a softness to her voice. She really hadn't thought she'd see him again so soon.
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"Yes, it's me," he offers, looking back and forth at the forest floor, before casting a quick glance up at her.
"I suppose. I don't much care for the village. I only drop in if I've gathered too much food for just myself." He's not very good at things like this. Social situations. He finds it odd and cumbersome. Cues don't come as easily to him as they do to others. Still, he stays, and that means something.
"You look well."
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Around the Village
At the moment, she was training AND playing because she had grabbed a stick and was throwing it off for him to go fetch and return. The retrieval part was going smoothly, the part he was proving stubborn on was dropping the stick. She looked down at him, face a mask of neutrality, "Arado. Drop it."
He looked up at her, brown puppy eyes looking at her like he didn't know what she was talking about for once. She didn't respond, just waited, and finally Arado reluctantly let it drop to the ground. She scratched his ears while also grabbing the stick back up, "All right. Good boy. Let's try again."
And once again the stick went soaring through the air and a few seconds later Arado was tearing after it. He wasn't quite fast enough to catch it, but when he did pick it up, he noticed a woman approaching. He looked back at Riza, waiting expectantly, and then towards the unfamiliar woman. He should...investigate right? He trotted over to the new woman, tail wagging expectantly.
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She softens just slightly, tucking unruly hair behind an ear before she shifts to lean down and offer the pup a hand. Her eyes dart over to the woman he'd been accompanying offering an apologetic smile. "Shouldn't you be taking that back now?" She remarks to the dog quietly, remembering vaguely watching Newt handle small creatures. Or her grandfather with owls. She'd never had a pet, even at Ilvermorny, but she learned in some ways how to deal with them.
The people here were a bit more of a wildcard-- In theory she shouldn't talk to anyone, but that didn't really work here. "Sorry," She said glancing up, "I hadn't meant to distract him any."
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Adaro, meanwhile, does not seem to be in a hurry to return to Riza. This new human smells interesting and if there is one trait that has made itself apparent in Adaro is curiosity. While that can be helpful, she doesn't think that's something that should be entirely encouraged.
"No, I'm sorry about him. He's still in training," Riza said, some amusement coloring her tone. She looked down at the pup, "Perhaps you wanted a break?"
Arado dropped the stick at the women's feet and barked.
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i misspelled my own dog's name! D:
oh nooo!
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