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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.
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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It pulls at her heart as she looks at him through bleary eyes, not bothering yet to brush them away. Taking in the boy with a long face and sad eyes as he struggles to say something. The woman's teeth pull on her lip in worry, waiting patiently for him to gather what he wants to say. He starts strong, for the briefest of moments, and she nods encouragingly. Heart in her throat as he falters and pulls away and she has to swallow all too roughly.
I'm sorry.
The shield she'd conjured cracked down the middle. As much as she tries to be strong and confident, she's well aware of her own vulnerabilities and powerlessness. A small part of her is angry he thinks he has to be sorry in anyway but knows the apology is reflexive at the treatment of his adoptive-mother. Biting down on her lip hard enough to make it bleed, she shook her head though he couldn't see it. Steadying her shoulders, the woman took a step forward, reaching with an amount of hesitance to touch his shoulder. Not because she feared him or she was disgusted, but because she understands that before touching meant hitting. She wants to give him the chance to step back if he wants and treats him with a gentleness she shows few others.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Credence," Tina said voice thing but firm in its conviction. She tries to say what she can't verbalize: She's happy he's safe, She's glad to see him, That the one who should be sorry is not him (and, in the back of her mind she knows, not her either). "You won't ever have anything to be sorry for with me, you got it?" Tina adds in voice softening even more. Newt and I will protect you. She had made a solemn promise in the tunnel and had failed to keep it. She'd be damned if she made him feel unwanted here or, in the worst cases, she failed that promise again.
Her chin trembled a moment but she pushes on, tries for his sake (and in some ways here).
"You been doing okay here?"
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He's afraid now more than ever that they all might disappear and he'll be alone again. Tina's voice is strong even when it sounds like she's not -- no, especially when it sounds like she's not--and when Credence opens his eyes his free hand rubs at his face again, unable to keep from crying.
"Mr. Graves said you lost your job because of me," He manages. This isn't about him--it's never about him--and that doesn't matter. What matters is Tina, and Credence wants to say so much but can only say so little. He sniffles, feeling like a child, but doesn't dare move.
I've dreamed of you saving me every single day after you stood up to my mother. Thank you, is what he wants to say. What he says instead is very different.
"He's not the same one I met. He's the real one."
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Mr. Graves. The mention of the man makes her eyes flash, the tentative smile pulling from her features. Queenie had said much about the people that were here, but after everything she can't quite imagine it. She stills has nightmares of the impostor-Graves sentencing her to death. As much as she reminds herself that it was not him there's a strange feeling in seeing the man you admired and respected turn against you. To have it be his face that haunts those nightmares rather than the man responsible. She knew though, that the man she had put her faith in as an Auror-in-training wouldn't have. Had defended her position even though she had behaved so recklessly. Even though he didn't have to.
She tries instead to let those memories color her impression, but there's a perverted invasion of the man's memory to her now. And when she sleeps he haunts her even more. She tries to ignore it in this moment, though, because she will have to face it-- him-- eventually. Worrying down on her lip she files the reaffirmation away and wonders if Credence trusts him or if he ever could, but doesn't voice it. Instead she speaks more wholly on the matters most present to her heart:
"That's nothing for you to worry about," She finally answers evenly, "I knew what I was doing and I'd do it again." That was one thing she had never questioned even after everything. Her willingness to protect people, to forgo those rules she loved, superseded all else. When she thinks of the day she was fired and her struggle to return to her job it is never Credence she blames or helping him. Tina never regrets those actions and knows now that if she had the chance to rewrite time she would have done it anyway.
Taking another breath she hesitates before continuing. "I hear you're living with him now," Tina continues, an uncertainty injecting into her tone. Then a moment later she lets emotion speak more than words and she steps forward, her other arm coming around the thin-framed boy (is it her imagination or is he not as thin?). "I hope you're doing okay," Tina mumbled with a finality into the embrace-- Not wanting to linger it on without permission as she began pulling away, throat rough. For as much as this place was already against every fiber of her being she can't fault it for this one thing: Credence Barebone being safe.
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--oh, Tina's smile is gone, and Credence's lips part, knowing full well it's something he's said. He's unsure, unsteady, and he finds himself clinging to Tina just a little more until her answer comes out, even and with a tone of gentle authority that he craves.
He still feels bad she's lost so much. He still doesn't think he's worth it. But Tina seems to think he counts for something, even before everyone knew he was an Obscurial.
He's gained weight since the village - apparently, he's one of the only ones to do it. He's a little sturdier now, a little stronger, and even if it's not by much he's not living on a diet of watery soup and hatred. Tina puts her arms around him and --
--oh.
Oh, Tina is hugging him.
Credence moves into it like he's starved for affection, and in a way he still is. Tina initiates it and Credence follows, long lanky arms wrapping around her, burying his face into her shoulder, shaking like a leaf. The last time he'd been embraced it was with a necklace and whispered, false promises. But this? This is Tina. This is someone Credence can rely on. This is the only person in New York City that cared about an adopted boy with a difficult mother.
Credence is openly crying now, and for once, he doesn't apologize for it.
"He saved my life, earlier," he mumbles. He's got another scar to add to his collection - lightning, this time, courtesy of the village. He clings to Tina like he might drown.
"You saved my life, before that."
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Well enough, even, not to be put off by a hug.
He's shaking. She's all too aware of it as she hugs him more tightly a moment, listens to his words, and fiercely shakes her head no. Taking a second longer before gently pulling away, hands sliding up to squeeze his shoulders before falling to her sides. Brown eyes that were usually lit with certain determination watery in his presence. The firm setting of her lips remains for a lack of questioning. If it was the real Graves, she cannot doubt he would help someone in need.
As much as the question comes to her tongue it's the young man's other affirmation that strikes her heart.
She had failed him in that subway. She couldn't save him.
She had told him that Newt and she would protect him and then...
Tina gives a quick shake of her head no. She faltered to look at him for a moment before she took another breath and spoke again. "No, Credence, I helped you," She answered in turn, worrying further, "I couldn't do more than that."
Another beat passed and she tries, softly:
"But I am glad to see you here."
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He goes in for a second hug, and is surprised at how he doesn't hesitate this time. Tina is here. It will be alright. With Tina, he feels like it's okay. He feels like it's okay to cry, too, so he does, even if he's mentally chiding himself for doing so.
"It's a second chance here," He explains, voice muffled. "Miss Tina, I don't want to go back from here."
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Tina knows how starved he was for love and kindness. It had never colored her approach to him, but she could not deny him of it now. Even if the tears that had threatened before now spilled freely down her cheeks. There's no hesitation on her part either as she returned the embrace, swallowing roughly when he spoke. She's hardly been here long enough to give it any real judgement, but her immediate answer was distrust and hatred. Because she's lost without her magic or her work or everything she knew.
Yet, she can't begrudge Credence of his happiness. Of a place that she can see even in this past few moments has been good to him. Tina doesn't know enough to make promises, to ensure he'll stay here-- And what if the rest finding a way to leave means he had to go too? Protecting him is important but there's so many lost lives here... Her heart twists in her chest before she shakes her head and speaks quietly.
"Then we'll just have to ensure you keep your second chance, huh?" Tina tries for a firmness, but it's too soft for that. She wants to promise that they'll protect him, he'll get to leave, but she couldn't manage that in a subway full of Aurors how would she manage that now? It didn't matter. She'd find away, even if her mind told her they'd fail again.
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Eventually, though he does let go--he doesn't want to, but he has to, because even for someone as kind as Tina there's such thing as being a little too awkward. It's nice, he thinks, to hug someone. He's hugged exactly one other person before, and while Kira is quite a nice gentleman, hugging him is nothing like hugging Tina.
He wipes his eyes hastily, shaking his head and murmuring an apology. It's his fifth or fourth one since they met, and that had only been a few short moments ago, but that, too, is something he's working on. Slowly. Habits are hard to break, especially those beaten into you.
"Do you think more will come? Do you think Miss--" He stumbles on the name, hesitating, whispering it, even though Graves has told him and he had memorized it. "--Miss Piquery?"
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She doesn't answer his apology with anything more than a shake of her head. There isn't any need for it and she sticks by that. It wasn't as if she wasn't crying either and it was hardly as if she had it as rough as he did. Tina's careful not to tell him not to more, though, understands force of habits are hard to break and scolding isn't the answer. She pauses through and takes a breath at his question.
"I don't know. I hope not," Tina answers evenly, mind turning sharply to the president and why Credence might be asking. The woman might demand his being killed here, too, under the same precedence as before. Her stomach twisted at the thought, but she soothes it by remembering the laws they abide by did not exist here. Piquery would have no power. "The President is still needed in New York. It'd be a mess if she disappeared," the woman reasoned, lips forming a thin line, "as it was we were on a mission out of New York when I showed up here..."
That much wasn't all too unusual. She'd been on many cases that took her outside of New York, sometimes for a couple weeks at a time. She cast the young man a look before adding on, "but the Madame President's power doesn't extend to her. She won't have the other Aurors to back her up if she appeared here." Well, that was unless she summoned Mr. Graves or herself but Tina knew she wouldn't answer that particular call.
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"I want to say I'm sorry to her, too. And maybe--maybe she'll see. I'm better at.." He trails off, trying to find the right words. His shoulders are stooped, and when he speaks again, he drops his voice even lower.
"It hasn't happened again. Four months, and--" A small, tiny shrug. "--nothing, ma'am. Not even when I was struck by lightning."
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It doesn't fit to what she knows about Obscurial, but then Credence had defied every known explanation. He was thriving here in a way he hadn't back in New York City perhaps that was what kept the manifestation at bay. Or perhaps the assault by the aurors meant that...? Tina swallowed roughly, clasping her fingers before speaking.
"That's good," Tina answered scratchily before amending, "that's great. You seem to be doing really well here, Credence." She's happy for that in no uncertain terms.
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It's a lot of emotion for someone who suppresses himself, who shuts out everything. Even if that's slowly changing. Tina doesn't look like she would mind more heartfelt discussion, but Credence already feels drained and perhaps crying into her shoulder is embarrassing enough.
"Thank you," He mumbles eventually. He nods to himself, and then takes a small breath, just a quick inhale. Now the circumstances are normal, here. Now, they can have a conversation. That's strange, a normal conversation.
He doesn't think he's had one from anyone other than Graves when it comes to people from his world. He gasps, softly, remembering one of the most exciting facts he'd found while talking.
"Did you know there are a lot of people here from New York, too? Just not our time."
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"I've realized, yes," She answered, the furrowing of her brows deepening. It's not something she like to think much about, especially given so much of it was about No-Majs. Which while she far from hated them there was a distinct barrier when it came to understanding. "I suppose you've been asking a lot of questions about it?"