sixthiterationlogs | 002 | match of the century

Entry tags:

002 | match of the century

WHO: Tina Goldstein
WHERE: Various places, all labeled
WHEN: 4/10-4/13
OPEN TO: Open
WARNINGS: N/A will update if needed but unlikely.
STATUS: Ongoing

( GRAVES/BAREBONE RESIDENCE-- LOCKED to Graves-- APRIL 10)
Even if Queenie hadn't informed her, it wouldn't have taken long for the young woman to figure out that the sad-eyed boy and her former(?) boss were right next door. She'd padded the road enough to have watched as newer residents took up the empty houses let alone the older ones. Of course, she hadn't caught sight of the man himself if she had she would have felt obligated to stop by. But it's early that morning and she can't possibly sleep any longer when she decides she should head over there.

Unfortunately-- or perhaps fortunately-- she doesn't have her sisters' visitor hospitality and arrives next door empty-handed. There's the briefest moment of hesitation and she wonders if it will be Credence that opens the door. She knows the boy said Graves saved him once while here, but it's difficult to wrap her mind around. If this was home very little would have been done to protect him, in some ways she's too grateful for the people here of their apparent treatment of Credence-- Even Mr Graves.

Shaking her head of those thoughts, the woman let out a soft breath before giving a firm knock against the door. Tina doubts it's too early. She's always been a light sleeper herself and waking up in the morning took longer for her than going to sleep, but she had always woke up early for work and hadn't failed to do so here either. She can't help but suspect that the man was worse about that than she was and, well, if he wasn't today she would try again later.

(THE INN - APRIL 13TH)
After three weeks since her arrival the elder Goldstein hardly felt more at ease in the village. She had long since learned the village's layout and after her initial forays into the forest hadn't wandered back in-- At least not alone. She'd taken instead to learning how to fish from Moana a skill that didn't come too naturally to her. While she'd gotten better since the first few times, it's still hardly anything she'd consider writing home about (if she had ever written home after Queenie joined her at school). Not laughable, exactly, but more than enough to keep her busy to learn more.

She hated feeling helpless or ill-equipped and since day one that is all she's felt within the village. Learning from Moana has helped some and she's utilized her note-taking skills to write what she feels she needs to know, but it's still hardly enough. She thinks if she had better access to her magic this would be easier, but even if wandless magic had been the mainstain of early North American magic her own skills at it were rudimentary at best. Managing a basic levitation spell might be one thing, but catching a fish or repairing something was another.

Which had, of course, become her goals to learn to do early on: learn skills without magic-- some of which she never had in the first place. She may have been an Auror before, trained and skilled in those areas, but she is overwhelming unprepared for the likes of here. Hence why she wants to learn and why she finds herself at the inn, bookbag strapped over her shoulders. She usually keeps to herself on most days, answering when questioned or offering a word if someone speaks openly, but otherwise stays very much on the outskirts.

Of course, today she was on a bit of a mission. She'd talked to other people outside of Moana now and knows there's more she needs to know if she was going to manage here (or help Queenie here-- the ever more important determiner in her life). She almost wishes she has her sister's abilities for kind words and dealing with people, though, as she frowns-- standing to the side of the entryway of the inn a moment. Then firmly settles on the fact bemoaning anything doesn't fix problems. Ever.

"Hey, you!" She starts abruptly when she's firmly decided and then realizes that's not the best way to do it and deflates some. "Uh, sorry." She pulls back in her approach some before tucking some unruly hair behind her ear (she'd need to do something about that one day, Mercy Lewis).

A hand finds itself against her hip in a familiar beat for confidence, teeth sinking into her lower lip the briefest of moments before she speaks again. "Look, I'm from a city not from a place that's helpful for any of this," She offers, lips forming a thin line, "I know a little about gardening, but not much else. So I'm trying to fix that. Do you know anything that might be useful or anyone who does? I was considering writing anything down for future use."

She wanted to learn it but she can't help but think that having some kind of how-to guide available on the common knowledge would be helpful too. And if there's anything she has confidence in it is her note-taking and map making abilities. Her people abilities? Obviously, not so much.

(OUTSIDE OF THE WOODS - APRIL 13)
Try as she might to keep busy, Tina still finds herself with more time on her hand than she knows what to do with. At least at home work was long and busy-- when on a case sometimes taking more than a few allotted hours, even days-- and when she went home it was just about time to eat, read a bit, and go to bed. Without even much reading to do she's at a loss and while she's taken to writing important things out she's stingy with the precious reams of paper she has (quite a fair bit right now, but it would dwindle too quickly if used it recklessly). In far too many ways she's going stir crazy and while she's taken to helping with the planting-- something that, thankfully, years of Herbology had taught her at least some of-- the early evening hours find her with far too little to do.

A homebody by nature she's taken to walks through the village which was at least somewhat relaxing and more than enough to let her gather her thoughts. She finds it not nearly enough and after a bit of mauling over takes a more frivolous decision-- finds something hard to write on and a piece of her paper-- before handling the equipment carefully and heading outside. She'd always had a keen eye for details and she never fancied herself an artist but her job called for memorization. She'd long since learned to be decent at making street maps and basic renderings of faces-- nothing extravagant, but enough to show what needed to be.

It's something she can do that's not writing or learning or standing about uselessly. So she takes her stuff considering first the village are, but she's already given herself a basic map of that with notes on what the places were being used for. It was unnecessary, then again drawing for any sense of the idea of fun was unnecessary, but if she didn't do something she'd go crazy. Decidedly, then, away from their house and towards where the forests begin. No desire to enter them today, but she settles there for now-- Taking the time instead to draw what was before her instead of right.

It's a slow process and more than once she sighs and moves to pack things up because she's never been a hobbyist and the drive to work in her resounds more loudly than anything else. And she finds she wonders how anyone can manage to have time to themselves.

"This isn't going anywhere," she grounds out to herself-- loud enough for anyone who happened to pass by to hear-- as she shoves the items away and moves to stand up. Even what little seemed to be put on the paper had turned more to a chart than anything recreational.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kira stops, one foot out the small kitchen door, and cycles through a series of expressions. Usually when you heard a hey you on the street at home, you kept your attention to yourself, assumed or hoped it was for someone else, and picked up your pace a little. It isn't the kind of greeting that precedes anything good.

Unfortunately, the village is small enough that he can only lean himself in the door and raise his brows at the approaching woman. He's dealt with a lot of people since arriving here, and weathered what feels like every facet of impressions from them--but this feels a lot like trying to meet someone at JFK, a nervous but desperate tourist grabbing you by the elbow and asking directions to their gate.

Only they're all the tourist, and there are no signs for him to point her at, as if to say, here you idiot, gate C is under the giant fucking C. He still levels her with a somewhat baleful stare as she finishes her request.

When she seems to bite her lip to provide him a moment of silence, he nods. "There's a whole planting project going on by the town hall, the gardening might be useful there, and Mark is happy to expand on whatever little people know." Already leaned into the door, he tilts his head in the same direction, posture slouched enough he has to look slightly up at her. "You really don't have to worry that much about it, no one's going to send you out into the woods for showing up behind the curve."

Tina's aware she hadn't given the most gracious of requests. It's why she had back-tracked and tried to explain herself rather than simply do as she often did and be more demanding. Not that she wasn't that, either, she thinks to herself grimly but what's done is done. She isn't bothered by the way he leans or the baleful look, neither of which is as important as the words afforded after.

The woman gives a small nod at the mentioning of planting. She had seen it and stopped to help-- would later, even-- but even doing that much still leaves a sense of powerlessness about her. And she rather can't explain almost all of her knowledge on gardening is for magical plants. She doesn't have to, though, when the young man continues and she frowns ever so slightly.

"That's not anything I'm worried about," She answered in the same simple honesty, "anyone I've met here doesn't seem the type." Which seems odd given what they'd heard about no-majs, but it's hardly as if she expressed being magical to people for any slights there. Nevermind that things were solidly different here and the same issues at home didn't exist. She takes a breath before continuing, "If I'm going to be here I'd like to do what I can."

It was a s simple as that.

It isn't an odd sentiment: Casey's disappeared every morning Kira's known him to root out a series of tasks, usually involving as much dirt and ash as possible from the state of him when he returns. Bodhi would tag along if Kira didn't request his help with something in or around the house, and Kira's wandering of the forest wasn't just to clear his head. He's found things to do, some more suited to him than others, and had help in filling the gaps in his expertise.

"I'm not exactly the task-master," he tries to explain, but he doesn't shrug himself free or blow her off. "What do you like to do? What did you do at home? Aside from hunting and fishing, there's a pretty broad spectrum of things you could pick up and handle."

"I hadn't thought you were," She agreed the firmness still to her voice even if it's softer than it had from when she spoke up initially. From the looks of things unless it was certain aspects everyone did what they could handle and only guided others. It was a teamwork effort, but given her skillset doesn't exactly handle most sets her--- Well, that's the exact reason she frowns somewhat grimly at his questions.

Shaking her head Tina puffs out a breath before speaking. "I know there's more than that, too," Tina remarked a little more briskly-- though it was at the situation rather than the young man before her, "there wasn't time for much more than work for me and it doesn't look like anyone needs arresting criminals around here." As much as work had taught her most of the skills hardly seemed helpful in the aspects involved in the village.

Between the briskness of her tone and her abrupt approach, coupled with the fact of her being some kind of cop--Kira's hackles should go up and stay there, but he just sighs. It's exhausting enough to let her mood lap up against him like waves eroding stones, he needn't waste the energy by getting defensive.

"No," he agrees, glad that of their police-academy set this one's figured out there isn't a lot of crime in a place without real laws. "But a lot of us are trying to get answers about this place, and if you're some kind of investigator, that isn't exactly a waste of talent."

Standing up out of the doorway, he leans instead on the door, forcing it a little more open behind them. "There's a map we've made, and a board where we compile what we've found out so far, if you want to have a look."

Stress is pretty much all Tina Goldstein knows. She's never given herself time to stop, think, or do for herself. It's been work for as long as she's graduated and a sudden ample amount of time doesn't change the fact-- the open forum of the village felt in many ways more stressing. So her brow arched at the mention of investigations that weren't all too surprising (she would have been surprised if only one person had ever thought to find a way out).

Letting out a breath the woman nodded without missing a beat. "I'd love to see it," Tina answered, briskness falling to curiosity as upturned brow turned to the door behind him-- In there, she supposes? Then she pauses a brief moment and offers something more of a sheepish look before trying once more, "Thank you. For taking the time to talk with me, too."

The man didn't have to and she knew it all too well. In many ways she was grateful for the approach the others had here even if she doubts she'll ever be used to it.

He doesn't quite smile, but he lifts the corners of his mouth in an intimation, ducking his head to acquiesce to her thanks. Rolling his back into it, he turns his lean into a means of holding the door open for her, gesturing her inside. The kitchens are still warm and freshly wiped down, his sleeves still a bit damp from the work, and the smell of hot food lingers well after it's been eaten and put away.

The board is beyond the kitchens, in the larger of the downstairs spaces, facing a wall like it might help hide what secrets they've puzzled out of this place. "There are journals as well, and a map you can add to over there," he says, pointing to the hanging sheet with its drawings and markers.

"This is...almost a year's work, I think." He can't remember how long Raleigh said they'd been here, and he's only been keeping track of his own days, his fifth month coming to a close in the next few. The board itself is a scrawl of different hands, drawings of coins and ruins to try before putting them on the map, his own contribution in a top corner. The gorgon head symbol he'd found from his own roof, burned into Ren's. It's familiar, tugging at his memory beyond just being a head of snakes--but he can't place it.

Looking at her again, something else tugs at his memory. The quality of her voice, the bob of her hair. "I never did get your name," he says, offering her a hand like they might as well make a proper greeting out of their abrupt acquaintance. "I'm Kira."

She's been to the kitchens before, but she'd been given no reason to explore the Inn further. Exploring apparent personal or communal living spaces wasn't something she was inclined to do-- Not when her sister had a house. Unless there was something wrong she'd seen no reason to go into spaces that did not appear public. If she had, of course, she might have seen the downstairs space sooner but it had yet to be a major concern of hers.

Tina's immediately drawn to the board. Dark eyes taking in ever piece of it, practically memorizing it as she stood there. Work had made her better at seeing and retaining details, but there's plenty there. She's uncertain of what each of the symbols are supposed to mean, nothing good from the looks of some of them, but thinking that does not ascertain the meaning. The question about them is at the tip of her tongue when he speaks again and she's reminded that it's impolite to get caught up in your thoughts. Or not introduce yourself, apparently.

The woman brushed back some hair before taking his hand properly. "Yeah, I hadn't thought much of giving it," She answered dryly, but the slight curve of a lip shows she's trying to be humorous-- Something to poke at herself with. "Tina," she continued feeling no more need to apologize. He accepted it earlier and that was that, her eyes flickered back to the board and her brows flickered skeptically.

"Nearly a year and no one's managed out...?"

She speaks to herself then, more frustrated than anything condemning. Knowing who was here and the magic that had to be behind it she didn't doubt it would be difficult to find a way out. But she's still filled with a hopeful determination to change just that.

"I'm terrible at them," he agrees, arm crossed across his chest for a sidelong shake as they stood at the board, both sweeping its history and additions with dark eyes. "I just didn't want to forget another one, and I'm glad--Credence speaks very highly of you."

Credence spoke highly of quite a few people in the village, even as he despaired humanity and fate and quite a lot of other things, in his simplistic way that seemed to come from his very core. He had a talent for effusive sighs and telling you something like it was just the way of the world. Kira rarely agreed with him, but he still understood the why and how of it, and he still loved Credence fiercely, one of his first new friends in a very long time.

He squeezes Tina's hand once before letting her go, his posture less lazy, more relaxed; his smile more soft than strained. Whatever his first impression, Credence's description went a long way with him. "It is frustrating," he answers, though it wasn't much of question. "Whenever we seem to find a way, whenever someone tries to climb the walls, something always goes wrong. The place seems to fight back, and so far, it has the upper hand."

The Inn

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Outside of the Woods

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