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sixthiterationlogs2017-04-13 02:07 am
goldsteins) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-04-13 02:07 am
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.
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.
no subject
It doesn't matter then. Not with the question he followed up with turning her throat to sandpaper. Tina's been careful about any mention of magic even here. The freedoms of talking about it unnatural with how she grew up. Of course, she should expect that Credence doesn't know their laws and would have no reason to hide it. Not when magic threatened to spill out of him.
Still the question is not an easy one and the woman squared her shoulders before turning her gaze downwards. "I was the one watching after Credence," She answered in a breath, "no one else was and his Ma was beatin' all those children. It's not as if I'd stand there..." Her fingers dug into her arm more, dark eyes foggy before she continued.
"It's an Obscurial. It's what happens when a young witch or wizard tries to suppress their magic 'cause they're being hunted for it. It's explosive, they don't normally last past the age of ten," She finds she answers, more from a text than with the emotion buried deep within her, "they're really rare now, I don't think they'd appeared in America for a while so no one knew 'til it was too late." That was, until Grindelwald got a hold of him and he exploded entirely.
Tina had wanted to protect Credence. "Newt and I tried to help him. We could have to, I'm sure of it," She finished hollowly, "but the Aurors showed up first."
no subject
He hadn't had any ambitions toward it, but he hadn't had any ambitions after sixteen. But that was better than ten, and better than a life with Mary Lou Barebone.
"What were you trying to do," he asks, turning fully toward her, the pair of them tucked between the board and the wall. "Magic, Credence--it's all weaker here, he hasn't hurt anyone since. Maybe there's another chance? Maybe, if you really need something to do, I don't think we need any more hands in the kitchen right this second."
no subject
She chanced the young man a look before turning away once more. "I was just talkin' to him. That's all I could do and he was listening," She answered, worrying down on her lower lip before speaking, "but the truth of the matter is no Obscurial has ever lived that long. Credence was an except but even he... If there was a way to stop it Newt'd be the one to figure it out."
no subject
Talking was part of it, and he's been doing as much of that as he can. "I've been talking to him since he got here. He hasn't had any problems I'm aware of--he even survived being struck by lightning, shortly before you arrived. He seems better, from when I met him five months ago. I can't speak to the thing inside him, though I still feel it there."
He hasn't told anyone about it, or told even Graves of his ability to directly sense it, but if magic is such a secret between them, he assumes it's safe enough to share. They, of all people, might even understand it. "I don't really know of anything like this, where I'm from, except cases of possession. I wonder if they brought him here for a reason."
Not for the first time, he remembers his deeper fear, that their powers might be culled from the crowd and used against it later. His own would give their captors insight, but Credence could give them a weapon. Kira finds himself more afraid for his friend than the rest of them.
no subject
Her teeth gnawed on her lip and she cast the young man a look. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had tried to harness Credence's power for themselves. "We'd have to figure out why they took any of us before we could decipher somethin' like that," Tina remarked decidedly, "but I don't know. If nothing had happened then he's doing better than he was." Which was just as important to anything else.
no subject
People they wouldn't survive without, since their skills ran less magical and more toward planting and building and punching people without breaking their hands.
"I think--part of it is that we're all weaker." Chewing his lip once, he recalls the conversation awhile back, tucked together on Credence's bed after he'd found the necklace. How Credence had hurt and killed people, lost time, and how he was sure it wouldn't happen again. "But he's also happier. No one hits him here, everyone seems to try to be nice, with him. I don't think it's the same as control, I think we still need to figure out what to do if someone like that does show up."
no subject
Why take people without magical abilities if it was about it? How were they even able to separate something they were born with? It's not something Tina can wrap her mind around, none of it adds up. It wasn't like a light switch that could be just turned off, which was in part her own worries when it came to Credence.
Kira's response is of no surprise in that way. She feels a familiar pang of regret before she can muster up the words. "The thing is-- I don't think there is any way to control it. None documented anyway and our kind has been around a long time," She responded, shaking her head, "not being beat for it-- It's a start. It is 'cause then he's not suppressing it or anything. But Newt's the one who'd know more. He's the best one to help, I'll have to ask him, but if he's already seen Credence he's probably plannin' to anyway..."
no subject
When he's with Credence, that second shadow is always there, always coiled. "Where I'm from, you could cut one of us off from the flow of things, bind us, like--being shut in a pantry."
Leaning into the wall behind them, like he's reached the limit of how long he can hold himself in proper bearing, Kira crosses his arms across his chest, tips his head to the cool paneling. "It didn't kill anyone outright, but most did that themselves." He imagines it like turning a mirror on itself, but the mirror is a mind, and the mirror was a little like a black hole, and--some of them really are just crazy, at the end.
As for her miracle worker, Newt: "Isn't that the guy who lives in the woods?"
no subject
Just because he wasn't doing magic or it didn't explode didn't mean it stopped existing. "If that was possible for us then they wouldn't need prisons or death chambers," She answered, frowning-- Of course it was more complicated than that. Comparatively, magical people were far fewer they couldn't kill everyone. Tearing out someone's magic and then obliviating them simply wouldn't do.
She managed to look amused at his description of Newt and gave a scoff. "That's him, all right, but I can find him," Tina answered, trying to sound more confident than she felt, "he's the only one I know who's dealt with an Obscurial before all of this. He's gotta have a better idea."