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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.
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Huffing out a breath she tried to to push the thoughts of the man out of her mind before continuing heatedly. "'Sides, what's him being nice gotta do for anything?" She tossed her sister a look, "you can go try and see him if you want, you know."
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"You oughta go see him. It's not healthy, him being out there by himself all the time." She knows when to button her lip, but the fact remains that Queenie is of the opinion that Newt would be a lot less weird if he spent time with actual people who could actually talk back to him.
"We could make room for him at the house easy," she casually adds with an arch of her eyebrows.
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"It's not as if I haven't tried," She added, the faintest of pinks lighting her cheeks, "it was the first thing I did when I saw him. Save draggin' him out and moving out there with him he's not budging."
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"Maybe stay with him one night. Like an adventure," she continues, keeping her eyes carefully ahead. "I think you could convince him. He's already sweet on you."
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It didn't stop her from glancing to the woods, wondering if he'd be at the same place he was before or somewhere further in. It didn't stop her from considering going in there and calling for him until he showed up and dragging him back in. The thought of frustrating him enough that he stops bothering with her is one thing that makes her hesitate. The other being that she could be as stubborn as he was.
Her gaze flickered towards the woods at the thought, mouth setting into a thin line and for a moment she doesn't register what Queenie says. Just for a moment as the next she's stumbling to a stop, nearly losing her hold on the items she'd carried with her, and promptly rooting to the spot. She's used to Queenie's insinuations. It's not the first time since Newt had left, but the idea of going out there for even a night makes her cheeks heat up.
You would never think it was Tina who was the older sister in moments like this, but she'd too rarely ventured into any aspect of her life beyond work and home. Nothing else had mattered much and she was too used to being seen as a nuisance or some kind of outsider that the kindred feeling she got from Newt was still all too new and brilliant. Not something she wants to throw away for something like unwieldy feelings or misinterpreted thoughts.
"I can't stay alone a night with Newt," She blanched before fiercely shaking her head and taking a step forward before hesitating a moment. "He's a friend and you know that's all he is." A friend she had, of course, kept fondly in her memory for three months and kept an eye on newspapers for his name. Or, more specifically, in hopes of when a certain book would be published and a promise kept.
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"You're a terrible liar," Queenie points out, as if that were the reason for her knowing with such certainty that Newt was anything but just a friend. "And he's terrible about taking the lead on this stuff, so I don't see why you can't give him a little help. Fellas need it sometimes, you know."
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The frown tugged ever more onto her lips, dark eyes turning sternly towards Queenie. It's a sternness that's too often reserved for her sister, the look of a woman who determinedly ignored personal effects to do because if she can't accomplish something she'll let more than herself down. "You know I don't have any use for it," She continued, some familiar insecurity twinging in her tone, "this place isn't the place for any romance and Newt's far more interested in living with squirrels in the forest than to come out here." It's not a far cry from the truth, she knew, but Tina wasn't going to say it. Not that she wanted to see him or even hoped that maybe she had a chance.
The thought that she is not her sister, with her kindness, charm, and radiance, that attracts people to her goes unsaid. She was never jealous of her sister's way with people, but she was well aware that she was unorthodox and dark and of very little interest to any man in a romantic sense. It simply wasn't something she gave to much hope for. Then, of course, there was Newt.
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"I only knew Jacob a couple'a days, and he was just—" Expression pinching, she drops her gaze to the image of their booted feet walking in time along the dusty road. "He was swell," she finally finishes, not even the half of it, but Tina knows that by now.
"Love doesn't ask for permission, Teen," she adds, and looks back up at her sister. "He likes you. A lot. Even if he also likes living with squirrels."
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It didn't stop her from her heart aching for her sister without the aid of Legilimency. Love doesn't ask for permission. Her cheeks tinge when Queenie looks at her, but she masks it with a scoff and a glance stubbornly away. "Now I know you've been hitting the gigglewater too much," Tina sighed, "he'll find more creatures to look after out there and forget about the rest of us." Love was too big a word and she's not entirely certain romance is in store for her.
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"He won't forget about you, Teenie," she says, eyebrows arching to emphasize that on this, she definitively knows. "He's gonna be him, but that doesn't mean there's not room for you with him."
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Tina stopped herself abruptly, mentally kicking herself before giving a shake of her head. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. You know it's just..." She remembers how upset Queenie was but more importantly she didn't want her to get hurt again. It hardly helped she could barely figure out how to deal with the man and he seemed keen on speaking when given the chance.
She offered a roll of her shoulders, glaring into the dusty pathway as if it were the problem. In many ways it was-- They wouldn't have to deal with either man if not for the village. She couldn't figure out if it was more a blessing or a curse.
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Queenie still doesn't know why she let it happen. They could have run away, her and Jacob, just like she said. They could have gone to Canada; it wasn't far.
But then she would have had to leave Tina. She'd have been all alone.
Queenie breathes out a measured sigh through her nose and lifts her chin a little, pushing against the onslaught of tangled emotions that wants to rise in her chest. She still just doesn't understand it, how they can keep on with that terrible, old law just because one woman ages ago didn't have a lick of sense. But there's no use in saying so to her sister.
"I haven't told him anything," she says evenly instead.
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Her teeth worried further into her lower lip, regretting her immediate defensive answer. Tina may have hated the attention point on her wasteland of a love life, but it wasn't her intention to remind her sister of something harmful either. Tina closed her eyes when Queenie said something, teeth digging ever deeper before she released her own breath.
Her arm tightened around Queenie's. "I didn't think you had," Tina responded, gaze turned towards her sister's visage. It was her own fault she'd met Jacob in the first place, as much as she knew her sister would want to see him they'd both been aware of the laws that governed this place.
Tina turned quickly away as she stumbled on, "You should see about talking to him more if you want." Her own offering, though she says nothing about revealing their adventures in New York.
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She doesn't walk away, isn't the kind of girl who would do that, especially not to Tina, but it just feels so damned unfair. They were just having a conversation about the man Tina's got feelings for, who is here and she could be with in a hot minute if she actually let herself, and she wants to tell Queenie what she's allowed?
"What I want ain't never been on the table, Teen," she says, her lips pressing into a line. "And you know that."
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"You've been wanting to talk to him since that night," Tina answered, ignoring the slightly quiver to her voice, "look around us, Queenie. We're not at home and as much as Rappaport's laws are a part of there we'd be stupid to follow 'em here. We cuoldn't even so much talk to anyone but each other, Newt, and Mr. Graves. And you can't go telling me you haven't started making friends with the locals."
Tina knew her sister better than herself, Legilimency or no. She was too kindhearted not to help a strange in need or share a kind word. The woman bit down on her lower lip before finally turning her eyes away.
"You wanted to go off with him," Tina reminded, "if there's any chance to talk to him or even go anywhere else with it, this place is giving you that chance. That's all I'm sayin'-- It's up to you." She doesn't know if he would remember or what the future would have in store, but the truth of the matter was they were freer here than the restrictions their home placed with them.
Her gaze flickered to Queenie only once more before she shifted to continue her way back to the house.
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"I've already talked to Jacob," she adds, waiting to see if Tina will stop. "I've already talked to him and he recognizes me. Doesn't know why, but he does. And this place..." She pauses, pursing her lips again with a shake of her head. "I don't know what it is, but I don't plan on getting you or Newt or anybody else in trouble."
At home, it would be different. At home, there was still that chance, that run for the border. But this place, she still doesn't know if it's a dream or nightmare.
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Her brow arched in question. "You won't be getting any of us in trouble and it's not as if we can't handle ourselves," She retorted, leveling her gaze-- lips tugging into a frown, "I've talked to him, too. I coulda turned him away and I didn't." She left it brisk, of course, but even for Tina she couldn't find the will to be unfriendly to the man.
"Mister Graves can't fault us for what we gotta do around her," She continued, brow arching questioningly further on her head-- The question there but unspoken: Percival?
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Distantly, Queenie's aware that were she someone else, this would be going a whole heck of a lot differently. That she'd be plenty annoyed with her sister's hypocrisy. But she isn't someone else, she's just herself, and so mostly she's just sad.
She's not ready to risk her sister's life for the sake of romance.
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She had recognized that all too quickly.
The woman's features remain pinched in the all too familiar frown. It's not enough. "You know I didn't mean anything by it," Tina said her own shoulders rose and fell, "I'm not even sayin' go with him." She exhaled and turned back away to continue the familiar pace. Life, of course, isn't ever that easy.