Deerington Inbox

[newtralize]

Text | Audio | Video | In Person

Ah. Er, hello? Oh, uhm. This is rather weird...right! T-This is Newt Scamander. Well, actually, this is a pre recorded message for Newt Scamander. I'm quite busy, so I may have missed you. Do please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Apologies.

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[periit]

[ Hell. The gold flare catches his attention, piques his curiosity, and serves just as well to throw Percival off just enough to make him scramble for an acceptable excuse to have monitored Newt's whereabouts. Was it really so terrible to just admit it? Before he can even finish the question to himself it's already answered with a resounding: Yes.

Thankfully a thought strikes him, coming out confidently as he tucks his arms behind his back. ] I'm decent at noticing where people are. Or aren't, for that matter. [ Apart of his job that was difficult to not let bleed over into his personal life. ] Besides, your brother could barely keep you inside when we were young. You never really grew out of it, from what I remember, so not seeing you was—odd.

[ Odd was this conversation that felt more like he was trying to establish an alibi. Which, sure, he sort of was in a backwards way. ] I thought I, [ He bites his tongue reflexively, but with a look over his shoulder clears his throat and continues it. ] Might check on you. See that you're well.

[newtralize]

[Newt wants to argue, but Percival's retort is sound. Percival, from what he remembers, had always been rather perceptive. That is, at least the other seemed so. Memories of when he were younger are not the most reliable. Young minds liked to exaggerate, though Newt had always been fairly perceptive himself for his age. Why he flourished so well in his choice of career.

And he can't help but frown a little. Not at the other, but because he suddenly finds himself rather confused. Percival's words rung true, but they weren't true, right? The longer they spoke, the more muddled his memories seemed to be becoming. It was starting to feel very much like he was trying to make heads or tails of two separate lives.] It has been a long time since we've seen each other, Graves. [That's not right, is it? Hadn't he only seen the other right before ending up on the boat? That doesn't sound right though.]

I find it a tad odd that you might be interested in my health though. [He was, after all, a third class citizen. And Percival was, well first class. Apparently that mattered suddenly.] You needn't worry about me though. I'm doing fine. [He's hungry, but he's fine. Really. He just has to discuss with Luna about particulars pertaining to his diet.]

[periit]

[ Percival can't remember another time—can't imagine life as anything than what it's always been: high class, the top of society. And for most of it with the Scamander brothers at his side, when their families met. Nothing about that seems strange or out of place. Except for Newt's fall out of grace. He doesn't remember that, exactly, and no one would speak of it after he had left.

Things like that had a way of sticking. Unanswered questions just burning those holes deeper to further unknowns. It's possibly the main reason he sought him out here; he hadn't seen Newt in years. He'd grown and changed and... what was that saying about distance and fondness? There's a small ache in his chest at the idea, though he attributes it more to Newt's words. He smiles despite it, a sort of half grin, trying to counter that frown. ] Quite a few years, by my account.

[ If he remembered correctly. ]

Newt, [ His name is sighed out, a huffing chuckle as he casts a furrowed glance over the railing. An unease sets his sights back on the other, giving him further pause. ] I disagree, [ The utterance is confident despite it's gentle tone. ] I haven't seen you in ages, and when I do you only come outside in the evening. Your skin is ashen. Your frame, you look... [ The trail is quick, Percival trying not to be accusatory. ] Have you at least eaten?

[ A little pressing, but it was necessary. ]

[newtralize]

Yes. Years. [Hadn't he seen Percival weeks ago? No. It had been years, hadn't it? Years since he had left the Scamander household with merely a briefcase with all his belongings packed into it. Years since his expulsion, which had been a constant stain and embarrassment to his family. A pressure to try and fit into a box he never fit in the first place.

He had left because he was never fit for what his parents wanted wished he had been. Like his brother. Instead, he was just a disappointment in the eyes of everyone else.

That sounds more correct.

But he doesn't think much about that because he feels panic bubble for a moment. Percival was very perceptive and seemed to had already picked up on things that made him anxious. His habits and his appearance and-] I am doing fine. As I said. [And his eyes dart to glance at the other before looking away just as quickly. Gold limbal rings that glow slightly in the evening. Specks of gold in his irises. Closer inspection, and it would be easy to tell that Newt isn't breathing. Hasn't been.]

I ate dinner with everyone else.

[periit]

[ Years that, while had been long and seemingly unending, only now seemed like a flash from when he last saw Newt: a bright young man, as quiet as they come. Theseus might have spared a confused Percival only a few parting words on the subject but never more, and he knew better than to press, no matter his concern. A feeling which is revitalized here, at seeing the other on this ship.

Percival might not get able to hide the feeling from himself but aside from a cursory glance in larger crowds he'd been able to keep it under wraps. Well, save now for perhaps the man in front of him, and really if there were anyone to show then it was him. Though he isn't exactly sure how well he's coming across.

He swallows the small lump in his throat and keeps watching Newt as he tries to quell him. Not that he was much convinced to begin with, but the flash of those eyes only give him more evidence to his theory. He focus increases like a spike as he looks further into Newt's posture. The worry in his shoulders, his chest—unmoving. He feels his stomach twist at the realization. ]

I'm not sure who you think I am anymore, [ Between the way he quickly rose in rank back home and all the whispers about his workplace demeanor, he probably thinks Percival a number of things. None of them likely favorable. ] Regardless, I can assure you I'm still a friend. [ And sure, no one's around to hear him say such a thing, but why would he even risk saying it in private if it weren't true? ] So,

[ Taking a half step forward, Percival undoes holding his arms behind his back with a sigh. ] I don't think you have eaten well recently. [ He takes a long pause, lifting a hand to press fingertips under Newt's chin. ] At least not what matters.

[newtralize]

[Newt isn't so ignorant about the happenings around him. He keeps up with the news. Knows what happens around him. Aware of Percival's status in America and that a man of his stature wouldn't be caught dead with someone like him. Well, shouldn't is perhaps the better word. Percival carried the confidence, but never really the arrogance.

Of course, he can't say what kind of Percival person is now.] I don't like to make assumptions based on gossip and conjecture. It would be foolish of me to think of you in any light, I think. [Newt has always been very open minded. Open minded to perhaps a fault. At least in the eyes of his brethren.] Not many would consider that. I find that I wasn't particularly popular with most. [Not that it very much bothered him.]

G-Graves. [There's apprehension in his voice as he feels Percival's warm touch against his cold skin. As though the other wouldn't see the signs of his vampirism when they were so close to each other.] What makes you think that? [Still, Newt won't admit it. Stubborn as he is, he doesn't want to actually reveal it until the other accuses him of it. It's safer than to assume the other has caught on.] Even in third class, we are given warm meals and they aren't quite so shabby.

[periit]

[ The surprise that finds him isn't in regard to Newt. Not entirely. Percival was surprised that, while Newt had changed outwardly, he was still that good-natured soul he had known. Rejecting the normality of the class he was born into and yet still kind, and humble. It's refreshing.

Percival finds himself smiling as he dips his head momentarily, gently clearing his throat as he brings it back up. ] Perhaps you weren't, but popularity is fleeting. [ He'd never seen much appeal in it, though he understood it's usefulness. ] You always have been, however, particularly kind. [ And what kindness had Newt been shown in return for it? Percival wasn't so far gone in his class he could turn a blind eye now that there was opportunity. Certainly not for an old friend.

He doesn't move, even as Newt tries to downplay and explain away his concerns. Well, at least he doesn't move away. Percival does move closer, his head tipped to the side. ] Your pale skin. The hollow of your cheeks. The flare and hunger in your eyes. [ Fingers move up, enough for his thumb to brush over Newt's bottom lip and gently pulling it down. ] A hot meal is reassuring for the other passengers, I'm sure. But you, Newt?

[ The pause finds his entire body before he takes a soft breath and shakes his head with a toss of his eyebrows. ] I'm positive they don't give you what you need. [ He slides the rest of his hand up to the spot he's made with Newt's mouth, thumb and forefinger laying on either cheek, his wrist angled up to press skin against pointed teeth. ] Isn't that right?

[newtralize]

I don't really like the attention of others. Popularity just sounds stressful. [Constantly scrutinized constantly. He doesn't miss that at all. There was just so much more freedom being someone who blends into the crowd. Newt's disinterest in material things also just meant that he didn't really lose much by losing status.

Even comforts could be found in Third Class.]

I'm not- [Newt goes completely still like he had been petrified. Percival's grip isn't painful. Just firm. He could practically taste salty skin against his tongue, which he's really trying to not do. The last thing he wanted to be was enticed and the other was making that incredibly hard.

Percival can see how Newt's throat moves, like it wants to swallow.

And then Newt starts to shake a little. It's tempting. To bite down and break skin. To taste blood on his tongue. He doesn't though. All he can do is look at the other with pleading and desperate eyes. A slight nod of his head finally.]