Newt Scamander (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
newtralize) wrote2019-03-08 10:26 pm
newtralize) wrote2019-03-08 10:26 pm
The End Of Love
We were reaching in the dark
That summer in New York
And it was so far to fall
But it didn't hurt at all
And let it wash away, wash away
We were reaching in the dark
That summer in New York
And it was so far to fall
But it didn't hurt at all
And let it wash away, wash away
[Newton Fido Scamander.
Many who knew him from school wouldn't have taken him to be the man he became. He was awkward and quiet and strange to his peers while growing up. Or so it has been said. There was a few things that was known about him. That he adored every creature he ever lays his eyes on, that he's an excellent student, and that someone was fated to be with him based on the mark that sat on his inner wrist.
A lot has changed since then and now. Newton was an exemplary auror who rivaled even his brother's prowess. Both were a force to be reckon with in the Ministry (and many have found that having both around was bad given their mischievous streaks). They were both very similar. Friendly and charming with a bit of a flirtatious side. The type of personalities that attract others naturally. Newton, by any means, was someone that many have grown to idolize or admire or pursue. What hadn't changed from his school years is that he still had a certain soulmark that was permanently a part of him.
Soulmates were an ancient magic that most didn't know what to make of it. It had become a part of everyday life that no one really thought much of it and saw it as just a normal thing. There were many who believed in it and many that didn't. The idea of being fated to be with someone was always a strange debate. Some loved it and some hated it. There had even been talks about how soulmates didn't necessarily mean an eternal love. That even those that were marked and met may separate or that they may never meet in their lifetime.
Newton, however, was enamored by the idea. That there was someone out there who will love him unconditionally and that they were intertwined with him was such a beautiful thing.
Because who could love someone like him? He wasn't actually what people thought he was. He was far from it. Newton had just merely learned how to play a convincing charade. In reality, he was still very much how he was back in school. He was quiet and eccentric and he was uncomfortable with people. With touch from another person. Yet, at least he had this mark that reminded him that there was someone who would love him for that.
It was some form of solace.
His charade wasn't the only secret he held. No one would ever probably believe that the Scamanders held a rather particular secret. Certainly no one would believe that the internationally infamous Artemis was the same Newton Scamander who upheld the law. Artemis was a wild rulebreaker and while they weren't exactly evil, they were still a rogue person doing as they please. For the authorities, Artemis was a vigilante who did as they pleased. While they had broken and shutdown more smuggling rings than any government has managed, it couldn't be ignored that they weren't potentially dangerous. After all, no one knew what happened to those creatures. They were always spirited away.
Who would ever think that they were one in the same? The Newton Scamander that was an auror for the Ministry of Magic and the Artemis who has busted countless smuggling rings and taking all the creatures with him.
Well, what others don't know won't hurt them.
MACUSA is in a bit of disarray today. A lot of hustle and bustle as many of the MACUSA employees excitedly wait. Really, one would think that the MACUSA had employed a bunch of teenagers with all the gossip and whispers going about the place. The Ministry of Magic were transferring a few of their aurors over to help in a large scale case. Usually, the MoM wouldn't be so willing to send some of their finest over, but the implications that the case may be tied to international cases of murders and disappearances had made them more willing. It wasn't a big team, of course. Who could really afford to send too many of their best and brightest? Still, the team was sound and the whispers were about the one in charge of the small group of British aurors.
A certain Newton Scamander.
It's then that a group of people enter, led by the Minister himself. The minister and eight aurors. One of them walked just a step behind the Minister with the rest of the aurors behind him. Newton was a tall man. He stood a beautiful 6'2" with dark, slicked hair and wearing a three piece suit under a black woolen trench coat. A yellow and dark grey scarf was wrapped around his neck and he had an easy smile as he glanced around them. It wasn't long for Seraphina to greet the group and walking off to her office with the Minister to discuss, leaving the group of aurors standing where they are to look around.
There were whispers and chatter around them.] So this is MACUSA, is it?
Many who knew him from school wouldn't have taken him to be the man he became. He was awkward and quiet and strange to his peers while growing up. Or so it has been said. There was a few things that was known about him. That he adored every creature he ever lays his eyes on, that he's an excellent student, and that someone was fated to be with him based on the mark that sat on his inner wrist.
A lot has changed since then and now. Newton was an exemplary auror who rivaled even his brother's prowess. Both were a force to be reckon with in the Ministry (and many have found that having both around was bad given their mischievous streaks). They were both very similar. Friendly and charming with a bit of a flirtatious side. The type of personalities that attract others naturally. Newton, by any means, was someone that many have grown to idolize or admire or pursue. What hadn't changed from his school years is that he still had a certain soulmark that was permanently a part of him.
Soulmates were an ancient magic that most didn't know what to make of it. It had become a part of everyday life that no one really thought much of it and saw it as just a normal thing. There were many who believed in it and many that didn't. The idea of being fated to be with someone was always a strange debate. Some loved it and some hated it. There had even been talks about how soulmates didn't necessarily mean an eternal love. That even those that were marked and met may separate or that they may never meet in their lifetime.
Newton, however, was enamored by the idea. That there was someone out there who will love him unconditionally and that they were intertwined with him was such a beautiful thing.
Because who could love someone like him? He wasn't actually what people thought he was. He was far from it. Newton had just merely learned how to play a convincing charade. In reality, he was still very much how he was back in school. He was quiet and eccentric and he was uncomfortable with people. With touch from another person. Yet, at least he had this mark that reminded him that there was someone who would love him for that.
It was some form of solace.
His charade wasn't the only secret he held. No one would ever probably believe that the Scamanders held a rather particular secret. Certainly no one would believe that the internationally infamous Artemis was the same Newton Scamander who upheld the law. Artemis was a wild rulebreaker and while they weren't exactly evil, they were still a rogue person doing as they please. For the authorities, Artemis was a vigilante who did as they pleased. While they had broken and shutdown more smuggling rings than any government has managed, it couldn't be ignored that they weren't potentially dangerous. After all, no one knew what happened to those creatures. They were always spirited away.
Who would ever think that they were one in the same? The Newton Scamander that was an auror for the Ministry of Magic and the Artemis who has busted countless smuggling rings and taking all the creatures with him.
Well, what others don't know won't hurt them.
MACUSA is in a bit of disarray today. A lot of hustle and bustle as many of the MACUSA employees excitedly wait. Really, one would think that the MACUSA had employed a bunch of teenagers with all the gossip and whispers going about the place. The Ministry of Magic were transferring a few of their aurors over to help in a large scale case. Usually, the MoM wouldn't be so willing to send some of their finest over, but the implications that the case may be tied to international cases of murders and disappearances had made them more willing. It wasn't a big team, of course. Who could really afford to send too many of their best and brightest? Still, the team was sound and the whispers were about the one in charge of the small group of British aurors.
A certain Newton Scamander.
It's then that a group of people enter, led by the Minister himself. The minister and eight aurors. One of them walked just a step behind the Minister with the rest of the aurors behind him. Newton was a tall man. He stood a beautiful 6'2" with dark, slicked hair and wearing a three piece suit under a black woolen trench coat. A yellow and dark grey scarf was wrapped around his neck and he had an easy smile as he glanced around them. It wasn't long for Seraphina to greet the group and walking off to her office with the Minister to discuss, leaving the group of aurors standing where they are to look around.
There were whispers and chatter around them.] So this is MACUSA, is it?
[What a life this world has given him. A generous upbringing, a decent enough family (no matter how distant), a good and loyal friend to stick by his side throughout the years, a kidnapping that would forever shape his remaining days and the reminder on his wrist there was someone out there who could have loved him.
It was a thought that often ran through his mind while trapped snug in a room without a door—his only inclination of time passing a small window he could never dream of reaching without magic, and he needed to save that for whenever his captor decided to show up to feed or interrogate him. The former was much more rare than the latter, unfortunately, and lead to longer periods of time spent hunched in the corner, thumbing at the sunken crescent moon over his veins.
All his life spent working to the bone, and for what? He had set into motion no laws, no legacy. Nothing to be remembered by. When such darker thoughts consumed him, he thought it better he hadn’t anyone to call his own. No heart to ache like he had learned from his mark, which was distorted now from all the binding that had been used to break him the beginning months in this hell.
Heartache he learned from “matching parties” at a young age. Huge social events, largely pooled of families from the same class, where the children would spend the evening getting to know each other before revealing their marks to try to find their match—something of legend. Not one party he attended ever yielded a pair. From a young age he thought them foolish. Of the whole world, all it’s continents and all the beings on them, who would ever think his soulmate would be located in the same state? And who would think of make a show of such a thing?
This mark was a curse more than anything.
And it left him with a cold streak amongst those poor souls who came to admire him romantically, long into his adulthood. Though not entirely of his own fault. So much of his youth had been molded by the cultural conformity to find his “true love”, Percival found little meaning in getting to know someone if it wasn’t going to last. He’d heard story after story of mismatches ending ugly that it was the last thing he wanted to deal with. So people stopped pursuing him, and he didn’t think twice.
It was his last concern when he was rescued. Percival had been turned to skin and bone, something so nearly withered magic couldn’t safely heal him without a shock to his system—no matter his own talent. Even when he was able to withstand it he refused, a reminder not only to himself but all who saw him to keep your guard and not give in. Persevere.
Perhaps it was also fear.
It took months after for him to return to work, and even then he had moved in with his dear friend—Seraphina Picquery—to not close himself off entirely to people. Even she had a difficult time seeing him healed and taken care of between his touch aversion and night terrors. Still, she did, and gently brought him back into the fold of MACUSA. Until these disappearances and murders had become more frequent. Something too close to his chest to ignore.
And finally, after months more of his shaping up subordinates and filing for additional help and case files to reference from Europe, all his hard work paid off. An elite team of aurors sent to aid them in their recent pick-up of crime. When their counterparts from across the pond finally apparate, Seraphina gives Percival a look that calmly rises him from the bench along the wall and behind her, arms tucked behind his back. He ducks his head and counts to 10, tapping a thumb against his wrist, as Seraphina speaks with the visiting Minister.
When she’s finished and starts her own escort with him, heels clicking as a signal, he picks his head up. And all that was left in her wake was the man who survived Grindelwald: Percival Graves. Ever so slightly gaunt—though he (“Thankfully,” Seraphina commented) filled out his suit nicely—his under-eyes still bagged from his capture and cheekbones a touch more pronounced. Sharper still is his gaze, hawkish compared to anyone else in the room. It’s a fair disposition for having tangoed with the most dangerous wizard of their time, and some other aurors had mutterings of surprise that he isn’t flat out insane.
They’ll happily take a paranoid overseer over a crazy one any day.
They’re comments he lets in one ear and out the other. It isn’t unlike his schooling days, where people would talk of him as if he couldn’t hear them within earshot. Some things didn’t change but all he could do was put one foot in front of the other. It was another day, and at least one he could look forward to. Or up to. He quite forgot how tall 6’2” was in person versus paper, and his personnel file didn’t quite do him justice.]
Indeed it is. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security and head of Magical Law Enforcement. [ The smile he gives is short but sweet as he reaches out his hand for a proper introduction, a hint of scarring peeking out from under a crisp sleeve. ] Welcome to MACUSA, Mr. Scamander.
It was a thought that often ran through his mind while trapped snug in a room without a door—his only inclination of time passing a small window he could never dream of reaching without magic, and he needed to save that for whenever his captor decided to show up to feed or interrogate him. The former was much more rare than the latter, unfortunately, and lead to longer periods of time spent hunched in the corner, thumbing at the sunken crescent moon over his veins.
All his life spent working to the bone, and for what? He had set into motion no laws, no legacy. Nothing to be remembered by. When such darker thoughts consumed him, he thought it better he hadn’t anyone to call his own. No heart to ache like he had learned from his mark, which was distorted now from all the binding that had been used to break him the beginning months in this hell.
Heartache he learned from “matching parties” at a young age. Huge social events, largely pooled of families from the same class, where the children would spend the evening getting to know each other before revealing their marks to try to find their match—something of legend. Not one party he attended ever yielded a pair. From a young age he thought them foolish. Of the whole world, all it’s continents and all the beings on them, who would ever think his soulmate would be located in the same state? And who would think of make a show of such a thing?
This mark was a curse more than anything.
And it left him with a cold streak amongst those poor souls who came to admire him romantically, long into his adulthood. Though not entirely of his own fault. So much of his youth had been molded by the cultural conformity to find his “true love”, Percival found little meaning in getting to know someone if it wasn’t going to last. He’d heard story after story of mismatches ending ugly that it was the last thing he wanted to deal with. So people stopped pursuing him, and he didn’t think twice.
It was his last concern when he was rescued. Percival had been turned to skin and bone, something so nearly withered magic couldn’t safely heal him without a shock to his system—no matter his own talent. Even when he was able to withstand it he refused, a reminder not only to himself but all who saw him to keep your guard and not give in. Persevere.
Perhaps it was also fear.
It took months after for him to return to work, and even then he had moved in with his dear friend—Seraphina Picquery—to not close himself off entirely to people. Even she had a difficult time seeing him healed and taken care of between his touch aversion and night terrors. Still, she did, and gently brought him back into the fold of MACUSA. Until these disappearances and murders had become more frequent. Something too close to his chest to ignore.
And finally, after months more of his shaping up subordinates and filing for additional help and case files to reference from Europe, all his hard work paid off. An elite team of aurors sent to aid them in their recent pick-up of crime. When their counterparts from across the pond finally apparate, Seraphina gives Percival a look that calmly rises him from the bench along the wall and behind her, arms tucked behind his back. He ducks his head and counts to 10, tapping a thumb against his wrist, as Seraphina speaks with the visiting Minister.
When she’s finished and starts her own escort with him, heels clicking as a signal, he picks his head up. And all that was left in her wake was the man who survived Grindelwald: Percival Graves. Ever so slightly gaunt—though he (“Thankfully,” Seraphina commented) filled out his suit nicely—his under-eyes still bagged from his capture and cheekbones a touch more pronounced. Sharper still is his gaze, hawkish compared to anyone else in the room. It’s a fair disposition for having tangoed with the most dangerous wizard of their time, and some other aurors had mutterings of surprise that he isn’t flat out insane.
They’ll happily take a paranoid overseer over a crazy one any day.
They’re comments he lets in one ear and out the other. It isn’t unlike his schooling days, where people would talk of him as if he couldn’t hear them within earshot. Some things didn’t change but all he could do was put one foot in front of the other. It was another day, and at least one he could look forward to. Or up to. He quite forgot how tall 6’2” was in person versus paper, and his personnel file didn’t quite do him justice.]
Indeed it is. Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security and head of Magical Law Enforcement. [ The smile he gives is short but sweet as he reaches out his hand for a proper introduction, a hint of scarring peeking out from under a crisp sleeve. ] Welcome to MACUSA, Mr. Scamander.
It's far more glamorous than my brother claimed. I'm rather jealous. [Newt looks around them for a moment longer before turning his attention to the man before him.
He had heard plenty about Percival Graves. His brother had rather gracious words to say about the man and there was enough press and information in Percival's own file to leave a rather good impression of the man.
Honestly, he can say that talk and words on paper really don't do the man justice. Despite Pericval's more gaunt figure, the man had a certain air to him that they should be someone one should respect. Even though he stood taller than the other, it made Graves no less impressive or intimidating.] Newton is just fine, if you please. Mr. Scamander makes me sound like my brother and I do love to hold over his head that he's an old git. [Newt smiles easily as he grasps Percival's hand for a shake.
His expression falters though when it feels as though a jolt of electricity goes through his body. It doesn't hurt, but it almost makes him feel alive. As though he had been missing something and had found it. Such an odd feeling when he absolutely hated touching others. Peculiar.
He firmly shakes Percival's hand and he smiles as though nothing had happen. Perhaps he was just merely imagining things. He isn't sure what that feeling even was.] Thank you for the warm welcome. We're a tad out of our element. None of us have been to America, so we're in your hands.
We hope to work together and get this all done and dealt with.
He had heard plenty about Percival Graves. His brother had rather gracious words to say about the man and there was enough press and information in Percival's own file to leave a rather good impression of the man.
Honestly, he can say that talk and words on paper really don't do the man justice. Despite Pericval's more gaunt figure, the man had a certain air to him that they should be someone one should respect. Even though he stood taller than the other, it made Graves no less impressive or intimidating.] Newton is just fine, if you please. Mr. Scamander makes me sound like my brother and I do love to hold over his head that he's an old git. [Newt smiles easily as he grasps Percival's hand for a shake.
His expression falters though when it feels as though a jolt of electricity goes through his body. It doesn't hurt, but it almost makes him feel alive. As though he had been missing something and had found it. Such an odd feeling when he absolutely hated touching others. Peculiar.
He firmly shakes Percival's hand and he smiles as though nothing had happen. Perhaps he was just merely imagining things. He isn't sure what that feeling even was.] Thank you for the warm welcome. We're a tad out of our element. None of us have been to America, so we're in your hands.
We hope to work together and get this all done and dealt with.
[There’s a bit of pride that finds Percival’s eyes at the compliment to MACUSA, to the building, letting a soft smile form more permanently. It certainly isn’t a common building, even with all the decadent buildings no-maj’s have made, but sometimes he feels as if he’s one of the few that still truly appreciate it’s appearance. So to hear it from someone else is revitalizing.]
No need for jealousy—our facilities are yours while you’re here. [And there’s more to that statement, but it’s for another time. No need to overload them all at once; small bits at a time, they’ve only barely said hello.]
All right, then, [The laughter is polite in the other’s mentioning of his brother. Sibling rivalry isn’t something he quite understands, but he figures it’s similar to what he has with Seraphina. The lingo is also a little lost on him. He can’t say he’s spent any time with anyone from England. Well spent time, anyway.] Newton it is.
[The shock that ricochets in him when their hands meet sinks down into his bones. Not unlike a static shock that leaves the hand feeling strange, only softer, and throughout his entire body. A small rush floods him after and he wonders if he’s having some medical issue. But just as quickly as it hit him it’s gone, leaving him still standing (to his surprise) and feeling lighter.
He takes a breath, smiles briefly again as he returns the shake and nods.] Nonsense, it’s our pleasure. And about time we met our Ministry cousins. We’ve set up living accommodations outside MACUSA, and should anyone require an escort through the city we have designated aurors for it.
[Percival agrees with another short nod.] As are we, the sooner the better. [In the next moment he steps to the side, motioning to the large ornate doors on the other side of the council room.] Follow me, I’ll show you and your team around.
No need for jealousy—our facilities are yours while you’re here. [And there’s more to that statement, but it’s for another time. No need to overload them all at once; small bits at a time, they’ve only barely said hello.]
All right, then, [The laughter is polite in the other’s mentioning of his brother. Sibling rivalry isn’t something he quite understands, but he figures it’s similar to what he has with Seraphina. The lingo is also a little lost on him. He can’t say he’s spent any time with anyone from England. Well spent time, anyway.] Newton it is.
[The shock that ricochets in him when their hands meet sinks down into his bones. Not unlike a static shock that leaves the hand feeling strange, only softer, and throughout his entire body. A small rush floods him after and he wonders if he’s having some medical issue. But just as quickly as it hit him it’s gone, leaving him still standing (to his surprise) and feeling lighter.
He takes a breath, smiles briefly again as he returns the shake and nods.] Nonsense, it’s our pleasure. And about time we met our Ministry cousins. We’ve set up living accommodations outside MACUSA, and should anyone require an escort through the city we have designated aurors for it.
[Percival agrees with another short nod.] As are we, the sooner the better. [In the next moment he steps to the side, motioning to the large ornate doors on the other side of the council room.] Follow me, I’ll show you and your team around.
Would you prefer Percival or Graves? Or even a Mr. Graves. It seems rude to assume certain things and us Brits tend to be overtly polite to a fault. Personally, I find Mr. Graves to make you sound a smidge too old and you look too good for that. [Is he flirting or is he complimenting the other? Maybe it's a bit of both.
There's this somewhat intense feeling of longing or loss when he lets go of Percival's hand. He ignores it because he certainly can't be that wanting to just literally hold Percival's hand. That's 1) honestly weird and makes absolutely no sense and 2) why would he want to hold Percival's hand like he needs it.
He can't deny that there's something about the man that he can't shake.] Honestly, I think they're itching a bit to explore the city and familiarize themselves. I don't know if you know much about traveling through boat, but it can be painfully dull. [He smiles easily enough.] Though, I don't think anyone would certainly say no to being escorted if your aurors are as dashing as head security seems to be. [Now that's definitely flirting.
The group of aurors follow Percival though. A few of them talk amongst themselves as they look around.] Kind of you to do so. I imagine that you probably have more pressing matters than babysitting a few of us. We don't want to be in your hair for too long.
There's this somewhat intense feeling of longing or loss when he lets go of Percival's hand. He ignores it because he certainly can't be that wanting to just literally hold Percival's hand. That's 1) honestly weird and makes absolutely no sense and 2) why would he want to hold Percival's hand like he needs it.
He can't deny that there's something about the man that he can't shake.] Honestly, I think they're itching a bit to explore the city and familiarize themselves. I don't know if you know much about traveling through boat, but it can be painfully dull. [He smiles easily enough.] Though, I don't think anyone would certainly say no to being escorted if your aurors are as dashing as head security seems to be. [Now that's definitely flirting.
The group of aurors follow Percival though. A few of them talk amongst themselves as they look around.] Kind of you to do so. I imagine that you probably have more pressing matters than babysitting a few of us. We don't want to be in your hair for too long.
[Honestly he can’t tell if it’s flirtation or European friendliness. He’s heard so many things on the latter.] You’ll find no one calls me Percival here, [It comes out as a matter of fact, rather neutral, than flat out acceptance or denial to the question, despite the slight curl it gives his lips.] Graves is fine, if you’re against adding years on me.
[His hand itches for their previous contact and Percival curls and stretches his hand to be rid of the sensation as quickly as he can. It felt like standing on a ledge and looking over the drop, and what for? Why did he feel such warmth towards this almost complete stranger? Surely it’s his over-politeness. He just wasn’t used to it, not when he had been met with colder interactions than previously upon his return to MACUSA. Walking beside him seems to do well enough to stave off the feeling. A sort of calm settling in from the sudden rushes.
I can’t say I’ve had the privilege of crossing on a boat, but I can imagine. [Perhaps a little heavy to mention, telling in the polite face he dons, even if unintentionally. Though he doesn’t miss a beat, continuing on without issue as it isn’t something to dwell on, a kinder expression on when he looks up to the other after his clear flirtation.] I find us to be an exceptional bunch, though it is in the eye of the beholder. [Was that a glint in his eye? He turns before it can change to anything else, and clears his throat gently.]
However given the situation we find ourselves in, I must insist they be accompanied. [And then adds softly after:] At least for a few days, until they find their bearings. [Percival looks back down the hall, gently flicking a wrist to the doors ahead to open them in time.] Danger is the nature of our jobs, but safety is also in mine. I have no matter more pressing than keeping all wizards and witches secure. [As they get closer to the threshold the buzz of MACUSA gets louder—typewriters, the shuffle of paper, the heavy clip of American accents and quick, tapping footfalls.]
Besides, Madame President assigned this to me personally; no one knows this building better than I do. [As they make their way out onto the balcony, Percival turns to face the team with an outstretched arm.] Ladies and gentleman, the bullpen. [Marble stairs leading up and down are on either side of them, and below is the heart of the building: rows upon rows of desks and aurors. Not unlike a beehive.] Our work area is a few flights up, on a private floor. We can go there now or I can show you the more recreational side of MACUSA, given your long voyage.
[His hand itches for their previous contact and Percival curls and stretches his hand to be rid of the sensation as quickly as he can. It felt like standing on a ledge and looking over the drop, and what for? Why did he feel such warmth towards this almost complete stranger? Surely it’s his over-politeness. He just wasn’t used to it, not when he had been met with colder interactions than previously upon his return to MACUSA. Walking beside him seems to do well enough to stave off the feeling. A sort of calm settling in from the sudden rushes.
I can’t say I’ve had the privilege of crossing on a boat, but I can imagine. [Perhaps a little heavy to mention, telling in the polite face he dons, even if unintentionally. Though he doesn’t miss a beat, continuing on without issue as it isn’t something to dwell on, a kinder expression on when he looks up to the other after his clear flirtation.] I find us to be an exceptional bunch, though it is in the eye of the beholder. [Was that a glint in his eye? He turns before it can change to anything else, and clears his throat gently.]
However given the situation we find ourselves in, I must insist they be accompanied. [And then adds softly after:] At least for a few days, until they find their bearings. [Percival looks back down the hall, gently flicking a wrist to the doors ahead to open them in time.] Danger is the nature of our jobs, but safety is also in mine. I have no matter more pressing than keeping all wizards and witches secure. [As they get closer to the threshold the buzz of MACUSA gets louder—typewriters, the shuffle of paper, the heavy clip of American accents and quick, tapping footfalls.]
Besides, Madame President assigned this to me personally; no one knows this building better than I do. [As they make their way out onto the balcony, Percival turns to face the team with an outstretched arm.] Ladies and gentleman, the bullpen. [Marble stairs leading up and down are on either side of them, and below is the heart of the building: rows upon rows of desks and aurors. Not unlike a beehive.] Our work area is a few flights up, on a private floor. We can go there now or I can show you the more recreational side of MACUSA, given your long voyage.
I have found that I'm not so good at fitting in at times. There's always a first time for everything, after all and I do like how Percival rolls off the tongue. [He laughs a little though..] Graves it is.
[Newt's head is a jumble of thoughts. It's hard for him to actually concentrate on the setting around him. Not when the other was so close to him and the comfortable feeling it brings to him. How sometimes their arms brush against each other when they walk just a little too close. Almost like they're magnetized to each other. It leaves him feeling warm despite how nippy it had been when they arrived on the shores of New York.
He was rather good at observing others. He doesn't miss any subtle shifts in the other, although he doesn't say anything either. He smiles easily enough.] I think most would find you and your bunch exceptional.
We're good at adapting, so finding our bearings should be no issue. Our group was chosen with the idea that we're a bunch who can adapt into new settings and situations well. While we hadn't made trips to America, I can say that all of us has some experience with traveling to foreign lands. We'll be sure to be a good asset to MACUSA while here. I assure you of that. [His tone was confident. Firm.
The group of Brits murmur to each other excitedly. The aurors seem more excited about the recreational parts at the moment. Of course they are. It's probably expected of a group of people who had just spent some time traveling and don't want to quite think about work right away. They were all human of course and they all seemed more excited about a more enjoyable evening before jumping into work in the bright morning than anything.] You got them riled up at the word, recreational. I don't think any of them are thinking about work at all. Catch them getting into trouble at a speakeasy, immediately. [One of them shoves Newt's shoulder and he laughs in response.] I'm not wrong! A few of you do love your drink and things are a tad different here from what I know.
[Newt's head is a jumble of thoughts. It's hard for him to actually concentrate on the setting around him. Not when the other was so close to him and the comfortable feeling it brings to him. How sometimes their arms brush against each other when they walk just a little too close. Almost like they're magnetized to each other. It leaves him feeling warm despite how nippy it had been when they arrived on the shores of New York.
He was rather good at observing others. He doesn't miss any subtle shifts in the other, although he doesn't say anything either. He smiles easily enough.] I think most would find you and your bunch exceptional.
We're good at adapting, so finding our bearings should be no issue. Our group was chosen with the idea that we're a bunch who can adapt into new settings and situations well. While we hadn't made trips to America, I can say that all of us has some experience with traveling to foreign lands. We'll be sure to be a good asset to MACUSA while here. I assure you of that. [His tone was confident. Firm.
The group of Brits murmur to each other excitedly. The aurors seem more excited about the recreational parts at the moment. Of course they are. It's probably expected of a group of people who had just spent some time traveling and don't want to quite think about work right away. They were all human of course and they all seemed more excited about a more enjoyable evening before jumping into work in the bright morning than anything.] You got them riled up at the word, recreational. I don't think any of them are thinking about work at all. Catch them getting into trouble at a speakeasy, immediately. [One of them shoves Newt's shoulder and he laughs in response.] I'm not wrong! A few of you do love your drink and things are a tad different here from what I know.
[There are times where Newt really wonders how he had ever decided his career choice to be something he wanted to pursue. It wasn't that he hated his work. No, he wouldn't be doing what he was doing if he didn't love it. He was passionate about acting and singing. He adored it. There was something rather fun about bringing different characters to life and putting a mask on to become someone he was not. He enjoyed pretending to be characters and being part of a story and world that touched many.
What he absolutely hated was the media though. Leta was not wrong that Newt wasn't very good with being a public figure. He couldn't make eye contact and he tripped and stuttered over his words. It was almost a stark difference to his seemingly strong and confident demeanor as an actor.
He was absolutely terrified of public interaction.
Newton Scamander was an A-List actor with plenty of films and shows under his belt. Young and attractive and very much single. He was constantly under the spotlight.
Bloody hell, he just wanted to go to the bakery in peace. Is it so much to ask?
Apparently so, because Newt finds himself quickly making his way down the street. It wasn't that he wasn't used to it, but that he had some days where it was easier to be overwhelmed than others. It was one of those days where the idea of having paparazzi on him or having to interact at length with them was so anxiety inducing that he wonders why he had thought it were a good idea to leave his place in the first place.
Newt doesn't think too much before he decidedly slips into a small shop. He doesn't even know what the shop is until he's pretty sure he's not being followed inside and he can take a breather. It's then that he looks around to find himself in a flower shop of some sort.
Interest piqued, he quietly walks around the shop to look at all the flowers and plants on display. He didn't know a whole lot about gardening or growing things, but he felt that they looked quite beautiful. Rather well loved.]
What he absolutely hated was the media though. Leta was not wrong that Newt wasn't very good with being a public figure. He couldn't make eye contact and he tripped and stuttered over his words. It was almost a stark difference to his seemingly strong and confident demeanor as an actor.
He was absolutely terrified of public interaction.
Newton Scamander was an A-List actor with plenty of films and shows under his belt. Young and attractive and very much single. He was constantly under the spotlight.
Bloody hell, he just wanted to go to the bakery in peace. Is it so much to ask?
Apparently so, because Newt finds himself quickly making his way down the street. It wasn't that he wasn't used to it, but that he had some days where it was easier to be overwhelmed than others. It was one of those days where the idea of having paparazzi on him or having to interact at length with them was so anxiety inducing that he wonders why he had thought it were a good idea to leave his place in the first place.
Newt doesn't think too much before he decidedly slips into a small shop. He doesn't even know what the shop is until he's pretty sure he's not being followed inside and he can take a breather. It's then that he looks around to find himself in a flower shop of some sort.
Interest piqued, he quietly walks around the shop to look at all the flowers and plants on display. He didn't know a whole lot about gardening or growing things, but he felt that they looked quite beautiful. Rather well loved.]
[He was never supposed to fall in love.
Angels weren't created to love. They were created to do the bidding of others and to fulfill roles that they were assigned to do. For a very longtime, Artemis had done just that. His name was Artemis and he was well loved and did as he was told. He held the highest rank as an angel. Six beautiful wings and a strength and power that surpassed those of lower ranks and was only underneath the gods themselves. Seraphims stood closest to them and he was usually content with that.
Usual being the keyword. As content as he was. As happy as he was. Artemis was a terribly curious creature. Humans completely fascinated him. Their lives were so short, but full of so much life. How did people continue through all the pain and hardships and manage to live happy and fulfilling lives? How could they be so content with living so shortly that they seemed gone in a blink of an eye?
He simply wished to understand it more. Artemis had been warned so many times before to limit his time in the mortal realm. He was supposed to know better.
It wasn't as though he thought he could fall in love. He loved Earth and everything that resides on it. He was created to love what the gods created, after all. This was different though. This was personal. Selfish. Something that brought life and color into his days. He had fallen in love with a particular soul. It was beautiful to him. Stunning. He could not help but approach it. There was something burning about it and he didn't care that it burned him.
His curiosity and love was his undoing.
The man had told him his name was Percival and things really spiraled from there. In the end, Artemis had done something heinous. He had intervened in a way that he wasn't supposed to. He had prevented Percival's fated death.
He had been punished severely. Watching the gods kill Percival is a strong memory etched into his mind. There will never be a time he will ever forget it. It would be forever hang heavy in his mind and burden his heart in such an awful way. Artemis had been stripped of his rank as Seraphim, yet the excruciating physical torture of having four of his six wings and powers stripped from him will never surpass the heartache he felt for Percival.
If falling in love was a sin, then a sinner he had become. No one could convince him to rid himself of his foolish feelings and so his powers were stripped and his duties were changed.
It is why Artemis found himself sent to Earth with a new role. He had become an angel of death and he found himself taking countless souls to depart to a world beyond.
It also begun the arduous affair of taking Percival's soul over and over again. Their fates now intertwined; it was always him to help Percival pass on, yet there was suddenly a conundrum. Many souls depart permanently while some reincarnated, yet Percival never was satisfied at the idea of departing above. It was curious to him. Confusing.
He had always taken the form of a lover or a loved one or the appearance of what soothed the soul the most when he came to reap a soul. His appearance was reliant on what that soul wished for. To make departing easier. His appearance had varied greatly for Percival. It had been women and men. Some prettier or more handsome than others. The more times he came to the other though, the more he realized his appearance had started to seem to mold to something more consistent. It was subtle at first. Things like freckles becoming a constant to his hair becoming a usual reddish brown. When he stopped taking the appearance of women was when he started realizing that the other had built a solid image of him of some sort. He had completely forgotten the appearance he now held was the same one Percival had first seen him as countless lifetimes ago.
Life continues to move though and Artemis had kind of grown accustomed to the constant heartache and the life he held.
Artemis was Newton Scamander. A young man who spent his life restoring old art. It was something that he quite enjoyed. People were fascinating and the work they made was simply gorgeous. Being able to restore them to their former glory was somewhat of an honor in his opinion. To carefully clean and retouch and repair. His life has always been to serve and it seems that it hasn't changed even when he walked among mortals.
It was a particularly gloomy day. Overcast and grey as he walked down the street as he headed to work for the day. Newt was a stark contrast against grey. Fiery, bright hair and a blue coat that made him stick out. A striped scarf fluttered in the wind as he made his way through the crowds. He carried a large portfolio with a strap he wore on his shoulder. Something to transport the artwork safely. He also carried a case in one hand filled with art supplies necessary for what he did.
Newt pauses and looks up at the sky as he stands on an overpass that looks over one of the rivers that goes through the city. It's just a short moment before he continues on. There's something about that moment that makes him pause. Like something moving forward, but he doesn't know what it means or why the feeling is there. It seems like it'll be just another day.]
Angels weren't created to love. They were created to do the bidding of others and to fulfill roles that they were assigned to do. For a very longtime, Artemis had done just that. His name was Artemis and he was well loved and did as he was told. He held the highest rank as an angel. Six beautiful wings and a strength and power that surpassed those of lower ranks and was only underneath the gods themselves. Seraphims stood closest to them and he was usually content with that.
Usual being the keyword. As content as he was. As happy as he was. Artemis was a terribly curious creature. Humans completely fascinated him. Their lives were so short, but full of so much life. How did people continue through all the pain and hardships and manage to live happy and fulfilling lives? How could they be so content with living so shortly that they seemed gone in a blink of an eye?
He simply wished to understand it more. Artemis had been warned so many times before to limit his time in the mortal realm. He was supposed to know better.
It wasn't as though he thought he could fall in love. He loved Earth and everything that resides on it. He was created to love what the gods created, after all. This was different though. This was personal. Selfish. Something that brought life and color into his days. He had fallen in love with a particular soul. It was beautiful to him. Stunning. He could not help but approach it. There was something burning about it and he didn't care that it burned him.
His curiosity and love was his undoing.
The man had told him his name was Percival and things really spiraled from there. In the end, Artemis had done something heinous. He had intervened in a way that he wasn't supposed to. He had prevented Percival's fated death.
He had been punished severely. Watching the gods kill Percival is a strong memory etched into his mind. There will never be a time he will ever forget it. It would be forever hang heavy in his mind and burden his heart in such an awful way. Artemis had been stripped of his rank as Seraphim, yet the excruciating physical torture of having four of his six wings and powers stripped from him will never surpass the heartache he felt for Percival.
If falling in love was a sin, then a sinner he had become. No one could convince him to rid himself of his foolish feelings and so his powers were stripped and his duties were changed.
It is why Artemis found himself sent to Earth with a new role. He had become an angel of death and he found himself taking countless souls to depart to a world beyond.
It also begun the arduous affair of taking Percival's soul over and over again. Their fates now intertwined; it was always him to help Percival pass on, yet there was suddenly a conundrum. Many souls depart permanently while some reincarnated, yet Percival never was satisfied at the idea of departing above. It was curious to him. Confusing.
He had always taken the form of a lover or a loved one or the appearance of what soothed the soul the most when he came to reap a soul. His appearance was reliant on what that soul wished for. To make departing easier. His appearance had varied greatly for Percival. It had been women and men. Some prettier or more handsome than others. The more times he came to the other though, the more he realized his appearance had started to seem to mold to something more consistent. It was subtle at first. Things like freckles becoming a constant to his hair becoming a usual reddish brown. When he stopped taking the appearance of women was when he started realizing that the other had built a solid image of him of some sort. He had completely forgotten the appearance he now held was the same one Percival had first seen him as countless lifetimes ago.
Life continues to move though and Artemis had kind of grown accustomed to the constant heartache and the life he held.
Artemis was Newton Scamander. A young man who spent his life restoring old art. It was something that he quite enjoyed. People were fascinating and the work they made was simply gorgeous. Being able to restore them to their former glory was somewhat of an honor in his opinion. To carefully clean and retouch and repair. His life has always been to serve and it seems that it hasn't changed even when he walked among mortals.
It was a particularly gloomy day. Overcast and grey as he walked down the street as he headed to work for the day. Newt was a stark contrast against grey. Fiery, bright hair and a blue coat that made him stick out. A striped scarf fluttered in the wind as he made his way through the crowds. He carried a large portfolio with a strap he wore on his shoulder. Something to transport the artwork safely. He also carried a case in one hand filled with art supplies necessary for what he did.
Newt pauses and looks up at the sky as he stands on an overpass that looks over one of the rivers that goes through the city. It's just a short moment before he continues on. There's something about that moment that makes him pause. Like something moving forward, but he doesn't know what it means or why the feeling is there. It seems like it'll be just another day.]
Edited 2019-03-20 02:39 (UTC)
[The first day of school is always kind of exciting. It isn't so much the first day, but the evening of everyone arriving for the coming school year. A wonderful speech by the headmaster and the introduction of all the teachers of the year that would soon be followed by the yearly sorting and then a feast.
This year was particularly special. It wasn't often that transfers happened. Most parents usually kept their kids within the same school for the entirety of their school years, but they were having just that. A student from America's Ilvermorny being brought to Hogwarts.
He watches the sorting with interest this time around. He always loved to watch the sorting, but his interest was very much piqued this time around. Percival Graves was the name of the student being called up. A young man who he thinks would surely grow to a fine man.
There was something about them though that Newt thinks that he considers keeping an eye on Percival. A troubling look in those eyes that makes him worry about the other.
The new school year was certainly going to be eventful.]
This year was particularly special. It wasn't often that transfers happened. Most parents usually kept their kids within the same school for the entirety of their school years, but they were having just that. A student from America's Ilvermorny being brought to Hogwarts.
He watches the sorting with interest this time around. He always loved to watch the sorting, but his interest was very much piqued this time around. Percival Graves was the name of the student being called up. A young man who he thinks would surely grow to a fine man.
There was something about them though that Newt thinks that he considers keeping an eye on Percival. A troubling look in those eyes that makes him worry about the other.
The new school year was certainly going to be eventful.]
[ The nursery was something unique. It wasn’t an average run-of-the-mill floral shop; beyond frigid and stacked with buckets upon buckets of cut flowers (though there was a walk-in section for that, with EMPLOYEES ONLY etched into the door). It looked more like a botanical garden—living, potted flowers and foliage. There were sections, separated by glass, each with their own climate appropriate flowers inside.
The largest part was the first section, attached to the storefront and entrance, filled with chrysanthemums and daisies, sunflowers, forget-me-nots, and similar common flowers. Beside it was a slightly smaller section, wall to wall in deep greens and pops of color—tropical flora, bountiful but not overgrown—the glass walls half speckled in condensation from the overhead sprinklers. The smallest section, opposite the register straight down the hall, radiated warm light, a fine condensation rimming the tops of the walls, giving a clear view in of all the cacti and desert plants.
The setup was beautiful, a dream. It was a life Percival didn’t think he could really have. It certainly wasn’t what his parents wanted for him, nor what they sent to school for, but here he was making his own way and not in the red for it. Loans and fundraising and a large deal thanks to his longtime friend Seraphina Picquery later he had it—a surprising, idyllic place almost out of time.
A fact illustrated by the man walking up from the back room, hair slicked back, black like his jeans and the apron covering his pressed, white button-up. A man who must really be from out of time, or living under a rock, because he didn’t give an ounce of recognition to the top tier celebrity wandering about the rows. ]
Oh, [ He exhales soft, setting the tray of seedlings down on the counter before taking off his thick gloves to shake off the dirt and call out louder: ]Welcome, sir. Is there something I can help you with today?
The largest part was the first section, attached to the storefront and entrance, filled with chrysanthemums and daisies, sunflowers, forget-me-nots, and similar common flowers. Beside it was a slightly smaller section, wall to wall in deep greens and pops of color—tropical flora, bountiful but not overgrown—the glass walls half speckled in condensation from the overhead sprinklers. The smallest section, opposite the register straight down the hall, radiated warm light, a fine condensation rimming the tops of the walls, giving a clear view in of all the cacti and desert plants.
The setup was beautiful, a dream. It was a life Percival didn’t think he could really have. It certainly wasn’t what his parents wanted for him, nor what they sent to school for, but here he was making his own way and not in the red for it. Loans and fundraising and a large deal thanks to his longtime friend Seraphina Picquery later he had it—a surprising, idyllic place almost out of time.
A fact illustrated by the man walking up from the back room, hair slicked back, black like his jeans and the apron covering his pressed, white button-up. A man who must really be from out of time, or living under a rock, because he didn’t give an ounce of recognition to the top tier celebrity wandering about the rows. ]
Oh, [ He exhales soft, setting the tray of seedlings down on the counter before taking off his thick gloves to shake off the dirt and call out louder: ]Welcome, sir. Is there something I can help you with today?
[Newt had been so rather preoccupied with looking at the flowers that he didn't notice the other at all. Of course there would be someone who works here. It would be quite silly if there wasn't.
That doesn't stop the man from jumping a bit and turning towards the other like a deer in headlights. He hunches his shoulders and he can't help but wring his hands nervously as he looks at the other.
It really takes Newt a minute or two to manage to speak. Newt wasn't sure what to expect, but it surely wasn't Percival. Perhaps some elderly, kind woman of some kind, but Percival was far from an old woman. The man was actually rather attractive and that was a problem. Social interactions were difficult enough as is. Having to talk to a handsome stranger?
Impossible.] Oh. I-I. [Words. Use words, god damn it.] J-J-Just looking. T-That isn't a p-problem i-is it? [Honestly, it isn't completely surprising even if Percival wasn't completely ignorant to the fact that he was a celebrity. Newt usually held himself in a much more confident manner, that the shy and anxious man in front of him seems completely different.]
That doesn't stop the man from jumping a bit and turning towards the other like a deer in headlights. He hunches his shoulders and he can't help but wring his hands nervously as he looks at the other.
It really takes Newt a minute or two to manage to speak. Newt wasn't sure what to expect, but it surely wasn't Percival. Perhaps some elderly, kind woman of some kind, but Percival was far from an old woman. The man was actually rather attractive and that was a problem. Social interactions were difficult enough as is. Having to talk to a handsome stranger?
Impossible.] Oh. I-I. [Words. Use words, god damn it.] J-J-Just looking. T-That isn't a p-problem i-is it? [Honestly, it isn't completely surprising even if Percival wasn't completely ignorant to the fact that he was a celebrity. Newt usually held himself in a much more confident manner, that the shy and anxious man in front of him seems completely different.]
[ Things had been looking up for Percival. He had magic down pat, it came so very naturally to him that he had started to use it without a wand, and despite his affluence he was coming out of his shell and making friends. He might have been a late bloomer in that respect and it might have only been a handful, one more consistent than the others, but he was finally comfortable with himself. Something he didn’t think would find him so soon.
And then his parents needed to move for work. He was devastated, withdrawing into himself from it.
Architecture and aesthetic aside, Hogwarts felt... much like Ilvermorny. Rambunctious students, a mix of teachers. He was nervous—a fish out of water. He didn’t know a soul here and the culture shock was stark from his own. When his name was called the room fell to a murmur, and his footfalls echoing against the stone as he made his way up. For all his anxiousness Percival kept an outward cool, save maybe for his eyes—sharp and a little frightened—as he sat down. ]
Ooh, mm-hm, [ The sorting hat starts dramatically, pursing and crinkling folds in consideration. ] What duality within you, and such a rare gift... [ Which makes Percival stiffen just enough in worry. ] Now now, no need for that, boy. But where best to settle your unrest?
[ Percival’s jaw clenches in anticipation. There was only so much information he could find about Hogwarts before they came over. He didn’t really know one house from the other. ] Ahh, that’s it then, [ The pause lingers causing a heavy silence before the hat declares: ] Slytherin!
[ There’s a uproar of cheering and applause as the hat is removed and he stands, walking over to the table causing the commotion. Perhaps he’d looked a little stiff before, and maybe the students had seen that because they welcome him with open arms and smiles, plenty of back clasps and handshakes as they usher him to a seat. Another professor calls for everyone to settle down as they continue on with the sorting and Percival gives another look around the room, calmer, though still a slight unease in his figure. It might not be so bad here.
The rest of the ceremony goes off without a hitch, they eat, and Percival almost doesn’t get a bite in with all the questions thrown his way. It’s easy to hear his accent against everyone else’s voices throughout the night, even as low and poised as it is. And when they’re dismissed he’s rushed out in gaggle of students clamoring in an overwhelmed ear.
How he was able to slip away was no small feat, but he was thankful for the quietness he was able to find from it on the balcony. It’s a deep breath as he pulls his cloak tighter around him. The nights are so cold here. It only added to the unfamiliarity of it all, the displace from moving, and with a dip of his head he wonders how long it’ll take this time to find comfort. ]
And then his parents needed to move for work. He was devastated, withdrawing into himself from it.
Architecture and aesthetic aside, Hogwarts felt... much like Ilvermorny. Rambunctious students, a mix of teachers. He was nervous—a fish out of water. He didn’t know a soul here and the culture shock was stark from his own. When his name was called the room fell to a murmur, and his footfalls echoing against the stone as he made his way up. For all his anxiousness Percival kept an outward cool, save maybe for his eyes—sharp and a little frightened—as he sat down. ]
Ooh, mm-hm, [ The sorting hat starts dramatically, pursing and crinkling folds in consideration. ] What duality within you, and such a rare gift... [ Which makes Percival stiffen just enough in worry. ] Now now, no need for that, boy. But where best to settle your unrest?
[ Percival’s jaw clenches in anticipation. There was only so much information he could find about Hogwarts before they came over. He didn’t really know one house from the other. ] Ahh, that’s it then, [ The pause lingers causing a heavy silence before the hat declares: ] Slytherin!
[ There’s a uproar of cheering and applause as the hat is removed and he stands, walking over to the table causing the commotion. Perhaps he’d looked a little stiff before, and maybe the students had seen that because they welcome him with open arms and smiles, plenty of back clasps and handshakes as they usher him to a seat. Another professor calls for everyone to settle down as they continue on with the sorting and Percival gives another look around the room, calmer, though still a slight unease in his figure. It might not be so bad here.
The rest of the ceremony goes off without a hitch, they eat, and Percival almost doesn’t get a bite in with all the questions thrown his way. It’s easy to hear his accent against everyone else’s voices throughout the night, even as low and poised as it is. And when they’re dismissed he’s rushed out in gaggle of students clamoring in an overwhelmed ear.
How he was able to slip away was no small feat, but he was thankful for the quietness he was able to find from it on the balcony. It’s a deep breath as he pulls his cloak tighter around him. The nights are so cold here. It only added to the unfamiliarity of it all, the displace from moving, and with a dip of his head he wonders how long it’ll take this time to find comfort. ]
Edited (fuck my life this goddamn html) 2019-03-21 07:47 (UTC)
[ Percival offers a kind smile to the stranger—relaxed, easy. Genuine. His hands are raised to the way he jumps and he can’t help the small chortle he keeps in his throat. ] I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle. These floor mats, [ He sighs, looking down to the holed runners covering the floor. ] Keep me quiet as a church mouse more often than not. [ It helps fill the silence at least a little bit, and as he waits for the man to reply Percival takes a corner of his apron to wipe his hands, purely out of habit.
When he finally manages to speak he tilts his head gently, surprised. For the spook he gave he didn’t imagine this nervousness from the man, almost straightening himself up out of instinct when he notices him shrink. ] No, no of course not. [ He brings that smile back with a shake of his head, resting his hands on the counter and leaning forward some. ] You're more than welcome to.
[ In truth there’s some worry he has for the man, though he’s not at all sure why. He was attractive, in a sweet sort of way, that he’s sure is helping pull his attention. ] If there is anything you'd like help with, my name is Percival. Just call if I’m around, or, if not, [ He reaches to the edge of the register and delicately taps a bell. ] Just give me a ring.
When he finally manages to speak he tilts his head gently, surprised. For the spook he gave he didn’t imagine this nervousness from the man, almost straightening himself up out of instinct when he notices him shrink. ] No, no of course not. [ He brings that smile back with a shake of his head, resting his hands on the counter and leaning forward some. ] You're more than welcome to.
[ In truth there’s some worry he has for the man, though he’s not at all sure why. He was attractive, in a sweet sort of way, that he’s sure is helping pull his attention. ] If there is anything you'd like help with, my name is Percival. Just call if I’m around, or, if not, [ He reaches to the edge of the register and delicately taps a bell. ] Just give me a ring.
I have a difficult time believing that, [ It’s a half squint accompanied by a flash of a grin. How could he have a hard time fitting in when he was so charismatic? Especially insisting on a first name basis, minutes after meeting. And insisting a proper title made him feel older—maybe it’s a British thing. Percival can’t say he minds, though the tingling sensation in his belly is a little distracting still.
It doesn’t make sense to him. The jolt, the connection and warmth. And what an absurd thought it would have been to say he wasn’t his type; tall, handsome. But this certainly wasn’t the time, not at the height of these crimes. Percival tells himself instead it’s his demeanor he’s taking a shine to—that smile, the kindness. Something he hasn’t seen from many people recently. Yes, that had to be it.
Maybe it was the constant flow of compliments. He finds himself chuckling at it, giving a glance over the other. ] And a silver-tongue. I’m happy to say the same of your lot. [ In more than one way. Maybe this group would help invigorate his staff. Breathe a new life into them and their work. He could only hope.
Percival is keen to the new information, things largely left off his debriefing files, dots connecting from the bits he did have. The strong delivery builds a good base for their newly formed relationship, as does the unfaltering look of Newt’s group when he casts a glance back. ] We appreciate it. For the record, I had no doubt you would. Everyone’s record is... impressive, to say the least. [ It was something they didn’t exactly have at MACUSA.
The smile that finds him at the murmuring is practiced, but not unkind. He understands, wholeheartedly, the desire to relax after something so prolonged and taxing. ] We’re only human, after all, it’s why we offered. The last thing we want is anyone to be overworked on this. [ Despite the looming threat. At least he and his team would be working this still while their guests found their feet. Even if they were more interested in losing their footing at bars. ] Prohibition is alive and kicking, and unfortunately those are no-maj laws that apply to us as well. [ Being so secretly intwined into society it was inevitable, but they were magical folk. ] There are, however, many excellent jazz clubs. [ The head of Magical Law Enforcement condoning illegal consumption? They’ll have to take that as they may. He really can’t say any more or less. ] Again, should anyone like a guide we’re more than happy to oblige.
It doesn’t make sense to him. The jolt, the connection and warmth. And what an absurd thought it would have been to say he wasn’t his type; tall, handsome. But this certainly wasn’t the time, not at the height of these crimes. Percival tells himself instead it’s his demeanor he’s taking a shine to—that smile, the kindness. Something he hasn’t seen from many people recently. Yes, that had to be it.
Maybe it was the constant flow of compliments. He finds himself chuckling at it, giving a glance over the other. ] And a silver-tongue. I’m happy to say the same of your lot. [ In more than one way. Maybe this group would help invigorate his staff. Breathe a new life into them and their work. He could only hope.
Percival is keen to the new information, things largely left off his debriefing files, dots connecting from the bits he did have. The strong delivery builds a good base for their newly formed relationship, as does the unfaltering look of Newt’s group when he casts a glance back. ] We appreciate it. For the record, I had no doubt you would. Everyone’s record is... impressive, to say the least. [ It was something they didn’t exactly have at MACUSA.
The smile that finds him at the murmuring is practiced, but not unkind. He understands, wholeheartedly, the desire to relax after something so prolonged and taxing. ] We’re only human, after all, it’s why we offered. The last thing we want is anyone to be overworked on this. [ Despite the looming threat. At least he and his team would be working this still while their guests found their feet. Even if they were more interested in losing their footing at bars. ] Prohibition is alive and kicking, and unfortunately those are no-maj laws that apply to us as well. [ Being so secretly intwined into society it was inevitable, but they were magical folk. ] There are, however, many excellent jazz clubs. [ The head of Magical Law Enforcement condoning illegal consumption? They’ll have to take that as they may. He really can’t say any more or less. ] Again, should anyone like a guide we’re more than happy to oblige.
[The evening was settling into twilight and the chill was already noticeable despite them not being far into fall. Newt preferred the chill than to the heat. Perhaps, it was because England was always a tad on the chillier side. He had found he much prefer the cool weathers to the warm and humid ones though.
Despite being the forefront intellectual about creatures in its entirety, Newt had been introduced as the Charms teacher for Hogwarts. It had been a constant debate and topic with gossips why he had been asked to join the faculty for Charms and not for Care of Magical Creatures, which he would so obviously succeed at. Honestly, Newt probably would have went that path but a hand on his shoulder and a gentle expression with It would be a waste of your talents and Newt suddenly found himself being the newly appointed Charms teacher.
That was years ago and he's not quite sure why it's still a topic, but he guesses it does confuse the Hogwarts students to have his book on their book list, but not even teaching classes pertaining to the topic.
Details.
He's leaving the Owlery when he notices a cloaked figure. Much too small to be a teacher...]
You know, it wouldn't make for a good start of the year to get in trouble when it hasn't even been the first real day of school.
[Newt was a tall and lean fellow. He didn't wear robes and opted for a shirt and waistcoat. Despite the chill, he wasn't even wearing a coat.] I would think the travels and festivities would make quick of you lot to a nice and well deserved sleep. Is there a reason why you are out so late and quite far from your House?
[He purposely makes his steps loud, so as to not surprise the other. They're slow and steady.]
Despite being the forefront intellectual about creatures in its entirety, Newt had been introduced as the Charms teacher for Hogwarts. It had been a constant debate and topic with gossips why he had been asked to join the faculty for Charms and not for Care of Magical Creatures, which he would so obviously succeed at. Honestly, Newt probably would have went that path but a hand on his shoulder and a gentle expression with It would be a waste of your talents and Newt suddenly found himself being the newly appointed Charms teacher.
That was years ago and he's not quite sure why it's still a topic, but he guesses it does confuse the Hogwarts students to have his book on their book list, but not even teaching classes pertaining to the topic.
Details.
He's leaving the Owlery when he notices a cloaked figure. Much too small to be a teacher...]
You know, it wouldn't make for a good start of the year to get in trouble when it hasn't even been the first real day of school.
[Newt was a tall and lean fellow. He didn't wear robes and opted for a shirt and waistcoat. Despite the chill, he wasn't even wearing a coat.] I would think the travels and festivities would make quick of you lot to a nice and well deserved sleep. Is there a reason why you are out so late and quite far from your House?
[He purposely makes his steps loud, so as to not surprise the other. They're slow and steady.]
E-Easily startled...u-unfortunately. [His voice is quiet. Soft. The accent is obvious and thick on his tongue.] It- It really isn't your fault, s-so much as mine. [He should have expected the other to approach him. Should have expected to be welcomed into the small shop.
Newt was surprised anyways. What he was more surprised with is the other speaking to him as though he were a stranger. That he was just some passerby. It was usually impossible for him to get around without being recognized, so this...
It's nice.]
Uhm. I-I don't really know much. About flowers that-that is... [Maybe a flower shop was a bad idea. He didn't really know much about flowers or anything. He didn't have someone to buy flowers for either. He was just...here. Wasting this handsome stranger's time.] I-I, well...sorry.
Newt was surprised anyways. What he was more surprised with is the other speaking to him as though he were a stranger. That he was just some passerby. It was usually impossible for him to get around without being recognized, so this...
It's nice.]
Uhm. I-I don't really know much. About flowers that-that is... [Maybe a flower shop was a bad idea. He didn't really know much about flowers or anything. He didn't have someone to buy flowers for either. He was just...here. Wasting this handsome stranger's time.] I-I, well...sorry.
Oh? A man who has a good judge of character are we? [A bit of a grin.] I'm not much of a liar though. Perhaps you'll one day see it yourself. [Well, he certainly wasn't lying, but Newt has had plenty of time to form this persona. Newton Scamander, the auror, was a very likable man.
Not at all like the more awkward and quiet him in reality.]
Of course. How else would I get out of trouble otherwise? [He gives Percival a bit of a cheeky grin.] Scamanders are very good at slipping out of trouble, you know. It's a talent that my brother and I both share, actually. [Newt, however, is far superior at getting out of trouble than the other. Of course, that might just be because Newt gets into far more trouble than Theseus.]
Impressive is one word to call it, I suppose. You can say that Europe merely has many more problems though. [America was also very young as a nation in comparison. While there was surely plenty of issues within the states; it was a large united body under one government versus the many nations of Europe.
Politics were always messy and information didn't sometimes move fast enough when there was many issues afoot that plagued them.]
Oh, no. Don't tell them that. [They all laughed a little.] I won't be the one at fault if you find and capture any of them. They're their own people and adults and I am not responsible if they get into trouble. [Although he gives the other a look.] Even if I'm fond of dancing.
Perhaps you wouldn't mind letting them wander a bit though. I'm sure they know better than to cause any disruptions or get in the way. We're a curious sort though and I'll be honest if we aren't a bit sick and tired of seeing each other. The rooms on the boat aren't what I would call roomy. [While he would prefer to separate from his group for a bit, he isn't saying it purely for himself. There's only so much small talk that could be made before they ran out of things to talk about. Weeks on a boat meant that weeks without having much for news. It was too risky to receive mail through owl while boarded.]
Not at all like the more awkward and quiet him in reality.]
Of course. How else would I get out of trouble otherwise? [He gives Percival a bit of a cheeky grin.] Scamanders are very good at slipping out of trouble, you know. It's a talent that my brother and I both share, actually. [Newt, however, is far superior at getting out of trouble than the other. Of course, that might just be because Newt gets into far more trouble than Theseus.]
Impressive is one word to call it, I suppose. You can say that Europe merely has many more problems though. [America was also very young as a nation in comparison. While there was surely plenty of issues within the states; it was a large united body under one government versus the many nations of Europe.
Politics were always messy and information didn't sometimes move fast enough when there was many issues afoot that plagued them.]
Oh, no. Don't tell them that. [They all laughed a little.] I won't be the one at fault if you find and capture any of them. They're their own people and adults and I am not responsible if they get into trouble. [Although he gives the other a look.] Even if I'm fond of dancing.
Perhaps you wouldn't mind letting them wander a bit though. I'm sure they know better than to cause any disruptions or get in the way. We're a curious sort though and I'll be honest if we aren't a bit sick and tired of seeing each other. The rooms on the boat aren't what I would call roomy. [While he would prefer to separate from his group for a bit, he isn't saying it purely for himself. There's only so much small talk that could be made before they ran out of things to talk about. Weeks on a boat meant that weeks without having much for news. It was too risky to receive mail through owl while boarded.]
[ The wind blusters for a moment, rustling his cloak and more wildly at his long hair. It sets a chill in him and Percival shivers down to his toes, reminding him of being on the platform, trains rushing past. It's stoked in tradition, his father's voice echoes in his head. A fine school, his mother's follows up.
Hogwarts being a fine school was his last worry, if he were being honest. It's why he finds himself wandering now, trying to find something grounding while not feeling abandoned and trapped. Maybe he could find that someplace not over the expansive horizon. A library, or—
For all the clear attempt to not to startle, Percival still is. He knows he's not supposed to be out but he couldn't rest and he is still on grounds. It the excuse he's practiced in his head at every small noise beforehand, but actually being confronted was another thing entirely. ]
I'm sorry, I... [ The words, solid in his mind, fail to reach his mouth with his heart in his throat as he turns to face the other, wringing his hands. ] Just trying to get used to being somewhere. [ The smile, when he looks back up, is practiced, forced, but polite—meant to dispel worry away from him. ] Couldn't sleep from the... excitement.
[ Super convincing. ]
I didn't— [ Percival glances down to his hands when he digs a nail in too hard and stops twisting them. ] I don't mean to cause a fuss, [ He starts again, quieter. ] I'll go back.
Hogwarts being a fine school was his last worry, if he were being honest. It's why he finds himself wandering now, trying to find something grounding while not feeling abandoned and trapped. Maybe he could find that someplace not over the expansive horizon. A library, or—
For all the clear attempt to not to startle, Percival still is. He knows he's not supposed to be out but he couldn't rest and he is still on grounds. It the excuse he's practiced in his head at every small noise beforehand, but actually being confronted was another thing entirely. ]
I'm sorry, I... [ The words, solid in his mind, fail to reach his mouth with his heart in his throat as he turns to face the other, wringing his hands. ] Just trying to get used to being somewhere. [ The smile, when he looks back up, is practiced, forced, but polite—meant to dispel worry away from him. ] Couldn't sleep from the... excitement.
[ Super convincing. ]
I didn't— [ Percival glances down to his hands when he digs a nail in too hard and stops twisting them. ] I don't mean to cause a fuss, [ He starts again, quieter. ] I'll go back.
[Newt gives the other a soft smile. The other may have been able to fool other teachers or other teachers may not care as much, but Newt has observed others all his life. The uncertainty of the other was easy for him to pick up.
He also knew that Percival was the foreigner.]
No need to apologize. A lot of students feel that way when they come here. [He gestures at the other to follow him.] Come on. Have a cup of tea with me. I have a few tea blends that help with sleep.
[A pause.] Unless you rather just return to your dormitory. I just find that a nice cup of tea helps the nerves sometimes. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind.
He also knew that Percival was the foreigner.]
No need to apologize. A lot of students feel that way when they come here. [He gestures at the other to follow him.] Come on. Have a cup of tea with me. I have a few tea blends that help with sleep.
[A pause.] Unless you rather just return to your dormitory. I just find that a nice cup of tea helps the nerves sometimes. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind.
[ For as much as he’s aware, for as shaky as he might have been trying to throw this professor off the trail, he thinks it works. Mostly. He was clearly the transfer student, illustrated if only by his accent, flat and even for someone his age.
Percival stiffens internally at the smile, unsure what it means with against everything else. Until he clarifies and it really only gives him more questions than anything. Almost none of the teachers at Ilvermorny would have ever been so forgiving about finding a first time student wandering by themselves let alone offer them tea. ]
No, that— [ Finally, at the half ultimatum, Percival’s feet start, moving his towards the hall and kind professor. He didn’t want to go back to the dormitory yet. ] Would help, I think. I’m not that tired. [ He was beyond it, exhausted: mentally and physically. And it shows in his step, strides lazy with occasional heel scrapes against the stone, in the slight slump of his shoulders and slow blinks. All the same, he believes he isn't. ]
It's... preoccupied, more, I think. [ A pause of his own, fixing his Ilvermorny scarf before pulling the rest of his hair out from under it. ] Unless that makes it a lot.
Percival stiffens internally at the smile, unsure what it means with against everything else. Until he clarifies and it really only gives him more questions than anything. Almost none of the teachers at Ilvermorny would have ever been so forgiving about finding a first time student wandering by themselves let alone offer them tea. ]
No, that— [ Finally, at the half ultimatum, Percival’s feet start, moving his towards the hall and kind professor. He didn’t want to go back to the dormitory yet. ] Would help, I think. I’m not that tired. [ He was beyond it, exhausted: mentally and physically. And it shows in his step, strides lazy with occasional heel scrapes against the stone, in the slight slump of his shoulders and slow blinks. All the same, he believes he isn't. ]
It's... preoccupied, more, I think. [ A pause of his own, fixing his Ilvermorny scarf before pulling the rest of his hair out from under it. ] Unless that makes it a lot.
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