faderift | [Open] Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn.

Entry tags:

[Open] Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn.

WHO: Newt Scamander + You!
WHAT: Open post/catch-all; moving to a new place and dealing with the aftermath of Tina vanishing.
WHEN: Early Harvestmere, in and around Kirkwall.
WHERE: In and around Lowtown, the Wounded Coast, the Hanged Man, and the training area/stables.
NOTES: Newt is sad and trying to ignore feelings. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing else that I can think of! Will update/add if this changes.

I. Home Is Where…(Lowtown, slums near the Alienage)

His room at the Gallows is almost certainly of better quality than the flat he’s just moved into as of late. Perhaps not by much, but it was more…comfortable in a more stable way. (Less rats to share with, too, but Newt doesn’t mind the rats, really. Not that they’ll be much long for his apartment, what with his two cats.)

But Newt has no desire to remain in the Gallows. Not anymore. Not with the growing brood of critters he seems to be gathering like weeds for himself. And not, of course, now that Tina’s presence, or rather, the lack of it, echoes so resolutely in the space they once shared together. (And, as his traitorous heart is so keen on reminding him: the heavy weight of all that remains left unsaid between them, lingering in the air like so much smog.)

So here he is, in the sketchier parts of Lowtown, newly moved in with his companions: Macha, the Demiguise, and Merlin and Circe, his two cats, one black and the other bald. He doesn’t mind the location either, really. He’s lived in worse places, after all, and, as a rifter mage, he can’t expect to do much better than this as it is.

His flat is currently bare, with only the few bits and pieces of furniture he could afford, secondhand, of course.

But this is for the best, he supposes. A new start in the wake of what he’s lost. Or so he hopes.

II. In A Kingdom By The Sea (The Wounded Coast)

Whenever Newt can find a way to wrangle himself out of Kirkwall, he jumps at the opportunity to do so. The city of chains especially feels confining as of late, what with the various realities of war creeping in all over and Tina’s sudden, painful disappearance.

So this afternoon finds him on the beaches of the Wounded Coast, Macha hanging loosely yet sturdy over his shoulder as he watches the waves lapping at the shore. His Demiguise seems as lost in thought as he is, but he’s grateful for her presence, all the same. It’s almost like having Tina still here next to him.

There’s a wildness to the sea, he thinks. No matter where he goes or what sorts of adventures he stumbles into, the sea is always as loud and thunderous as an erratic heartbeat, ringing out against the rest of the world like a church bell. He finds comfort in that vivid music of the tides, savoring the symphony of it as he wraps his arms around himself. He isn’t, so to speak, entirely, properly dressed for this sort of weather.

Bother, he thinks as the air, laden with the weight of so much sea salt, sinks its claws deep into his skin. There could very well be bandits gathering behind him, preparing to launch themselves at him for what pitiful amounts of coin he does happen to have in his purse. But he doesn’t care; he would, in fact, welcome such a distraction, actually.

All the restless ghosts entangled in his thoughts need somewhere to go, after all.

III. To Live My Life As It’s Meant To Be (The Hanged Man)

Newt finds himself frequenting the Hanged Man more often as of late. Partly because it is, in fact, the closest pub to where he now lives, and partly, he finds, because he genuinely enjoys the atmosphere of the place. He’s even becoming fond of the terrible alcohol, if he’s honest with himself.

He has, miraculously, given how crowded the Hanged Man is, found a space for himself in one of the back corners, shit ale in hand and a pile of books he’d bought cheaply from a questionable merchant to the side.

One of the books is on the history of dragons in Thedas, naturally. Newt is fairly deep into it, even for having just bought the book, but he also can’t help but to alternate between it and the other of his purchases, though this second book is much less intellectual in nature.

Frankly, it is terribly written, and entirely implausible in plot. But Newt finds himself all the more endeared to it for that, truthfully. He can’t keep himself from reading it in the same way he can’t stop drinking what passes for ale in the pub. There are dragons, too, in this book. To say nothing of the variety of creative uses for mages staffs. And haunted castles. And dark and forbidding storms.

He winds up losing himself to the pull of cheap drinks and even cheaper literature for the rest of the night. Or so it seems, for the moment.

IV. In The End We Are Waiting To Be Lit (Training Area/Stables)

Newt throws himself into training and practicing, when he has the time to do so in between his tasks for the Inquisition. Having just transferred from the Research division to Scouting, he’s learning to navigate his new assignments, still. But he thinks he’s getting the hang of it. And training provides another, excellent way to avoid thinking about Tina leaving.

He’s still working with a staff, of course. His progress is…well, it’s something, but he knows he could be better, and that frustrates him, a bit. And that frustration, of course, impacts his actual training. On top of that, he’s also working with daggers, instead of the sword he was previously working with. The daggers are lighter and easier for him to carry and wield, and there’s something immensely satisfying in slicing the air with them. (He may or may not have sliced himself a fair few number of times by now.)

When he isn’t training himself, he’ll watch others as they train, trying to take notes and pick up tricks.

And when he isn’t training, he can usually be found near or around the stables, generally enjoying the company of the variety of animals he comes across in that vicinity.

V. Wildcard!

[If you'd like a different prompt/starter, PM me here or on my plurk at

andhereyeswerewild.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

After freaking out the Seneschal with news of her new acquisition (her wolf puppy), Tessa finds herself ruminating on everything at the stables. At some point she's going to have to move outside the Gallows to raise this little terror, and the thought of not having the Inquisition's safety net right there is a little nerve-wracking. It's always been in her nature to sit back and let others take the wheel. More specifically, to take care of her. Sure, she managed to live on her own in an apartment for years until she lost her job and just couldn't find another, forcing her to move back in with her parents. Striking out on her own in a city that's doing better about Rifters but not phenomenal is definitely a concern of hers.

Sighing, she flicks a red ribbon in front of her wolf. He stole it off a cart earlier, which just reinforces the idea that Tessa needs to learn this Ranger skill to keep him in line as soon as possible. Looking around her, she spots Newt looking at home with the animals here. There's something open in his expression that tells her he's listening to the creatures, and she smirks a little.

"That one telling you anything interesting?"

Newt is currently enjoying the company of a particularly cheerful dracolisk. He doesn't know who it belongs to, but he is very much delighted by the creature. Dracolisks seem to be a combination of dragons and horses, a combination of which Newt has come to find he is, in fact, very fond.

He may or may not have been feeding him some treats he snuck in with him into the stables prior to Tessa's friendly inquiry.

"I think, if I am to understand him correctly, he is feeling that he is not receiving as many treats as he should," he says with a sheepish smile. Whether geunine or just a ploy to actually obtain more treats, it has certainly worked on Newt.

He catches sight of the wolf cub with her, and grins.

"New friend of yours, I take it?"

"Ha. Isn't that always the way?" Despite Tessa's lack of experience with a wolf, she grew up with a dog, and she was a bottomless pit who always craved more treats.

"New responsibility. The jury's still out on 'friend.' He stole this off a market cart and I had to pay way more than what it was worth to get the woman to stop screaming." Tessa flicks the ribbon in the air and the wolf goes wild trying to catch it in his mouth.

"I heard that Rangers can train wolves and bears to listen to them. Even giant spiders, but I dunno if that's a myth or not. I'm hoping to find more info on that so I can control this little guy before he grows up and starts attacking people."

"Indeed," Newt agrees heartily enough. "Though, given how much they do for us, I can't say I mind providing them with treats, myself."

He tries biting back a smile at the tale but finds that he can't help himself. That wolf puppy really is awfully charming, especially chasing after a ribbon.

"Really?" Newt perks up, very much interested now. "I believe Rangers are...what do they call them, specializations? Are you studying to be one?"

"Not yet, but I'm gonna be once I find out more. Like, I'd heard of them, but then I found this little guy and it seems right up my alley, y'know? And not only the animal training part, but like, survival and tracking too." She tilts her head as she looks over her pet, a sad smile coming to her face.

"I got a crash course in surviving back home, so I already have a base to work up from, and I could always do with learning how to better track things, right? There's gotta be a study guide or a class or something for me to follow."

"Excellent choice," Newt nods, very much fully in favor of the idea. Surviving and tracking are essential skills, he thinks. Even when one isn't tracking down magical creatures in the wild to study. And the gift of animal training, well. He can think of few higher callings than to be able to work so closely with creatures.

"I have some experience in tracking, myself," he offers. "I could help you with that, if you like?"

But he doesn't miss the sad smile on her face. Nor the fact that she mentions having had to learn to survive quickly back home.

"I take it your home is a very dangerous place?" He says, quietly. Another offer, in its own way. She doesn't have to talk about her world if she doesn't want to, but he'd like her to know the option is there.

"Dude, yes. I'll take all the help I can get." It seems essential for a place like Thedas, where there's danger around every corner and she'd like to know there's an enemy nearby before they know she is.

"Yeaaah, it's pretty bad. Like society has collapsed bad." It's gotten easier and easier to say the more people she tells. Dealing with the reality had been tough, but Tessa is made of tougher stuff than she had realized. "So no electricity or commerce or anything outside the quarantine zones. Lot of foraging and breaking into abandoned homes."

Newt grins, delighted by her response. Not only does he enjoy talking about his experiences throughout nature, the opportunity to demonstrate his skills and teach them to another gives him the chance to get out of Kirkwall and explore more of the nature surrounding the city. Never a bad thing, he finds.

"Merlin," he says, shaking his head. Things were tense and terrible back home, but, as far as he knows, at least, society hasn't collapsed on itself in the way Tessa describes.

"That must have been difficult," he says, considering her. "It sounds like it was a struggle to survive."

"Pretty much," she agrees, though she isn't really in the mood to go any further with explaining her world. She may have some distance from it now, but she knows full well that she could easily end up back there if the Fade decides to suck her back through.

"Why Merlin?" she asks. "Where I'm from, that's the name of this guy from legends." But Tessa's not sure if that's the Merlin he means as an exclamation.

"He was a real person, back home," Newt explains, easily shifting focus from talk of her home world. He isn't one to force people to talk about what makes them uncomfortable, and she seems to not want to go into further detail regarding her home, so he's happy to talk about his own, instead.

"One of the wizards of legend," he continues. "So he's still kind of got that air of myth about him."

"His name has been uttered like that for as long as anyone can remember," he says with a shrug. "Much like Muggles tend to utter 'oh my God' or 'Jesus Christ.'"

"Whoa, a real wizard. Huh." By now, nothing should really surprise her, should it? Her world doesn't have magic, yet she turns up here and the world is doused in it. Makes sense that other worlds where the Rifters are from would have magic too. She now recalls seeing Jester use magic when they both arrived out of the rift. It's really more common that Tessa initially thought.

"Uhhh, Muggle? What's a Muggle?" Sounds like a kid's stuffed animal or something.

Currently pulling a shift -drunken rabblerousers won't kick themselves out of the tavern, after all- Korrin is scanning the main room for further trouble to eject. Newt certainly doesn't count as that, of course, though her attention lingers on him a bit just to ensure that the rifter isn't being harassed. Just because tensions have been worse doesn't mean anti-rifter bigotry won't surface if given half a chance.

When Newt's glass in empty, she offers to run a new one over in the bartender's stead. It's relatively quiet right now, so why not? Flashing a smile, she sets it down by him though now so close that the books might get splashed.

"And the beer fairy has arrived to save the day. Doing alright for yourself over here, Newt?"

Newt glances up, a bit startled, but the surprise in his gaze quickly turns to warm delight at finding Korrin across from him with another beer.

"The beer fairy's presence is greatly appreciated, thank you," he says with a grin, accepting the drink gratefully. He closes his book, taking a quick sip of the ale before replying.

"Could be worse," he says, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "It's a nice night, and I've got beer and books."

"How about yourself?" He asks. "How are you? Er, would you like to join me?" He scoots over, clearing the table for her, if she likes.

Pausing to assess the room, Korrin turns back to face him afterward with a brief nod, as she straddles a chair. "...sure, why not. It's still technically my shift, but as long as I continue to throw out the rowdy assholes, I can spend it as I choose."

She shrugs, not at all concerned. Most people she can take deal with rather effectively, and those she can't tend to attract the ire of the entire establishment. Regulars really don't care for people destroying their watering hole.

"All things considered, I can't complain too much. Keeping busy, but that's the norm. It's closing in on three years since I first joined up...fuck, that almost seems like too much time and not enough, all at once." She shakes her head, a little incredulous when she thinks about it. "If you'd asked me then where I'd be in three years, I wouldn't have thought of any of this."

She waves her hand around the taproom vaguely, meaning here whole life in Kirkwall.

"Seems like the rowdy assholes have settled down for the time being, too," Newt points out. Or, at least, they aren't being as obvious in their rowdy ways. Either way, he's glad for Korrin's company, and he makes sure to clear the table to provide her plenty of room. He hasn't expected to run into anyone he knows tonight, but he finds it a pleasant surprise, now that he actually has done so.

"Three years?" He repeats, eyes widening slightly. "That's quite the amount of time, isn't it?"

"I know what you mean, though, about time seemingly speeding up and slowing down all at once," he says.

He takes another sip of his drink.

"Where did you expect to end up, before all of this?"

"Oh, that's easy. I thought I'd end up going back to mercenary work, after avenging my fallen company." She shakes her head and snorts at that, realizing long ago that her expectations had no place in reality. "I thought it would be quick, one way or another. Either Corypheus would kill me, or I'd have one hell of a story to tell around mercenary campfires forever afterward. I wouldn't have thought it'd take this long; whether a good end or a bad one, I'd expected it to be quick in coming. And that was before strange people from beyond arrived to make things even more complicated and interesting."

She darts a smile at Newt, hardly meaning offense by any of that. "Of course, that ended up working out for me, so I can't complain, can I? Though I'm sorry for what it means for you and the rest."

"You were a mercenary?" Newt asks, curious. He wonders about the fallen company but doesn't pry; he would guess that particular story isn't a happy one, or one Korrin might want to tell. "That sounds like quite the adventure, in and of itself."

He shakes his head, chuckling a bit at that.

"I'm rather used to complicated," he says. "In fact, I'm rather used to making things more complicated for my part, so I suppose it's a measure of my success, then."

He shrugs. "I'm not. We were on the verge of war, ourselves, back home. And you have so many fascinating creatures here! I must admit, I'm becoming quite fond of those mabari."

That gets a chuckle out of Korrin. "You're quick to look on the bright side of things. I bet Ferelden would claim you for one of theirs, just for saying that." They sure do love those pups...and Korrin's pretty fond of them, relatively. Though not enough to have one at her side. "I'd be more surprised if you don't end up with a mabari, a griffon and maybe one of those weird miniaturized animals from Tevinter.

"And I'm still part of the company more or less, it's just the Valo-Kas are loaning me to the Inquisition while Corypheus is still a problem." The way things are looking, it might as well be a permanent loan, but she doesn't say that when it sounds like Newt has enough to worry about. "So how do you feel about how things are going? And be honest, you don't need to be diplomatic for my sake."

"See, the fact that Ferelden is known for being a country of dog loving people just endears it to me," Newt admits with a grin, eyes crinkling at the edge. "I'd be glad to be claimed by them."

"I admit, I do like the griffons very much," he says with a sheepish laugh. "And they've just had babies recently, I believe?"

It might not be quite the collection he has back home, but the animals Newt has managed to gather here in Thedas is still something of a start all the same.

"Honestly?" Newt takes a sip of his drink. "After what happened in Tevinter, it's difficult to be optimistic, at this point. I think the Inquisition is doing what it can but." He shrugs. "That attack certainly points in Corypheus' favor, I think. What about your thoughts?"

Korrin's silent for a moment, not used to sharing her thoughts in-depth with anyone but Araceli of late. Not that she's shy about sharing them, but there just hasn't been the time or opportunity. She takes a deep breath, drumming her fingers against the table.

"It's taking longer than I thought it would, though I guess I was naive for thinking it'd be over quickly to begin with. The shit that's happening in the Andefels -and beyond, now that they're invading- is going to be a bitch and a half to fix, and if we could have easily done it, we would have by now. Not to mention all the red lyrium at the bottom of the sea still creeps me the fuck out; we still don't know how far that shit's spread, and it'll be near-impossible to clear it all out, which will affect the seas in countless ways.

...I'm not saying defeating that darkspawn asshole is impossible, but even if we do, we'd better be prepared to deal with the fact that this world is irreparably changed."

Some nights are unbearable, even when she's not working, and Fifi has to do something with herself or go mad. Tonight it's been about coming to the Hanged Man, perhaps having a few, perhaps making foolish decisions-- but alas, they are made for her.
One lecher too many crowding into her space and Fifi slips over to a table occupied by a person with a green glowing hand; he may not be a personal friend, but the anchor indicates Newt as belonging to the Inquisition and therefore a safer bet than a knuckle-headed handsy shem with ale breath.
She sits beside Newt, closer than she might normally, plunking her drink down.
"Talk to me, please," she entreats him, softspoken with a thick Orlesian accent, "just long enough for him to think I am not alone." Without moving her head, her eyes dart toward the offending drunk and then back to Newt.

Newt glances up when he finds himself suddenly no longer alone at his table. He turns his head to find a lovely young woman beside him, speaking to him with an accent he would call French but is most likely Orelesian.

As he listens, he follows her gaze to the drunkard, his own gaze narrowing at the sight.

"Want me to set him on fire for you?" He offers as he shifts in his seat to better face her, making it appear as though he were expecting her. He wouldn't, of course. He doesn't want to do anything to draw the ire of the templars or the Inquisition as a whole on him. But he's very sorely tempted, given by what he thinks he can read of the situation.

"Oh, no," Fifi says with a quick but nervous smile, "I would rather he forget me entirely, kind though you are to suggest it." Arson is something like kindness!
"He will go home and fall into his bed and forget this happened, and no one will be hurt for it." Doing her best not to glance over her shoulder at the drunkard, Fifi offers Newt a tired smile. "But I'll buy you a drink, for your trouble. Thank you, Messere."

"I could help him forget, too," Newt offers before he can think better of making such an offer. He hasn't had much opportunity to check if his memory charm works here, either at all or slightly less effectively than back home. He's tempted to find out, given what he thinks he can surmise about the man from here.

"Oh, that's...thank you," he says, returning her smile with one of his own after a moment. "I'm glad I could help, in some way."

"Can I buy you a drink as well? You look like you could use it," he says. He feels as though he ought to help her more than he already has.

"Oh--" Fifi says with wide eyes, only to realize that Newt is joking. Or at least she thinks he is. She laughs, giving a shrug of one shoulder, with a smile that's tired but genuine.

"How about," she says, "I'll buy you a drink, and you can buy me one, and we'll be even."

"Oh — shit!"

The knife flashes within an inch of her face, a face that wasn't there moments ago (as any more than a ripple upon air). Lux's hands lift up, out on instinct... and right into the path of the daggers. Hope you've got quick reflexes, Newt.

Suddenly, Newt finds he isn't alone on the training grounds, as a face that wasn't previously there flashes right in front of him. He lets out a startled yelp, dropping the daggers for fear of not being able to pull them back in time.

Hopefully, they don't hit her exposed hands.

"Are you alright?" He asks, panting as he tries to catch his startled breath.

Five fingers nearly become four, nearly become a whole lot messier for it. Newt isn’t the only one to startle, a kaleidoscope of light flashing up Lux's arms and into the air — dissipating harmless on the breeze.

"One of us has got," She reels back, bends to brace hands on her knees. Wryly, "To watch where they’re going."

"G'day, g'day." She's leaning into the stereotypes, when there's people that might find them entertaining, knocking on the door to Newt's place, and hoping that she's actually got the right address. Could be awkward, otherwise.

Alex looks typically disastrous and dishevelled, as she slouches against the wall, a brown paper bag under one arm. House warming present, of sorts.

"Newt?"

Newt is just setting down some food for the cats and Matcha when he hears the knock on the shabby piece of wood that is his front door. He grins when he recognizes Alex's voice on the other side, and he makes his way to open the door eagerly.

"Good day," he says, grinning as he waves her inside. "Do come in! You might want to take a different route back, by the way. To avoid the pickpockets."

"But it's good to see you," he continues with a grin.

"Likewise. And don't worry, they'd get more than they bargain for, with me." A smile that is distinctly roguish, and she holds out the parcel in offering. It's definitely on the heavy side, and she realises as she hands it over, "you'll probably want to use both hands, actually."

Inside the parcel are a couple of bookends. Nothing very fancy, the wood they're carved from is coarse and gnarled, but they are carved into the shapes of bears, and have little dots of black paint to mark the eyes. "I found 'em at the market. Thought they might come in handy."

Alex is trying to find way to be more tactful than usual, but it's not one of those skills she's really great so. "So... how are you going?" What with your friend disappearing, and all.

Edited (wroooong icooon) 2018-10-10 23:22 (UTC)

"I don't doubt that," Newt says with a grin in return. "Actually, I'd like to see the looks on their faces once they realize you're not the easy mark they'd hoped for." And he'd also like to see Alex thoroughly trounce them, after that. He does so admire many things about Alex, but especially her determination.

"Thank you," he says, taking the gift with both hands, as she suggests. The parcel is heavy, but Newt finds himself only the more delighted for it. His delight only grows as he takes out the gifts inside, beaming brightly at the sight of the bears.

"These are marvelous!" He exclaims. "Thank you so much." He moves immediately to place them on what passes for a bookshelf in his living area.

At her next question, his face falters a bit. He can be more honest with Alex because she's one of his closest friends here. (His only close friend here, his thoughts cruelly remind him, but he tries to pay those thoughts no mind.)

"I'll admit, I've been better," he says, glancing down at the floor. "It's been...difficult. I've had the animals to distract me at least." At that, he perks up again.

"Have you met my demiguise and second cat yet?"

A grin, bright and possibly obnoxious. Oh, those muggers would rue the day, and even better, Newt liked the gift. Perfect.

"I hear you," she replies, and although she says it lightly, she does move a few steps towards Newt, and gently lays a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You know all that stuff about having to be all stiff upper lip is bullshit, yeah?"

Not that anything about Newt seems stiff upper lip or the related British cliches, for all that he is agonisingly English. It's just— it sucks seeing friends in pain.

That said, she isn't exactly an expert on articulating complex emotions. So, instead what she does is make a musing sound. "I have not, actually. I thought about bringing Beauregard along, but I didn't want to assume your pets wouldn't want to eat him." Also sometimes he is very hard to find, but that's probably nothing to be alarmed about. It's probably fine. Right? "What's a... demiguise?"

Galatea is not so frequent a face in the Hanged Man—though it has evidently seen stranger than hers—and she doesn't seem entirely sure exactly what she's doing there, this evening, taking her drink and taking stock of the place. She'd been restless, and she hadn't had a destination exactly in mind, and a drink is never a bad idea, but—

A familiar face is a relief, and his particular face a good one. A rifter, one who hasn't vanished on her, one whose round ears she could more readily convince herself she didn't miss if he did. (It wouldn't be true, but it would be an easier lie to swallow.) She joins him without preamble, nudging her shoulder against his (against his arm, more like, the height difference is not insignificant) and says, “Is it a story? Read me your book,” like this is a normal request of an acquaintance in a tavern.

Newt looks up and grins when Galatea joins him, very much appreciative of her company in the moment. Though, he also can't help blushing a bit at her request, very much going red behind the ears, as the saying goes.

"Ah, perhaps when I come to a less sordid bit," he says with something of a chuckle. Not that the crowd can really hear him, per se, if he were to read it out loud. And even if they could, Newt suspects this isn't the sort of crowd to be offended by poorly written dirty literature.

"I'm not sure how realistic the use of staffs in such ways are, but if so, it's very impressive," he says, laughing again. Without realizing it, he might be slightly tipsy.

Curiosity makes her look toward the page, but—the letters mean the same nothing to her that they always do, so she's left to draw her conclusions from his pink ears (Galatea has never seen an elf blush; she wonders if hers would go pink, too, if she did? or is it just humans?) and the insinuations about staffs. Which does sound like the sort of thing a mage might get up to, if she had to give an opinion, and that may be why no one has ever asked Galatea's opinion on the sexual habits of circle mages.

So: “No one's listening,” she cajoles, taking a swig from her drink in the hopes of catching up to him a little (it probably won't take long—she's only small, and it's cheap enough to be mostly bite), “I know lots about staffs,” she does not, “you should tell me the story so I can tell you if it can be done.”

On the basis of her zero knowledge about the use of staffs for anything but hitting things very hard, yes.

Kylo liked visiting the stables now and again. Animals were quiet, often not judgemental, and he liked watching Caedus try to play with the stray cats and other animals too. The Mabari was often full of energy and needed the exercise. It was always good to do, after he'd made his companion wait while he meditated. Of course, Caedus never failed to make a friend unlike his master. He ambled up to Newt at first, all paws and wide drooling grin.

"Ah. You come here as well?" He liked the quiet. Now he just felt tense. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he sizes up the other Rifter. He and Newt hadn't exactly parted on good terms before. He had no intention of apologizing for his beliefs either.

Newt has to admit, the mabari are fascinating creatures for him. They seem so much more intelligent than regular dogs, (and regular dogs are intelligent enough to begin with) and yet, they retain the same amount of friendly spirit, despite being bred mainly for war. He grins and leans down to offer his hand for the friendly pup to inspect, if he so chooses.

And then the mabari's owner appears, and Newt tenses himself, realizing that the owner happens to be one Kylo Ren. He hasn't forgotten their last conversation, himself.

"Indeed," he answers with a shrug. "I like most animals better than people." He pauses, tilting his head a moment while he weighs his words.

"I didn't figure you for the stables sort."

"He enjoys it more than I do." He points to Caedus, who is now trying to slobber all over Newt's hand. "I just enjoy the quiet."

He crosses his arms, debating what to say. He had gotten through his mission well enough with the disguise as a Chantry member, but he hadn't spoken to Newt since. He wasn't sure what to even say. Distantly, he tries to recall which mission Newt had said he would go on. The only thing he focused on upon coming back was Rey having gone to the Deep Roads.

"How did it go? With the supplies." He wonders if his idea about the runes had even been helpful.

More often than not when time allows, Araceli heads out to the Wounded Coast which isn't nearly as often as she'd like when there's increasingly more to deal with these days but it's enough when she does. The nuggalope helps, shortens the trip when she rides out on him with Lux racing along or hoisted up in front of her on the saddle so he doesn't tire.

Saddle off her nuggalope and weighted down with the rest of her things, he's wading through the shallows with quiet encouragement when Araceli spots Newt. Or thinks she might speak with him since she can only say so much to a mount and a fox when they've got nothing for her in return.

"You picked a fine day for it señor! We can head further along if you want peace." Araceli is aware - sounding sheepish - that a nuggalope and a fox aren't quiet about a day out.

Newt turns at the sound of a familiar voice, grinning when he recognizes Araceli riding on what he's learned is called a nuggalope. He brightens further at the sight of the creature, a delightful beast that seems to bear its load rather well, from what Newt can see. And she also seems to have a fox with her, as well. Better and better, he thinks. He waves, in his turn, in greeting.

"Ah, I think there is peace enough here to go around," he says. "It's a good day to be out and about by the sea, no?"

Draped over his shoulder, Macha glances over curiously at their newly arrived company.

The Walrus being a roly-poly sort of thing, trumpets happily to her hand clapping his neck, leading him forward to catch up as Lux scampers along until she whistles sharply to call him to a halt because there's something with Newt, and Lux doesn't have the best of manners when it doesn't suit him to. (Which is what comes of being raised by a thief and about pirates, and she'd never change it, but who knows with strange beasts?)

"I was exploring shipwrecks last month," she gives a nod out to the waters where hulls and masts protrude. "And we've swimming lessons out here too sometimes for those more confident or looking for more challenge than the docks though I think sometimes realising that yes, fish are out here too startles them. Who's your friend with you?"

Before Lux's head falls off craning all the way back to stare.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Open] Keep my eyes to serve and my hands to learn.

IV

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

III

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

III

no subject

no subject

no subject

aa sorry this account hides from me sometimes

iv

no subject

no subject

I

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

iii.

no subject

no subject

IV

no subject

no subject

ii

no subject

no subject