Sep. 10th, 2017

OTA

Sep. 10th, 2017 12:11 pm
pippa_flynn: (Flower)
[personal profile] pippa_flynn
It was the best time of year. The air was becoming crisp and it was in fashion to break out the jumpers and boots. Pippa had a long Aran sweater with chunk, fat cables that came down over her bum. To go with the lovely cream colour she had chosen brown leggings and finished the look off with knee high boots of a slightly lighter brown. She had her hair up in a messy bun.But the crowning accessory was the Starbucks cup that held the most precious of things.

Pumpkin Spice Latte.

She had her drink in one hand and her mobile in the other as she scrolled through Pintrest, looking, still, at decor ideas. Fin's remodel had given her ideas for her own flat. Not a full remodel, no, but it wouldn't hurt to update a few things. Maybe get a little crafty and build some shelves.

And then Pip stopped on the sidewalk near a tube stop and reflected on herself.

Oh, God...I'm so basic she thought. It was just a moment of self doubt. But then she sipped her drink and realized she didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of how she chose to enjoy autumn. Jumpers were good and PSL was delicious. And if anyone had anything to say about it she'd turn them into a toad. That thought made her smile. Yes, she was sure she could manage turning someone into a toad.

"I'm so terribly sorry," said a woman who had to be seventy or more. "Is this the train to Piccadilly?"

Pippa had no idea so she called up the map on her phone and helped the woman find her way. It was a small act of kindness that left her smiling even as the woman descended the stairs. All thoughts of turning people into toads vanished and just a tiny bit of magic escaped her control, perfuming the air with pumpkin spice and making hearts lighter as they passed.

(Any tube stop, find Pippa smiling fondly. She's in a good mood and her magic makes that a tiny bit contagious. Open forever)

OTA

Sep. 10th, 2017 07:42 pm
fantasticnewt: (trunk)
[personal profile] fantasticnewt
Newt sat on a bench in the park across from the building that housed the small flat that the Ministry had provided for him. He held his suitcase on his lap, still wary about having it out of his sight for even a moment. This was a step for him, being out in the world at all. Since he had arrived here a few weeks ago from 1927, everything was simply too much. Too much noise, too much crowd, too much that was unrecognizable, unexplainable...

Sometimes he'd felt as if the world was not all that welcoming to him at the best of times, and now he felt like even more of an outsider. He was an alien here. And not only this, but the shock of going to the Ministry for help and discovering that everyone knew who he was. There was a portrait of him there. A first edition of his book under glass.

He watched a squirrel scurry up a tree. Once safely on a branch, it paused and looked over at him. He offered a little wave.

The latch on his suitcase popped open.

"Quiet down, Dougal," he said gently as he closed the clasp again. "I am not letting you out, not here. If you thought New York was a different world, you've no idea what you might encounter in this place."

The latch popped open again, almost violently this time, and Newt practically flattened himself against the case to make sure it stayed closed, then glanced up and around him frantically, as if afraid he might be caught doing something bad.

[OOC: for the deets on brand new newt, here!">

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