time moves both ways...

[rivawaldron]

aurormontero​:

He watches curiously from his corner at the exchange between Waldron and Rory, and the ring Rory adds what sounds to be an additional charm to. Briefly he looks down to his copper cuff, now hidden under a concealment produced suit. He’s not sure what could have made Waldron have magic so similar to his own, but he knows that’s likely something just as personal to her as it is to him. A thought that’s only later confirmed by the wix herself. 

“Deal,” he nods down at her, now almost a full foot shorter than him. He’d certainly had worse concealment personalities, although the whole married thing was going to be trickier, especially when it was with an auror he’d only just met. He thinks briefly back to the last time he had to play romantically involved concealments, but that time had been particularly easy considering it was Cypress. Waldron though, he barely knew at all, other than the fact she too had something causing a hindrance to her magic. 

“If things go south, I can defend us for a decent amount of time but not for long,” he adds, figuring it was better if she knew his limitations now since they both had them. “When we go into rooms together we need to always be aware of exits. And we’ll both be better off the longer we can keep our covers.” 

With nothing left to do but head to Santa Rosa, he leads her out of Rory’s office, and eventually outside MACUSA’s wards in order to apparate. “I can apparate us if you need me to,” he speaks up as he looks over to her, holding his arm out for her to take as he does so. “It won’t be the most pleasant ride-alongs, and I won’t be able to use magic for at least an hour. But I can get us there.” 

.

Riva’s brand of curiosity hadn’t always been the quiet, observational kind... but it was something she had perfected over time, out of necessity. First it had been because of how entangled she’d been in her father’s plans, but after cutting herself loose she learned to adapt his lessons to a more worthy cause. In this case, although she didn’t want to unnecessarily pry into Abel’s personal life, she was curious enough to pay special attention to his explanations, to better understand what limitations he might be working with. She always operated better on a team where she could cover her partner’s back and they could cover hers. And so she agreed, careful transparency was key.

“I’m good at duelin’ if it comes to that, just can’t protect myself worth a damn...” she returns with a little shrug. “Got a bit a wandless magic might come in handy in a pinch, but I’m hopin’ it won’t come to that. Seems the hard part’s gonna be winnin’ over the key players, Ortiz and Amador... but I’m most interested in talkin’ to Gloria herself if I’m honest...” She pauses for a moment as they begin their walk and she catches a jarring reflection of herself in bright red. She has to increase her pace just to catch up to Abel, who suddenly seems impossibly tall.

“I know she supposedly doesn’t talk, but I got a feelin’ she just don’t wanna talk to anybody there... If we could get her away from Ortiz and the others just for a bit, I bet she’ll have somethin’ to say. We could always try to play up the couple angle, try to get ‘em to agree to a split interview, you with him, me with her?”

They make it outside and Riva is a bit surprised by his offer, although she understands the gesture since they’re both trying to feel each other out while simultaneously not giving too much away about themselves... It’s an odd little song and dance, odd enough that it makes her mouth twist into something of a smile or a laugh under her breath as she considers things. In the end, she decides it’s worth him knowing just a bit more if it means utilizing their resources properly. “Why don’t you leave that to me then, sugar?” she says, half playful about it as she gets into character. Despite her usual aversion to touch, she can bring herself to reach out and loop her arm into his long enough to bring him along as she apparates there with little trouble.

There’s a bit of pink static discharge when they land, and a very loud crack as if lightning had struck the very spot they landed, but otherwise they arrive with all their parts and concealments intact. She lets go of his arm quickly, clearing her throat a little and stepping a polite distance away. Since he’s taking the lead on this one, she wants to see how he does things for a moment before adapting herself. 

[rivawaldron]

snowbaron​:

Maybe it’s not the most professional thing she’s ever done, spilling everything about an open governmental investigation to someone she’s only just met, but she’s finding that more and more lately when it comes to this sort of thing, she doesn’t quite care what should or shouldn’t be the proper thing. She’s never been past pushing where she shouldn’t have, stretching the rules to help herself when in dire situations, but all in all, she’s always managed to stay on the right side of things, because luckily, what she’s been wanting to do has been the right side of things, up until now. The deeper things go, though, and the more her and Marleigh uncover, the more she realizes that the government still isn’t on the right side of things, here. She’s more motivated than ever to connect the dots and find out what it all means, and to have people on her side when she finally does.

So she’s a bit thrilled when Riva seems to be interested in it all––who could blame her, after all, Baron would want to know what mess she was walking into if she was joining a new squad too. And her response makes Baron feel even better about her decision to fill her in on everything. It’s true, they should be proud of making it out, and making it out with the Mountain Squad aurors, too, especially since more and more it seems like someone was trying to keep them all from making it out. “You’re right, it’s pretty enormous; it’s just such a mess that we all thought we were going over there to do some good that Congress had been so against, and then turns out it was something self-serving to people who would never even experience the consequences when we succeeded, and only benefit if we failed. But we’re all trying to help get the truth out there. And as far as I’ve seen, we’re all on Yaxley’s side, on this one. I’ve seen it, too,” she nods, thinking about how it all might be connected to that.

She’s curious what sort of cases Riva might’ve seen it on, if she might have any advice that could help them all not just help Ignatius out, but help uncover whatever much larger conspiracy was going on here, because she feels so certain, after Marleigh had made connection of the Latin phrase tattooed on her arm to what Judith Eames had said to Ignatius, that it’s all connected. But this is their first conversation, and she doesn’t want to push her. Hearing her own story, though, of how she ended up here, Baron’s eyes widen slightly as she realizes the last part. The rest sounds typical, the sort of path a lot take to being picked up by MACUSA, but the ending.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Baron shakes her head. “I usually try to catch up on everything with new members of the squad as they’re coming in, but with everything going on I’ve been off my game. I can’t even imagine that. That’s one way to help solve an enormous case, though, I guess. Not the worst compensation, either, we’re a pretty good squad to get stuck with, I’d say. What was that case like?”

.

It is certainly daunting, to know she’s walking into a bit of a hornet’s nest, if the corruption truly goes as high as it seems to. But somehow Riva finds it exciting, in a way. It almost feels as if she’s in the right place at the right time, which isn’t an experience she’s too familiar with. Back home she was known for having a little extra luck on her side out in the field, but what kind of luck exactly was up for debate. Arguably, it had gotten her into just as much trouble as it had gotten her out of... For the first time, Riva considered that maybe it was just that odd sort of luck that had landed her here. 

“You know what I’d do here...” she begins. And then pauses, because she doesn’t want to intrude, or take a step too far when she’s just getting used to the place, still hasn’t even finished meeting all her squadmates... “There’s been a few cases... weren’t exactly undercover but, you know how it is... Once you work a place a while, you get to seein’ the same faces, and you develop this kinda... way of talkin’ so they tell you what you wanna know. Ain’t no hidin’ who you are, but it’s still a game you gotta play with ‘em...” Her tone is much more serious and quiet than before, almost as if there’s a danger of them being overheard even in the innocuous setting of the breakroom.

“So... I’d play the game,” she clarifies with a little nod. “I’d try and think just like ‘em... I find when you can think like a criminal, you can out-think a criminal. O’ course, ‘specially now that there’s people lookin’ they’re gonna be on their guard... So I’d have to appeal to ‘em, make it seem like I wanted to help ‘em get away with it all... But that’s what they call a hard sell.” She punctuates her advice with another swig of coffee, and plans to leave it at that.

Baron’s reaction to the intense bit of the story surprises her, as she doesn’t have any reason to apologize, in Riva’s eyes. It makes her pause again, just for a moment, and laugh a nervous sort of laugh over the rim of her coffee mug before taking another drink to cover it up. 

“It’s alright,” she says with a little wave of her hand. “Odd thing is, it wasn’t even part of the case I was on at the time... I was lookin’ into some rowdy redneck wix in the swamps shootin’ off too many illegal magic fireworks, or somethin’ like that... They just so happened to grab me ‘cause I was watching a particular spot in my Animagus form. That’s what they were after- snatchin’ up shifters for trade... I escaped, after ‘bout a week, I guess? They ah- they Obliviated me, obviously, only it didn’t quite... take how they wanted. I kept seein’ all these... symbols, really. Couldn’t sleep five days for how much I’d see ‘em whenever I tried to close my eyes, they just persisted. And it turns out... I’d spent my time in that cage memorizing everything I could about the place. Directions we’d traveled to get there, landmarks... Anyway once I figured out what the hell my brain was tryin’ to say, it helped MACUSA find a big part of their operation up north.”

.

[rivawaldron]

aurormontero​:

When the case file lands on his desk that morning, he looks at it initially with his usual amount of curiosity. A statue brought to life was certainly an eyebrow raiser, but when compared to the plethora of cases that came in and out of the squad on a regular basis, it wasn’t anything that left him too alarmed. It was another concealment case- which go figure, it seemed like half his cases anymore resulted him in having to pop down to Rory’s beforehand. What does take him back though is Langer’s note at the bottom of the case file” 

 ‘Rory is currently working on your concealments. They have asked the two of you to meet them as soon as you’re able to.’ 

Now that was odd, generally he was the only one that’d have to go see Rory, and it didn’t involve a note from Langer telling him to do so. Assuming perhaps that concealments were a little on the more involved side, he tries not to think too much of it, as he scoops up his jacket and heads downstairs, figuring the sooner he got down there the better. 

He’d yet to meet his partner yet, Riva Waldron, but he assumes it’s who he about runs into on the way to Rory’s office, even though she looked far more surprised to see him than he was her. Whatever questions that pop to mind though about her presence quickly disappear as soon as Rory shows up and says what must be the wix’s form of another one of their jokes. 

“What?” He asks quickly, as his head whips in their direction. When Rory had put concealment charms on him, it was generally a private affair, considering how he was the only one that generally needed them to do it for him. But if he heard Rory correctly, Abel could have sworn they intended to put charms on the both of them. 

“Abel, darling, relax. We’re all friends here, the two of you need help on your concealments and I simply don’t have enough time to set up two appointments for the same case.” 

Looking between Riva and Rory he waits for the punchline to come, but it never does. 

“Um, okay then….” he trails off, uncomfortable doing this in front of an audience, even if that audience was only Riva. Taking a step closer to Rory, the wix soon picks up their wand, and begins spelling off the several charms that when woven together make up his concealment. He doesn’t look back behind him as Rory works on him, and tries to ignore the fact that someone else was in the room.

Once the concealment was complete, he takes a step back and gives a hesitant look over to Riva, feeling far more exposed than he’d particularly like to with someone he’d only just met. 

“Your turn,” he tells her quietly as he moves to stand on the other side of the room to wait for Rory to fill them in on the concealments after Riva’s concealment had been put on. 

Riva should feel more uncomfortable that her partner is just as tense, if not more so, than she is about this whole thing. She never thought she’d meet someone who could match her level of flightiness on their first impression, but it seems Abel can... Oddly, it comforts her, to know that she isn’t alone in having to adapt herself to everyone else’s idea of normal magic. There’s a part of her that would rather not deal with concealments at all - she’s spent this long getting comfortable in her own skin, having to slip into someone else almost seems like too much right now. But if someone’s by her side that’s doing the same thing, she thinks maybe it won’t be so bad... As long as she can find some way to come to common ground with him... at the moment he doesn’t seem terribly interested.

For now, she doesn’t try to speak or otherwise approach Abel, not when the energy she feels from him is so defensive. She steps into his place and lets Rory do their work. And they talk, oblivious to the awkward silence between the two, or maybe in order to fill it so neither he nor Riva feels pressured to do so themselves. Even having just met Rory she can tell they’re thoughtful in that way.

“Now just your ring, dear, if you don’t mind,” they say, pulling Riva out of her head suddenly. She hesitates, not wanting to give it up when it’s so precious to her, when there are questions about what they want with it that she simply can’t ask in present company. She glances nervously in Abel’s direction, then wordlessly works the ring off her right middle finger and places it in Rory’s palm. They follow the shape of it with their wand, muttering an additional incantation before offering it back to her.

“This should double as a control for your concealment charms as well. That pesky static I keep hearing about won’t neutralize them,” they explain as she quickly slips it back on her finger, feeling all the more secure for it. She nods in affirmation and then turns to stand beside Abel for their short briefing.

“Alright loves, you’ll be going in as Rodrigo and Melanie Marcos, a married couple that runs the devout Christian rag mag ‘The Lighthouse’. The artist listed in the briefing, Ortiz, has agreed to let you on the premises for a casual interview with him and Gloria, the statue. Now, he and Maria, the priestess, run the media circus there... The pair of them are very particular about who comes in and out, so it’s absolutely imperative that you maintain secrecy, and only use magic if absolutely necessary. And play to their vanities! That’s the best way to get their secrets,” Rory instructs, in a bit of a rush. They turn away as if to leave it at that, must be pressed for appointments today, but then they turn back for a moment. “And speaking of secrets, it’s not polite to have them between partners!”

Once they’re out of earshot and Riva has had a moment to process all the information that’s just been thrown at her, she turns to Abel, hoping to smooth things over a little if she can.

“Listen, I don’t want to make you... out yourself if you don’t wanna... all I ask is the same courtesy,” she says succinctly. She hopes it’s brief enough, polite enough, and all the other things it’s meant to be. Oftentimes, she’s not great at being comforting, but she’s at least trying something. “So long as you’re ready, I’m ready, Corporal.”

[rivawaldron]

sxleroux​:

.

There’s a strange sort of energy in the room around them, a strange sort of energy around the woman who stands before him. Sol has been good, historically, at understanding people when they stand before them. Maybe it comes with being a seer, with knowing things he can’t escape about events he never wanted to see. Maybe the universe has gotten too used to taking him by the hand and showing him vital and important things, maybe it’s too in his head. Riva seems formidable, in her own way. Complex, full of pain and shrouded in mysteries. It makes him curious, it makes him want to open her up a little and take a look inside, it makes him want to sooth the uncertainty and half-fear that comes over her when he reaches out. 

He almost pulls away when he sees her hesitation, almost retreats and pulls his hand back. But he looks at her instead, and feels that same pull of almost-recognition. It feels like she knows some deeper part of him when she looks at him, it feels like she’s looking into his soul and seeing things he isn’t even sure of himself. Sol has been used to that too, this last week, looking at people and feeling something strange and all knowing settle over him. People on this team, on this squad, seemed to be linked to him in ways that he cannot escape, no matter how much he tries. Like mirror images, like kindred spirits, like people who know the same spark of connection that he feels.

A literal spark, this time.

Pink, arching out between their hands when they’re about to touch. 

He pulls his hand back, then, holding it against his chest. A breathless laugh escapes, it bubbles up in the way they often do these days, taking him by surprise with its arrival. He usually loved laughing like that, the way it punched its way out of your body without need for permission or forgiveness. It was a pull toward happiness, one that he liked to try and accept when it came along, something that he tried to give in to whenever he can. He’d had enough, after all, of darkness and despair. He needed to be joy incarnate, and he liked when his laughter agree. A spark can be a rush, and it pulls him along. 

“Don’t be sorry,” He says, with a small shake of his head, fixing her with a bright smile once again. He’s excited, in all actuality. He’s feeling better about someone crashing in to his space, feeling more excited about getting to know her when they seem to have something in common. He holds up his hands, showcasing the tattoos. “I’m on a steep learning curve. You’re probably miles ahead.” 

It’s surreal, meeting someone like this. Apart from a few odd dreams, Riva had never felt any particular connection to any divination arts, never really felt like she could find herself in the wide, never-ending web woven by destiny’s hands. But if she had to guess, she would have to say it was something like this; a chaotic energy brewing like a storm, suddenly dissipating with a spark. The energy in the room now was different than it had been before, calm like the sea, or like a river with swallows flying over snapping at bugs; still but alive.

For a long moment all she can do with his mercy is let it wash over her. She’s not sure if anyone’s ever said anything like that to her before, made her believe she had nothing to be sorry for. She’s such a force of nature sometimes that she’s used to breaking things, being too abrasive, or not being vulnerable enough. Those things used to scare her so badly that she ran away from people, never let them close enough to see her flaws and her darkest thoughts. But somehow in all this rush of emotion it feels like Sol is someone she would be safe with, however she was feeling. Somehow it feels less dangerous to be exactly who she is, for once.

But she doesn’t know how to say any of that. Instead she lets herself commit this warm voice and warm smile to memory, perhaps to guard her when she finds herself back in a place that’s too dark. She doesn’t understand why it’s so easy to return a smile like that, happy enough that it threatens to break her with its unbearable brightness, but somehow it is.

“Maybe... but not by choice,” she eventually answers with a little shrug. Which may sound a bit callous, but to her is simply a fact. “It’s just how I grew up.” Her voice is a little fragile as she says it, but she doesn’t mind it this time. There’s a little pause as she suddenly wants to explain each and every tattoo that covers her so much of her skin. But somehow she thinks that would be a little too much, too fast. Somehow even though she feels comfortable opening up for the first time in a long time, she can’t bring herself to cough up her whole life story just yet.

“What are you workin’ on, Sol? I would love to help, if I can...”

[rivawaldron]

tavihargrave​:

It’s obvious that she’s nervous, somehow, about all of this, and the part of him that’s been burned by the wizarding world before almost wants to assume that there’s some sort of judgement she’s passing on him, except that doesn’t feel quite right. No, it feels more like the opposite, like she’s suddenly been put into his position, completely out of her depth and confronted by something she’s never had the chance before to even try to understand, to have any need to understand. 

And he gets that. He gets that, as she reaches out to touch the monitor and then withdraws her hand like she’s suddenly convinced touching it might shock her or something. Like reaching out to pet an alligator and then realizing it’s watching your hand like it’s pretty hungry. Except that the computer can’t move, can’t actually hurt her at all. He sets his hand down on the monitor again, leaving it here, like he’s trying to show her that it’s okay to touch what, to her, is probably just a big weird box that makes noise sometimes. 

     “Oh! No, no, don’t worry about it, no need to apologize. No one here knows shit about computers. Our Chief asked me the other day if the hamster running around inside it ever got tired.” He chuckles, a little, thinking about the wild list of questions Ben Eames had asked him in the month he’d been here already, ones he’d pretty quickly just started humoring the man on because it was more entertaining than the alternative.

     “I went to school for computers,” he says, which is a simplistic way of phrasing things, but seems clear enough that she’ll know what he means. “They didn’t start really working well until I was in high school. A Walkman, though, that’s awesome,” he says, pulling his own actual walkman out of his top desk drawer and showing it to her, though it’s a CD player, unlike their telekits. “You a big music fan?” 

It seems his first instinct is to be reassuring and comforting, which Riva doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to somehow. She’s like a dog always expecting the hand outstretched to strike her, even now, even after it hasn’t exactly been true for many years. But it’s something she’s trying to let go of, that instinct to distrust and suspect. She lets his attempt to calm her wash over her like river water over her toes, and that helps immensely. Suddenly it feels like being home with Fidel and letting her legs dangle over the edge of the dock. She takes a breath like she’s back outside and suddenly the office doesn’t seem so cramped and stuffy and artificial, and it visibly relaxes her, the tension falling out of her shoulders just a bit. 

She laughs along with his joke and for a moment it’s light and effortless... and then...

“It ah... it doesn’t really have a hamster runnin’ around inside, right?” she asks, her voice shocked serious. She maintains the facade for a few moments of glorious silence before her face nearly splits in too with laughter, this time a lot bolder, less shy sounding. In fact she nearly doubles over with it, and she finishes it off with a wink, as if to say she was in on the joke all along.

As he continues, she nods along, and with the tension broken it’s far easier to understand the concept of what a computer is. Where she grew up, people would occasionally have a television, a radio, a record player... but never a computer. She knew enough about those things to make them work, she was sure she could eventually come to understand computers too, if she put the right effort into it. After all, it wasn’t like people still used the printing press for the paper every day. Just because she was still living in a moment that was over ten years old now didn’t mean the rest of the world had paused with her. She needed to remember that and she needed to keep learning whatever she could if she was going to keep making a difference.

“It’s a good thing we have you then ah... sorry I don’t think I got your name?” she lifts an eyebrow curiously, unsure for a second if he’d said his name and she’d forgotten it, but she doesn’t think so. “Looks like we’d be a bit useless without you. They weren’t even a thing at my schools... obviously. Wonder why that is...? I mean, wix could probably use ‘em for all kinds a stuff right?” It’s now that she chooses to reach out and touch the monitor, less afraid. And a spark, bright pink enough to look almost magenta, jumps the last inch to her finger, in a way that seems to be becoming a pattern here. It startles her but this time she doesn’t let that deter her from touching, and when she actually makes contact she can feel the energy it’s making in the way it surges over her skin through her fingertip. The static and her own magic seem to be combining, the effect enough to make her hair start standing on end, lifting up from either side of her face like a dog lifting its ears. This solicits another kind of laugh out of her, genuine but still bubbly and light, not as abrasive as before.

“Well, I listen to a lot of stuff my parents like so, I’m probably not the one to talk to about anything new... My mama liked Dolly Parton a lot and all the Williams boy, the croony ones. And Fidel likes Elvis and Johnny Cash and such. Lots a songs that might wanna make you cry, I guess. But to me they’re kinda peaceful, ‘specially sittin’ by the river. How ‘bout you? What’re the kids listenin’ to these days?” She makes an odd, tilted sort of look at the flat, round Walkman, but figures if it’s important enough she’ll learn about it eventually.

[thereissomethinginthecorn]

[rivawaldron]

snowbaron​:

.

There’s still always something so nice about hearing her title, the one she fought so hard to get so young, always hard to conceal the little proud smile that threatens to cross her lips at it. And she can tell that the respect Riva has to offer is something real, and warm, not the eye rolling sort that she gets from some people. It only makes her like her more, more convinced this was the right move, to extend a friendly hand. And if she managed to make an actual friend in the process, well, Baron likes to think she’s expanding he social life a little more lately, and it’s only done good things. She lets out a loud laugh when Riva pulls out the mug that is very clear Ben Eames’, she was going to fit in just fine, it seemed. Her eyes move over her hands, the tattoos there, but she doesn’t linger, a story for later. “Very good you have that mug. We’ve only just met, but I’m pretty sure you deserve it more than him,” she laughs, going over to the coffee pot and filling her own mug.

“It’s a complete mess,” she starts, shaking her head, as she moves to the table, to sit and talk. “The details are all hazy, of course, considering it’s an open investigation, but we’re all fairly certain that there’s some sort of upper level corruption going on, but not the corruption in the news. They probably roped Ignatius Yaxley into setting up the mission a lot of us just came back from to take the fall for it, for some reason. Maybe a distraction for something, maybe some kind of ties to the British government. All speculation, who knows. But it’s not good. And poor Yaxley is a mess, well, he’s always been a mess, but he’s even more of a mess now, and with good reason. I’d be a mess, too, if the government was trying to set me up to take a fall for them.”

She nearly laughs at her own words, thinking about the whole reason she’s here in the first place thinking about all the digging her and Marleigh have been doing about her grandfather and the way it seems to relate to this, the whole reason she had started her career, besides wanting to do good, wanting to help bring out another governmental conspiracy, another instance of one person taking the blame for something much, much deeper. Whoever is group is, they very clearly are still working with grand plans, grand plans that were fucking over more and more people every day.

“But that’s a lot to walk into, I know. I’m happy to provide pleasant office gossip instead, if you’re not as interested in governmental conspiracies as I am,” she says with a little laugh, like she’s not actually as serious about her interest as she is. Baron has no idea, after all, if the name Snow means anything to Riva, if she knows about that mess and the relation to the oversight office in the first place. Either way, though, she’ll leave it in her hands to follow that thread if she wants. “What about you, though, Mississippi? I know how it is, going from a local squad to MACUSA, did you always want to transfer, or was it more of them pulling your leg?”

Once she has a cup of coffee for herself, Riva settles down and listens intently to what Baron has to say. And really, it’s a lot, so much more than she expects to hear when it’s something that has so massively affected the department, and she’s such a new face, a complete stranger really. But she understands how it can be good to have a new perspective, and how perhaps she may seem more trustworthy having not been involved in the mission that went wrong. But at the same time it’s fascinating to hear Baron frame the situation so succinctly and to hear her take on it. Riva doesn’t know anyone here quite well enough to comment on their guilt or innocence, but it seems that there’s considerable doubt about who is responsible. Oddly enough, it’s the exact sort of mystery that intrigues her... that really makes her want to go looking for answers, even though it’s not her place.

“That sounds real complicated,” she agrees. She resists the urge to snoop, leftover from her days as her father’s lackey, and instead takes a deep contemplative drink of her coffee (with plenty of cream and sugar). “I heard a lot of y’all got hurt, which is a shame... But I’d be damn proud to make it out the other side of that, ‘specially if somebody was tryin’ to kill me the whole time... Sounds like you don’t exactly believe this Yaxley’s got anything to do with it... and in that case I’d say maybe watch his back for him a little more. If they can’t find a way to stick it to him, I think the next thing they’ll try is to discredit his name after he’s gone. Just sayin’... if it’s big enough and goes far enough, they’ll do anything to twist the story so it plays out their way. Seen it before on a couple cases... not as big as this though o’ course.”

That last part is half a lie, the best kind of lie, so deeply hidden in the truth that it’s impossible to pick out which detail is off. It’s mostly Fidel that’s the reason she knows all this... him and all his secret files on her father he still has tucked away somewhere. She doesn’t want to give too much away just yet, doesn’t want this person she admires to see the dark world she crawled out of. And of course she doesn’t get the connection yet, has heard the name Snow before but only in passing, or in a course at the auror academy she’s long forgotten since it didn’t contain any practical information at the time. Because it’s Eastern Squad’s ghost story. She’s got plenty of her own to worry about as it is.

It’s funny though, that Baron’s next questions lead them just a bit closer to walking down that dark path. It’s not a threatening query though, quite the contrary, and so Riva’s mouth quirks into a little half smile as she considers her answer.

“Well, I guess it’s more the latter... I worked with MACUSA very briefly on a case... nearly a year ago now actually, and I did some good work so my division chief told me I should apply... said he’d already sent ahead a recommendation letter for me,” she explains, and her smile grows just a bit as her memories of Fidel flood in, incredibly fond. “And I sure did drag my feet about it but he kept pesterin’ me until I finally did and now... here I am. Been workin’ as an auror for Mississippi for ten years or so I guess it’s about time I stepped up.” She takes another deep drink of her coffee, bracing for what will surely be the most interesting part of the story. “Probably helped a bit that I got ah... abducted... Like they wanted to compensate, or somethin’...”

[rivawaldron]

concealment department, first thing in the morning, the day of the living statue case | @aurormontero

As she stands just inside the threshold of the concealment department, waiting a bit anxiously, Riva considers how odd it is that she’s struggling with something like this... Being a shifter like she is, one would think any kind of transformation would come easily. But, the point had been made when she arrived at MACUSA that it was unlikely she could successfully maintain a transformation should one of her... unexpected shifting episodes happen. And as much as she didn’t want to, she had to admit they were right. She’d jeopardize a case if for whatever reason her illusion didn’t hold up under the stress of her turning, and she couldn’t have that.

She almost laughs a little to herself just thinking about it. “Professionalism” likely isn’t the first word that would come to mind for most people when they considered her. And it’s true, she doesn’t care too much about formalities and paperwork, but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t take her job seriously. She loves what she does especially because she can see the difference it makes, and because she wants desperately to have made some kind of impact before it’s all too late for her.

Sighing heavily, Riva was just about to start pacing to get rid of some of her nervous tension when, as soon as she turned towards the door, she nearly ran into Corporal Montero, who was just entering. It surprised her so much that it took her a moment to step politely out of the way, grasping for a moment for any words. As far as she knew, they were supposed to be meeting later in the bullpen. She was plenty early getting here, and so she assumed, or at least hoped, that Abel hadn’t come looking for her. It would make explaining her little... problem all the more difficult. She liked doing things in her own time, hated for something to force her hand like this.

Luckily, Rory spares her the trouble of having to explain, at least for the time being. They swoop in and spot the both of them standing together and gestures them over with a wave. “Both ready for our concealment charms then? Don’t worry dears, I’ll be gentle.” It breaks the tension, just a bit, as Riva takes a breath again and snaps herself out of the shock enough to turn and step towards them, hesitating only to spare a curious backwards glance at Abel.

[rivawaldron]

tavihargrave​:

She seems nervous, super jumpy, seems like his existence has taken her completely by surprise, thrown her through a loop it it’s taking her a few seconds to readjust whatever’s going on in her head to accommodate the new information, and he feels almost guilty for having drawn attention to it now, for throwing her off so bad.

But then she introduces herself, and that feels a little bit more normal. She’s—okay, she’s still not the weirdest person on the squad, weird introductions aside, introduces herself more normally than, say, Camden Savage, who had been Tavi’s colleague for almost a month now and still had never said a single word to him. She makes her way over to him, and he rolls his chair to the side, a little, to make it easer to talk around the bulk of his computer. A computer on his desk had never seemed like an inconvenience at his old office, but here it really made talking to people difficult sometimes. 

     “Oh! No it’s a, uh… a computer?” he says, when she asks, setting a hand on the side of the monitor, giving it a light little pat. “No-maj. I’m…. I’m a no-maj, actually. Pretty new to the squad myself. I was a software designer, but I spent about six months working freelance as a consultant on cases involving no-maj tech, until they decided to hire me on part time.”

He feels like he’s rambling—which, okay, yeah, he is—so he trails off waiting for a reply, but she’s still staring at the computer, and he wonders for a second if she’d even listened to a word of his explanation. 

It’s hard not to panic when Riva understands virtually none of the words that came out of his mouth just now. Even worse, she doesn’t know why she doesn’t understand them. Her eyes widen almost comically for a moment before she manages to regain control of her expression. But even then, she still doesn’t know what to think of what he just said, or how she should react. She bites her lip and her fingers curl and twitch around each other for a moment, revealing a restless sort of anxiety that comes from feeling the need to act, but not knowing what to do. Suddenly it feels like being a child all over again, when it was so difficult for her to make friends because she simply didn’t know how to talk to anyone. Thankfully, it’s been some time since that was the case, and she does eventually recover.

“I ah- ...grew up in a swamp?” she manages. It’s not elegant but it’s something. Some kind of explanation for being completely out of her depth here when really, there was no excuse. She’d always been proud and confident in her sharp wit, but now she felt duller than ever. “So... I never seen nothin’ like this before, really... Sorry, I bet I sound pretty silly ‘bout it.” 

She doesn’t know why it bothers her so much; after all, there’s plenty she doesn’t know. Perhaps it’s the feeling that she’s at any kind of disadvantage, when she came from a world where that was extremely dangerous. She reaches out cautiously, having seen him touch the monitor earlier, but thinks better of it, folding her arms together and clearing her throat awkwardly.

“I did have a Walkman growing up though... like our kits? Big fan a’ those...” It’s clear Riva’s trying to grasp at anything to relate, not entirely sure she’s getting it right, but trying her best. “You always known a lot about... computers?”

[theaurorfileshq]

– The Living Statue of Santa Rosa 

CASE LEVEL: One

POINTS REQUIRED: One Hundred Twenty

OVERVIEW:

According to several no-maj sources, a statue has come to life in Santa Rosa, Florida. An artist named Ortzi Donato Ortiz claims to have sculpted the statue over the past year, and woke up one morning to find the figure up & moving around, suddenly made of flesh and blood. Ever since then, many people in the area and for miles around have flocked to the artist’s property in Santa Rosa to witness the rumored “modern miracle”, as the story has been picked up and sensationalized by no-maj media outlets. Many of them seem to believe that the living statue is a holy figure, especially as more and more reported “miracles” have been occurring at Ortiz’s home. There is a group of thirty to forty no-maj worshippers of mixed faith who have pilgrimaged to the site in order to witness these miracles, and pray to have them granted for themselves. Initial reports from local aurors in the area have revealed that Ortiz is a no-maj born wix, indicating that the alleged “miracles” on the property may in fact be acts of magic. However, their efforts to get in close and investigate have been largely thwarted by the presence of so many no-majs at once - any examination of a magical nature would have to be conducted privately, and this opportunity is rarely if ever afforded to outsiders. They also note that the leader of this group of ecstatics, Maria Amador, is extremely vigilant of everything happening on the property, and protective of both her flock of the faithful and seemingly of the living statue as well. They have communicated to MACUSA that the use of false identities seems to be key in this case, as Ortiz & Amador will only allow worshippers (and the occasional tabloid journalist) into the compound.

PERSONS OF INTEREST:

“Gloria”: This is the “living statue” in question. She was given her name by the artist who supposedly created her. According to initial testimonies, she became animate and sentient about three months ago, although so far she has not shown any capacity for speech. She is often the focus of worship at the artist’s home - revelers will often ask her to touch or bless them, or objects they bring with them. This has resulted in a handful of events interpreted by the artist and the crowd as miracles.

Ortzi Donato Ortiz:  The artist and sculptor who claims to have found Gloria awake and alive in his studio. A popular line often repeated in his interviews suggests that the statue had begun weeping just the day before and that he “knew even then that she is a miracle”. Originally from a devout Catholic family, Ortiz developed certain powers as a child, but never officially attended any magical school. He views his abilities as a gift of God, and decidedly does not discourage the idea that he is himself some kind of prophet or divine messenger.

Maria Amador: The apparent leader of the religious worshippers currently living on the property of the artist. She is also strongly Catholic, and often leads spiritual rites with Gloria as their figurehead. Amador seems to see her as a sort of rebirth of the Virgin Mary, and of Jesus at once; immaculately conceived & pure. It seems that she also worships Ortiz in some capacity as a prophet or angel. She fervently guards access to Gloria and to the property, believing that the holy nature of the place and of her idols may be corrupted.

Unknown Male Figure: Aurors have taken note of an unmarked black car driven by an unknown person of interest. According to their reports, he has been witnessed on the opposite side of the street from the artist’s property both in and out of the car, seemingly watching or waiting for something. He has not been seen to approach the house or any of its occupants, but his activities are considered suspicious.

CHIEF’S NOTES:

Have you all ever seen the movie Mannequin? Maybe this is something like that??

- Chief Ben Eames

There are more no-majs flocking to this site each day, so we have to get this under control. The Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation will come into the site once the statue problem is dealt with, but they cannot go in until then for fear of having to reobliviate too many individuals. Rory is currently working on your concealments. They have asked the two of you to meet them as soon as you’re able to. 

- Deputy Chief Langer 

CASE STATUS: TAKEN

| RPG HOME | PLOT | WANTED CONNECTIONS | OPEN CASES |

[rivawaldron]

RIVKA “RIVA” WALDRON | TATTOOS [ X ]

( cw ;; implied child abuse )

Riva’s tattoos were applied over a number of years by her father Gil, who wanted to use her potent natural magic to his advantage. Most of them are related to Herbology & Potionmaking  - he often sent her out into the swamps to fetch ingredients for him. He has a special fondness for poisons, but she never followed his work closely enough to know what he made with what she collected. She learned rather quickly that she would rather not know or be involved.

A few of her other tattoos are meant to be used as tools, for example - a lockpicking tattoo on her hand, a wayfinding tattoo on her wrist, a voice modulating tattoo below her throat, and a “riverwalking” tattoo on both her feet (meant to help prevent her from drowning). Her palms are tattooed with designs that help her steal or otherwise acquire items & successfully conceal them on her person. There are even a few tattoos meant to protect and help her, although his considerations for her safety were few and far between, and it’s more likely his intentions were to protect his most valuable asset.

Pictured above is one of Riva’s most significant tattoos, a sigil on the base of her neck that stretches from her hairline down between her shoulder blades. Gil designed this tattoo for the purposes of controlling her, and compelling her to follow orders. It is, for all intents and purposes, a form of the Imperius curse. When he touched the mark, it forced her to listen and obey, and any of her other tattoos associated with his orders would itch or burn. And when she resisted or avoided his touch, there were consequences. He demanded her total deference & subjugation.

Her aversion to being touched stems from this particular tattoo, as does her fear of intimacy. Letting someone physically close has been dangerous ever since her childhood, and the sort of gestures associated with emotional closeness often seem caging to her at best, insidious at worst. She will sometimes initiate physical contact, but more often than not she prefers to avoid it entirely. Although sometimes the other tattoos still burn occasionally, the Control tattoo has not been activated by Gil again since their separation over fifteen years ago.

[rivawaldron]

sxleroux​:

He feels strangely caught out somehow, by someone else walking in here. He shouldn’t be, not really. It was open to everyone, after all. There was no rule that said only Sol should be longing for a way to burn off excess energy. There was no rule that said everyone else had to stay away when he wanted to do things like this in here, magic he hardly even understand that lived inside him none the less. And distantly, it was maybe nice that someone walked in, maybe it would be a good thing. Sol was trying to return to that person, who could be optomistic, who saw strangers as possible new friends and believed that every chance encounter was really happening for a reason. 

The woman whos looking at them now does feel like something of a kindred spirit. Full of tension, but putting on a warm face for him. It’s that feeling that gets him, the one that rises up in him like the universe is prompting him to make a decision. She has the aura of someone with a whole lot of stories to tell, who’s seen so much, lived so much.

Sol liked people with stories. They were enticing. They made him want to stick around and get to know them. And that was a perk of switching squads, you got to meet new people, brand new faces with brand new lives to fill you in on. It was a nice sensation, Sol always thought. 

He shrugs a shoulder in return, mimicing her, slipping a bashful smile onto his face. “I’m not the best at sparring, in all actuality. Better when it comes to defense.” He says, a little self consious. “But I could stand to get some practice in, if you want to put up with me for a little while. 

He reaches out, extends a hand to her. Shaking people’s hands, a softly intimate gesture, something that always makes him feel warm. The first soft touch, where you could learn and see if you had a spark of connection. He liked the spark, and he was fucking touch starved still, he knew it distantly in the back of his mind. “But before we get down to business, I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I’m Sol. Sol LeRoux. Just a Cadet.” 

.

It surprises Riva to feel a return on her investment of warmness so immediately. The friendliness that she had to struggle to summon into being seemed to exist so naturally in him that it seemed effortless. Talking to him she suddenly feels like she’s back in the swamp in the heat of summer, looking down at her reflection back-lit by the near-blinding shine of the sun. It’s a comfortable place for her, and maybe the memory of that freedom relaxes her just a bit, because she leans against the jam of the doorway she’s still lingering in. She her arms in that casual but self-securing way she has that no one quite knows about her yet because she’s such a fresh face. He makes her terribly curious somehow, his energy all at once vibrant and elusive.

“Well as luck would have it, I happen to be a champion duelist... but I ain’t so good at protecting myself... Looks like we could learn from each other, could be fun,” she finds herself replying easily, like she had with only a handful of other people in her life, rare as it was for her to be comfortable with others being so close.

And just like that, the situation completely turns on its head in an instant. He reaches out his hand and suddenly Riva feels like she’s in a boat that’s capsizing. Every comfort of the past few moments comes into question as she visibly stiffens in reaction to the gesture. She doesn’t quite recoil, but it’s a close thing, her weight shifting slightly back and her arms momentarily tightening around her, tucking her hands further away. But, she looks up at him as he introduces himself and, impossibly, that same warmth is still there.

Slowly, she puts the pieces together. He is the sun shining on the river, and she stands on its surface in the moonlight, a reflection. Not the same but kindred, still. After a moment’s hesitation she reaches out cautiously and approaches, and embarrassingly enough her fingers actually tremble a little as they get closer. Once they grow within an inch of each other though, an arc of pink sparks shoots across the distance between them with a crackle. It makes Riva jump back, pulling her hand back sharply, but then she stops and looks at Sol, and looks at his hands, and then looks down at her own hands and rubs her fingertips lightly over the blackwork etched there.

“Wandless magic huh?” she says after a long quiet moment. But she doesn’t seem upset, as she so often is after physical contact. Instead, her hand is thrumming with that same warmness she kept associating with him, and she finds she can’t quite pull it away from where she’s half-cradling it over her heart. There’s another lull of silence and then she shakes her head slightly, curls splaying wildly everywhere for a brief moment, resetting her energy to something less anxious (as much as she’s capable of doing). “I’m Riva Waldron,” she returns finally. “Sorry about ah- all that...”

[rivawaldron]

snowbaron​:

She smiles more warmly back at her than she’s expecting, and that feels like a really good sign. In the mess of the week, she’s embarrassed to admit that she hasn’t sought out as much information on their newest colleague as she usually did, to have a handle on the squad, and to also know how to help make the transition easier, in cases where that was necessary. But she doesn’t know much about her, except that she’s a transfer, and it’s because she helped solve an enormous case, the sort of thing that gets the attention of higher ups. It’s not that she has reason to believe that her introduction wouldn’t receive a warm reaction, but the smile is effortless in an unexpected way.

Already, between the rapid fire switches back and forth, though, Baron is beginning to put together a picture of their newest colleague. She folds her arms tightly across her chest, very clearly not wanting to shake hands, and there’s probably something there, but she’s not about to pry when there’s no reason. Besides, her words have a hint of playfulness. It’s a lot of back and forth, but then, she knew how she had been when she first transferred from her local squad to this one; she hadn’t really know where she fit, how much to give the people around her, despite the confidence that she exuded always.

So she offers a smile back at her. Corporal Riva Waldron, Mississippi division. Right, there was some history there, but she’s been so caught up in the potential breaks in her own lifelong project it’s been hard to focus on much else. Maybe they could both use a break. “Well, I look forward to working together, Corporal,” she smiles, before gesturing towards the break room. “Honestly, anyone in this office could give you a better tour and rundown than Eames, but how about a coffee? You can tell me about Mississippi, and I can tell you about the mess you’re walking into, if you want.” It’s partially teasing, partially not. But she can’t imagine coming into a squad right after a mission like Scotland, and in the midst of a full governmental investigation because of it. At the very least, she should be filled in by someone who’s last name isn’t Eames.

She leads her to the break room, grabbing her mug from her desk as they go by it. “It should honestly be the least of our worries, but there’s a silent mug war constantly going on, so I’d suggest bringing your own, or risk accidentally being thrown in the middle of it.”

Power. Riva thinks... It must be power she’s seeing. Because Baron is beautiful, of course, but somehow she’s always been drawn to this specific type of beauty... The Inspector was clearly not afraid to hold her space in the room. And perhaps it was simply because she was comfortable in that environment, but instead Riva suspected that this comfort traveled with her wherever she went. The magic always living curled around her fingers tends to give her a good sense of the energy in the room, and what she senses in her new acquaintance is strength and confidence, seemingly boundless. Riva secretly craves to be like that - unshakable. Untouchable, even. But she knows that sentiment is lost on a lot of people. That particular desire isn’t exactly normal, as far as Riva has been able to tell (being considerably abnormal).

“Likewise, Inspector,” she answers, the respect behind the title just as warm as before. It’s a very rare thing - she doesn’t usually get close to authority figures like this (despite the fact that she is one herself, has been for some time). But perhaps it’s in acknowledgement of that power, of the struggle Baron certainly had to get where she is now. Because the climb never is easy, is it? But if she’s being honest with herself, it’s a little dangerous for Riva to indulge this fascination, really. Because it’s just what her father would do; although she at least can manage to fixate on something beautiful without completely ruining what makes it beautiful in the first place... Power & Control were his absolutes. By any means. And so she’d vowed never to be like that. She’d much rather be powerful like a mighty river, in her variability and fluidity.

And so slipping into office chatter isn’t terribly difficult once they get started. That she has the ideal model to imitate and play off of in Baron is not lost on her. Riva decides to direct the conversation a certain way, not necessarily to be cruel about it, but because she’s suddenly curious for Baron’s opinion on everything. “Yeah, I’ve heard a bit about that o’ course... Eames mentioned there’s an internal thing going on, but that’s about it. Sounds like a damn mess if the office chatter is anything to go by...”

When they reach the break room and Baron explains about the mug war going on, Riva can’t help but bite back a laugh on the edge of her tongue. They stop beside the coffee maker and she produces a shiny black mug, seemingly from nowhere, perhaps folded into her robes or hidden where it wasn’t entirely obvious. “It’s a good thing I have this then,” she says with a shrug. The mug is emblazoned with a gold MACUSA logo, and it clearly says “Central Squad Chief” underneath, but she offers absolutely no explanation as to how she acquired it. She’d always been good with her hands in that regard - but then again it was because she had been crafted that way. The tattoos etched into her palms so many years ago had helped with that. They were a bit more on display, now that Riva had relaxed some, and they stood out stark from her light skin, looking almost abrasive against her otherwise demure stature. 

[rivawaldron]

tavihargrave​:

Just when Tavi’s starting to feel like he’s getting a hang of the new job—knows who to go to for help and who to watch out for, knows what to expect from his various colleagues and bosses, knows where the spare pens are how to make sure no one else uses his coffee mug (he washes it before he leaves, dries it, and hides it in his bottom drawer, a box of floppy disks stacked on top of it to deter anyone who might go looking for it)—there’s someone new in the office. An unknown element he hasn’t figure out what to make of, yet.

There had been a flurry of days, right after the big Scotland mission, where it felt like everyone was in the office, but now that’s gone by and people have filtered back out into the field on various cases, Hadrian and Eden out tracking down a missing Veela, a few of the others gone, too, and it’s left the bullpen feeling empty, especially right around his desk, where Hadrian and Eden usually seem to take up all the space. 

Which leaves him, of course, with a direct line of sight to the new girl on the squad, the unknown element, when she sits down at her desk for the first time and starts rifling through drawers. He’s got half a mind to go up and introduce himself, but she looks focused on whatever she’s doing, fixated by her thorough examination of the drawers’ contents, and then—

Shit. She blows the desk right out of the drawer, not even bothering to pull out a wand to do it. Paperclips and and half-dozen other things go flying, and it’s startling as shit, but even weirder is how she doesn’t seem to react to it at all, except to start using more magic, still without a wand, to clean it all up.

     “Uh, you alright there?” he asks, leaning out from behind his computer monitor so she can see him, giving her a curious look. He wants to offer her a hand, but she seems like she’s got it… pretty much covered, not much he could actually offer. 

Riva feels so out of her element here in the weirdest way, jumping again because somehow she didn’t notice Tavi until he was speaking to her. But it makes sense, in a way... She’d easily spent more of her life outside than she had inside. She did her best work outdoors with the sun beating down on her, or even the rain. Somehow staying indoors was a bigger challenge for her, and maybe that was why the office setting had always felt so stale and sterile. She didn’t get how people could sit at desks all day when there was a nearly endless world outside to explore. It’s what she’s itching to do even now, even though she’s never been this far east in her life, just walk straight out the Port Steward door and wander until something interesting happened to her.

Instead, she tries to mentally smooth herself over like a bird that’s had its feathers ruffled, tries to act casually as if she hasn’t been on edge and jumping out of her skin all day. She turns and sees his face peeking out from behind some huge obstructive brick on his desk that she couldn’t see any possible reason for and manages a crooked sort of attempt at a smile. “M’fine...” She answered shortly and awkwardly at first, still coming around in her head to what a normal person might behave or talk like, in this situation.

Her fingers twitch quickly but delicately at her sides as she thinks for a moment, eyes darting around the room a bit, and then she remembers people usually introduce themselves when they first talk. And she is actually very curious about this person, even if she’s bad at showing it. “Ah, I’m just kinda... out of my mind with boredom right now,” she tries, laughing a little at herself. “I’m Riva Waldron and I’m uh- well, your new squadmate I guess...”

She sheepishly rubs a hand over her messy hair and steps a little closer, around a few of the desks causing a barrier between them. When she gets within a certain distance though, Riva notices the huge object on his desk is humming, and she stops dead in her tracks for a moment, eyes going slightly wider.

“Uh... whatcha got there? Working on a... disenchantment? ...or curse breakin or somethin?”

[rivawaldron]

bottom of the river • delta rae / serpents • sharon van etten / sprout and the bean • joanna newsom / wildflowers • dolly parton, linda ronstadt, & emmylou harris / moon river • andy williams / serpent charmer • iron & wine / time, as a symptom • joanna newsom / sanctified • the veronicas / carry me • nick cave & the bad seeds / ain't no grave (gonna hold this body down) • johnny cash / i'll fly away • the kossoy sisters

listen: [ x ]

[rivawaldron]

snowbaron​:

Baron’s not usually the type who tries to jump in and try to befriend, when there’s someone new in the office. She’ll always offer formal introductions fairly early on, wanting the new transfers or recruits to know that they can come to her for any help with getting adjusted, or working on paperwork, cases, that might be new and overwhelming. She thrives off of that sort of thing, after all. Her friendliness is self serving, and always professional in nature, here. Or at least it usually is. Trying to develop anything close to friendship with a colleague is usually out of the question. 

And that hasn’t really changed, except for the fact that it has. Without meaning for it to happen, it has, in several different ways. The important one here, though is that there’s so much going on now, suddenly, that on top of the way her and Marleigh seem close to a breakthrough, there’s the whole investigation going on that suggests maybe there’s something related there. She’s smart enough to know that they’ll need all the people they can get on their good side when the time comes to bust this thing wide open, and perhaps finally, after so many years, manage to do what she’s wanted to do when she first realized what had happened with her grandfather on the Eastern Squad years and years ago.

So while she’s busy trying to organize her notes on all of it, and to ignore the way Deliverance keeps grinning like an idiot, staring through her at Camden’s back, and the new transfer somehow accidentally seems to nearly destroy part of her desk, she takes that as a sign to work on something else, and to leave Liv with a clear view. She gets up, crosses the room as the new transfer is cleaning up the mess, putting the drawer right again, and offers her a soft smile, when she comes to a stop at the edge of her desk, formerly known as the shame desk silently in her head. She’s going to have to find somewhere else to send Liv when he was being distracting, which according to this week, was going to be always now.

“Do you need a hand?” she offers, although she can tell she’s got the drawer under control, more of an olive branch, than a real need. “Or maybe a coffee, and a break, would be better? I can give you a rundown of everything, if you want. I’m Inspector Baron Snow.”

There’s a part of Riva that’s still not quite used to being approached in a friendly manner, ridiculous as it seems. It’s clear she’s encountered far more nice people in her life than she has bullies, and yet whenever she meets someone for the first time there’s still this initial spike of tension that she just can’t shake, like she’s waiting for a gun to go off. She’s used to this reaction, at least, so this time when the sound of someone else’s voice just over her shoulder makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, she manages not to jump out of her skin, or tense up like a cat. She turns, somewhat stiffly perhaps, but once she sets eyes on who was speaking it’s surprise that alights over her features.

She’s not sure why exactly she sometimes finds herself so disarmed by a person at first glance, but it has happened to her a handful of times in her life, most notably when she first met Fidel. And perhaps its that trustworthy association that snaps Riva out of her momentary trance and back into the present moment. But the smile that comes in response to Baron’s greeting is unexpectedly effortless and warm. “Well, I have already been thoroughly run up and down this whole place, and I could use a break if that strikes your fancy?” she answers with a bit of a drawl elongating her words. And this time even she’s aware that it’s a complete 180 from the type of person she demonstrated herself to be moments before, but Riva has never minded being a little contradictory, a little hard to read.

“But somehow I believe you’d be a much better tour guide than our dear Chief,” she added playfully. Riva folded her arms casually, more tightly winding her layers of soft black around herself in a sort of tell she didn’t even realize she had yet... (She dreaded shaking hands with people, and preferred not to discuss the openly visibly tattoos on her hands either, and somewhere along the line she had stumbled upon this small defense and internalized it, comprised it into her character as a trait so she wouldn’t have to think too hard about why she did it every time...)

“I’m Riva Waldron, by the way. Corporal. Just got in from the Mississippi division.”

[rivawaldron]

sxleroux​:

the training floor, late in the day / @rivawaldron​

The training floors are familiar, a nice little safe haven for Sol. He might be getting used to a new office and new squadmates, but he can always count on the training floor being relatively empty at this time of day, he can always count on being able to come here and tire himself out before he goes home and tries to sleep. Exhaustion, that’s what he needs to knock himself out. He needs to be tired enough that he won’t fret over the dreams that might come to him, the visions that might creep into his sleep. He doesn’t want to see the future tonight, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he goes home alone with this energy still in his bones. 

There’s one surefire way to expell it. Magic. Wandless magic. It takes more out of him, he guesses, because he’s still getting the hang of it. Two months of scraping it together from bare bones, trying to remember the theory and make it work out there, in the woods, when he was starving and dying and traumatised. Runes and gliphs carved into his skin, tattoed there magically. Spells he half made up on his own, falling back on what he was good at already. A shield charm. Wards to protect himself, to hide himself. 

He could do all that. 

But he wanted to do more. He wanted to be the magic now. He wanted to be able to do everything. He could use a wand, he knew, but they could take wands away from you. They could steal your wand and steal your freedom, lock you up. But they couldn’t take your hands, your bones, your blood, the magic that lived in you could never be fully stolen. 

So they’re working. They’re trying. They have been for over an hour already. A stunning spell, that’s what they’re working on. Something they can use if they need to go on the offensive for once. It’s weak, but they’re making it work, somehow –– only a quarter as powerful as he’d been able to do with his wand, but it’s a start. 

He jumps a little, when he feels someone else come in the room. Looks over his shoulder, sees another unfamiliar face. “Uh,” He says, eloquent, taking her in. She looks cool, he thinks, and he tries for a smile, feeling basful about getting caught here the way he had been. “Sorry, I can clear out, if you need to get some training in. I was just… I was just messing around.” 

It’s still her first day and she’s still not really allowed to do anything other than walk around and look at things, especially after her earlier desk “repair” incident that had Ben Eames telling her to try to find someway to “chill out”, whatever that was supposed to mean. But Riva’s still insanely bored, and whenever that happened at the academy she had always gone to practice or even just blow off some steam in their practice rooms. So as soon as she figures out where the training rooms are, she heads over there with a bit of urgency. 

Her fingers are itching and tingling with magic. Suddenly she feels all of ten years old again, sneaking away from her dad to charm the nice lady at the candy shop with her pretty eyes and her dirty knees and a bit of finger twitching behind her back. She just wants so much that she can’t put her finger exactly on what it is she wants. Other than more time to decide. But one thing she is certain of is that she wants something to occupy her mind that’s not her oftentimes unhelpful thoughts about her own mortality and humanity.

One of the many reasons Riva would rather not live in her own head is because she can become easily distracted and frustrated by her own thoughts and emotions. And she doesn’t like being caught off guard... like she is when she rounds the corner into the training room only to find someone already there, practicing. She hadn’t been paying attention enough to register the sounds around her that might have indicated anyone else was there, and it makes her come to a sudden, startled stop not a half-step through the doorway, eyes startled a fraction wider.

But it’s her own fault, for not keeping her mind clear enough. Had this been any other situation like the ones she was used to finding herself in, she could have been dead. But, that certainly wasn’t her new coworker’s fault, and he really didn’t seem like the suspicious type at first glance anyway (and Riva prided herself on having excellent first impressions of people... most of the time). So, she schooled her features into something warmer and friendlier, as much as she could manage anyway, and took a few more steps into the room.

“Don’t worry, you’re not botherin’ me. And I could hardly kick you out... I just got here,” she says with a little shrug of her shoulders (a vain attempt to release some of the tension in them). “I just... was lookin’ to occupy myself I guess... Don’t suppose you want a sparring partner or somethin’?”