gooseberryhigh | (no subject)

WHO: Ferdie & Rosy
WHAT: Hunting for moosemen. Actually mostly just prefect rounds.
WHEN: BACKDATED to 9/29 aka New Moon Night
WHERE: Outside and the grotto
WARNING/RATING: They might say a swears; PG otherwise!

It was cold outside--too cold, in Rosy's opinion, though that wasn't hard considering anything under seventy might as well be parka weather for her Californian ass. But tonight, Rosy was happy for the chill. It kept her awake and alert as she and Ferdie walked the trails, keeping an eye out for antlers in the trees and shenanigans in the camps.

“I can't decide if I'm glad to see the post or not,” she says, stifling half a yawn. She'd been up most of the night before, ready for whatever the Anonymous Writer was about to do, whether that was innocent conversation or, you know, kidnapping. “I mean, I'm definitely not really, but,” she sighs and bites the inside of her lip instead of finishing, letting Ferdie fill in the blanks himself.

The cold and the forest at night remind Ferdie a little of a night earlier in the year, with fewer stars. He shoves his hands into his pocket, letting his lit wand stick up from there. He hasn’t been keeping a very close eye on the post, yet. He can only hope people aren’t tearing each other apart just yet.

“It means I’m not a bad Seer.” He points out, “Which…” Ferdie too, finishes his sentence with a little shrug. They both know the pros and the cons of his prediction actually coming true. He wishes it hadn’t. He’s glad that it has. He’d peeked in a little earlier to see a lot of apologies, and couldn’t stomach much after that. He’s sure Rosy didn’t either. “Do you believe it? That the writer’s completely cured, and controlled, no worries?”

Rosy lets out a small laugh. She had never once in her life said the words “no worries” and meant it; it usually meant she would be the one taking care of the worrying and the overthinking, everyone else could take the night off. It never meant there was nothing to worry about. “I think he’s making a real college try,” she says. “But if you told me this wasn’t his first time trying to go straight, I’d believe you.”

There’s a rustle in the trees to their left, but when Rosy shines her light into the darkness, all she sees is a raccoon scampering away with a little waddle. And even though it’s just a raccoon, Rosy can’t help but watch it an extra second, just in case it turned into a student or a ghost or a moose the second she looked away. She lowers her wand with a sigh. “How much willpower do you think Moosemen have? Enough to go cold turkey on the kidnapping?”

That makes Ferdie sigh a little, and go internally into what is rapidly becoming a mental database on every tiny thing Anonymous had said, ever. Ursula was right when suggesting that the moosemen were becoming something of an obsession. He still views it as a duty. It’s just part of keeping everyone safe, this year. “Sounds like he’s started and stopped before, and that’s how we got ghost kids. And now look where we are.”

They’re in the forest, currently, watching a raccoon. Ferdie doesn’t jump or anything, but his wand stays trained and his jaw stays set even as Rosy starts speaking again. As they pass the place he’d sauntered across, Ferdie looks behind his shoulder one last time. “I think if it was just about willpower, we’d be in more trouble.” He answers slowly, considering, shining his wand back on to their path. “But it’s not just Little Mooseman trying not to kidnap. The older brother’s holding him back. And can take MACUSA information, and teachers. So. As long as that all stays in place, I think we’re okay.”

But an owl hoots in the distance, and the fact that even that sends a chill through Ferdie makes him have to go on, when he didn’t want to dwell on the negatives, today. “My concern is...if Brother’s heart was lost, and he just now got it back, and that was preventing everything bad. We can’t control if he loses it again.”

“How did he lose it in the first place?” Rosy says, though she’s not really asking. If Ferdie knew--if he’d learned something down in the mines, after they’d been separated and she’d had a very dignified breakdown--he would have said something, so they could make sure it wouldn’t happen again. At the very least he would have mentioned it to her (right?). “Do you think someone stole it? Or…” She shakes her head, runs a hand through her hair. The idea of something strong enough to steal the heart of the Mooseman who could literally stop time also hanging out in their forest was not a comforting one.

“Maybe he could use some bodyguards for it,” she suggests with a shrug, eyebrows up. “We could figure out how to send him a message, ask if he’s got any job applications we could fill out. Might be worth some extra credit in Defense.”

“I don’t know.” Ferdie admits, shoulders falling a little. “He didn’t tell us what happened. Just left.” He doesn’t go into detail because he’s described it all to Rosy before, as soon as he could, and that was after going through every aspect of it in his mind. “It seemed to be hidden...fairly deliberately. Who just loses a giant stone heart in a mine? So yeah. Maybe someone stole it. Something.”

The thought of that thing didn’t bring him any comfort, either, so Ferdie echoes her shrug. “I’m not in Defense.” (It’s not really changing the subject, is it, if they’re still talking about the moose?) “It’d have to be you.” He grins at her, weak but there, because Ferdie has no doubt in his mind that Rosy could defeat all the foes the forest needed her to. “But the application process is probably really long. You’d have to write it all in secret code.” Even here, in the forest, the ciphers and “games” of last year feel far away. Far enough to joke about, quietly.

“I dunno, I think you already handled yourself pretty well in the field test. Maybe you can put your points toward Magizoology.” She grins back, because if they're joking about what happened, then that means it's okay. They're not scared, and there's no reason to be scared when they came out of it all unscathed and able to crack wise. “I mean, technically we were all working with some kind of magic zoology.”

The trail turns ahead of them, the well-worn and not-exactly-super-secret trail to the Grotto splitting off and vanishing into the dense trees. There’s nothing ominous about it, and Rosy would never imply otherwise. “You should know how to cast a patronus, though,” she says, apropos of nothing, especially not because of some creepy woods. Her words don't have the sarcastic tone from a second ago. She quickly fixes that by lamely adding, “You know, for this job.”

“Do ghosts count as animals?” Ferdie wonders aloud, not really caring about his own question. They were there. “Actually, they must be, they’re in the Creatures division of MACUSA. I’m going to put in my petition.”

He pauses for an imperceptible second at the turn in the trail. They should go see if anyone decided to pay the Anonymous Writer a visit on New Moon night. He looks at Rosy to see if she wants to go down that way, not voicing the question exactly. Her leading the charge, him backing it up all the way is a dynamic that’s kind of shifted this year. But he doesn’t see anything wrong with deferring to that sometimes. Which is why he nods. “I should. Maybe I’ll go see Lilywhite...you know how to cast it, right?”

Rosy looks back at Ferdie for just a second before returning her gaze to the dark trees ahead. There’s no immediately visible evidence that anyone else has been on this path tonight, and it's not like she heard someone say anything about it earlier. Not even as a new kid hazing ritual, the Gooseberry version of the pool on the roof.

But there’s still a chance, however small, that someone tried it, not knowing Brother had grounded the Writer from the Grotto. And if anyone wants to get lost or come face to face with a cranky ghost tonight, it's not going to be because Rosemary Stoker is too scared to leave behind the comfort of a lighted trail. It’ll only take a couple minutes. She nods to Ferdie, in answer to both his spoken and unspoken questions.

She steps onto the unlit path, glancing back to see that Ferdie hasn't suddenly disappeared on her. “Usually I can,” Rosy says. “Sometimes I overthink it. Get hung up on what memory to use. But,” she lifts her wand and whispers, “Expecto patronum.” The silvery lioness that appears is overkill for their current situation, but she's comforting all the same. “But I muddle through.”

They’re going to the grotto, then. Ferdie follows without another pause, running his hand near the Patronus. You...can’t pet a Patronus, probably, but it’s soothing. He raises an eyebrow at Rosy. “It’s not quite muddling, if you can make her. It’s awesome.” He touches his wand, like he wants to try, but he doesn’t want to try to focus on happy thoughts right here. The forest still feels like a place to be quiet and careful. “And she could take a moose, if she had to.” He assesses, eyeing up the silvery animal, quietly.

“Oh, she'd eat a moose for breakfast,” Rosy agrees, though she knows it's not just moose they would be keeping an eye out for. There were girls with twisted bodies and miners with pickaxes and crying boys that threw pinecones. But if her patronus was anything like herself, she would at least try to take them all on, at once if necessary.

“I'm sure Lilywhite would be happy to help you, but if you need any extra practice, you know where you can usually find me,” she says, then waits a beat before unnecessarily adding: “In the library. Only sometimes reshelving the books.” Rosy grinned over at Ferdie. “My patronus probably won't try to eat yours.”

“Probably she’ll step on it, at the very least.” He grins back, false-cringing at the silvery lionness. “I can’t imagine mine’s that impressive. Probably a fish. A nice ant, maybe.” He shrugs, clearly not that bothered with his lack of threatening skill. “Assuming I can with any good conscience tear you away from reshelving for that long...yeah. If you could help, I’d owe you. Thank you.” He sighs a little, but it’s directed out, toward one of the trees. “I wonder if I can require all prefects to learn. Is that overkill? I never know.”

“God, why would you ask me? Overkill is my middle name,” Rosy says, and she’s dangerously close to feeling lighthearted for the first time all night. Hell, all week. “Maybe you can just, like, strongly hint that whoever has a badass patronus gets premium shifts.”

She shines her light on the trees, but aside from the occasional rustle of leaves, from a bird or some other small, nocturnal thing, there’s no evidence she, Ferdie, and the lioness are anything but alone in these woods. It's not as comforting a thought as Rosy hoped. “But the more I think about it, the more terrifying a swarm of ants seems? God, I hope that's not your patronus.” She shudders slightly, and it's not entirely sarcastic. Rosy legitimately fucking hates bugs. “If that's your patronus then I'm out, I'm not helping you create that monster.”

“Or that their patroni could fight for their shifts. That’s supposed to be popular in our year, isn’t it? Fight clubs?” He’s heard of these things, peripherally, but they’re very Coppertale and he’s never been that invested. “And if a swarm of ants is my patronus, I’ll do the honorable thing and drop out. You don’t have to worry.” He looks over at Rosy, nodding like this is a far more serious promise than it is. And then he cracks a smile, because there’s no way his patronus is going to be an ant, and there’s no way this is that serious. “If I end up with an ant patronus, you have full permission to never speak to me again.”

“I wouldn’t know a thing about fight clubs, Ferdinand. Do I look like someone who can throw a punch?” Rosy punctuates this by punching him (lightly!) in the shoulder, as if to prove just how bad she is at this whole “violence” thing they’re talking about. Ahead of them the entrance to the Grotto looms, and there’s still no evidence of any illegal visitors: no voices, no lights, no Skittles bags littering the trail. Rosy feels relieved, but not completely. She’s not even sure she knows how to be completely relieved anymore. “But I think I’ll just give you a warning for daring to have an insect patronus.”

She bites the inside of her lip as they approach the Grotto, as if, despite the evidence to the contrary, they’re about to stumble upon a satanic ritual, complete with animal sacrifice and black robes and goat heads. “At least until I’ve reviewed everyone else’s patronuses and ranked them by acceptability. You just have to be in the top 25% to stick around, you know.”

Ferdie fake-falls sideways, catching his shoulder like that hurt. And then he straightens back up with a light shrug. “You’re right, actually.” Although he has in fact cracked a smile at this point, it’s easier not to show that in the dark. “That won’t even bruise later.” He takes one cautious step away, lest she come back to punch again.

“I’ll make sure they all run them by you. But I don’t think I’ve ever been in the top 25% of anything, so I’ll just start packing my bags.” Patently false though it is, the joke helps him take the last few steps toward the abandoned Grotto. It’s still. (Too still?) The fact that there isn’t a moon makes even the refurbished building look menacing. But it isn’t. They both know it isn’t. “...We shouldn’t stay long.” He tells her softly, more earnestly. “Just in case.”

Rosy nods. She doesn’t want to stay here more than a few minutes anyways. They’re not here to find ghosts, they’re just here to make sure no one’s trying to have the real Gooseberry experience of getting kidnapped. “Not a lot to see here anyway,” she says, approaching the building with a lot more confidence than she actually felt. In the back of her mind sits Chris’ description of the Grotto on that night, with the ghost voices that were and then weren’t there. An empty building didn’t necessarily mean no one or nothing was there, just no one they needed to be concerned about. Tonight.

“I guess we got another month or two before the seances really start.” She peeks in the door, checking more for skunks and garbage that might need to be picked up than any students.

Ferdie rather hopes she doesn’t find any skunks. He’s a little more on guard, and visibly trailing behind her now. Not because he’s scared, but because while she’s looking inside, he’s drawing his wand out and pointing it around. “A month. At most.” He murmurs, keeping his voice down because...well. He still wasn’t sure why, honestly.

“Someone’s going to get it in their heads they want an anonymous Halloween date or anything like that.” This is not an invitation and he looks at the trees as if to emphasize that. He sounds more resigned than anything. “You know it’ll happen at least once.”

Rosy backs out of the building--nothing to see, nothing to worry about, nothing to even clean up in there--and sighs. If anyone was going to be looking for a Halloween date with a Mooseman, they both knew at least one person to keep an eye on. She stands shoulder to shoulder with Ferdie, looking at the trees and the lack of Moosemen hiding in the shadows.

“Can't wait to ruin some romance then,” she says. “But if it's not happening here tonight, then...” Rosy looks to the trail leading back out of the Grotto. She wants to get the fuck out of there. She also doesn't want to be the one to say how badly she wants to get the fuck out of there. “Anywhere else you want to check?”

Ferdie, on the other hand, has no pride. Some, maybe. But right now, not enough to stay in this place. He’s shaking his head after pretend consideration of the offer. “No.” He says, slowly, considering, looking around the clearing once more. “We can walk around the treeline, maybe. But if there’s no one there. I mean, I don’t think we’ll find anything worth finding here.”

We won’t find anything we want to is left unspoken. He looks at her with a slight nod, to give them both permission to give them dignity enough to just go without shame.

Rosy nods back, shoulders relaxing, grateful she wasn’t forced to vocalize the vaguest of fears. “Yeah,” she says, teeth still too clenched to properly complete the illusion of a calm and confident person right now, “All the action’s back on the main trail.” Back with lights, back near the campsites, back where adults could reach them. “And if we don’t hurry, we’ll miss fight club.”

Ferdie hesitates, but decides to risk any residual slaps and resting a steady hand on Rosy’s shoulder. It’s only light, and it’s only for a moment, because he wants to communicate that he thinks he understands exactly why her teeth are clenched. He drops it and takes wide steps toward the trail home. He feels something like relief. There’s no good reason for that. “If you need to join before I break it up, I’ll turn my head for exactly five minutes, ok?”

Rosy lets out a long, deep breath and unclenches her teeth. “Five minutes, eh?” she says, nodding in approval as she follows Ferdie toward the exit. “I could get a lot of damage done in five minutes.”