Phantom Pains PV Simon Kincaid iNPC Closed

Kent was quite famous for its ales, beers, liquors and wines, and that attracted one particular grouping of rare fairies that were the current study of Aldrich and Emmaline Thatcher - world renowned magizoologists. Normally they were chasing dragons, unicorns, swooping evils, and thunderbirds. Not fairies.

Was anything more boring than fairies?

Maybe trollwigs.

Still, despite being only a mere eleven year old boy, Miles was able to steal away from his parents and their study and found himself at one the parks in Kent, England. It was full of no-majes do no-maj things - riding two-wheeled steerable machines that they had to peddle themselves instead of gliding effortlessly on brooms, climbing up ladders just to scoot down some metal platform, and attempting to keep thin colored plastic attached to a string in the air with just use of the wind and not casting any sort of spell to keep them up there. How hard it must be for them. Miles pitted them.

He sighed, beginning to wonder if this was any more interesting than fairies when his focus rested on a sapling, a young tree that was growing at the edge of a grove and he smiled, glad to see the new growth. He had just begun walking toward it when a young no-maj came running full force right toward it and before he could yell for the boy to stop, he had trampled right over the young plant. "ABSOLUTELY NO RESPECT FOR THE EARTH!" Miles yelled out to the kid who just looked back over his shoulder as he continued to run away and seemed confused. No longer looking where he was going, he stumbled forward and fell to the ground. Miles smirked a little. Karma.

He then bent over to look at the tree that was now bent over toward the ground instead of standing tall and reaching toward the sun. He sighed and crouched down to it, placing his hand over it. This had worked a handful of times before and he hoped it would now and as he focused on the tree, it began to straighten back upward toward the sky.

date: May 16th, 2019
Time: mid afternoon
interacting/mentioning: @Simon Kincaid
OOC note: so sorry for the long wait!

Sage’s head shot up. There was a boy yelling, something about people having no respect for the Earth. Sage couldn’t help but muster up a small laugh.
“You’ve got that right!” she yelled to the boy. Sage wasn’t sure what he was yelling about exactly, but she agreed all the same. People these days had such little, or worse even no respect, for the Earth! Sage was young, but even she knew that! He was clearly older than her with dark hair and eyes whose shade she couldn’t quite see from the distance. His accent led Sage to one discovery other than his clear passion for the planet: He was an American. Slowly, Sage got off of the bench and walked to where the boy was examining the injured tree. She was certain her eyes were red from crying, but she didn’t care.
“How bad is it?” Sage asked him. She bent down next to him to look over the tree. Sage couldn’t quite tell just how bad it was, she was no plant expert, but it was bent and clearly damaged by whatever force the boy had yelled at. Before she knew what she was saying, Sage whispered to no one but herself,
“Looks like this plant’s had a rough day too. Phantom pains.”

"It's not deeply rooted," he said, which explained why it bent over in the manner it had. This tree needed his help and Miles began doing his best to dig further below the surface, creating a larger space for the tree to be and stretch it's roots as it began its early journey in growth. Shame he didn't have a shovel. His hands were the best he could do.

"I think it's going to be alright," he said, responding before really even realizing it. Once he said his statement, he realized that there was someone else beside him - someone else that cared enough about the plant to check on it. That was unusual. Unusual; and a nice change.

He heard the whisper as he glanced up. Too. Also. If she was saying that this plant had a rough day also, that meant she was probably speaking from experience - whether personal or something else she had bared witness to that day.

Helping this plant and a conversation with this girl would be better than finding his parents while they researched fairies. "You also had a rough day?" he assumed and asked her out loud. He didn't do so loudly or abrasively and she certainly didn't have to answer him if she didn't want to.

date: May 16th, 2019
Time: mid afternoon
interacting/mentioning: @Simon Kincaid as Miles Thatcher
OOC note: so sorry for the long wait!

Sage watched the older boy mess with the dirt around the plant. Sage got the impression she could trust this boy. After all, if he wanted to help this tree he must be a good person. Good people usually seemed to care about people and things other than themselves.
“That’s good,” said Sage after the boy seemed to figure out how to help the tree. “I’m Sage, by the way.” She introduced herself.
After her soft whisper that the tree wasn’t that different from her, the boy- whose name she was still unaware of- asked her about it.
“I guess. I mean, I’ve just moved here and it’s hard to figure out what this means for my family…” Sage’s voice trailed off. “My dad didn’t come here with us.”
Why was she dumping her troubles on this boy? He probably had more important things to deal with than some upset child.
“Sorry; I don’t mean to throw this at you,” she apologized. “My sister- step-sister, technically- is too young to understand why we moved and my step-mom is busy getting everything put together for us. She seems like-at least to me- she doesn’t have time to really listen to how I feel about moving.”
And yet again, Sage was ranting about all her own problems this boy probably couldn’t care less about.

Sage, that was a nice name. It was an herb used for cooking as well as in traditional medicine. It was an evergreen subshrub with woody stems with purple and blueish flowers. "Miles," he introduced himself. Sage was a much better name than Miles. He still didn't understand why his parents had chosen that name out of so many other names they could have gone with. Miles. Miles was nothing but a distance, a somewhat long distance - what usually felt like distance from him to the rest of the world.

The girl mentioned her own distance. She had just moved to this boring town without her father. Without her father and her mother it would seem with the usage of the term step-mom. Miles knew quite well what it was like to not have either parent. Granted, he had come to Kent with both his mother and his father but that was a hindrance for them. Just because they were mother and father by name did not mean that he had the benefit of having a mother or a father. Both were so caught up in work, in research, in travel, in writing, in magical creatures, in publicity, in pureblood society, in one another - that they didn't give him any time, any attention, never love. Mother and father was only a title and one they didn't seem to want.

"Sounds like a lot of changes that you weren't ready for," he said as he looked to her. His problems weren't really problems - they were his lifestyle. They had been since he was born so it was nothing new to him, nothing strange to him. The girl there beside him was the one with the problems and Miles hoped maybe she would trust him more to talk to him about it. It was better than sitting there alone in that park all day.

Miles saw a little metal pick with a small vinyl flag on it, having once been used to flag out something, but he wasn't sure. He removed the flag and put it in his pocket, never thinking of littering, and then drove the metal into the ground sort of next to the tree he had just replanted, but not too close. He had a plan to help this little plant.

banner by alyssea brown

date- May 16th, 2019 wc- 240

interacting/mentioning- @Simon Kincaid as Miles Thatcher ooc notes- so glad we're starting this again!

Miles, he said to be. The seven-year-old's first odd thought was 'isn't that an American measuring system?' which was funny since he was American. She wouldn't say that to him, however, as she didn't know whether he'd find offense with it or not.

She also deemed him a careful listener, and a kind person seeing as he seemed to care for the hurt plant. Most in the world, unfortunately, would pass it by without so much as a hesitant thought. Even she hadn't really taken the time to acknowledge the damage, only reacting to his shout. Did that make her a bad person? Was this how her dad had started his path towards carelessness?

She nodded at his short comment, not really knowing what to say. "Do you think it needs any water?" she said, pointing at the plant. She figured Miles knew more than her about it, seeing as he had been the one to start helping it.

She watched him handle the metal shard and once again surprised her by using it to help, not hurt. "That's a good idea, for support. I could look around for more if you think it needs some more to lean against?" she offered, not wanting to turn back home- if that was even what she was ready to call it.

She nodded her head to the line of houses by the park. "Maybe my step-mum has something helpful we could use?"

The girl mentioned just moving there and that her father didn't move with them - and then mentioned a stepmother. It sounded to him as if neither of her actual parents were really involved much in her life just from that. He could certainly relate to that.

"A little water would be good to help get those roots settled," he glanced over to her and smiled, glad that she seemed to want to help the plant. Everyone could use a little help, no matter how fragile the situation seemed.

"Some parents just don't know what they're doing. I don't think it has anything to do with us, they just can't figure out their own lives to figure out lives with kids." That was his take on his situation anyway.

His parents were too preoccupied to ever have a child but here he was - so often they'd cart him along to whatever their most recent expedition was. He couldn't wait until he was old enough to go to Ilvermorny and just stay in one place for awhile.

"I wanted to see the White Cliffs of Dover while we were this way but I don't know that it's goign to happen...." he sighed. No, he knew that his parents wouldn't take time out of their visit to go there unless there were whispers of some unknown magical creature occupying the area.

banner by alyssea brown

date- May 16th, 2019 wc- 333

interacting/mentioning- @Simon Kincaid as Miles Thatcher ooc notes-

If water made roots, Sage would need a rainstorm. The given period of time she’d spent there in Kent didn’t strike any significant forms of attachment for Sage to wish to remain there. But she feared she couldn’t return to London. Not then, not ever. London was her land of loss. Her land of everything good and bad.

Nodding along after Miles’ comment, she stood from where she had crouched. “We have a little water pump outside the new house, I’ll be right back.”

She hurried as fast as she could back to the house, heading inside and grabbing a small bowl from the recently packed cupboard. The handle of the water pump, red iron, was stiff and unoiled. After a moment of struggle, Sage got it going and allowed the plastic bowl to fill halfway before she ended the stream.

The five minute route to the park lessened as Sage tripped over her own feet to get to the park. Sitting down at Miles’ side, she extended the bowl to him. “Will this work?”

And Miles, however old he was, seemed wise for his age. His brief lament seemed all too true to Sage, specifically in regards to her father. The estrangement still suffered far from feeling real. “My dad,” she began, “never really figured out life after Mum. Death will do that to you, I suppose it’s its job to make you feel like you're drowning in the lack of something.”

Pausing to lift her head above her storm, she dipped her hand in the bowl, using whatever water remaining to dampen her face which sweated along her hairline from the pure emotion of her situation. Perhaps she’d be lucky and Miles would just deem her anxiety to the state of the plant.

“Isn’t that a song? ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’? It sounds pretty, I hope you get to see it. Where are you from? Not Kent or England I’d assume, based off your accent. Ameria? I’m originally from London.”