Closed Not in Kansas Anymore Semi-PV Owl/DM to Ask to Join

roleplaying as approved inpc elias travers
Eli's ASL + Eli's BSL + Eli's Writing + Eli's Speech
the fit = pastel yellow t-shirt with a pinstriped blue/white short-sleeve button-up as an overshirt, faded loose-fit blue jeans, dingy white Reeboks, gray duffel bag, brown backpack

Summer camp was over, and everything was arranged for Elias' return. He would go from London to New York with Cyrus and have some quality time with Aunt Paige for a few days, then she, on her way to Florida, would fly to Asheville, where he would be picked up at long last by his family.

Although homesick as ever with promise of home dangling before his hungry eyes, Elias would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to do a little exploring with Cyrus and company. With his duffel in hand and his backpack slung haphazardly over one shoulder he followed the band of brothers @Astrea Soleil Neptune as Johannes and @Koko Riddle as Cyrus and a sister @Cass Ito as Acacia to the Tube, where he tried to stick as close to Cyrus as he could without crowding the older boy. The shaky and noisy (the sound cues he was getting here were absolutely bonkers) train car paired with the florescent lights and the smell of plastic and people and occasionally old socks or alcohol made for an almost dizzying cocktail of sensation. Elias' head was constantly on swivel, taking in the various persons around. A tiny dog that had bald spots. A lady with a neon pink head scarf. A man whose mustache had breadcrumbs in it.

He almost didn't notice they were at their stop, aside from his sudden snap into attention before Cyrus began to usher everyone out. He couldn't hear what was being said. He saw Cyrus take out his phone, and he reached into his pocket for his, before remembering it was in his backpack and had been all of camp and even before. Only recently given and used maybe once was the device, Elias had the device only to communicate with his various guardians. I probably need Cyrus' number, he thought fleetingly before they came out from underground and up into the harsh sunlight. Elias blinked, flapping a hand out and latching onto Johannes' sleeve as he waited for his eyes to adjust.

Unfortunately, Tour Guide Cyrus' words would go unheard, since, well, he couldn't hear firstly, but also because his notebook and quill were also in his backpack and the quill was Not To Be Used In Muggle Cities according to the wizard who helped him the most at school and his parents, who were mainly just supporting what the wizard said because heck if they know.

Elias did not have the good sense to take out his phone, at an unknown battery percent, and use some sort of speech to text function at this time. Perhaps when he again remembered Cyrus' number was needed, he would have this epiphany.

His hand would finally detach from Johannes, if it had been allowed to remain this long, as he signed Ok, thank you to Cyrus. What the older boy lacked in skill he made up for in enthusiasm and a determination to communicate. Which was very nice, but let's hope he's good at charades in case he must reach past his sign vocabulary. Or he thinks of speech to text before Elias does, which might be less probable than one would think.

It smelled like people still, and exhaust fumes, and pigeon poo. There were fewer sound cues, but still a lot, though in the open air it seemed less stifling. Elias noted the playground, and the souvenir shop. And the really cool castle (he would be astonished to find out people thought it was just a tower). He cracked his knuckles, glancing around a couple times, shimmying slightly closer to the band of brothers and a sister. What exactly are we doing? he signed to Cyrus.

Interactions: Cyrus Darsel @Koko Riddle | Elias Travers @Astra Norrick | Johannes Sauer @Astrea Solelil Neptune Mentions:

Date: 11th of August Location: East Londonish

Boots: x

- Not In Kanas Anymore -

Acacia was honestly kind of sad that camp was over. She was glad to get away from all that disgusting snow stuff of course, but she was going to miss all the people she had met and all the quidditch. There was only so much quidditch one could play with only one school, and Acacia lived for the sport. In an attempt to distract herself from her quidditch related woes, she had agreed to join Cyrus (the boy who had organised the earlier unofficial quidditch game), Elias (the opposing teams chaser in said game. Who she absolutely wiped the floor with if you asked her) and another boy she didn't recognise in a touristy outing thing around London.

When Cyrus mentioned using apple pay though, she started to feel just ever so slightly worried. Maybe it was just a normal thing wherever he came from to announce the payment method you were using? Or maybe he was just very excited about apple pay. Americans were weird. She just drifted after Cyrus, no more familiar with London than the rest of them. It was a surprisingly nice place. Very touristy. And very crowded. Hopefully none of them particularly felt like ditching the group today, since it would be pretty hard to find them again. Exchanging numbers wouldn't help either, since international texts and data was expensive. Unless of course Cyrus was offering to pay for that with his apple pay as well.

The tower of London was probably a decent first stop on the mission to act like tourists and probably break the statute of whatever those wizards called it. It was weird not having her wand sticking out of her back pocket after so long carrying it around at camp. Instead she had tucked it inside the longer front pockets of her jeans. It was lovely to have warm enough weather to be able to wear jeans and a t-shirt again. Not that she had ever stopped wearing them, even in the snow. "The tower of London sounds good for a first stop" she said, turning back to the group. Wasn't that where they kept the fancy ass crown thing? No way that they just let visitors see that though.

After they had emerged from the station, when Acacia looked back at Cyrus and Elias she noticed that he was doing something with his hands. Oh. That was sign language. She felt like shit. How hadn't she noticed before? He must have thought that she was excluding him or something by not signing while she spoke. She didn't even know LSC, let alone whatever strange sign language these Americans spoke. Dammit. Fumbling around in her pockets, she came up with the back of some guitar sheet music and the worlds tiniest stub of a pencil. Leaning it against her leg, she scribbled down Sorry don't know how to sign. Paper gonna have to work 4 now. Thinking London Tower 1st?.

threading as Johannes Sauer

speaking in english(!!) unless specified

Outfit===

After the mixed bag of summer camp (what with the terribly warm enchanted weather, marshmallow-demon slug trauma and absolutely stunning quidditch experience), Johannes was in no real rush to navigate the imminent onset of his eighth year. Gatekeeping his brilliant friends from their own questionable decisions was hard work but manoeuvring around Pack politics was harder. Sometimes, all he needed was the imitation of normalcy, even if it came in the form of a 6'3 blonde American with two kids tailing him. Less than enthusiastic about returning to Frankfurt and more than used to doing whatever he wanted within set parameters, Johannes saw little harm in joining a quartet's worth of near-strangers on a little London escapade. Maybe it'd be fun? It wasn't as if he planned to visit again soon. If any of his sensible protective friends saw the hypocrisy in this... no, they didn't.

Cyrus seemed chill enough, had good vibes and terrible fashion taste. The only exception to Duckduckgo's generic dad attire was his rubber ducky sunglasses— those were quite cute. Very on-brand considering he'd met the American distributing toy ducks to the public like Gideons and their bibles. As for the other two... Well, they seemed refreshingly normal and well-adjusted enough. Could he complain about people he only knew by proxy? (He could, but shush.) Johannes had too much school loyalty to openly admit Durmstrang's flaws, but there was a definite amount of sheer audacity that drove success in their militaristic school. Utter presumptuousness. It was rather charming at their highest ranks of respect— simply insolent at the lowest. And Johannes needed more casual almost-friends anyway, even if they were from other schools. The type that didn't necessarily demand his entire self and avoided conversations about awkward topics like 'How many hours of sleep did you have last night?' or 'Was that the 4th lollipop you've had in an hour?'. You know, less high-maintenance things like that.

The Tube was loud, almost gratingly so after spending most of the year in relative mechanical peace. Between helping to corral the kids on and off the train, Johannes spent the trip half-heartedly scrolling through his (way too many) unread notifications to avoid worrying too much. They could have been on the New York subways or Moscow Metro or in the middle of the goddamn ocean for all of his familiarity with London's public transport system. Cyrus seemed to know where they were going, at least... Tagging along good-naturedly, he permitted Elias' clinging as they navigated out of the station and into central London proper.

As knowledgable as a real junior tour guide, Ducklifors sounded particularly admiring of the technological wonder that was Apple Pay. It truly would be their saving grace, for Johannes didn’t have the patience to sort out bills in front of an underpaid worker at a currency exchange counter with two random kids in tow. What the hell was a sterling pound and why did their banknotes have long quotes on them?? The mere thought of it made him want to die inside... No, they instead had the convenience of tap-to-pay and maybe three financial brain cells. Congratulations team, they were unofficially some of the wizarding world's most modern vacationists.

Between the eyeliner, fishnet and all-black outfit in the middle of summer, Johannes looked well at odds with the rest of the group. He'd stomp the weatherman's recommendations under his heel for everyone's sake, don't worry! Even so, his impressed admiration for the pale-bricked limestone Tower of London signalled that he, too, was not immune to pretty tourist attractions. Though partially blocked by trees and passing traffic, the castle looked as nice (and popular) as any travel guide would suggest. “We'd better walk over and line up soon, then. It looks busy around here." This is what happened when they played tourists on a Sunday in summer— so many other people had the same idea. They weren't exactly swimming in people and places to go, but the Hellhound expected to calculate a decent wait time into their itinerary.

A playground and souvenir place sounded fun enough, but how long were they hanging out anyway? Were there places they could go without buying tickets in advance? Maybe Cyrus had been researching earlier, or perhaps everyone had an idea of curfew and Johannes was too much of a latchkey child to catch on. Suddenly aware of how young half of the party was, he did not want to face the wrath (or tears) of overprotective families. "Say, can we even take these two on a tour bus without like... proof of guardianship or something? Parent permission and all that shit." Good luck and bad security had let them get past the station barriers but their flimsy excuses definitely couldn't hold up to real questioning. They barely knew each other, let alone enough to make a believable, consistent cover story. Being turned away for being pitiful and/or accused of a crime like child abduction or something would be a terrible way to start the day.

Especially since one of them couldn't communicate verbally to defend their case. Shit. Johannes scrutinized Acacia's stubby little pencil and their four-person method of communication, mentally kicking himself for not figuring things out sooner. For all of his multilingualism, Johannes' knowledge didn't extend to any sign language... but it would be shitty of him to exclude the kid because of his own ignorance. Both Elias and Acacia seemed too young to be on social media, so it wasn't as if they could make a group chat or something. Faced with this predicament, he turned to rifling through the many inner pockets of his jacket. Adaptation was the name of the game and they were not going to lose their place on the leaderboard.

Aha! He fished out a few spare pens of different colours, including one that had somehow turned a bright, sparkly(??) pink since the last time he'd seen it. When the hell did he get that? It looked almost garish in the London sun compared to its more sensible black and blue counterparts. Visibly bewildered with his own stationery, Johannes nonetheless offered them to their young charges. "Here. So you don't have to share that little pencil." They'd be free to run wild with the gel pens, even if he didn't have extra paper or something more convenient to write on.

Roleplaying as Hans Jenssen

Hans, I need to go to an urgent appointment soon, sorry, will come pick you up at Tower Hill 2 and a half hours later. Feel free to explore the city.

It was an immense relief to have his phone working (and in urgent need of charging, thank God he brought a power bank) once more at the end of summer camp, yet on the other hand, he was greeted with this particluar message. Got it, he had replied, yet despite this seemingly indifferent dismissal of Opa¹'s late arrival, with most of his friends returning to Russia, he would find it difficult to entertain himself in a foreign country. Exiting the Wizarding area of the city and after a few raised eyebrows at an accompanied minor waltzing about, Hans managed to get himself onto a taxi to the Tower of London. Hopping out of the cab with a quick "thank you", his destination was the souvenir shop to buy the obligatory magnet for his mother. With the miniature tower lodged in his pocket, he stepped back into the sun (a rare occasion, considering his location) and squinted at the tower, open hours unaccommodating the time of dismissal.

And what now? As Hans drowned into the crowd enveloping him, evening rush hour noise soon faded into the background, a car's honk, a heated argument, a pleasant exchange... the cacophonous clamour becoming irrelevant in stark comparison to the revel and play mere days ago. Each passing pedestrian felt far too deprived of zest and life. But with two hours ahead of him, he might as well use the time productively. So, glad an upperclassmen had shrunk his suitcase for him and free from the burden of large luggage, Hans started walking about the area without a clear destination. Heart empty, he grabbed his phone from his pocket once more, and scrolling down to a group chat he had once starred, texted without further ado, Christoph, Erika. Hi, sorry it's been a long time since we last talked. Fuck, this was awkward. I've been without access to my phone, he added. I will come back to Berlin in time for your competition and I promise I'll come. Won't be able to compete myself since a haven't trained in a long time but I'll be there to cheer you guys on. Hitting send, his eyes were glued to the screen as little dots appeared, jiggling across the screen as the words is typing played at his heart when he received no reply. I miss you guys, he continued. Lets hang out sometime, he typed, before moving back to add "again". Once more, Erika is typing. Sure, East Side² on Tuesday?

Looking up from his phone in time to find his shoulder bumping into a stranger, he was about to mutter an apology and he might have done so if he had not realised who said "stranger" was. 'Oh fuck,' Hans said in unimpressed German instead as he took a step back to be greeted by none other than the curly-haired, eyeliner-wearing Johannes Sauer. 'It's you.' Eyes slipping away from his schoolmate's intense grey and to the assembled individuals beside him, Hans gave a nod to the "Duck Lord" who had moderated his unofficial Quidditch match. Turning to find two figures he vaguely remembered competed in said match, one alongside him and one against him, he reacted to the odd exchange of stationery with a mere cocked raised and introduced himself for the benefit of the trio in accented English, 'My name is Hans, how are y'all doing?' If Elias was to express any sign that he did not understand this, the German would repeat the message typed out on his phone, accompanied by a badly-spelt apology. Glancing towards the tourist attraction just behind them without regard to whether they had accepted him joining into their little group and with even less regard to the fact the landmark was closed, he said, 'Seems like you guys are touring the city, hm? Well, I might as well join or else I think I would die of boredom just waiting around here.'

Johannes might have been a turn-off, but the Duck Lord seemed cool enough. Not an entirely bad way to spend an evening.

@Koko Riddle as Cyrus Darsel, @Astra Norrick as Elias Travers, @Cass Ito as Acacia Murillo, @Astrea Soleil Neptune as Johannes Sauer

1: Grandpa
2: in reference to one of malls in Berlin

roleplaying as approved inpc elias travers
Eli's ASL + Eli's BSL + Eli's Writing + Eli's Speech
the fit = pastel yellow t-shirt with a pinstriped blue/white short-sleeve button-up as an overshirt, faded loose-fit blue jeans, dingy white Reeboks, gray duffel bag, brown backpack

Elias felt like a total dummy. He still had his notebook, even if he couldn't use the quill in it, so when he saw Acacia scribbling down a note on a crumply piece of paper he suddenly dropped his backpack and began searching through the various items within for his notebook. His fingers lit upon his phone first though, and the Idea struck him.

I have a phone. I can use speech to text. He turned the thing on. It was a relatively new phone with not much on it, and he'd had the good sense (or really his mother had the good sense) to make him charge it before he actually went to camp. Even so, a month was a long time. The phone was at thirty percent or so.

Should be good, right?

However, Elias just didn't think about how bad speech to text would be at picking up voices in this space packed with people and cars and the noises that came with.

He looked at Cyrus' sign, which he thought he understood pretty well except for the finger spelling bit. He didn't think Lomdomnower was a word, but it was easy enough to conjecture the point: London Tower. Acacia's paper was next, corroborating the story.

There were lots of words being exchanged, but Cyrus seemed to be talking the most so Elias mostly looked at him and tried to lip-read. This was not a skill Elias was very proficient in. He mostly ended up very lost, attention flicking between Cyrus and the archaic strings of letters his phone was churning out, until Cyrus told him they were now cousins. A pause and a look of confusion. Then a crisp nod of affirmation. He tilted his head in thought at the camera gesture, not realizing what it meant for longer than he ought. Epiphany hit him, a smile upon his face as he remembered his phone! It had a camera! Delightful!

Elias was assaulted with gel pens then, staring at the bunch now in his hand. Ooh, a glitter one. Not being very well versed in Girls™, he offered that one to Acacia. A new addition to the group caught in the corner of his eye caused him to look over there instead of at Acacia's reaction or where the gel pen ended up.

His phone did not catch New Dude's name. But that was okay, because with the thought of the phone he thought of the camera and he though his parents would be so ecstatic to see pictures of the Tower of London taken by their dear son. He tapped Cyrus' arm and asked We go?

@Koko Riddle + @Cass Ito + @Astrea Soleil Neptune + @Archer Duncan

Interactions: Cyrus Darsel @Koko Riddle | Elias Travers @Astra Norrick | Johannes Sauer @Astrea Solelil Neptune | Hans Jenssen @Archer Duncan Mentions:

Date: 11th of August Location: East Londonish

Boots: x

- Not In Kanas Anymore -

Acacia stretched as she stood around, eyes still getting used to the sunglight after going on the "tube" or whatever English people called it. She guessed it was because the guy who named things was tired and it sort of looked like a tube. Who knew though, it might have some hidden deeper meaning. Whatever it was, it wasn't her problem. What was her problem however, was this tourist trip. She kind of wished they could just hurry up and go see the overpriced sights already. This weather was too cold for her. A cruel mockery of a real summer. She was still excited for all the touristy things for the record. If only they could be a little warmer.

"Sure" she said in response to eyeliner boy. Why everyone liked lining up everywhere was beyond her, specially when there were barely any food stalls to grab a snack from while you waited. "Proof of guardianship my ass, we just get on the bus" she snapped. If this English guy wanted her to get some kind of kiddie card she would tell him exactly where to shove it. Bus drivers weren't paid enough to ask questions anyway. She raised an eye at the sparkly gel pen he offered, and left it hanging in his hand. She was twelve, not five. If he wanted to act like that, she would just cope with her dying pencil.

Eyeliner was getting weirder and weirder in her opinion, as now some kid had popped out of nowhere and knew him. She thought she had seen him around camp somewhere, although all these moody Russian dudes were starting to look the same to her. Hang on, wasn't he on her team for that quidditch game? That fact made her like him a whole lot more. At least he spoke English and wasn't going to make them jump through yet another language barrier. She didn't feel like spending half the trip playing charades. She gave him a nod as he invited himself to the group. "I'm Acacia" she said.

The next piece of news distracted her from their new uninvited arrival, and she wasn't particularly happy about this one either. What did he mean, the tower thing was closed now? She had dragged herself all the way out here and now they were just going to take some pictures? This was bull. "No way" she replied "Surely they would let us in somehow. We can see we forgot our phones or lost our parents or something". He seemed to be excited by the gel pens though. She decided she liked him a lot better than eyeliner boy. "If we only just missed it, then it shouldn't be to hard to make them let us in anyway" she said "Bring the apple pay, lets go get us some tickets".

Elias however, was apparently not a fan of glitter pens. She didn't want one just because he offered it either. Unfortunately she didn't know the sign language for "shove it up your ass and grow a brain, does it look like I want a glitter gel pen to you?". So she sort of just shook her head and side eyed him. Then she pointed at the tower, which would hopefully get the message across that they were going now and didn't have the time to wait around for slowpokes.

threading as Johannes Sauer

speaking in english(!!) unless specified

Outfit===

Apparently, no one cared for the legal gravity of the shit they were pulling. Johannes felt like he was making some very valid points here, yet it was abundantly clear that he was not amongst people who would take his complaints very seriously. As for kids running around wild in Europe… Well, he had little argument against that. Of all people, he was practically a poster child for latchkeyism, but his experience had always been in Germany and not in the middle of touristy central London. If someone, god forbid, ended up on the wrong side of a double-decker bus, no amount of almost-18ism could believably explain jackshit to the authorities. “I don’t know about here, but usually it’s not this big of a group. Or this large of an age gap." Between the four of them, they looked less like one extended family and more like an under-policed youth group with an absent pastor. Where was adult intervention and/or a believable cover story when you needed it?

As if a mind reader, or perhaps just someone with half a brain cell towards deception, Cyrus had suddenly assigned them roles to dramatise. Something about cousins and obviously foreign children staying over somewhere in London... Don’t read into it too much. With a bit of hesitation, Johannes was suddenly Cyrus' buddy. Cue the sarcastic jazz hands because 'buddy' was probably the least impressive moniker he'd ever been called, and he'd been called a lot of dumb shit over the years. ‘Buddy’ was so ‘dysfunctional 1950s dad with a baseball mitt in the front lawn’. Hey, why did Acacia get to be Eli's friend...? Mildly amused and equally unsure if he should be offended at the free-reign motivation offered to him, Johannes took to side-eying his fellow upperclassman. Something told him he'd be doing this a lot in the next few hours. “Whatever you say, Psy-duck. Buddies we are, then."

"I mean, we could try sneaking in." He squinted at the sliver of towering white brick in obvious scrutiny, as if capable of sizing up the security from behind a street-and-a-half of treeline. "Lost family is a good excuse since we're right next to the station. We'd only be more suspicious if we wait too long after they leave." Johannes seriously doubted their success rate, but it was better than nothing. Certainly less risky than attempting to jump fences in broad daylight.

Looking back towards the group, he caught sight of Cyrus’ open Photos app and immediately grimaced. "And, no offence, but that photo looks..." From what little he saw (and there was little to see), it was honestly impressive how pathetic everything seemed from their angle. The view was bad, sure, but it looked worse through a camera. "Really fucking sad, dude. Like, we could at least cross the street if you'd want. It'd be nicer."

At the very least, past the initial attempt at photography, Cyrus knew how to appreciate the novel things in life. Much to Johannes' incredible disappointment, both kids had merely looked at his offered pink gel pen with as much enthusiasm as a man to the gallows. Acacia, in particular, seemed judgemental as shit. Instinctually annoyed at the obvious snub, only Cy-borg's Positive Attitude could hold Johannes' tongue for fear of ruining their masquerade of civility. At least Cyrus was tall so it was easy to look over their short-as-fuck heads without being reminded of their unenviable lack of confrontational skills. Just tell him no. It wasn't that hard. "You want it? I don't know where it came from, but I surely have more somewhere. It's been ages since anyone's used these anyway." The next generation of the wizarding world seemed to not only be softer than expected, but also lacking all of the joy and whimsy befitting their youthful capability. It was somewhat understandable, in some childish 'I want to be cool' sort of way, but still lame. In Johannes' opinion, teenagehood was too short to pass up on things like sneaking out to the playground and shoelacing your peers. Instead of reminiscing about Silly Bandz in the grocery store with their friends, these kids probably gossiped about stickered-up water bottles as a childhood nostalgia kick. What a sad fucking life.

As if adding salt to the wound of simmering indignation, or perhaps just drawn to salt in general, the lovely unexpected quartet of foreign nationals found itself in the custody of yet another literal child. Post-apology, Hans and Johannes' relationship was less antagonistic, but it certainly wasn't preferential to have their party crashed by another person to make a cover story for. At the other's positively charming greeting, Johannes merely levelled an unimpressed look right back. Yeah, he was here— What was Hans going to do about it? Straight fucking nothing. Johannes was perfectly content to politely ignore their newest addition to the group.

Based on their mere 20(?) minutes of interaction, it was an understatement to say that Elias was likely the least problematic kid to handle. Likely the nicest kid they had accompanying them. Johannes felt like an over-strung babysitter already, apparently in the business of wrangling three little kids with only an overenthusiastic extrovert to keep the peace. And maybe a token transit security guard eying them suspiciously in the periphery... Yeah, no. If people were judging them for being nuisances in the middle of the sidewalk, they could suck it. "Let's go then, c'mon." He tapped Cyrus on the arm, shooing forward everyone else, and began walking towards the crosswalk.