Closed When A Plan Comes Together

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura's research into pacts had mostly brought her to information on warlocks, which wasn't exactly what she was looking for but certainly made for an interesting diversion. She also supposed she couldn't be entirely unsure that her new sort-of-friend wasn't actually a fae being. Maybe entering into a pact with him would seal her magical powers and she could have some sort of excuse or reason for why they were there outside of 'there's just something wrong with me, specifically'.

Suffice it to say she didn't think that warlock pacts were the sort of things she was looking at. Instead, she just brought some of her really nice paper. It was a set of pretty blue invitation paper her mum had bought for her eighth birthday party. It hadn't been used, since her birthday fell on the summer holidays and nobody was going to be around so the party had never happened. At least it would get some use now, along with her pencil case with her nice pens and a box cutter which wasn't the most helpful tool but in the absence of the swiss army knife it would have to do. She had extra bandages on hand, having re-bandaged her knee after a shower, and had considered going to get some cannoli and bring it as a peace offering but decided against it. For all she knew, he wouldn't even like cannoli. Or she'd get the one with pistachios and he'd be allergic to nuts. Or worse, he'd think she was trying to use it as a tool or something that she didn't quite understand, and it would make him angry. Best to avoid that outcome.

Alibi, check, easy out, check, water bottle, check. Noah had waved her right through the fireplace, and before Laura knew it she'd found her way back to the park. Well, it had really been about an extra fifteen minutes of checking her phone map and remembering where certain landmarks were, but her new partner-in-crime didn't need to know that.

Laura fidgeted on the spot. If she stopped to think too long about what she was doing, she'd get antsy and uncomfortable, so she busied herself climbing the nearest tree, hoping to perch on a branch to look out and not think too much about the fact that her mum thought she was at home right now but she was really in another country meeting up with a boy whose name she didn't actually know.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

Alfred legitimately felt like a criminal.
But. He didn't have a curfew. There was no need for one. Alfred was a good boy. He did what was expected, didn't break rules, did chores, finished his homework, and kept his room pristine.

So, technically, he wasn't breaking any rules. Though Alfred, being more mature for his age (in some regards at least), knew he ought to tell his aunt when leaving the house. Especially if he was leaving so late in the evening. But Alfred also knew he would never be given permission if he said he was going to meet a girl at the park. And God forbid his aunt asked weird questions, like who is this girl, and ohhh, is she pretty, do you like her, and then get into things he most definitely didn't want to talk about.

And there was a strong likelihood he would come home heartbroken, and how would he even explain that it was totally not in the way she thought it was?

Not like he could pretend he didn't know what Amelia meant. He had been sending Valentine's Day cards since he was six. His mom even helped him with the spelling, to make sure he wrote “you are pretty” correctly. And then he stopped at eight, because the whole crush thing suddenly became way too serious and embarrassing. Then again, come to think of it, why would Amelia know what he did in kindergarten? And how did he even spiral into thinking about crushes?

Anyway, the point was that not saying anything seemed like the optimal way to do this, given the circumstances.
Or so he told himself, to ease his conscience.

All of this also helped him not think about L, and what he would say, and how that would come out, and how he would have to say things he was most definitely not comfortable sharing, and should not share. Except somehow, if the scales tipped between definitely losing Laura, and maybe not losing Laura by revealing things that would almost kill him, the latter once again proved to be the optimal choice.

He was dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, and even pulled the hood up, to complete his I am a criminal look. It was also probably not okay how exhilarating and exciting this whole experience was.

His backpack, though, held the least criminal things imaginable, like a thermos with peppermint tea, a blanket, band-aids, and a fully charged phone. And a chocolate frog, of course.

Snacks. He forgot snacks. Then again, he was full and he had chocolate for her, and he was in a rush, so whatever.

"L?" The park was unsurprisingly not filled with many people, and given the importance of trees in their first encounter, he made a guess that would be her. Though he would have to walk a few more steps to be certain.​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura wondered if she should apologise to her mother. She was away on a conference, and it wasn't like she had to know this was going on. By the time she was back home, so too would be Laura who would be sat watching a movie like nothing had even happened. It didn't stop the gnawing feeling of guilt in her stomach, but she just had to suck it up and commit to this. It was preparing for magic school, after all, and if her mum didn't want her back after she had to become a witch, then she just had to be able to be a big girl and handle it.

She pulled her jacket a little closer around her and looked around. Hearing a somewhat familiar voice, Laura reached into her backpack, careful not to fall off the branch without her hands supporting her, and flashed her torch as something of a confirmation. "Hey," she called, jumping from the branch with elegance and grace. Well, it was more intentionally sliding off the branch to land on the ground in a way that was more 'barely avoiding clumsy' than 'graceful and elegant', but she'd take that. At least she landed on her feet.

"Hi," she said again, strangely nervous. She supposed, if she thought about it, it was perfectly natural to be nervous to go meet up with someone you barely knew in a kind of conspiratorial way. Secret keeping and all of those things. She rocked on her heels, and realised she was still holding her lit torch, which was pointed at the ground slightly to the side. She flicked the switch, suddenly unsure of where exactly to point it without it being annoying, and took a deep breath. "You know, I think they call the fireplace thing flu powder because it makes you sneeze and feel like you've got a cold. I only just managed to stop. They should probably fix that."

She had no idea why she even said that, and internally slapped her palm to her forehead. She almost did it externally, too, but somehow managed to stop herself.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“Hey,” he called back when he saw the flash, his voice lower than usual. It came out weirdly formal, like he was in some kind of spy movie. Which, to be fair, didn’t feel too far off.

He took the last few steps toward her, hood still up. “Mkay, sounds probable,” he said, giving a quick glance at the tree she'd just come down from. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop a grin, not because it was funny, but because his brain was weirdly hyper and firing off all the wrong reactions. Okay, maybe it was a little funny too, but again, what was one supposed to do when stupid things happened?

“How exactly does it work, though?” He figured he would not comment on the landing. She landed, seemed okay, and that’s what counted. “How does it know where to take you?” While talking, he pulled the backpack off his shoulder and started rummaging through it.

“Oh, and ughh… here.” He finally found what he was looking for and held it out, awkwardly. “Thanks.”
It was the stupid frog.​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura almost bent over to try and peer under the hood to check it was in fact the right person and she hadn't just started rambling to a stranger. She figured the second she said something about magic to someone who wasn't magic the magic cops (who she presumed existed) would swarm on her location and send her to magic jail. Which she assumed was worse than magic school, as theoretically you could sometimes leave magic school and go home. They hadn't, so she figured she was fine. She supposed she got a pass with her mum, though, because her mum couldn't be completely left in the dark about it. Laura just avoided talking about it any more than she needed to, since the m-word made everything uncomfortable.

She ran her thumb over the switch of the torch, resisting the urge to turn it on and off as that would almost definitely be annoying. "Uhh," she paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it. "It's like, you step into a fireplace, throw the powder down and say the name of where you're going. Then bam, you feel so weird for a moment and you're in the other place. I think they have to be magic fireplaces but I don't really know. It's all still so weird." She was very quick to talk it back down, lest it seem like there was something about magic she actually liked. Even if that was kind of the case.

"Oh," she started, a bit surprised and suddenly feeling a fresh wave of guilt rising in her chest. At least the frog confirmed that yes, in fact, it was who she thought she was (though at that point she really didn't have any doubt). "Um, thank you, you really didn't have to, and I'm sorry if I made it sound like you did..." she trailed off, shyly taking the proffered frog and not really sure whether to continue to defend and explain herself. Which would probably just end up meaning she'd get confused herself trying to justify the internal logic. She opened her mouth, looking like she was about to say something, before closing it again, hunching down a little in her jacket.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

Alfred didn’t say anything at first and she didn’t seem to know what to do with her words either. The fireplace stuff didn't seem important anymore, neither did the chocolate, which he'd bought more out of stubbornness than anything else.

"It’s Alfred, by the way," he put his backpack back on. "My name, I mean."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, unable to remember how basic human interactions worked. Were they supposed to walk somewhere? Sit down? What did normal people even do in situations like this? And more importantly, wasn't he one of them? So why did it feel like he'd missed that particular life lesson?

"Figured you ought to know, before…"

He trailed off, his nerves spiking. Before what? This felt way too formal now, like he'd announced something big. And what if she thought this was some huge prelude to an epic confession?

But there was no giant reveal, nothing extraordinary. What he had was problems. Insecurities. Questions. Weird feelings that didn't make sense most of the time. And he knew exactly what his parents would say. He had a roof over his head. He went to good schools. He was lucky. So how come he felt so wrong most of the time, even though everything looked fine on paper?

And what was he going to do now? Tell her he was just an ungrateful brat?
Suddenly it all felt.. small.​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura felt like she was being more careful than usual. She was usually pretty careful as it was, but the loom of the unknown made her feel especially cautious. It wasn't just a matter of walking into her classroom and casually becoming acquainted. Her aunt had warned her that people might be judgmental because of her not having magical parents. It wasn't like she could just walk in and talk about what footy team people followed. Most of them wouldn't know what she was talking about.

Equally carefully, she pocketed the chocolate for later and looked at the boy - Alfred, she knew now - not wanting to interrupt. Of course, he could've been making up another name, but she had no reason to believe he was. It was that classic intuition, much easier to activate face to face. Either he was a really, really good liar, or as Laura was pretty certain, he was telling the truth. She smiled, tilting her head to try and get a look at his face. Now she wasn't sure whether or not to shake hands, or something, or if him telling her his name was a sign he actually was a fae being and she was about to get trapped.

"It's good to meet you, Alfred. Properly." She hoped that wasn't weird to say, and held her hands behind her back. Maybe not shaking hands, then. She wasn't quite sure what to do with them. "I like Alfred more than John, anyway." Ugh, now she just sounded like a grandma. She wasn't sure whether or not to press him on the unfinished sentence, and ended up leaving it hanging. "But I promise I'll call you John if we're being all secretive. Don't want your identity being revealed to just anyone." She wasn't completely divorced from the idea that maybe he was secretly some sort of prince or someone important, but she was certain he'd have made fun of her if she told him. Maybe if they became close friends, she would.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

Alfred shifted his weight and blinked as something in his chest unknotted. He caught the movement of her arms and thought she was about to offer a handshake. So he started lifting his right arm before he realized she was moving hers the opposite direction. He tried to cover the failed attempt by lifting it all the way up to pull down his hood.

"Yeah, I actually prefer John," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Makes it sound like I've got a secret agent file somewhere." He gave a short pause. "You know, like, John. Age eleven. Shoots arrows. Might be magical."
He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at his shoes.
"Okay. Weird question. Do you ever feel like…. Like you don't really know if the version of you people see is actually you?" The second it was out, it felt way too serious. Way too much.

"Sorry. That was random. I just, umm… yeah. Anyway. I brought a blanket if you wanna sit somewhere. Or we can get up in the tree. Just standing here feels weird. Wait, no.." He rubbed his hands over his face and eyes like he was trying to shake himself awake or snap out of it or something.
"I keep doing that. Saying stuff and then pulling back. Kinda hoping it's not gonna go like that the whole night."​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

The corner of Laura's mouth twitched into something more of a smirk as she nodded in a way she hoped was sagely. "Now I'm regretting not having a code name." She wondered what her file would be, but figured there wasn't anything interesting to put on it. She was far too ordinary, at least she'd certainly argue that to be the case. "I definitely need to see the arrow shooting stuff sometime. If that'd be okay, and all." Laura didn't want to overstep, but she was extremely curious considering how cool it sounded.

Maybe she shouldn't have asked, as the next comment gave her pause. She thought for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah." She looked down at her shoes, shuffling a little on the spot. "I mean, everyone kind of goes 'oh, you're his kid' and just kinda decide stuff about me anyway. And my aunt says people just kind of decide who they want you to be and don't care about who you really are, so," she said with just a tiny hint of bitterness, before looking back up and swallowing down that bitter honesty. Laura shrugged. "Er, sorry, that probably wasn't what you meant," she backtracked. And the apology just made her choke back a small laugh.

"No, it's okay, now I'm doing it too," Laura admitted, pulling her bag back around to her front to rifle through it to keep her hands busy. "Sitting down on a blanket seems nice. Or lying down and looking up at the sky. I can't see stars at home. It's nice to look at 'em, sometimes." Laura wondered if that was possibly too boring, but it was at least something to vaguely relax with, perhaps.

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

"Yes!" he said, clapping his hands once before snapping his fingers and pointing straight at her. "We could definitely watch the stars. I have tea too, if you want! Peppermint. My favorite." He was way too relieved. If they could just lie down, maybe he wouldn't be so acutely aware of his body and how it never seemed to know what to do around her.

"Oh, and you could be Jane. Jane Doe. It’s literally the same as John, just for girls." He motioned them towards a place where the view to the sky wouldn’t be obscured by trees. "And that's actually exactly what I meant." His tone grew more serious. He paused to unzip his backpack and take out the blanket.

He wanted to elaborate why he'd asked that, but being in motion didn't help with gathering his thoughts, and most importantly he caught an interesting detail. “What did you mean by that? His kid? He did something bad?” Alfred laid the blanket on the grass and adjusted the edges until it sat right. "Please," he pointed for her to get comfortable, while he started to take off his shoes, forgetting for a second it might come off as strange to some people.​

 

[Laura Zavaglia]

Laura was relieved her suggestion went well and impressed that Alfred had brought tea. Normally she was good at planning ahead, but she hadn't really thought of that beyond bringing her own water bottle. Maybe she should've bought the cannoli. "I don't think I've had peppermint tea before," she said, a little shyly. As though she feared she might not like it and that might offend him, somehow. Or she was uncultured for not having tried it. Her mum usually drank black tea, maybe lemon, honey and ginger in the winter to stave off colds. But she liked mint candies, so the tea would probably be nice.

"Then...Jane, age eleven, has a mean drop punt and might be magical...I guess," she added that last bit as more of an aside, still hating the idea of admitting it but hating her possessions and environment lashing out at her, presumably through her own magic making them do it. She could put two and two together. After all, she was pretty decent at maths.

She didn't move to take off her own shoes, mostly because she didn't want to be bothered unlacing them and wanted to keep her feet warm if it got colder. Then she wondered if it was rude to have them on on the blanket, like how some people had rules you had to take off your shoes in their houses. She gingerly instead angled herself so her feet weren't on the blanket while the rest of her was, and lay back to look up at the sky. Then she realised her ponytail was in the way, so sat back up, pulled the elastic out of her hair and slipped it around her wrist, and then lay down again. She wouldn't say anything about the shoes if he didn't comment on the hair, she decided.

"Er, not really," she started, not used to having to actually explain this. It was perhaps a good thing, in the sense she got to decide her own story, but it still felt a little embarrassing. A lot embarrassing, really. She didn't know why. "He's a footy player - that's Aussie rules football - and in Melbourne footy is like a religion." Laura always took that as given, she was a fan herself, but she never really contemplated how odd it could be until she had tried to explain it to people who weren't from there. "He played for the biggest team, the worst team, so when he ditched his wife and baby for someone else it was scandalous," she explained, emphasizing the word in a slightly silly way. "So people are like oh, how tragic for you, or oh you probably play just like him, oh you must be keeping his name for cred, and like I said, I barely know him. I'm me." She fidgeted with the hair elastic, turning her head to look at Alfred. She suddenly desperately wanted to change the subject. "What's Norway like?"