Well here goes nothing, I guess :P Here's the first part of the fill. Sorry it's so short; I just finished up finals week. Not Brit-picked or beta-ed for now. Constructive criticism is welcome!
Newt wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. “There,” of course, appeared to be some sort of… office? It almost felt too sterile to be one; too impersonal and confined, no pictures or windows, just tall shelves full of books and glinting objects pushed against bland walls and crowding in the furniture. He shifted in place, shattered glass and splintered wood near his feet crunching softly, the remains of something that someone (he had a feeling it had been him) had broken. Newt didn’t remember dropping whatever it was, but people had always told him he was clumsy.
What he did know, though, was that there had been a blinding light, like someone had cast lumos right in front of him, and when the spots had cleared from his vision he’d been standing in a room full of strangers, and he hated strangers. Currently, “noisy arguing” was making it’s way higher on his “things to hate” list. Something about the voices, the urgency, the loudness, or maybe it was the adults themselves, unknown factors in a confined space, that made his heart pound uncomfortably and forced his attention down to the floor, the glass shards, the desk and its single chair, and an open suitcase resting nearby.
Re: Fill Part 1/?
Newt wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. “There,” of course, appeared to be some sort of… office? It almost felt too sterile to be one; too impersonal and confined, no pictures or windows, just tall shelves full of books and glinting objects pushed against bland walls and crowding in the furniture. He shifted in place, shattered glass and splintered wood near his feet crunching softly, the remains of something that someone (he had a feeling it had been him) had broken. Newt didn’t remember dropping whatever it was, but people had always told him he was clumsy.
What he did know, though, was that there had been a blinding light, like someone had cast lumos right in front of him, and when the spots had cleared from his vision he’d been standing in a room full of strangers, and he hated strangers. Currently, “noisy arguing” was making it’s way higher on his “things to hate” list. Something about the voices, the urgency, the loudness, or maybe it was the adults themselves, unknown factors in a confined space, that made his heart pound uncomfortably and forced his attention down to the floor, the glass shards, the desk and its single chair, and an open suitcase resting nearby.