open post.

[crumplehorn]

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→ for ~exardescere; i'd heard about you before, i wanted to know some more.

[crumplehorn]

[ Sometimes, you just needed to leave Ottery St. Catchpole.

So Luna had eventually signed on with a magizoology internship, and gone as far abroad as her wandering feet could take her: wanting to see new places and document new creatures, armed with a knife, sturdy boots, handkerchiefs, flint and tinder, good socks, a high-quality camera.

The work placement program in Greece turns out to be a blessing. She unfurls like a plant which had been huddled in on itself for far too long. She gets to stand on the bow of the sailing ship, wind whipping through her already-unruly hair, soaking in the warm sea breeze and rich blue water. The nearby village is cobblestoned lanes and whitewashed walls, buildings teetering on the edge of the cliffs; it's like something out of a picture.

And the others in the program strike up a quick camaraderie, with the older magizoologists mentoring the younger set — some of whom are even younger than she is, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed students fresh out of Hogwarts. Luna's a little on the older end compared to them, although she doesn't mind; she'd had taken a few years to lick her wounds at home, helping with the Quibbler, trying to decide what to do with herself.

It's turned out to be a rewarding trip. The researchers have been been tromping around Karpathos Island cataloguing the flora and fauna off the beaten path from Muggle tourists, going on boat rides, trying to catch a sight of an elusive hippocampus pod.

The latest buzz, though, is that there's been a dragon sighting nearby. This island isn't its native environment at all — but Bulgaria and Romania are just a stone's throw to the north, and for a flying reptile with a giant wingspan, it's not that far a trip.

Which, of course, makes her wonder.

The researchers are in touch with the dragonologists, which eventually confirms her suspicions that they're from Romania, and Rolf doesn't mind when Luna steals one of their many tiny messenger owls to send a message (just this: fancy a drink when you're done? - 🌙). The open-air bar is wizarding-only, tucked away with concealment charms with a view of the ocean as the sun slowly sinks over the horizon, glowing red like an ember. Luna's sitting with her colleagues, slowly sipping a local beer and only half-paying attention to the conversation, when there's the sound of a new group of people arriving. She twists in her chair and glances at the entrance, unconsciously looking for a familiar face to come in with the rest of the group of men, all muddy boots and reeking of smoke. ]