Re: [the woods - cave mouth: adrian/newt]
He'd been wandering for some time, really. The ghost of fire kept the forest warm and the humidity of the waning summer kept that warmth too close to the skin. Already feeling rather ill, Newt's pallor deepened as he raked the area, apparating and disapparating, popping here and there in flashes of magic and stuffy air. If nothing else, at least he could cover ground with astonishing speed.—More than once, he stopped to tend to a frightened animal, to soothe its burns or encourage some growth in the variety of weeds at the base of a tree, so they could feel they'd some coverage from the terror they didn't understand reigning overhead.
By the time he arrived at the caves, Newt felt as if his insides were jittering all over the place, and he'd stopped once to be sick. He reapplied his charm, which cottoned over some of the shrieks and cries of the forest in pain, as well as the incessant resonance of the buzzing that'd caused all of this. Mopping at his brow with a limp sleeve, he needed to take a moment to gather himself before disapparating again, and it was in that moment taken that he noticed the wisping scud of blackness breaking away from the cave mouth before him.
He recognized it instantly.
His wand was gripped in one sweaty palm, but he kept his hand low at his side as he walked slowly and gingerly toward the cave. "Adrian? It's Newt. Can you hear me?"