Former IC Thread [The Exodus of Fables]

[Erica]

Archer Robert Moore (Robin Hood)

Merry Men Headquarters // Marian's Home on Citron Court, Emerald City
​

3:12 PM

​

UNKNOWN

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Deadbeat great-grandfather: We'll be having dinner at 6pm at 1023 Citron Court here in Emerald City. Please text back how many we should expect to actually attend.

right

Flippant great-granddaughter: plan on 4, maybe 5. Not to reinforce your perception that I’m undependable.

right

Thanks for watching over her. See you tonight.

5:30 PM

​

After much thoughtful consideration, Rob could only conclude that Emerald City was a magnet for trouble. On top of everything else, Will Scarlett was in town, still set on revenge; and he would be attending dinner tonight. The resulting powder keg of potential problems was enough to make Rob want to retire to the woods. Or whatever passed for woods around here. Of course that was probably nothing more than a single tree, surrounded by concrete.


Alan was incommunicado, which could mean he was researching the job, off with a girl, or lost in his music somewhere. Hell, he might have sensed the amount of drama about to unfold and decided to dodge Rob’s phone calls. If so, he didn’t blame him.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Robin_modern.jpg.d7e81b4528df371176f55062863a1ece.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="31974" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_10/Robin_modern.jpg.d7e81b4528df371176f55062863a1ece.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Rob had taken some time to collect himself, change into something more respectable, and select a bottle from his small but private wine collection before meeting the others downstairs. Matthew’s foresight in arranging for a luxury SUV was commendable. Despite the tension remaining between him and his once-protégé, he complimented Much on his work and hoped for the best.


Ultimately Claire’s text message set the tone. Tonight was not a casual dinner: it was peace talks.


He had nearly popped out to acquire flowers, but the situation was complicated enough without romantic gestures. (Besides, seeing Little John dewy-eyed disturbed him on a fundamental level, and he didn’t want to encourage her teasing.) So, with the bottle of wine under his jacketed arm, he hopped into the front seat and watched as the city streets slowly transformed into suburbia. Houses grew larger and farther apart, the amount of green increased, and Rob’s nerves started dancing a tango.


There should have been conversation, but the ride proved surprisingly devoid of laughter or commentary. Johnna seemed to sense he needed silence and Matthew was either focused on the road or his simmering anger. Perhaps the sight of a bottle of alcohol in his hand had stilled both their tongues. As Matthew parked the car in the ample driveway a few minutes before six, Rob took a moment to survey the “humble” house that Marian called home.


Some things never changed. Marian still led a life of privilege - one he would jeopardize by his very presence - and she was still likely to assist them regardless of the risks. Taking a slow breath, he donned his best neutral expression and exited the vehicle, trailing behind Johnna and Matthew as they approached the door.

 

[Ashurbanipal]

Captain Hook​

The Ticking Clock - Backstage​

​

"You performed wonderfully," Hook repeats, fixing the easily-dazzled girl with a firm look. "You're always making up problems in your head, sweetheart." As she falls silent, he keeps his hand atop her form, the weight of his palm a noticeable presence against her scalp--and the texture of it as he scratches her clear, his fingers rough, well-worn and strong, the sort of hands that can handle a rope, or a wheel, or a sword.


The strength to kill easily becomes the strength to scritch and scratch. The promise behind both actions remains the same.


"You lost your diary again," he criticizes observantly, albeit gently, and from a pocket within his jacket he takes it out. "You're lucky I've got good eyes. One of these days you'll misplace it, and you won't remember a thing; or, even worse, someone might sniff out all your terrible secrets."


He winks, and slyly presses a finger against his nose.


"I won't tell a soul, though. Every good adventure has a few mysteries. And every good adventurer has their own."


Such a precious thing, memories, especially for a girl like Gwendolyn. Her mind is a fractured thing, damaged by the turning of the world and the ending of the stories--even Hook only remembers them the way one might remember a dream, wisp-like and ephemeral, with details that change with each recollection and an inconstant narrative. He was no hero. He was a villain. There was a great, hungry beast, and he killed, and was respected and feared.


At least some things never change.


Memories, though, they do. But that is why a diary is such a precious thing. To spare the mind the burden of thought, and put memory to paper, almost imperishable, as though transcribing a bit of the soul into the ink--pouring oneself into the words until the sentences and paragraphs blend together into an image of the person themselves, through their own eyes.


So easy, then, to rewrite just a little bit here and there.


"Take the rest of the night off. I can see the bruises on your shins--you need to work on covering those up. I've told you a hundred times. Go rest in our room."


He's still no hero.

 

[Syrenrei]

Marian Greene (Maid Marian)

A Not-So-Humble Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

Marian knew when she had arrived home from the book signing she had to take quick, decisive action on the menu. There was no time to spare with reminiscing and idle pondering. After only ten minutes of intense contemplation she had called upon a couple friends in the area- one was a baker that operated a highly regarded pastry shop and the other a chef at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. Neither was privy to her true identity, of course, but she had always respected a good cook. After a few years of being a repeat generous customer it had been easy for her to make acquaintances with many of the culinary aficionados. Claire said it was hard to not be friends with Marian once you met her, but the elder lady was still careful to keep a distance. If they knew too much it would have meant severing the relationship.


The baker was a sweet middle-aged woman who had learned the craft from her mother and grandmother before her. Her son was currently in culinary school in the hopes of taking over the family business once she retired. When she asked for some fresh rye bread, her friend also recommended some fresh dinner rolls and absolutely insisted on sending along a lemon cake, her treat, for desert.


The chef, a slightly cantankerous man with a thick Eastern European accent that was hard to place, was who she called for the steaks. She expected that "three or four" men would need a robust, meaty entree. Johnna wasn't exactly a light eater either. Her old friends deserved only the best, so she had called upon her chef friend as both a butcher and also a man who had access to some of the finest grade available. Since dinner service was in full swing, he had to have one of his sons come fetch the six Wagyu rib-eyes from the restaurant and deliver them, already seasoned, to Marian.


By the time Robin rang the doorbell she had laid out the place settings for six, though she used her normal plates instead of some sort of finery. Though she was crafting them a veritable feast she did not want the Merry Men to feel uncomfortable- and back in the day they certainly weren't high society. The steaks were cooked and resting on a large ceramic plate. The fresh loaf of rye bead had been sliced and she had whipped butter (with a touch of honey) for a side dish. The dinner rolls were lightly wrapped in a warm linen napkin and placed in a small wicker basket. The other accompaniments were less fantastic: corn lightly seasoned with salt, butter, and Parmesan; roasted asparagus; a simple garden salad with a variety of dressings; "mash"- mashed potatoes with cream, chives, butter, and a touch of milk. She didn't have much in the way of beer, but she had some ale and wine in her cellar that she could offer if they weren't satisfied with water or tea.


When her doorbell rang, she practically jumped a foot in the air and started in a jog towards the source before regaining her composure. A bright, sincere, and slightly contagious grin was on her face as she flung open her door to great her guests. Robin was standing with a bottle of wine nestled under an arm with Much and Johnna by his side. It was difficult for her to read from their expressions whether they were all truly as excited to be here as she was. It didn't matter. Even if tomorrow they all lost their agelessness and turned to dust, this moment was enough joy to make her contentedly waste away. The years of estrangement meant nothing as she practically leapt at Johnna and Much to at least attempt to give them both a tight hug. It was good to see them living and well after so much had happened. They were ageless but not immortal.


"I missed you all so terribly," she admitted. "I was afraid you might not want to come. Oh, where are my manners? Come on in. I live alone, so we'll have absolute privacy. If you decide to drink heavily or just stay late, I also have a few guest bedrooms if you like." After all, they weren't called the Merry Men for their joint sobriety.

 

[Ayl]

Sebastian W. Scathelocke

A long due reunion


The silver lion that served as a handle for the cane was being crushed by Sebastian's grip as he kept tapping it on the taxi's floor repeatedly, his mind lost deep in thoughts as the buildings of the city went by in a dash. The text Johnna sent him with the address where Marian was holding her dinner was on his dormant cellphone, but that wasn't the reason he wasagitated. In his meeting with the contact, which was part of the mob, no doubt, judging by the paranoia, Sebastian had learnt just how deep the corruption in this city ran.


The main piece of information that bugged him was the huge coincidence of having both his last targets in the same city at the same time. He still didn’t knew their identities, but he knew the common denominator: Guy Gisborne. If Will could get to Guy, he could interrogate him about who his targets were, and hunt them down. Again, it was obvious he could never undergo such an operation by himself. He needed help, the help of the Merry Men.


Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder how would they react when they would see him. Johnna’s reaction was strong, but understandable. She was the most emotional among them, after all. Even Will had troubles keeping a calm view over matters from time to time, but he did have some self control as well. Afterall, it was Robin’s job to keep things in perspective. Not an easy job, considering how hard Will punched him so long ago. Sebastian was never too close to Marian. He did acknowledged her skills with a sword, though, but still nowhere near his skills. He wasn’t known through ballads and songs as the best swordsman of the Merry Men for naught, after all.


As far as he knew, Tuck was in Florida, USA. Never has there been a more confusing country than the United States, from Will’s point of view, anyhow. But then again, nothing beats not able to die of natural causes on the scale of oddities and supernatural. Will was rather biased about this unnatural lifespan, for it allowed him to hunt down the ones responsible for the death of his wife, but he did sometimes wonder what would he do when his vendetta would be over, each time casting the question aside and moving on.


The wheels stopped as the cab finally reached its destination. After passing a bill to the driver, letting out a “Keep the change!”, Sebastian got out of the car and gave one, thorough glance of the mansion. It was grand, in the old English style he liked so much. At the door, he spotted the ones he hadn’t seen in centuries, as the door opened and figure came into the open. No doubt Marian, who was quick to greet the group. Slowly, Will advanced towards the door, donning a customary smirk, cane in hand.


Once the distance was close enough, he spoke out, to announce his presence, in a calm and subtly amused tone: “Well, no hugs for me?”.

 

[Elle Joyner]

- Johnna Little -

Marian's Place
​

It was difficult, separating out her frustrations. Something which should have felt like Christmas morning was soured, even minutely as it was, by the incident at her apartment, and she was, frankly, furious. But it wouldn't do to be an unpleasant guest... Much or Matthew or whatever he wanted to be called these days seemed to have that disposition covered anyhow, and as miserable as she felt about the destruction of her property, and invasion of her privacy she was much too excited to let it ruin her night. But some things were easier said than done.


The car ride was a quiet, stormy one... and Johnna was beginning to doubt her abilities to sublimate her feelings, but as they pulled up outside of Marian's residence she felt a sudden and inexplicable bubbling in her chest and almost instantly, the irritation seemed to melt away.


This was it. This was the reunion she had been praying for all these years... and it was happening. Maybe it wasn't perfect... maybe it wasn't everything she had ever hoped. They weren't all of them there, and there was still a tension about them that was impossible to ignore, but it was a step... albeit a small one... in the right direction, and for that, Johnna could put anything aside.

As Robin knocked, Johnna rocked back and forth on her heels, grinning like an imp while they waited. Robin seemed nervous, which was good... Nervous meant he felt like there was a chance he could mess up, which meant he cared enough about not messing up to make a good impression. If things went well... If they did everything right...


The door opened and Marian stepped out and for a beat, Johnna was sure she was going to either burst into tears or squeal... but she had enough training over the years to maintain her composure and as Marian stepped forward to hug her she resisted the urge to giggle like a moron and dissolve into a girlish mess. Play it cool... don't seem too eager... If it didn't work out, if they didn't reconnect, it would hurt less that way.


Returning the hug, she offered a bright smile and shrugged, tucking a strand of shock-blue hair behind her ear, "You know I'd have come ages ago, but someone had to make sure these fools didn't fall apart... They're hopeless without supervision..."


She winked, and started for the door when the sound of footsteps gave her pause. She'd almost completely forgotten... stupid, since she'd been the one to invite him in the first place. She recognized the pace, the gait... Turning to look over her shoulder she hid a grin, giving Will as casual a nod as she could muster up.


"And this one... always so damn needy."

 

[Erica]

Archer Robert Moore (Robin Hood)

Marian's Home on Citron Court, Emerald City
​

Breathe.


The seconds before the door opened stretched into agonizing infinity. In that hollow expanse, Rob thought of a dozen reasons to leave and a baker’s dozen to stay. It all boiled down to one thing though: the woman who opened the door. Marian.


Her smile was daylight. Unconsciously, he reflected it back in a smile of his own. She greeted Much and Little John with affection, and for a shining, glorious moment, time stood still and all was right with the world. Maybe Johnna had been right to press for this reunion. Then Marian mentioned drinking and he was startled back into remembering that they were not the people they had once been, able to pick up where they left off without noting and feeling the scars over the years. His smile faded by a single degree in response.


"You know I'd have come ages ago, but someone had to make sure these fools didn't fall apart... They're hopeless without supervision..."


The chatter was a balm to his soul. Leave it to Johnna. Admittedly, it was a sorry day when Little John had to serve as mediator, but he would take it. He took a minute step forward, ready to lead the group inside in Marian’s wake. But before he could speak, a taxi pulled up Marian’s long driveway, depositing Will Scarlet among the group. He arrived with a quip about a hug. While Johnna teased and pretended she wasn’t affected by Will’s presence (he knew better, but saw no point rubbing it in), Robin’s gaze locked briefly on the cane in his old friend’s hand for three heartbeats, each one more painful.


Then he took three large steps down off the shallow stairs leading to Marian’s door, offering his once-friend his hand and a warm smile. “Good to see you, Will. I’m glad you decided to join us.” Centuries of unresolved issues lay between them, but at the moment, he wanted his friend to know he was genuinely thankful to see him.

 

[Syrenrei]

Marian Greene (Maid Marian)

A Not-So-Humble Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

"Shall I give you a hug or should Johnna be my proxy?" Marian teased gently. It was far too early for such prodding but she simply couldn't help herself as she drifted past her enamored friend and hugged the overly-tall Will Scarlett. She didn't care what they called themselves these days, honestly. Robin was Robin, Johnna was Johnna, Much was Much, and Will was Will. Undoubtedly they all had pseudonyms to help hide their true identities as she did. Regardless, she held onto the name 'Marian' in one identity constantly as if to help herself remember who she was under so many layers of disguise and benign deception.


"I thought you all would still have your ravenous appetites, so I have some fine cuts of steak, fresh bread, and plenty of sides to gorge yourselves on." Out of the corner of her eye she had caught a slightly distressed flicker in Robin's visage as he gazed at Will's cane. While the cane certainly implied an injury that would require such a walking implement, she treated it with more scrutiny. It could be for show and add to his aura of pomp and wealth. More importantly, she knew it to be capable of concealing a blade within. The man was searching the world for enemies that were obscured and could appear at any moment- it was only prudent to remain armed. Marian had nary a concern that somehow any weapon Will possessed would be earnestly turned on his former comrades.


She trusted all of them no matter how estranged they had become over the years.


With her greetings concluded she daintily leaped back into the front hall. In her earnest excitement to see her old friends she had dashed outside barefoot and the chill of night was becoming swiftly uncomfortable to her feet. Every direction they looked was a testament to her love to their home country. The inner architecture remained true to an English sense of style and appeal, including the front closet that was opened just a sliver if they wished to deposit a coat. Marian beckoned them down a hallway to the kitchen that at first seemed no more unusual than the rest of the house... but there they were.


Portraits.


Striking portraits had been commissioned years ago and lined the hallway that Marian frequented every day multiple times and that guests occasionally traveled through. Each one of them had an oil painting of their likeness (perhaps thoughtfully enhanced to be slightly more stunning) along the right wall. The left was adorned with those of her children in order of birth: James, Henry, Margaux, Colette, and George. The latter two were born after she and Robin had separated and thus were unfamiliar to her comrades. There was no portrait of Marian herself on either wall.

 

[Ayl]

Sebastian W. Scathelocke

Forsaken Memories


"Shall I give you a hug or should Johnna be my proxy?"


Will couldn't help but smirk at the remark from Marian, as she stepped down and embraced him. "Do not worry, she already had the pleasure of jabbing me! I forgot the last time I was punched so gracefully." he chuckled. As he placed his arm on Marian's back for the brief and friendly hug, Will watched as Robin, the man he considered his best friend so long ago, stared at the cane that kept his other hand busy.





"Sebastian" also caught Marian's quick glimpse at the instrument, and his smirk widdened for a second, letting go of the maiden to properly shake Robin's hand, which was now awaiting his. “Good to see you, Will. I’m glad you decided to join us.”. Although years had passed, and neither times they had split up ended well, it was no excuse for habing bad manners. "You should thank Johnna for inviting me, else I would've been completely oblivious to this small reunion. I'm glad she did, though." he said, before smilling and nodding towards the blue-haired girl on the steps.





"Also, don't worry about this." he spoke once more, towards the man, lifting his cane into view. "It was a gift, from an ... old friend.". The pause in his speech couldn't be more obvious, yet Will revealed no sign of noticing it himself. Only now did the former Merry Man remark Much on the steps, opposite of Johnna, to whom Will gave a quick salute as greeting.





After the common courtesys were exchanged, he followed Marian into the house, constantly admiring the fine English architecture and vibe he was such a fan of. It reminded him of his sweet home, back several lifetimes ago, when he still happy and with no care in the world. He felt a mixture of joy and sadness in his heart at the comparison of who he once was and who he had become, but he kept his gleeful mug on. As always, "Sebastian" didn't want those around him to know what he was thinking.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Red Copper

Hunter's Apartment

​

Comforted, momentarily, though still thoroughly shaken, Red wrapped her arms around his waist, her eyes falling on the open door, refusing to drop any lower than the knob... her fingers gesturing to the appendages lying beyond the threshold, "What should we do about... about those?"


Hunter scowled at the 'message' they'd been left, doing his best to think with Red wrapped around him. Holding her against his frame, he was silent for a beat.


"My first thought it to call the law, but I'm not sure we wanna' wrap up a bunch of normal folks in all this an' have someone find out some things about who we really are," he murmured with a frown, moving to pace back and forth in front of the door.


"On the other hand though," he continued, "We could clean this up ourselves an' end up gettin' blamed for the murder." Exhaling through his nostrils, he finished and cursed out've frustration.


Murder...


Because that's what it was. And what hope did they have, otherwise? They weren't in the woods anymore and justice was a far more complex beast, now. Heart heavy, Red turned away, laying her head against his chest.


"It's Chris... I.... I recognized the ring." A tear tracked down her cheek and she released Hunter, stepping back, "I know what he was... but he didn't deserve that. No one would. He... he had a kid. Tyler. He's four... Chris was a creep, but somehow Tyler was always the thing he did right."

Lowering her gaze she shook her head, "...How long has he been there, Hunter? How long has he been following me? No... I don't want the cops involved in this. I don't want anyone else involved. I can't... I can't be responsible for getting anyone else killed. And don't tell me that I didn't do this... don't tell me this wasn't my fault. No matter how hard I tried... it still got too familiar... too real. He found me, anyway. He always does. The best thing... the only thing I can do for everyone, now... is leave."


Hunter sighed, "I'm sorry about Chris. Sorta'. I'm more sorry 'bout his kid," he admitted with a scowl, then went quiet again, trying to think how to answer her.


"Listen, you can beat yerself up about this until the end a' time, Red, but truth of it is that you didn't get Chris killed. There ain't no blood on yer' hands. You'd do better focusing on the REAL problem an' helping me hunt down this beast so we can put'm in the dirt where he belongs. I wish I could just make all your pain and worries vanish, same as I wish I could make the body parts and notes evaporate into air. Most of all, though, I wish I could find The Wolf and tear him into pieces.” It wasn’t said, but Red knew he was thinking it. This time, when he found Wolf, he would make certain he never came back.


"As for leaving," Hunter stated sharply, continuing the thought, "If yer' goin', then I'm goin' with you. Whether or not ya' want it, yer' stuck with me now and I'm not just gonna' let you take off down the road and vanish. Don't you dare be like me on this one, yeah?" He smiled humorlessly.


She glanced at her hands, then, turning her palms over, as if she'd expected to find them to coated. Covered. But he was right... she was her only accuser, an unfortunate result of being told so often she was responsible for all that had happened to her loved ones. Maybe, indirectly, she was responsible... but she certainly wasn't at fault.


Looking up again, she met his gaze, nodding slowly, "...I don't think I could leave you if I wanted to. And I don't. Not ever... I want to end this, Hunter. I want him gone... really gone. Curse or no curse, I've had him as a shadow for too long...I need to be free."


The Huntsman nodded and gave a kind smile, his eyes hinting at it. There was still rage beneath the kindness in his orbs, but it wasn't toward her, and fought to hide it.


Her words calmed him down though and he embraced her. "Music to my ears, Red," he said with a grim gaze. "We're gonna' find him an' end this once an' for all. This time, there's no comin' back for the Great Wolf..."


"...But how do we find him? It's not exactly the woods, here in the city. And even if we could track him... How do you track someone who's stalking you?"


Frowning softly, she stepped back and ran her fingers through her hair, her hands shaking with frustration, with fear, "It's like hunting a ghost... A ghost who's haunting you. I feel like I'm back in that cottage again... just waiting for him to show up."


Hunter let out an amused huff from his nostrils. "If anyone can track down the beast, it's me. This city can't hide somethin' like that for long..." he said with a grimace, realizing that the city had been pretty good at hiding things from him so far. Then again, he hadn't been looking.


Sighing and rubbing his eyes for a second to push away the thoughts that hid behind them, he nodded at her words. "I know, I kn ow... but just like back in that cottage, I'm here. Whether or not he shows up, I'll keep ya' safe."

He was there... He had always been there. He was her Hunter. Her guardian, and he would keep her safe. But could she keep him safe...? Could she keep anything from happening to him? He'd told her already that he didn't believe in any curse, that nothing she did could hurt him... but there was only one real way to guarantee that.


He could track anything that moved... find anything that was lost. He hadn't even been looking for her, and he'd found her, after all...


But they had killed Wolf once, before, and he had come back. He had found her, too. He had found her, and seen her with Hunter. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, he had the upper hand. He had the advantage...


If there was any chance, any chance at all of keeping Hunter out of danger...


"Do... do you have a sweatshirt I could borrow?" She asked, quietly, rubbing her arms for emphasis, "...Just cold."


Watching her, he couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking, how she was taking all this. It was crazy to him that they were so close, despite having been apart for so long. It wasn't unpleasant, mind, but still made him feel as if something was off. Assuring himself he was just being paranoid, he nodded and headed toward his bedroom to find something for her.


She waited... it hurt to watch him walk away. She waited... and she knew she would regret it, the minute it happened, but she had to. She wanted to say goodbye... to leave a note, to explain. But there was no time to waste, and there might never be another chance. She could only hope that he understood. It was the length, and depth and breadth of her feelings for him that made it necessary for her to leave. It was because she loved him too much to see anything happen to him, that she couldn't stay. He had found her again, and it had been wonderful, and she had, for a brief moment tasted happiness again, felt warmth again... but only for a moment, and then it was gone. And while things remained as they were, it would always be that way.


He would search for her, she knew, but she would have enough of a head start, she hoped, that she could find Wolf before then, and then she would end this, once and for all.


And so she waited until he had gone into the bedroom, and then, grabbing the note from the threshold and stuffing it into her pocket, she slipped out of his apartment and made for the stairs, taking them two at a time to the ground floor.

 

[Ozmic]

Hunter Madson

Hunter's Apartment and Surroundings
​

After a moment too long, Hunter came back out of the bedroom with a couple of sweatshirts. "Hey, kid, I brought back two in case ya--" he started, stopping at a halt when he realized the apartment was empty. He stood there for a second, shocked, and then swore and threw down the garments as he made for the door.


Nearly leaping down the stairs, he followed her scent and tracked it, grumbling to himself about how stupid she was to run off and blame herself. Almost throwing open the door, he called out to her, eyes going back and forth to see if she'd gotten far.


She'd made it halfway down the block when he shouted at her, and she froze in place, almost not of her own volition. He was angry, understandably, but she was scared and one of those did not trump the either. They couldn't possibly agree on this... they never would. But she had to do what she had to do and he would do likewise...


They were at an impasse... but Red was not giving up that easily.


With tears half-blurring her vision, she whipped around, damp hair sticking to the edge of her face, to her neck, an edge of frustration in her quivering tone, "Just let me go! It's better for everyone!"


Hunter caught up with her quick enough and blinked at her words, quivering tone shocking him as much as the words did. "Are you shittin' me?" he snapped, trying not to sound cold and failing. "Better for everyone? I've just found ya' again and yer convinced that walkin' away is better for everyone?"


He stopped, giving a sigh. "I was pretty sure up 'til yesterday that I'd lost my mind. Now that I know I'm not nuts, yer' just gonna' walk? AND right into the arms of that Wolf?" he asked, shaking his head. "Hell no. I don't care what happens, but I'm not lettin' ya' do this on yer' own."


Frowning, Red stepped back, shaking her head, "He knows where you live, Hunter. He knows everything. God knows how long he's been following me around, what else he's done... who else he's... done things to. I already thought that I lost you once. And it destroyed me. I had to invent an entirely new identity, just to get away from the thought of it. Do you understand what it would do to me, if something happened to you and I knew I could have stopped it."


Sniffing, she dried her eyes with the backs of her hands, before rubbing the chill from her arms, "I love you... I would die, if I lost you."


Hunter grinned a little, but it was a feral and violent looking expression. "I hope he comes and finds me. I'll do to 'im what I did the first time an' more..." he said, then trailed off, shaking his head and giving a sigh, trying to stay calm.


Shaking his head, he replied again. "Yer' NOT going to lose me again. We're going to find this monster, make sure he isn't coming back, then we can work on actually livin' like normal folks. Hell, we can work on gettin' to know each other a little better and what we've been up to this whole time," he said matter-of-factly with a half smile. "I know none of it's bound to be easy to talk about, but the past never is."


"Can you promise that? Can you guarantee that nothing is going to happen to you? Because I can't... I can't guarantee that, unless I walk away. Unless I leave, right now, before things get worse. You weren't there, Hunter. You didn't hear what they said about what happened. About me... You hear the word cursed enough, eventually it starts to make sense. You may not believe it, but I do... and I have lived my entire life since you've been gone accordingly. No friends, nothing permanent... not even my clients. No repeats. That was the rule and they knew it, and no one tried... I didn't even have a home. Motels, warehouses, subways, underpasses. I haven't slept in a bed I owned since I left Gran's. The only thing familiar was Chris, and he's dead. Tell me that isn't connected??"


Running her fingers through her hair she turned away, shaking her head, "You may not believe it, Hunter... but what choice do I have, when the evidence tells me different? I'm scared for you... I'm terrified. And I need you to take that seriously."


Growling, Hunter shook his head. "I can't promise that. If I could promise nothin' would happen to me ya' know I would. But if something were to happen, Red, I rather it happen with somebody near me that I know after all this damned time."


He sighed. "I know I wasn't there and I regret that. But I had to go. They were turnin' me into a beast just as bad as that Wolf. No longer helpin' people, but hurtin' em. And I was scare more'n I'd ever been and I ran. I'll never stop feelin' sorry for that, kid," he said, looking to the ground. "And I believe one thing. The ONE connection in all of this is that god damned Wolf. That started all this."


Spitting to the earth, his eyes bore into hers. There was rage in them, but there was also hope. "My father always told me fear was a good thing. It prepared ya', let you knew what to expect when the time came. Made you ready. I know yer' afraid for me, but I'm damned serious too. I refuse to let you do this alone and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you walk away again jus' to die by that fuckin' mutt."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Red Copper

Outside Hunter's Apartment
​

"...I don't think he wants to kill me. At least not just... Maybe that's what scares me more than anything..." She stared ahead for a moment, distant and unconnected, before a soft sigh escaped and she met his gaze.


"...I'm not going to win, am I?" She lowered her eyes, digging the tip of her boot into a crack in the sidewalk, "...Hell of a pair we make. I don't remember you being so stubborn..."


Picking her cuticles, she glanced up again, "For what it's worth... I don't want to go. Not really. I wish you'd let me, because it would make everything easier. But it's not what I want. I never thought I'd see you again... I definitely never figured we'd be where we are. But now you're here, and all I want is to be with you. I know it's stupid to think we could ever have what normal people have, but all I know is you're the only person I've ever wanted a life with...And now you're here, and I just... I just don't want to lose you, again. But I guess it doesn't make a lot of sense for me to walk away, then."


Biting her lip she looked at him, managing a small, weak smile, "...I'm sorry, Hunter. For trying to leave. For being stupid. And I'm sorry that you have to be a part of this mess, at all. I never wanted this for you... I keep thinking I'm going to open my eyes and wake up in a hotel somewhere, and all of this is going to have been a dream... You... you can't imagine how many times I dreamed about finding you, before. And now that I have, I don't know... it's just so hard to believe it's real."


Running her palms over her arms again, she shrugged, "...I swear, when I first decided, it made sense... running away. But now? It just seems crazy. I've spent all these years angry that you left, and now that you're back... I'm trying to get rid of you? It makes no sense... You're Hunter. You're my Hunter... and you've always protected me. Even when I didn't know you... even before Wolf. How could I expect you not to, now? Fact is, I'm no good, on my own. I've been that way for so long now, I've convinced myself it's for the best... but I hate it. I hate what I've done, what I've become... and I hate that I've found you right in the middle of all of this. I'm not who I wanted to be, if I ever found you again. I'm not anything you deserve...and more than anything, I'm sorry for that."


Lowering her eyes again, she shook her head, "I don't know who I am anymore... all I know is... I'm not anyone without you."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Johnna Little

Marian's House
​

There was no fighting... no arguing. No one had taken any swings, no one had sworn or thrown anything. Granted, they'd only walked inside, but for the Merry Men... for what they had become after the fall of the good old times, well, Johnna had half expected battle lines to be drawn before they'd made it past the threshold. As disappointing as it would have been, she would not have been surprised if instead of a handshake, Will and Rob had exchanged glares...


But that had not been the case and so, when Marian gestured them inside, it was with a certain bounce in her step that Johnna followed. It was almost enough that she could forget about her troubles and just enjoy herself, but she couldn't entirely neglect the reason she had invited Will... She would need to talk to him, to let him know that plans would have to change. Yet, even with that in mind, she could not wipe the smile from her lips.


Absently, she fell back to the end of the small parade, fell into step with Will, who she nudged casually, "Not to kill the mood... but I figure we'd better get this over with, before dinner starts... I'm feeling a particularly large glass of wine in my future and I don't want to forget." Lowering her voice, unnecessarily so, but wary of bringing down the elevated mood, she continued, "I was followed, after our conversation outside of the book shop... I don't know who it was, or why. A deputy showed up, asking all manner of inappropriately nosy questions and shortly after, my apartment was broken into and trashed. At any rate, I doubt they were just offended by my decorating choices... and if someone followed me, they might be following you, too. Just... keep an eye open. And consequently, until I can figure out what's going on, I'm a little homeless at the moment, so... that earlier suggestion about staying at my place. We'll need to revisit that."


Frowning, she shrugged, "I realize this probably sounds like some big elaborate excuse to get out of my earlier commitment... but honestly, I'm pretty freaked out. I don't like it... not knowing who the enemy is. And it wasn't much, but... well, it was mine, you know? Just mine. And to have that invaded... It sucks."


Glancing over at him, she smirked, faintly, "Anyway. I just wanted to let you know, just in case. Just be careful. And thanks... for coming. I know it doesn't seem like much, but... but I know they're happy to see you. We all are."

 

[Sol]

Much fell in step with the rest of the small parade that made its way into Lady Marian's house but stopped, frozen.


The Merry Men he worked with for the past 50 or so years minus Alan, who probably should have been here as well as Tuck, who DEFINITELY should have been here. The bloke liked food, the bloke liked drink, this whole arrangement smelled like food and drink. Then there's Will, he still couldn't quite put his finger on what the bloke really was, sure he was prone to ultraviolence, but was that always all there really was to him? The first time he had met Will was when he was thirteen years old and he would never admit to anyone that he almost browned his breeches the first time around.


It made him look down.


Everyone seemed to be in conversation with each other. And why wouldn't they be? Archer came here for Marian while Will arrived probably because of Johnna. It became slowly apparent why Alan had decided to sit this one out, it wasn't just skirt chasing, whatever shite that would probably go down in this very house, wasn't just for anyone, despite whatever Archer might say. Everyone else had already gone in while he hesitated at the threshold of the house. It was simple enough to lie that a few searches turned up something and that he should probably get around to checking them out and send the other hits Alan's way.


It made his brow furrow.


The notion of these broken links of love being reforged in this house was a fine one and he wanted to see it happen, but its beauty wouldn't be completely appreciated by someone who only has these naive ideas of it, for someone who has not loved like they have. It didn't take Much for Much to tune out the conversation of Much realizing how Much Much shouldn't really be in here, the prospect of meat cuts and gorge-able sides was beautiful and Much had brought a Much deprived appetite ready to be sated by the Much himself but somehow this social atmosphere stood in the way. It would be very proper to give these four close friends their privacy while they work out whatever the shite was wrong with them.


His teeth clenched tight.


The Mulligan Man never said anything, he just stood there, his fist wrapped around the door knob, tightening and whitening. The threshold of no return was in front of him. Could he take the next step or would he do what looks like the right thing to do? Lady Marian and Archer may have different ideas of this dinner but Much knew well enough that all four of them inside will sooner or later address whatever issues they have with their significant other, issues that an outsider isn't meant to hear. This was probably a rare chance for any of the four, but they might choose not to tackle it on account of Much being there.


The Merry Men were family, but there are some things the parents don't say to the children and the children don't share with the parents. He dare not say anything for fear of tipping over forward or falling off the fence he was on.

 

[Erica]

Archer Robert Moore (Robin Hood)

Marian's Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

Strained as it might be, the reunion held promise. Not of splendid days revived or past glories rekindled, but rather the potential to mend some of the wounds the group collectively nursed. As they entered Marian’s home, already the chatter began, already pleasantries set aside for warnings and conspiracies.


Old habits died hard.


Robin instinctively fell into step beside Marian, only a half pace behind her and to the side as had once been custom when escorting a lady. The house’s style brought back bittersweet memories. That he had expected. The portraits surprised him, however. He slowed to survey each of the portraits along one wall, witnessing the artistry that had gone into depicting each of his merry men. If he lingered a few moments longer on the startling near-mirror image of his own visage, he could hardly be faulted. The portrait inspired a sense of disorientation, like looking into a fun house mirror. Only it did not add a silly hat or stretch out his features to make them appear inhuman. Instead, the image somehow looked more human: happier, lighter, or perhaps simply less weary than he felt.


Looking away from his own portrait only allowed him to see the paintings on the other side of the hall. Faces of children long dead and buried looked out at him, brought to life in a way that he had not imagined possible. Photography had not emerged until several centuries after their children had passed on. He had not expected to see them again so clearly, and the vision stole his breath momentarily. There were two others he did not recognize; it was not difficult to guess who they were, given the placement of the paintings.


Tearing his eyes from the portraits, he swallowed hard and followed Marian into the kitchen, donning a smile he was not sure he felt as he offered her the bottle of wine. “It is not much, but I am glad I chose a red,” he said quietly, capping it off with a small smirk. He referred, of course, to her choice of steak for the meal. The wine was from his private collection and older than the house, which seemed fitting. That he would not be partaking of it was inconsequential to his mind, for it suited the occasion and might hopefully convey something of the value he assigned the event. He held her gaze for a moment longer. He did not want to monopolize her opportunity to reunite and reminisce with the others, but he could not let the moment pass without adding, “Thank you for having us.”


Up ahead, the table had been set and awaited only their arrival. Naturally Marian had everything in order, even on short notice. Yet again thinking how some things never change, he glanced behind him to ensure that the rest of the group followed in his wake. The food smelled divine.

 

[Dusky]

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Gwen Darling

Backstage to Private Room​

Gwen listens silently as Hook speaks, hands folded in her lap and ankles crossed as if she is in a completely modest dress and not a provocative costume. The weight of his hand is reassuring, comforting, and full of potential. She shudders and smiles at the same time. He is full of metaphors and analogies, adventurers and mysteries being only the most recent. “Thank you,” she murmurs, referring both to his assessment of her performance and his return of her journal, which she takes slowly. She feels a slight flush creep up her neck – it really is embarrassing, the fact that she can’t seem to keep hold of her own belongings. But his tone is not judgmental, and she jokes with him a little bit. “You make it sound like I’m a character in a book.”


He smiles wickedly at her and comments on her shins, his gaze never leaving her eyes. She looks down at the unsightly bruises and, as she is directed to their room, swallows a lump in her throat. “I… um… aye aye, Captain,” she manages weakly. As she rises and collects her things, she feels his eyes boring into her. They continue to do so as she walks out into the club.


She doesn’t bother to change out of her costume, and stops only to get her purse from behind the bar before ducking through a curtain into a hallway. She walks slowly to the very end. The doors she passes are dark wood, all closed, and from behind some the sounds of vice soak through. She passes 101, 201, 301, all the way down, until she reaches the door at the very end. Where the others have numbers, this one simply has a long, deep slash, make by some pointed object. She absentmindedly pushes on the handle, which doesn’t budge. She clicks her tongue at herself in exasperation – if James knew she had forgotten the room was kept locked…


She reaches into her purse and finds her keyring. Her hands fumble to find the right key, and their shaking makes it difficult to get said key in the lock. Somehow, she manages, and lets herself in, locking the door again behind her. Mercifully, from the inside it is a simple matter of twisting.


She sinks into a nearby chair slowly, holding a hand over her heart, which is beating like a hummingbird’s. After a moment of composure, she turns to the mirror of the vanity and pulls her make-up out of her purse. A fresh layer slathered over her shins, a touch up on her face. Pull out a few stray hairs. It should be enough. She stands up again, paces the room. She touches things as she walks past – a fine lamp, a full bookshelf, a bedpost. Finally, she comes to a rest, sitting down at the foot of the bed. She does not turn the light on. She does not read a book. She does not do much of anything.


She sits, back straight, and waits for what the night brings.

 

[Syrenrei]

Marian Greene (Maid Marian)

A Not-So-Humble Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

Marian had caught Johnna whispering to Will but couldn't catch the contents. It was rude to try to eavesdrop in any case, but she hoped it was something a little more romantic than it likely was. Will was blind to the affections of the strong, sensible woman and Johnna was too afraid of losing Will entirely to make the leap of faith and confess. Marian couldn't blame them entirely- they were all blind to each other one way or another and also afraid of losing what they had. Centuries had not been kind and they had become jointly aware that all that endured was the light of their lives. Death and taxes? They had met their match with the Merry Men. Speaking of loss... was there not one more attendee? Marian's beautiful, charming, gregarious smile flicked into a thin line of annoyance that they had all seen many times over. It was the expression of disappointment that she had given her misbehaving children, towards Merry Men with misogynistic jokes, and to servers that completely ignored the special requests for her food. It was a withering visage that had made Margaux cry almost immediately and then cling to Marian's leg in emphatic apologies.


"Much!" she yelled down the hallway and to the front doorway where she suspected he lingered. "If you make me waste this food or- even worse- eat two portions and gain weight, I will be very cross with you! Heavens help me, I almost ate half a cake by myself last night..." Marian sighed to herself and rubbed her temple. Sweets had always been a difficult thing for her to resist- she blamed her French side. It was almost certainly a willful lack of self control that 'forced' sugary confections down her throat time and time again. Releasing a breath she finally turned her attention more fully on Robin.


Her husband (as they were still officially wed) had brought her a red wine to compliment the meal. As she accepted the bottle she noted the date and raised a brow- he was clearly accepting it was a special occasion to bring such an expensive token. She flashed a gracious smile and dipped her head slightly. It was an old gesture of gratitude that dated her almost as much as her furnishings. "I'm glad to have you- all of you. It's been far too long. As you can see, I missed you so much I commissioned portraits to help me fill this house with more warmth." She flashed another genuine grin before turning towards the cupboards. Herein she paused, uncharacteristically, as if lost in reverie. The truth was there was no daydream that seized her now but rather a blank moment that eclipsed her waking thoughts. Her hand that reached towards where there were fine glasses paused midair and she belatedly clasped a corner of the wooden door without knowledge why she did so. The sound of breathing behind her brought her to her senses a few long seconds later. She fervently hoped her friends did not notice the loss that had manifested so briefly before she fetched several pieces of glassware for their wine.


"Please, feel free to have a seat. I'll get your drinks for you. What will you have? Water, wine, ale, tea, juice, milk to keep you big and strong?" she winked at Will playfully. He was plenty large without the aid of any dietary requirements, but it was fun to jest with him as if they were in the old times.

 

[Ayl]

Sebastian W. Scathelocke

Party Time!

As Will entered the fine establishment, his gaze was quickly caught by the exquisite furniture and the wonderful paintings, hanging on the walls. The English vibe the house was giving off made him feel welcomed and had the effect of relaxing him. As he looked over the portrait of himself, he couldn't help but notice how different he had become, physically. Back then, he wouldn't let his beard grow, for some reason he couldn't recall right then. His hair was a lot shorter as well.


Despite being concentrated on the layout, Will still felt the slight nudge coming from the blue-haired girl walking by him. He couldn't help but smirk at the glass of wine comment and added himself, in a whispery voice. "And I foresee a mighty glass of fine scotch in mine, to be honest, so speak your mind!". Will listened attentively to the story and at the end, he placed his hand on Johnna's shoulder for a slight moment, before replying.


"I'm sorry to hear about your appartment. Thank you for your warning, but rest assured, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself.". Flashing her one of his sincere smiles, he continued. "Well, if you want, I could arrange something with one of the city's fine hotels. Money isn't a problem, so we can get quite some fancy accomodations! At least, I hope they have those in this city!" he chuckled. He completely understood her feelings about her possessions, as well. "Trust me, if there's anyone who dislikes his..." he paused for a moment, "property handled by strangers, that's me.". His figure became much more solemn this time. Indeed, not many people had experienced the mixture of emotions Will had been trying to ignore for the last centuries.


Johnna's last comment was more soothing. "Don't thank me yet!" he laughed, silently. "The evening just began. There's dozens of ways this could go wrong, yet!". He was joking of course. Maybe just a little serious, but just a little. Immediatly after that, he added in a more serious voice, with a smile donning his lips. "It's good to see you guys again too, Johnna.".


As Will took his seat at the table, he allowed himself to even laugh a little at Marian's obvious joke directed at him. "Oh, Marian, nothing gets past you now, does it?" he retaliated, humorous. "Well, as much as I'd like to keep to my healthy habbits, I will indulge myself with a little of your finest bourbon, if you would be so kind!". Although some said it's best to conduct business with a clear head, as much as Will hated mixing pleasure and business, he knew his best shot of taking down his targets would be to group up with his former comrades, once more, and for such a conversation, he needed at least one drink.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Johnna Little

Marian's Place

​

At Will's offer, Johnna's mouth fell in a frown. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it, it just felt like something of a tease, and while she was sure it wasn't meant to be that way, it nevertheless touched on that part of her she had sublimated... that part of her she had to sublimate, to keep from going mad.


Heart beating a little faster, she shook her head, "I don't know, Will. That's a lot to ask... and it's not that I can't afford it, if I had to, I just... It was the only place I had to myself. But then I think about being by myself and it sucks. It really sucks. I don't get this way. I don't worry about these things, but there's just something about this that bothers me. Back in Sherwood, we always knew who we were up against... We always knew who the enemy was. But this... this is the unknown. And I hate feeling like I don't know what to do, or what to expect."


Her shoulders rose in a shrug and she looked ahead, down the hall, where the others were entering the dining room, "...I know I could stay at HQ... there's plenty of extra rooms, but I just don't think I could go back to that. Being a Merry Man, all the time. I need space. I need the separation. But I hate the idea of being by myself right now. If... if you don't mind, I think I'll take you up on that offer."


Smiling dryly, she looked over at him and shrugged, "And as long as no one gets punched, stabbed or shot tonight, I'm calling it a victory. Optimism, right?"


Following Will and the others into the dining room, Johnna chuckled at the repartee, before finding her own seat, "Everything looks great, Marian. Once again, you've outdone yourself." A brow quirked at Marian's brief pause, but nothing was said... They were, all of them, distracted these days... It was only fair, really, all things considered, "I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine, thanks."

 

[Sir Raime]

Spoiler

Procculus:


On the other side of the door, still sprawled across the couch, one leg propped up on the arm rest, and the other on the back, Rosalinde Wyatt's fingers clenched upon the first impact that the offending member outside the security room made, crushing half of the magazine. She duly ignored this sound, continuing to turn the page and retch at the impossible beauty standards that men wanted and women wished to have. She had to admit that she wasn't very huge on not looking like an eyesore, but the curves on these women were impossible without exact genetics, maybe a bit of surgery, and a life time of eating the right foods. She didn't have the bloody goddamn ti--


For pity's sake, who the heck was that behind the door? Can't they see she was trying to get some R&R? She tossed the magazine behind her and sat up, scratching at an itch in her hair. It might be lice, but she wasn't sure. She hoped it wasn't. Since it didn't seem like the guards were getting up soon, the bloody Hare and Cat be damned, she supposed she should deal with whatever was trying to make a scene herself. She strode over to one of the sleepers, and unhitched his Taser from his belt, before making her way to the door, which had been dented slightly from the impacts. Holding her weapon behind her back, she turned the lock, and stepped back, waiting to greet whatever came through the door.


The Out Of World:


The Boogeyman continued his assault on the door, only to stop when he heard someone inside fiddle with the lock. He carefully placed his clawed hand on the metal knob and turned it, slowly pushing the door open to behold whatever may lie in the security room. Hopefully his senses had not betrayed him and the rabbit would still be around.


"Knock knock, anyone there?" He growled in an otherworldly voice as his Alice disguise rotted away even faster. Once the door was fully open, he was greeted with the sight of the rabbit, one arm behind her and out of view. She was probably just taking care of an itch on her backside.


Procculus:


The unnatural, inhuman voice seemed to crawl into the room as the door opened slowly. As the figure on the other side came into full view, Rosalinde's grip tightened slightly on the weapon in her grasp when she saw the crumbling visage of what seemed to be Dodgson. However, from the looks of things, that wasn't her dear Dodgson, the schizophrenic little thing. That was something else. The world froze in place around her, and Rosalinde picked up a file that laid on the floor. After studying its contents, she discarded it behind her. At once, time resumed, and Rosalinde cast a weary, as opposed to wary, gaze on the not-Alice.


"I suppose you were the one that greeted me at her door, weren't you?" The Rabbit threw the Taser onto the couch, where it bounced and clattered on the floor. She didn't need it. There was no point neutralizing something like this with non-lethal force. If push came to shove, her gun and knife would probably do the trick. She raised one eyebrow at the...thing in front of her. "Consider me impressed and intrigued. Who are you? What are you?"


The Out Of World:


As the woman caught sight of him, the Boogeyman felt a momentary shock of fear, so sizzling and fresh as it ran through his veins like precious lifeblood. Once again, his mind drifted off to parts unknown while he daydreamed of horrific and wonderful terrors that slithered in the back of men's heads, only to be shaken from his reverie by the agonizing sensation of his steady trickle of nectar being cut off yet again. His eyes caught a rustle of papers as he tried to process what the rabbit girl said.


"Me? You could say I'm a very important person. I work with important people who do important things. You could say I like to scare people, but that would not be true. I. Love. To scare people. Tell me, do you like to scare people, to pull forth their hidden emotions and drink the sweet, pure waters of the river in their souls? It is simply the best feeling in the entire world, perhaps even the universe." The monster inched closer and closer to the girl and whispered. "I am the monster under children's beds, the vague shape that watches from the darkness. I am a creature of blood, fright and impending doom. Would you kindly be afraid of me?"


Procculus:


"Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe some other time. I'm busy converting oxygen into carbon dioxide." This was getting quite dull already. A one-track mind, driven only by his baser instincts. She wondered what she expected from something that hammered on doors instead of knocking politely. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't perpetual boredom. She slid back into her couch, sinking into the soft leather.She pulled at a lock of her hair, twirling it around her finger, a disgruntled look on her face. Papers began peeling away from the walls, showering her with multitudes of information about her new friend. She thought, and thought, and thought, before brushing away the papers, turning them into dust. Maybe she could... Could she really...? Perhaps. The mother of fascination was always boredom, or something. This...thing standing in front of her right now perpetuated fear. Fear, as far as she knew, was one of the key sufferings of beings alive. She sat up, steepled her fingers and leaned on them, casting a rather curious look at the creature.


"You're dull, you know that? Your train of thought, it's so clichéd. So normal. Your attempts to frighten me, threaten me, all of it...you're trying too hard to look like something scary. You think you're a hotshot, you act big, you talk big. Face it, honey, you can't walk the talk. You're just another sad thing that likes to think he's all high and mighty, loving all the weakness of your victims." Rosalinde paused, letting her snide remarks sink in for a moment. She smiled from behind her fingers, and unlocked them. With a kick of her feet, she straightened up, her arms outstretched welcomingly. "Guess what? I'm just like you, just without your special gimmicks. Fear is a form of suffering, and I want to see some specific people squirm. I wouldn't call it the best feeling -Darjeeling is marginally better- but it is close. Why don't we, you and I," she pointed at the creature, then at herself, "form a temporary working relationship? You do what you love to do, while I take notes. That way, we both get our jollies."


The Out Of World:


The Boogeyman gazed cautiously at the girl. She had idnetified herself as a sadist and labeled him as the same. She did not know, did not understand the difference between the two of them. She was a madwoman who derived pleasure in torturing unsuspecting victims, while his efforts to evoke fear stemmed from a need. A lack of fear was his equivalent of thirst or hunger. Fright was his very essence, his blood and soul! Yet this woman believed him to be some pathetic man who basked in the feeling of superiority over the weak. There was more to it than superiority; he couldn't care if he was on top of the world as its sovereign king or beneath the smallest ant.


"You poor, misguided creature. It is not suffering I seek, only fear in its purest form. Perhaps I can enlighten you....a partnership it is! You shall make an excellent student! Fret not, for beside me you shall learn the mysteries of the world!" He extended a clawed hand for a shake of good will.


And if she couldn't learn, he could always throw her to his associates. They'd likely dispose of her like any other loose end, with brutal efficiency. Her mind's tendency to shut off fear would make her difficult to dispose of personally.


Procculus:


He had a narrower track of mind that she had expected. Rosalinde rubbed her temples. He was going off on a base instinct, almost neanderthalic. Fear was his sustenance, and he fed off it. Ergo, he brings out fear within others to sate his hunger. She wondered how easy it would be to hang a metaphorical fishing lure in front of his face and leave him to do all the dirty work. She sighed, and supposed she could play along for the mean time. Six bullets in their chambers were waiting to be fired, and if she really needed to, they would be. She stretched out her own lanky arm and pinched one of the claws in an attempt to mock a shake.


"Sure. What's your big plan, oh great, mystical creature teacher?"

 

[Honeybucky]

_____ Matthias A. Hatter_____
In an alley, somewhere-



Dastardly. Utterly dastardly. The wind had begun to howl, like a lost beast crying out in hopes of being found. It would start off softly at first, then the desperation would sink in. Slowly, it transformed from a simple call into a biting demand for attention; and soon, Matthias found the cold creeping in through his torn jean jacket. Did the wind truly have to be this high maintenance tonight? He had noticed it an hour ago. There was no need for it to jump into such a tizzy. Matthias had already tried thrice to thoroughly acknowledge its presence, each attempt going unnoticed itself. He had tossed a rock to the wind, offered up a random man's mustache as tribute, and brandished a stray cat to the sky for almost thirty minutes, and was left with nothing but scratches and an unusually angry man. He had just been trying to help the sky understand. How rude.


Brushing off the specs of dirt and grime from his scuffle with the odd man, Matthias pursed his lips up at the sky, and brought his spare hand up to rub thoughtfully as his growing stubble. At least he had managed to procure some sort of shaving device. It was one of the only things he actually owned, these days. That, a few scraps of food, some habitual needles but no thread, and a single strip of fabric. He wasn't sure where he'd gotten it from, but he was about twenty percent sure he'd ripped it off of something. But he wasn't going to dwell about the issue, considering he never thought about anything for more than five minutes. Happening to glance down, he froze where he stood, and let his brows knit together.


What he was wearing right now was absolutely atrocious. Granted, after his escape, he had managed to get ample amounts of sleep, as well as obtain some not so poisoned food, and thus he had regrown into himself rather easily. That being said, now that his natural girth had returned, he would have been content in draping something far more appropriate over it. The faded, torn, and abused blue jean jacket that fit loosely around his frame did nothing but make him look a tad bit older than he was. He wore a thin, black muscle shirt beneath, which was doing nothing for keeping the cold out of his bones. Instead, it hugged every curve and line of his abdomen, falling to rest just above his hips.


His pants were, quite possibly, in far worse condition than they had been this morning. There was a large rip by his left hip, two rips about the length of his thumb near his left knee, and there was a dark, black patch of oil against the lightened grey fabric of his right thigh. Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth, something told him that in the past, he would never be caught dead wearing such things. But, in the end, the desperate need had trumped personal comfort, and he found himself trading his suit in for this disgusting anomaly. But it was a necessity; as the trade, this time, included shoes. And if he was going to make his way from one end of the city to the next, it was far easier to do it in comfort. But it was alright. He would just trade for a better outfit tomorrow.


Looking briefly at the worn leather of his newly acquired shoes- with laces, mind you- he took in a deep breath and shivered, carrying about his original task. Well, if he were being honest, Matthias had almost completely forgotten about what it was that he had been doing, exactly. That is, until he reminded himself upon gazing down at the horror that was his attire yet again. It was for a reason. A grand reason, a stupendous, extraordinary reason. One that outclassed and outshone every other need in his life at the moment. Including food, sleep, shelter, comfort, and health. What was it?


He needed his fix. It was gnawing away at his mind, and for a few minuscule moments, he had nearly thought himself mad. Ha. How preposterous.


The alleyway that he was currently traversing smelled of dirt and gasoline, and the shops he passed had obviously been closed for hours. Looking at the darkened windows and crumbling back entrances, Matthias felt a twinge of something horrid twist in his stomach, and he had to snap his head away just to keep the bile from rising in his throat. What was that, he wondered? Oh well. He was almost there. In fact, he could see the dusty, crooked sign and the fade of the streetlights already. Perfect.


Clicking his heels against the ground, he skipped the rest of the way through the alley, and tapped his feet against the pavement as he crossed back onto the boulevard. He would be around here, somewhere. Or at least, there was always someone around here, somewhere. Someone he desperately needed to talk too. The person he had just finished traveling miles through a maze of a city in order to see.


" So I said, ' Dude, you seriously going to go there? You know 'swell as I that Jhonny said-"


" Ah- HA!" Perfect! He'd found his prize. Looking over at the strangely dressed boy, Matthias skipped rather flippantly towards him, earning a look of shock and disapproval from the boy with the baggy pants hanging around his thighs, and the shirt that had some sort of odd mouth printed on the front of it. Matthias immediately found his eyes drawn to the boy's hat, staring at the bright, ugly yellows and greens, and winced at how it hugged and then hung off the back of his head like a rag. The boy's hair was a ridiculously long chestnut brown, and his face was shallow and sharp. He kind of looked like a witch. Except in the form of a boy, with a piece of metal sticking out from the bottom of his nose. A nose that was now crumpled in Matthias' direction as he approached.


" You!" He called, utterly ecstatic.


" Uh, yeah. Me. No, hang on, Des. I got some hobo skipping towards me. No, I aint lying. Legit, gimme a sec." Matthias could not see who it was that he was talking too. Oh, goody. This boy was crazy. Absolutely batty. Why did Matthias always have to get the odd ones? Ugh.


" Well? Have you got it?" Matthias asked, sounding like a child asking a tender for a particularly fine piece of candy.


" Uh- got what, dude?" He asked, cocking his head to the side and frowning. Matthias suddenly felt confused. Was he not being obvious enough? Oh, well. Time for an explanation.


" Why, nothing but the gold of humanity! The whats it that who's it, the who's it that whats!"


" Uh-"


" Impeccable by nature, a fine thing, the thinggiest thing in all-"


" Hey, Mister-"


"- the finest-"


" Dude-"


"- most-"


" Dude! Seriously. What is it? I either got Crack or blow. Honestly, just pick one, I really don't know what you're going on about. You're gonna give me a headache, bro."


Matthias finally paused his thoughts. Or, that is to say, he lost track of what he was thinking. Confused, he wrinkled his nose, paused in front of the boy, took two steps back, then three steps forward.


" Neither, M'boy."


" Jesus, the hell do you want from me, then?" The boy cried, throwing a hand up in exasperation.


" Isn't it obvious?" Matthias felt himself growing annoyed, and he mimicked the movement the boy had made with his hand.


" No?"


" English, my boy! Do you speak it?" The boy looked at him as if he'd grown a third head.


" Do you?!" He tossed back and Matthias brought his hand up to his cheek for a frustrated rub.


" For the love of- mercury, my boy. Mercury."


" My name is Brad, and-"


" Now, listen here, Jason-"


" Uh, Brad? Where did you get Jason from-"


" The fate of what isn't hangs on the precipice of disaster, Todd-"


" Brad, and I'm telling you, Mercury isn't technically a drug, and-"


" Enough of your tom foolery, Hubert! Have you got it or haven't you?"


" No! That's what I'm trying to tell you! Listen, buddy. You are like- up here." Karl said, motioning above his head with his hand. " Yeah. You need to come down, like, like a six." Matthias watched as the boy brought his hand down to about his chest, and he cocked his head to the side.


" There?" He asked, motioning to Hank's hand level with his eyes. Justin nodded, and Matthias bent his knees, bringing himself down so that the top of his head was level with the boy's hand.


" Have you got it now?" A slurry of curse words left the Arthur's mouth, and Matthias scrunched his face up with distaste.


" I aint that kinda dealer, you friggen wacko! Just- look. There's a lady that hangs around the night club, bout three blocks away from here, she gots the good stuff. Maybe you should go and bother her about it? Seriously, leave me alone, buddy. You're nuts. Take a left, then just follow the road till you hear the beats. Go towards the blue lights on the corner. Ask around for a lady named Isabelle, I think, and get out my face already!" He was yelling now. Note to self, Matthias thought- Lenard is a dick. But at least he was almost useful. Matthias mentally slotted away his directions, and without a word, he turned sharply on his heels and sauntered in the direction that he had been pointed in. That was enough of conversing with a crazy person. He was done with this about five minutes ago.


Ah, on the road again. Ignoring the groan of finality from the boy's throat, Matthias broke into a near run, wanting desperately to find this Isabelle woman. There was nothing more that he'd ever wanted, ever. And he had no clue as to why. He hadn't even noticed when he'd crossed all three blocks, and come barreling around the corner, only to quite narrowly miss smashing into someone. He ground his heels into the dirt, dragging himself to a sliding stop, his chest heaving like a beast.


" Scraggle frats!" He cursed, turning to look, and- Oh. It was a tiny woman. A thin, wispy, dainty little thing. Matthias felt as though he could wrap one arm over two of her, and he cocked his head to the side to take in her image. Her hair was dark, and she was dressed rather finely. Well, finer than most of the ladies he had seen wandering about recently. Though he would have preferred to place her in something more frilly and billowy, with a lace hat that had metallic danglies hanging off, and-


" Brass, no doubt. The color would clash with your eyes. Silver, more undoubtedly." He determined, out loud, voice smooth as silk, as he started leaning towards the left. She was, if he was being honest, a rather adorable looking girl, and he just wanted to spend hours fitting her with different hats. Hmm.


" Not pewter, no. Yellow would be fine. The bright would bring out the dark, the dark would bring out the black, and the black would bring out the nothing." He leaned a bit more to the left, so that he could get a better look, and his abdomen was arched almost painfully to the side.


" No, no! Nothing of the sort. If up is down, and down is up, then what's 'what'? Would it be a who, or a why, that would sit upon your head?" He mused aloud, leaning so heavily that his right leg was now hovering above the ground. He was convinced she would look better with a why.


" Who, out of the question. Surely." He said, finally bringing his one sided conversation to a close. Ah, but then, then it hit him. He suddenly remembered why he was here. Still precariously perched, his eyes shone with a new sort of enthusiasm, as his voice burst from his throat in a lively manner.


" Might you perhaps be an Isabelle?!" Elated, Matthias righted himself and gingerly stepped towards the lady, reaching out to grasp her hand in a shake. Her hand was so tiny, he felt like she should have three of them attached to one arm just to accomplish anything productive. Giving it a generous tug, he smiled a charming, lop sided grin, and felt an air of mischievousness in his gaze.


" Positively delighted to met you! So? Well? Have you got it?" He asked, and began hopping where he stood, still attached to the young miss Isabelle's hand.


" Have you? Oh, please tell me you do. That would make you the most-" He paused. The people around here don't speak English. It was a good thing he'd had that horrid experience with that crazy man earlier, or else he probably would have run into the same problem here. Oh, well. At least he remembered.


" Mercury, my dear! Mercury." He repeated, slowly, as if he was thinking quite too terribly hard on the word.


" Well?" He prompted, suddenly feeling a wave of pain and panic knot in his stomach. His eyes filled with fear and seeped with alarming dread, while his throat nearly closed. He quite audibly choked on himself, before he could sputter out a weak and desperate question.


" Have you?"

If up is down, and down is up, then what's 'what'? Would it be a who, or a why, that would sit upon your head? Hatter

 

[Ozmic]

Hunter Madson

Outside His Apartment

​

Hunter watched the girl, sighing at her words about the Wolf and then giving a smile to respond to her own as she talked about the two of them. He sat there for quite awhile, listening to her, but never once felt the need to interrupt her 'til she was finished. "Firstly, before anything else." He went quiet and pulled her to him, holding the woman tight to him until his found his words again.


"Now that that's over," he said with a laugh. "Believe me, kid, I don't blame you for anything. Yer' talking to the guy that DID run away, remember? I just... I know how rough it gets an' I didn't want ya' bein' lost all over again. 'Specially if I could prevent it by talkin' some sense into you." This was followed, of course, by a sly wink and a half smile before he continued.


"Yer' right, though. Somehow, be it fate or whatthefuck ever, I've always been there to help ya'. And, I didn't always realize that you'd been there when I needed you, Red." He smiled again and ruffled her hair a bit. "Hey, you findin' me in the middle of this? If I could pick this and goin' back to a life where I thought I was fuckin' crazy for being who I was? I'd pick being in the middle of madness with ya' anyday."


Gesturing back to his building, he chuckled. "That makes two of us, Red, and I'll be damned if we're doin' this apart." Starting to walk backwards, he stretched. "Now, let's figure out a way to get this whole mess behind us, then we can go an' hunt us a beastie, arright?"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Isabelle Lockwood

Streets of the City

​

The earlier rain had abated at some point during her time in the Ticking Clock, but the lull brought with it blustery winds, which growled through the city streets like a furious animal. The air was thick with petrichor, and a heavy, smokey fog had crept up from the damp streets. Isabelle tugged her blazer tighter over her wiry frame, regretting the choice of the thin, flouncy dress with the plunging neckline. Her boots, thick leather with steel buckles every few inches, came up past her knees, provided a little coverage, but not nearly enough that she wasn't shivering ten steps away from the club. To hell with what Hook had instructed... she was cracking open a bottle of spirits the minute she got home. The way she saw it, it was more a suggestion... or a request than an order, and even then, it wasn't like he watched her every move. It wasn't common for her to ignore an instruction from Hook, but ultimately, she was perfectly capable of functioning... even half-wasted. A little nightcap before she sunk into work wasn't going to hurt...


Her heels, narrow stilettos, made a clicking tattoo across the pavement, the only sound in the streets, beyond the gusting wind and the thumping, driving bass of the club music which could still be heard, even a block away. It was the siren call of the attention seeking masses, the throng of desperate, lonely souls, seeking comfort from a cold world, hoping to lose themselves in bright lights and sound, in the swaying rhythm of a stranger, in booze and drugs and all the vices Emerald City offered on it's silver platter. Miscreants and pitiful creatures, stumbling... searching for something, for anything to bring order and meaning to otherwise worthless lives. Ultimately, unable to cope... they're absorbed into the darkness, swallowed into the seedy underbelly of a sick, twisted city. Flickering flames, snuffed out by the likes of her Captain. God, how she loved it...


Smirking to herself, her brightly painted lips twisting upwards, she rounded the corner only to be met by a hulking form, racing along in the opposite direction. He skidded to a stop, coming within inches of taking her down, and Isabelle put her hand to her heart with a nasty swear, yelped less than delicately. The words were there, on her tongue, prepped and ready to chew him out for his irritatingly close call, but they dissipated as the stranger began to ramble... with flourish.


Another homeless bum, likely strung out on some cheap fix or another... Little worth her attention and certainly not worth her time.


"Okay, pal..." She started, not bothering to hide the condescension from her tone, "Why don't you just turn around and hop back on whatever boxcar you jumped off of. I'm not in the m--"


"Might you perhaps be an Isabell?!"


The question struck her like a slap to the face and for a brief moment, Isabelle only stared, wide-eyed at the strangely dressed man. Then he had taken her hand and was pumping her arm and she was stupidly gawking. Only Isabelle hated looking stupid, and so, with a frown she yanked her hand back, eyes narrowing in on him.


"...I don't know who the hell you think you are... but--"


"Have you? Oh, please tell me you do. That would make the most-"


"You're off your rocker, bud..."


"Mercury, my dear! Mercury."


"I don't..."


"Well?"


"Look..."


"Have you?"


His expression shifted, and Isabelle took a slow step backward, considering the look in those all-too-blue eyes. She had seen her share of junkies, but she couldn't recall ever finding one who appeared so exorbitantly in need that it might cause fear. Anger, sure. Hysterics, definitely. She'd had her share of clients who would do all manner of things for a hit... But none of them quite so... dire.


Her brow lifted, and she gave him a long, drawn out once over. His wardrobe was straight out of a catalog for hobos, smudged and dirty, holy, mismatched and ill-fitting. She would not have been surprised if the tattered garb had been either stolen or found in the garbage, odd, because he had the type of face one would expect to see swathed in tailored suits and tuxedos. It was a handsome face - a gentleman's face, curved and chiseled. Certainly, he could use a bath and a shave, but those eyes... In a way, he reminded her a little of James... but then, Hook would never be seen in anything so miserably wretched. It wasn't like her to pity anyone, but perhaps it was this resemblance to her employer which struck her most of all... enabling a sensation she had felt for no one, beyond herself, in some time.


But the bouncing, excitable posture, the grin... that glint of magic in his eyes, a piercing, captivating gaze, which so quickly went from playful to anxious, from anxious to mischief... Ever changing, never the same...


No... It wasn't James that he reminded her of at all...


It was him...


A frown caught her lips again, and she shook her head, "Mercury's no good for you. I got something better. Come with me." Gesturing for him to follow, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her blazer and started up the street.

 

[Auren]

Felicity O'Hare

March Hare


Sneaky Rooftops, Vents, and a Lovely Room
​

Felicity giggled before Chess lowered her from the tops of her toes. She watched him cough with small frown on one side of her lips, but was easily distracted by his talk of Time. "OH! But Time is dead, sweet Lemon Tart!"she grinned before following him along the tops of the roofs. She didn't hesitate in her jumps, and almost lost her footing on one of the roofs. She giggled at her clumsy feet before twirling her way to where here friend waited. She stumbled with a case of dizziness a little before reaching him, and performed a hop-skip dance to steady herself. She grinned wildly.


"Just don't look down my frills, naughty lemon!" she said as she picked up the sides of her skirt and swayed the fabric. Then, she leaped into the vent and crawled her way towards Alice's room. She opened the opposing end and jumped down. She placed her hands on her hips when she didn't immediately see Honey Dew.


"Oh! I know! We must be playing hide and seek,"she said. Felicity proceeded to check every corner of the room, opening drawers and even going as far as pulling all the blankets off the bed. It wasn't until she was on her hands and knees searching the grout between the floor tiles that she saw the lovely Honey Dew tucked in nicely under the bed.


"I've found you! What a silly place to hide, Honey Dew. Oh well, time to come out and fetch a cup of tea,"she said as she reached inside and grabbed both of the girl's arms. She pulled Alice out with a huff and a struggle. Sitting her up against the mattresses of the bed, Felicity untied the unicorn mask from her hip. She removed the mask from Alice's face and replaced it with the new one.


She clapped at the marvel of the girl's outstanding beauty. That was her sweet, lovely Honey Dew. "Lemon Tart, doesn't she look just fabulous? Why, I'd say she looks the best on this Happy Unbirthday as she has ever looked on any of her others. Wouldn't you agree?" She said as she re-arranged Alice's curls to flow about the mask, and frame it nicely.


@The Villain King @Kairo

 

[Elle Joyner]

Roxanne Copper

Outside Hunter's Apartment

​

It was all she needed... those words, that embrace. To know, even despite her attempts to leave, to break away on her own, he would not fault her... he was not angry, or hurt. Her fear was hardly abated, and until the mess was over, she would never stop worrying about him... but she could not... would not try to go without him, again.


She smiled when he did and chuckled, softly as he spoke of talking sense into her. He was right, she knew it, and if nothing else, he would always be there to keep her head on straight. It was encouraging, considering how often she felt as if she were spiraling into madness. But as he continued, the smile softened and she looked up at him, catching his gaze. She had never, for as far back as she could remember, thought that she had done anything of use for Hunter... She had been some of a nuisance, getting into trouble, needing rescuing... She had been sure, after the first incident with the wolf, that she had been what had driven him away.


To hear that he needed her... That as much as an anchor as he was to her, she was to him...


Tears filled her eyes and she rose up onto her toes, a soft kiss pressed to his lips, before she dropped back onto her feet again. She found his hands, as he started backwards towards his apartment and the smile returned again, radiant, "...I think... if I'm honest... I might like hunting with you...I mean, it's not exactly my area of expertise, but... well, it's a change from cowering in the corner, or... well... no, that much I enjoyed... at least with you."


She gave his hands a squeeze and winked, before following him inside. The gift would be there still, she knew, but somehow it was less frightening, with everything they had discussed. Hunter had been right, Wolf had been a fool to come after them again. He would fail, like he had the first time...


"It seems stupid now..." She started, as they made their way up the stairs, "Thinking of doing this on my own. Everything gets so jumbled up... so confusing, sometimes. I don't know what's best for anyone, for you... for me. But I don't, for the life of me, know what I was thinking. That I was just going to walk up to him, whoever the hell he is, and tell him to knock it off? Sometimes I think I might actually be crazy..."


Outside his apartment door, she stopped and frowned down at the severed hands, before looking up at Hunter in expectation, "...So where do we go from here?"

 

[Teh Frixz]

Mirelle Dylan

Lost in the real world


The Crocodile

​

It was almost beguiling. Her eyes, her hair, her teeth. The guard standing watch over the loading dock in the back of the club knew what he was dealing with, his attitude that of a fisherman accepting the risk of certain parts of the river. He knew the bosses orders regarding the Croc but was stumbling on how to go about them.


She was just standing there, at the base of the ramp. Staring up at him. He had made the mistake of wading forward towards her to shoo off what he thought was just some clubber but after staring at those eyes and hearing her necklace there was little doubt as to what he was dealing with. The only noise in the alley was the ticking of the clock on her neck. It was an old watch, antique really. Rumors were it was stolen from a pirate's pocket and passed down through generations to end up in her hands.


Speaking of hands, his suddenly felt out of place. Unsure where to put them, he took the classic pose and crossed his arms.


"Listen, the boss doesn't want you in the backrooms. Go to the front and- "


"And have them tell me to come back here? I already tried that and now I'm here. I'm not going around again." She started forward, causing the guard to stammer.


"S- S- Stop, c'mon. I can't let you in here"


She moved in close, staring without blinking. Even with glasses on he started to panic. Her hands traveled up to his as she gently pulled his finger to her mouth. Her grip tightened as she squeezed out his pointer finger, lodging the digit between her closing teeth. Heart rate spiking, he recoiled. The same primal fear gripping a gazelle trying to sip at a river.


"Just...go...I didn't see you."


She's already past him, the ticking of her necklace giving the only response he needed. He wipes his forehead clear, smearing the beads of gathering sweat. He'd heard tales of what she'd done to guys like him. The freak...


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The door to Hook's room was unlocked, the first inkling she had that it would a fun night tonight. The long slash in the dark wood making her smile. Rage that filled Hook's body that sweetened his meat and tainted her just enough to know that he was the key. She runs her finger through the slash and pushes. The door swings open with little sound, revealing a young trollop splayed out and played out on Hook's bed.


"Get out. I've got things to do in here"


She takes a few slow measured steps forward before stopping. Mirelle didn't ever show surprise. It wasn't her nature. She just froze in place. She'd smelled this girl before. A wistful sort of scent that brought her back to the dark caves and deep pools of Never-neverland. For just a second, she was her old self again, thrashing through the water to snap in blind hunger at a pair of duelists in the rocks above.


The crocodile gives a long smile.


"You aren't grown up are you.."