Former IC Thread [The Exodus of Fables]

[Elle Joyner]

Johnna Little

Marian's Fancy Shack

​

Johnna laughed, genuinely, as he mentioned his traveled. She had seen a good portion of the world, herself, but it had never seemed big enough to escape what had been following her all these years. Still, it had been an adventure, and an enjoyable one, at that. It had never compared, though, with her time with the Merry Men. Then, there had been purpose... there had been a meaning to what they did, and they had changed the world, because of it. Or at least their own little world.


Traveling had been fun, but it had only ever just been fun. She had done her share of good deeds, here and there, but in the end it was empty. Rebuilding the Merry Men meant everything to her, in truth, because it was everything to her, "The Bermuda Triangle, hmm? I can imagine... Though I've seen some strange things, myself. We'll have to compare notes, some day."


Sitting back, she tapped her fingers on the table top, absently, her brightly colored nails drumming out a pattern, "There are some decent hotels, downtown. Basically, just stay away from anything with neon lights... those usually are more pay by the hour establishments. And you'll want to steer clear of South Emerald... anything past eleventh street is just trash. That's Hook's territory, and that rat bastard's nothing but trouble."


She glanced up then, when Marian interrupted and straightened, chuckling softly at the veiled accusation that they somehow had motives for being there. She, at least, wasn't terribly interested in getting down to business just then... not after the day she'd had, "Can't speak for everyone else... but I'm just here cause I missed ya, Mar."

 

[Teh Frixz]

Mirelle Dylan
The Crocodile

"No animal is half as vile as crocky-wok, the Crocodile"

​

Her words linger in the air before taking the less usual route out of Hooks domain, leaving via the door. It shut behind her with a satisfying thunk, giving the guard posted outside a little jump. With casual ease, her hand drags under his jaw while her eyes fixated on the main room of the bar.


Mirelle, for all her hatred of her fleshy form, loved the smell of it. The oiled scent of warm flesh packed into a room just to ogle one another and listen to sounds meant for pleasure and not surivial. The little hairs on her neck raised each time she entered one of these places. It was like slipping silently into a nest of a sleeping deer, her senses all firing off at the abundance of prey. Instead of sliding up and pulling away a doe into the murky waters though, her only response is to give a visible moan and set her eyes on the trail she'd been following.


One leg after another. A steady tick Tock of her heels on the floor until one leg hooked over the bar stool across from the darling girl. The Wendy.


"Water, ring the glass with salt" she offers no payment, watching only Wendy while the world melted into a fog of mamalian indulgence. "I want no dust either, just your happy thoughts, darling"

​

 

[Dusky]

Gwen Darling

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Dealing with Nasties - The Ticking Clock​

Well. She hadn’t quite expected that. Gwen recoils, shrinking back towards the bar, as the man’s presence expands. She emits a small shriek as he pushes Mary and, scrambling, manages to mostly break her fall, though she doesn’t fancy the shove itself was pleasant…


Mary can surely feel the tremors wrenching through her body as Jay raises his hand again – only to have Esther, in an odd twist of the situation, come to her aid. Through the pulse in her head, she dimly registers him blustering away.


The buzzing fades as Esther slumps down, and, as if things were not bad enough, the girl from before – Mirelle – slinks past Gwen, demanding her attention. As the woman sits down some seats away, Gwen is momentarily torn.


“What the hell was that?” she says to Esther. “Actually… You don’t have to tell me that. I’ll be back to check on you as soon as possible. You too, Mary,” she adds, her rivalry with the girl suddenly seeming very small and unimportant. “And… thanks.” She takes their hands in her own and squeezes, before slowly, with no small amount of dread, walking behind the bar at which the dark-haired reptile is seated.


The ordered drink is made and served in total silence; Gwen wonders what happened in that backroom. The woman speaks – that condescending tone, so smug and self-assured, how Gwen would like to…


“Happy thoughts, huh…?” She draws a blank, of course.


Still, she doesn’t want to disappoint the croc – surely there’s something – no friends, no family – Hook? Maybe, but – ah, there.


“It had to have been just a dream, but…” She trails off, falls silent, and just as Mirelle seems to be about to prompt her she begins again. “It’s silly really. I remember eating a loaf of bread, sitting on Big Ben, of all things. That couldn’t have been real, could it…?” She’s more talking to herself at this point, body focused on filling drinks for Booth 3 and mind far, far away. The removal eases her – the less aware of Mirelle’s presence she is, the more relaxed she becomes.

 

[Kagura]

Lil' Bo Beep


The Ticking Clock

When the bearded man looked at Mary, the heat in his gaze was different than usual and the snarl was definitely not playful. Mary tried to be coy about it, despite the shot of fear that coursed through her system at this look. The man’s next words were sharp, and she saw the slight spittle shoot from his mouth as he called her a filthy slut. It didn't hurt as much to Mary- she heard those words when she was off and on the clock. It was part of the business.


The only person she needed to love her was her little lamb of a sister when she found her again.


Plus, business was over the minute he released Esther’s hand, allowing her to relax slightly besides him before she saw Gwen. Mary hadn’t seen her come over, the teetering drink and the placed fault in her step as she tripped and threw the drink over the man next to her. Mary got some splash back, but it was too late for her to escape as the man lashed out on the person nearest to him.


His hand hit Mary’s chest, and the air was immediately knocked out of her- chocking her momentarily and leaving her leveled on the floor. The blonde struggles back in her lace, heels and frills when he raises his arm again. Esther takes control of the situation, threatening him away from both of them as she calls on the unseen bouncers of this club. Mary forces herself up through shallow breaths, rubbing her sternum where a bruise is sure to form.


The bearded man finally walks out, but not before he makes another threat in Esther’s direction, she simply leans on the bar in defeat. Mary leans forward as well, coughing as she tried to rid herself of the pressure that she still feels. Gwen is talking to Esther and she hears her, but there is another patron at the bar and she has to go. With promises to check in later, the girl squeezes both Esther’s and Mary’s hand before leaving them.


Mary smiles in her direction, forcing herself to take a deep breath as she rolls her shoulders and resumes her suave veneer. “You know him?” she wonders at Esther, tapping the bar in signal that she wants a drink.

 

[Shura]

Rebecca Punzel

Emerald Towers Apartment Complex

Apt# 701​

Setting her painting aside to dry Rebecca then stretched her arms over her head. The tempting thought to start another crossed her mind but she decided to wait until morning. It wasn’t like she had much else to do anyway. With painting done for the night the young woman started to pick up her space and put the paints in their place. She spent a short while rinsing her brushes out until the streaks of colors no longer tainted the bristles, pain residue was the worst when working. Within twenty minutes she had everything cleaned up. Her eyes traveled over to the painting once more staring at the swirls of color scanning it over one more time to make sure everything was perfect.


Her train of thought was broken by someone knocking on the door. Odd… She slowly sat up and glanced through her open door towards the living area. No one really knocked on the door. Not this late anyway. The only person who could possibly be arriving would be her mother but she was going to be out very late. Something about business, Rebecca never really paid attention to her mother’s travels. It wasn’t any of her business.


Now there was someone knocking at her door. Hesitantly she pushed herself up from the bed and shuffled over to the door. Along the way she searched for a weapon but only came up with a small empty vase. She was tempted to go into the kitchen and grab a pan or knife but that would make too much noise. As far as the person knew no one was even home. Quietly Rebecca made her way over the door and peered through the small peep hole to see who it was.


A tall brunet stood in front of her door arms behind his back, waiting for her to open the door. He was unfamiliar to anyone she met before. Much too young to be a tutor or anyone her mother would hire. Why was he there? A faint sensation of de ja vu struck again when she saw him, the same as when she laid eyes on the strange boy a few nights ago. Nervousness twisted up her stomach as she pulled back from the door slightly. What should she do? Open the door? No definitely not! He could be a thief or some kind of thief or murderer possibly all three! A stranger was not welcomed in her home.


A few minutes passed as Rebecca debated on what to do. Fate, however, seemed to take mater into its own hands as an ear piercing tone rung out from the fire alarm. She reflexively looked around searching for some kind of smoke or indication of fire but there was none. Somewhere else in the building? Possibly. Now she was faced with a whole new problem, getting out. She peeked through the hole once more to see if the alarm had scared him off but no such luck. He didn’t look particularly bulky or big, perhaps she could use the door as a shield?


Rebecca glanced over to her room not wanting to leave her paintings or supplies but there was no way she could gather everything up and run out of the building. Biting her lip she put the vase aside and unlocked the door with a quiet thunk. She took in a deep breath before shoving the door open as hard as she could hoping to collide with the man and throw him off.


Not wasting any time she darted out of the apartment and glanced over her shoulder catching sight of man once more “Sorry!” She called reflexively before quickly making her way to the stairs. As she ran down the hall she realized she had no clue where the stares even were. “Oh fudge..."


@DamagedGlasses

 

[Sol]

Matt Mulligan

and the act of probably digging a deeper hole

"Ah yes, the cabinets. Thank you."


He had the drinks and now he had the cups to put the drinks in. The plan was falling into place and he was putting this jigsaw puzzle together nicely. He took an assortment of glasses from the cabinets that lined the kitchen, picking each one carefully despite not knowing how one glass differed from another. Though he did not know what glass was what, he knew well enough that in order to maximize the liquid and minimize that bubbly foam, one had to pour the drinks at angle. He proceeded to carefully pour each glass with its respective drink. All the while Lady Marian began questioning everyone at the table why they were there. It was loud enough to break Will and Johnna off of their conversation as well as reach Matt's ears in the kitchen as he was slowly pouring the drinks.


There were a couple of answers but none seemed conclusive enough for Lady Marian's liking. True, he doubt that even he himself could answer that question aside from Archer. He only did tag along and play driver to Archer and Johnna but putting down his own twopence couldn't probably make things worse couldn't it? As he finished pouring the drinks into their glasses he put the bottles beside their respective glasses and loaded everything onto a silver tray that just happened to be in convenient reach. Ferrying the drinks was made easier when the tray itself had modestly ornate handles jutting out from the side.


Matt made his way to the table and set the drinks down on the center of the table. Hopefully the rest have took notice and had their attention taken by the arrivals of the beverages. But he still couldn't stop his tongue from dropping his own twopence in this whole conversation, not doing so would just confirm that he was the odd fifth wheel in what should be the "Merry Men Reunion" instead of the "Merry Couples Reunion." He cleared his throat before he spoke.


"Err, well I'm not really privy to Archer's reasons for going here other than to have a nice dinner and catch up with everyone. But now that you've mentioned these factual inaccuracies, I'd like to point out that I never had a sweetheart in Nottingham neither was I as dashing and reliable as you painted me out to be. Lady Marian I was thirteen when all of that happened. I also don't look anywhere near like the sweet kind of guy who'd make a girl swoon, or so one of the online comments stated about your book, I'm pretty sure that should be Will's job."

 

[Erica]

Archer Robert Moore (Robin Hood)Marian's Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

As anticipated, Marian absorbed his teasing with ease and then countered with a direct question. While seasoned with humor to make it easier to swallow, it was pointed and on point, making him smile. Across the table, Johnna and Will sat deeply absorbed in conversation - and in each other. It astounded him that Will, for all his intelligence and worldly insight, had remained so oblivious for so long. For another friend, Rob might pull the man aside to explain his myopia. Yet Will’s presence tonight left them on volatile ground. Plus, Johnna would likely beat Rob to a bloody pulp if he spilled her secret.


Johnna and Much - or rather, Matthew - dodged the question, each according to their nature and each seemingly content to defer to him. It was their way, after all, due to team dynamics of his own design. With the description and disclosure of master plans, he served as the voice of the group. This particular question had the added bonus of coming from Marian - another area in which the group followed his lead. Rob claimed the glass of water from the center of the table with a nod for Matthew. Then he paused, wondering if Much had a death wish. He casually placed himself between Marian and the table - and its cutlery. Donning a charming smile, he said with brotherly affection, “I think you underrepresent yourself, Matthew.”


He paused then to give Marian a chance to reply to Matthew’s statement before he would respond to her earlier question. Once she had her say or held her tongue, he would speak to her in a voice clearly meant to encompass everyone - and draw everyone’s attention. It was the tone of voice used to address a crowd: the one used in every retelling of his life at some point by the lead movie actor, usually atop a wall for some unfathomable and ludicrous reason. “Johnna is right: our primary purpose tonight is to accept your gracious offer of dinner and enjoy your company.” He paused briefly, a slight crease appearing on his brow as he added in a more personal tone, “The only goal of my visit to the bookstore was to see you.” He did not want her to believe he had been working an angle, attempting to use her for her connections. Pausing long enough to ensure she saw and hopefully accepted the verity of his statement, he finally added, “I admit there have been some developments since then that require the attention of the Merry Men.” His gaze lingered briefly on Will, for it was a conscious choice to include him in the conversation and the group. Even after centuries apart and their diverging paths, he fervently hoped Will held the same ideals at heart. He also suspected Will would want a piece of Prince Senator John. For all Rob knew, Will might be aimed in that direction already. “And, only if you are willing, we wish to discuss them with you,” he said to Marian. Then his smile returned in force. “But first, I want to enjoy the meal you have prepared for us. It smells amazing, and frankly, waiting any longer would be torture.”


Once Marian accepted his terms, they settled into the business of dinner. Those who had not already claimed seats did so and the conversation shifted to the steak and various sides about the table as they literally broke bread. Gaps of silence were few among the discussion of everyone’s adventures over the years and the requisite small talk as they enjoyed the meal.


Glasses were emptied and refilled again, but eventually Marian would not wait much longer. Robin caught a single rolling rap of her fingernails against the tabletop and immediately took the hint. “Not to sour desert... I’m assuming there is desert?” he asked Marian with a smile.Regardless of her response, he would continue, “I promised you a more direct answer.” He took a sip of his water, then set his glass down with an inaudible sigh. “I saw footage of Senator Sharp on the news a little over a month ago. They reported that he was here in Emerald City. We arrived not long after that. You can understand our interest in his current ambitions.” He glanced at Will to gauge the man’s reaction, wondering if the same motivation had drawn his old friend to the city.


“Those matters... I would frankly rather not involve you in.” Expecting she might bristle at that, he pushed on quickly. A small set of lines emerged at the corners of his eyes, betraying his reluctance to ask the question that followed. “But... after we left the bookstore, Johnna’s apartment was ransacked, and she was visited by a Sheriff’s Deputy. I know the police department is separate from the Sheriff’s office, but we are flying blind. I hesitate to ask, but any assistance your father - or your own knowledge - could provide will help us.” He forced himself to breathe normally as he awaited her reaction, uncertain which response to hope for. Her assistance would be extremely valuable, but if she kicked them out, she would remain safe from the probably unsightly business that would follow.

 

[Syrenrei]

Marian Greene (Maid Marian)

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



​

Marian was annoyed. Will was so wrapped up in expanding on his adventures (oblivious still to Joanna's affections) that he forgot to answer her query in the midst of acting like some mysterious, dashing gentleman. Joanna tried to explain that truly they were only here to enjoy her dinner. While she did not doubt the sincerity of the statement, the 'maiden' was sharp enough to know that her wonderful writing and cooking skills had not mystically drawn everyone to her home despite their differences and various levels of estrangement. It was why they were at her house for dinner, but not why they were in the city in the first place- and to avoid that question incensed her anger. By the time Much began to lament his attractiveness, a subjective measurement if there was any, and alluded to his lonesomeness she was nearly at wit's end. Certainly he was young when the events in question took place- but he sold himself quite short. Did he think so lowly of the opinions of others in him?


She took a deep breath. Despite their lack of romantic entanglement, Will and Joanna sometimes came across as a couple and undoubtedly Robin and Marian came across one yet. But no matter how profoundly unlucky Much found himself in those pursuits, none of them were any better. Will and Joanna still danced firmly in the 'friend zone' and it was possible that the latter's love was unrequited. Robin and Marian had been dealt so much heartache they spent twice as much time apart as they were ever together. They were all troubled. Happiness, true happiness, eluded the so-called 'Merry Men' yet. Fairy tales made beautiful stories yet this was a fractured blaspheme of a happily ever after.


"None of us are as perfect as the tales would paint us, Much, and ultimately we are all facilitators of our own unhappiness. If you continue to disparage yourself in my presence, however, I will show the lot of you that not all the blades on the walls are merely for decor." Once seated she allowed herself to be placated by Robin's promise to indulge her later. It was hard to shake her annoyance at the small group, for her fondness always manifested in such overzealous ways, but she found that her husband was graceful as ever in pulling others into the rhythms of pleasant discussion. Years were peeled away and swept away with fond recollection, shared comforts, and laughter. The tragedy of her long deceased children, her split with Robin, the loss of Will's wife, and so much more was pressed into the recesses of her mind.


Still, she was anxious. Fingers rapping lightly on the surface of the table, she considered what had gathered Robin's strength to finally see her. Was it the book or a sixth sense that an affliction had seized hold of her? And why was Will here when he hadn't been traveling with the others before? What was Much working with Robin and Joanna on? When the revelation finally came, Robin's words thundered with the gravity of the situation. Lips twitched downward and she leaned back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, thinking deeply about their situation. "Law enforcement tends to close ranks, but there is no love lost between the sheriff's office and my father's. They might harass what they consider an ordinary citizen, but Joanna would be safer to stay here if she prefers. I know my way around a courthouse and with the right evidence, I have both the knowledge and ability to consult the FBI- and no one in Emerald City could protect the sheriff from them. What the city lacks is precisely that: evidence."

 

[Brax]

Simin {♕} Bahad


Sinbad the sailor
​

Another swig of alcohol. At this rate, Simin was begging to be belligerently drunk.


Particularly loathsome act; striking a woman. However, with such fierceness, Simin figured that there was possibly a way to win on both sides. While he had not witnessed the act itself, he had heard it's results; the coughing, gasping for air and all. Before Simin could properly react, the bouncers had forced the man out of the vicinity. Of course, that man was not going to ruin Simin's night. However, he felt genuinely concerned with Mary, who had taken the brunt of his obviously misplaced aggression.


Placing a hand on Mary's back, Simin took a seat on the stool next to hers. Leaning over so that his face was very much close to the side of hers, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry. I cannot apologize for that man's actions, but I could tell you that I promise to handle it once we leave." Oh, delectable smoothness. Upon exiting, he would have a nice word with Jay. One which was going to go one of two ways; obviously, well. Otherwise, it would go bad. No matter which choice the other man took, Simin would win.


He always did.


Calling out for Smee once more, Simin was sure to let the man know that all the drinks that Mary would be receiving were on his tab. Furthermore, he paid in advance; dropping a large brick of cash onto the countertop immediately after making his statement. It was tied up with rubber bands. While money couldn't buy happiness for all, it sure could for Simin. All the action gravitated around the paper; perpetual motion in it's grandest social form.


When his cigarillo had been down it the point where it was burning his finger tips, the Persian put the smoke out. It was replaced by another, in quick fashion. Such vices, such as smoking, were constant for Simin. This stemmed not from simple mental addiction, but the feeling of smoking such a substance in any place at any time. It came to a point where not a single entity could kill his vibe.


@Fly @Kagura @Elle Joyner @erry1

 

[Kagura]

Lil' Bo Peep


The Ticking Clock

A familiar presence returned to Mary's side, a hand placed on her back as she tucked her smile behind her hair. He took the seat next to her, and Mary realized she would have to pick herself up without the drink. From the smell alone she could tell it was Simin, and winked at Esther before he leaned in to whisper. The soft words made her shiver slightly in her own skin, but she gave him a side glance and small smile when he was finished.


Simin was apologizing on the other man's behalf, promising that he would deal with the problem when he left. It was hard to tell if he was being honest or just comforting her, but he went the extra mile by putting her drinks on his tab. Mary worked here and it didn't mean that much in the end-run, but his willingness to spend money on her was certainly a turn on.


Mary carefully drew her hair away from Simin's side and tucked it to the other side- revealing the nape of her neck before her hand went up the arm around her. She traced his muscles before getting to his shoulder and squeezing, finally wrapping around his neck. Then she skillfully climbed onto his lap, using the bar as a balancing tool in her plight.


With a smile, she took her hand off the bar and played with one of the buttons that held his clothes together. Mary was not so forward that she straddled him when she sat, but rather sat comfortably sideways on the stool with him. Finally undoing the button, she looked innocently up at the man underneath her "and what can I handle for you?" she wonders, leaning in to try and finally kiss him. It wasn't something she usually did without knowing she was getting paid for the night but she didn't think that would be a problem here.


@Elle Joyner @Tree @Fly

 

[Elle Joyner]

Esther Tellman

The Ticking Clock

​

Esther watched as Wendy wandered off, the answer to the question on her tongue. She didn't want to talk about what had happened earlier that week, but she was beginning to think she really didn't have much of a choice. Her nightmare was fully realized, now - given a form and a rather nasty disposition. There was no pretending she'd been afraid for no reason... no pretending it would blow over.


Mary followed Wendy's question with one of her own and Esther frowned, giving herself the time between filling a glass of brandy for the woman and holding it out to her, before she answered... or at least she meant to answer, but then Simin was there and the words were drowned out by he and Mary's mutual pawing. Frowning, she took the outstretched glass and, without much thought, downed it.


Technically she was off the clock... and she wasn't going anywhere, any time soon. Mary was too preoccupied to drink it, so it would surely have gone to waste, anyhow. Refilling the glass a second time, she turned away from the two and sank down behind the bar, sitting on the kickbar and sipping the brandy slower, this time. Inexplicably, tears burned her eyes as with her free hand she massaged her wrist where the man had grabbed her.


She recognized him. His name escaped her, but for some reason, the color blue came to mind. Not that that made a lick of sense.


Sighing, she dried her eyes with the hem of her sweater and tossed back to the rest of the brandy, refilling the glass a third, and probably less than necessary time.

 

[Ayl]

Sebastian W. Scathelocke

The Truth And Nothing But The Truth

As the main conversation took a wholly different turn from earlier, Will wiped the grin off his face, only to replace it with a more serious expression. After all, the hands were finally showing their cards. He laid back in his chair and took a sip of his scotch from time to time, emptying the glass eventually and leaving it that way. He needed both an incentive and a clear mind. He smiled again, as Robin was his ever charmful self, but he, of all people, should know the results of an attempt of derailling Marian. Disastrous. Finally he cave in and started laying out the true reason behind his visit. Will couldn't judge, he was there for personal reasons as well.


Catching Robin's gaze a few times and nodding in return, Will listened to the leader of the Merry Men up until the finish. After Marian replied, he felt he should be the next to voice his intentions, but not before he gave Much an encouraging wink accompanied by an "You've grown nicely, Matthew. Any woman to refuse your advances must surely be insane!". Shifting his gaze towards Marian, he continued. "I owe you an apology, Marian. First of all, for so rudely showing up without any prior invitation. I displayed a total lack of manners simply accepting Johnna's invite without consulting you first. For that, I am ashamed.". He paused as to let his words sink in, before going on. "Second of all, I must excuse myself, for I too have an ulterior reason for being here tonight. One that you, all of you that is, would probably not take too much liking to.".


Will quickly cleared his throat, while leaning in from his chair, to better position himself as the center of attention for the moment. "Robin is not entirely wrong about my motive for being in Emerald City at this time, nor is he entirely right. As you all know, I've left the Merry Men long ago to pursue those who have...wronged me.". Even after centuries, he still found it hard to talk about the events of that night, yet he kept in mind they were at the dinner table and some mental images had to be avoided. "Without further details, my hunt has brought me to Emerald City, where I have solid information that the last two of my targets reside. The problem is, I do not know who they are, or how they look like. The only thing I know, is that they are both in our friend's, Guy de Gisbourne's service. And since Guy, according to my intel, is in bed with 'Senator Sharp'," he accentuated the last words, for effect.


"As you may see, our goals coincide. This was part of the reason I accepted to be present here tonight. As resourceful as I may be, I do not possess the skills necessary to take on the entire criminal web that Sharp and Guy have weaved together, by myself. I was hoping you," his eyes shifted towards each of them "might offer me some support. For...old time's sake.". He ended with a smile, directed at Johnna, which was the last one he eyed before finishing his speech.

 

[Teh Frixz]

The Crocodile
Mirelle Dylan

"On Saturdays she likes to crunch


Six juicy children for her lunch"
​

Like a startled calf calming down, so did the Darling girl begin to relax. The scent of danger was gone, the threat seemingly vanished. There wasn't anything to be afraid of, fill your glasses for booth three, think of happier times.


Mirelle couldn't have asked for a more natural moment.


Teeth and muscle, armored skin and crushing jaws. Mirelle lurches forward, her teeth snapping tight together beside Gwen's ear as she leans over the bar, pulling the girl aggressively close. There was a brief moment as Mirelle's eyes roll on back in her head as she savored the memories of death knells long past. The darling girl broke a rule around her, something unwritten but inborn knowledge to most mammals. Never smile at the crocodile.


Mirelle's locked jaw hisses lowly into the ear. "You think this isss silly dreams and childssplay? It'sss all real and your hook has already paid the price for calling it a fairy tale."


Her knuckles are bone white by the time she releases the fabric of Gwen's top, her own nails having dug through the fabric hard enough mark Mirelle's own hand. The joints pop as she releases, sliding back to her side of the bar with a blank expression. Sinking back into the waters, her eyes refocus. "You and your dusted friends are going to get me back to my home and all of us back to where we belong." It was amazing to see the transition back to the calm reptilian exterior she had just been projecting. Like the fury had never happened, Mirelle sits in her seat, running a finger over the lip of her cup. "Start making friends. If hook is out, I need your boys and dust. Maybe the crow. Work on it"

 

[Elle Joyner]

Johnna Little

Marian's Mansion

​

Johnna frowned as the conversation went on. It wasn’t exactly what she had anticipated when they had first been given the invitation and it certainly wasn’t an optimum way to end dinner in a mansion with old friends, but they would have needed to address it eventually and it was better to get it out of the way than continue to keep it close to the chest and risk Marian getting involved involuntarily. And there was the matter of the Chief… Marian’s father. If anyone could be of assistance, it was him.

But Marian had let for a reason. She had gotten out, gotten free. She’d made a life for herself. They… Much and Alan, Robin and her... they held on to their past because, in truth, they had nothing better to look to. They had no one else to go to but each other. Dragging Marian back into that when she had worked so hard to find a life of her own…?


“I appreciate the offer, Mar… But you’re… you’ve been out of the game for a good while, now. And for good reason. You’re legitimate, now. I’d hate for you to get wrapped up in this drama just to help me.”


Will spoke up then, and a little more truth came out. She’d heard it before, but somehow it didn’t make it any easier. He was still hunting… still seeking revenge. It was almost as if no time at all had passed. And those words… the reason why he had accepted her invitation… they hurt, worse than she had anticipated.


Her face fell, and she avoided his gaze as much as she could, knowing that winsome, oblivious smile would undoubtedly break her resolve entirely. All this time and he still didn’t get it. All this time, and he still had no clue…


“…Then again…” She started, her voice a little harder, “Staying here might beat a hotel. Food’s definitely better. And if you can get in touch with your father, I’m sure I can give him some information that might help. Taking down the Sheriff’s department, it’s a start, at any rate…”

 

[DamagedGlasses]

Gene Kingsley

Emerald Towers Apartment Complex

Apt# 701->Floor->Inside Apt #701->Hallway​

Gene, in all of his confidence of having an easy time in overpowering the woman who lay inside, just beyond this slight wooden door, had not been prepared for the sharp noises of the fire alarm to go off. In all of his days, Gene had never wanted to curse more than then, but there was no time to relish in his sudden hate for fire, no, he needed to get inside and get out even quicker now.


With the arrival of the Firemen, the police would not be far behind and would quite possibly hold all occupants of the Hotel, until the situation had been resolved and everyone would then be allowed to leave, except for someone who wasn't supposed to be there like Gene and would quickly be identified by somebody there about his nefarious intentions. Maybe he could go and make sure that Newman girl didn't make it out of the fire? Gene had no time to consider this train of thought for long, because suddenly, all he could look over and visualize was tons of stars in his eyesight, his head suddenly feeling like a bag of weights as the door impacted into his nose.


Crumbling backwards, Gene managed to keep himself from becoming completely sprayed across the ground with a helpful addition of his outstretched arms, the hands keeping his body from completely succumbing to gravity in his moment of weakness. His eyesight was everywhere as he tried to find out what was going on, and in befuddlement, he could vaguely make out the sounds of apology, but it was warped from his trauma and only the intent seemed to make sense to him.


His confusion, however, faded quickly, and though he had a feeling his nose was going to probably become a lot more associated with the color red in a moment, he was still able to see the quickly retreating body of his target, the owner of the room, and suddenly Gene was hit by a ferocious clarity. Picking himself up from the ground, he took one glance at the door, before speeding towards the girl, now knowing exactly who had been the one to think up, "Hey, lets smack this guy with a door! A DOOR!" Gene stumbled slightly as he tried to take off, his eyes blurring at the sudden movement, and he realized that that whore had just smashed a godforsaken door into his fudgin' face!


Rapidly staggering towards the blonde headed witch, Gene frowned slightly, the only thing that hinted at his anger, before gripping his duckt-empty hand? Gene stopped and quickly looked around, to see the duck tape sitting where he had almost been knocked flat. Gene made to get it from its spot, but he remembered that the girl was rapidly getting away. Firing a curse word off into the hallway's empty air, Gene paced after the infuriating girl, before remember what he had been after all along. The girl might make it out alive, but even if she told someone, he could hopefully be a long ways away before it ever happened.


Turning back, Gene ran into the now open door, only glaring at it for a second, before entering in completely. Looking around, Gene knew he had very little time to get things done before the officials began to arrive, so he quickly looked around the room and zoned in on the painting resting beside the window. Walking up to it, Gene stared at the colorful swirls that made their home on the parchment, and picked it up, cringing a tiny bit as the side of his thumb met cool, wet paint, and not the dry kind he had been hoping for. However, he wasn't picky, and with care, Gene cradled it in his arms and ran out the apartment room.


@Shura

 

[Brax]

Simin {?} Bahad

Sinbad the sailor

​

Hues had been scanning the form of Mary since she had found her way into his lap. One of his arms had appropriately held her up, while the other hand moved to place his cigarillo into the nearest ashtray. Once he had done so, that same hand moved to the side of Mary's thigh. When she moved in for a piece of cake, Simin was not too quick to oblige. After a brief moment where Esther's slumping motion caught Simin's attention, he would turn a portion of his attention back to the woman in his lap. As she hung in limbo, Simin's own head would dip so that his labium could meet her own.


This ended with his lips finding solice in grasping her bottom, interweaving both lust and physical contact in the matter of a few seconds. Simin found a brief glance of distraction, lost between a pair of juicy lips which were not his own. However, he would soon break such interaction to tend to Esther's needs. For some reason, there was a part of him which was pulled aside; a certain pit in his stomach in which could not be absolved so easily. Not wanting to disturb Mary, Simin remained in his spot without much movement.


"Hey. I want a drink. I also want to talk to you about that assclown outside, so get your ass up." Abrupt? Perhaps. Simin was pushy in some of his ways, but when even when he meant well, it did not translate in a positive manner. One of his faults, undeniably, but it was all about power. Exuding such manly and affluent disposition came at its own prices all the same. The hand which was on Mary's thigh moved to grasp the cigarillo from the ashtray, placing the mouthpiece between his lips. That very same hand found a lighter within the depths of his pocket before setting flame to the appropriate end of his smoking apparatus once more.


Removing the blunt from his mouth, both the index and middle fingers of his left hand removed the item from his mouth so that the ascending smoke would not get into his eyes. Mary may have asked something of him. Simin completely ignored answering the statement once their lips met. It did not matter all the same, because he was going to take Mary home with him. At this point, he might as well have owned the Ticking Clock; an impeded reality at the moment, but a prophecy given to himself which Simin believed would come to fruition. Time and money would tell that tale.


Awaiting a response from Esther, of any form, Simin would take another drag of his 'L' before placing it back into the ashtray. Hell, it existed to have smokes put in it. Resting it there constantly was not a big deal, especially considering it was rather clean and belonged to just himself; he had generated all of the ash inside on his lonesome. Finishing the drink which was previously given to him, Simin placed the empty glass beside the ashtray before his lips greeted the side of Mary's face once more.


 
@Kagura @Elle Joyner @Fly (mentioned briefly)

 

[Effervescent]

Ezreal Aurelius


Clock Tower Apartment

​

The night was as it always was in Emerald City, at least how Ezreal Aurelius saw it. Glimmering lights of oranges, blues, and reds brighter than the stars gave the metropolis tangible life. It was a life Ezreal watched from afar inside the comfort and solitude of his clock tower apartment. Most nights he would take to the streets with an activity in mind to pass the time and have a taste of the night life the grand city has to offer, but tonight was one of those nights he was partial to just being alone.


Upon a leather sofa sat his laptop, abandoned after several searches through various social media and networking sites. A bout of nostalgia had hit him, and he had been in search of childhood friends, all of which turned up without any results. Details were fuzzy and muddled within his mind as he tried to fish out clues of their appearances or their life goals. Surely they were out there somewhere. It couldn't have been that long since they last spoke.


Yet the lack of results caused him dismay. He wanted to perhaps catch up with them in secret. Being the heir to the enterprise of the Aurelius family had come with a solemn price for Ezreal. His parents urged him to give up select friendships and past-times in order to keep the family name unsullied. Granted, he felt now they did sort of have a bad influence over him. Those were the people that made him think outside of his little box and experiment and adventure beyond what he was used to. He always hated that he wasn't really given a choice to leave them despite his parents making it seem so. It was an obligation to his birthright.


The years rolled on making him feel more and more useless. Every charity event his family hosted, he was more or less just a face, for he desired little of the politics and was forbidden to get his hands dirty with the work. Whenever he'd ask, his father would remind him that his inheritance is not of the work seen by the people, but the work behind walls for the people. Why couldn't it be both? Why shouldn't it be so?

To him, the city felt a mess. He had only started taking to the streets in secret for nearly a month in what he liked to consider "random acts of kindness." It was borderline vigilantism, truth be told, but because he barely intervened in anything he came across, he would just repeat the lie to himself. Part of him wanted to delve further into such notion, for if his family truly wanted to help this city as they claim, they would want to fight against the crime that riddled its streets on a daily basis. Building skyscrapers and opening up work for the citizens did help to a degree, but it didn't resolve the underlying sickness that plagued Emerald City.


Becoming part of the police department was right out of the question. It would be too public, and it would go against his father's wishes. Finally, before the night ran too late, he packed his hoodie and bandanna into a backpack and headed out of his seclusion. There was likely something going on to anonymously report.


"Have fun out there for me," the night-shift security guard called out to Ezreal on his way out the front door. Ezreal kicked his head back and huffed a small laugh as he waved over to the security desk manned by several not-so-enthusiastic security guards. Their station was set with displays showing each camera reading throughout the entrance and outside, though one was set aside that they often used to watch the news. It was mostly white noise for them unless something important came up, though as he passed he heard a recap of the senator's speech and commentary upon his words. Ezreal mentally commended the security guards' fortitude for multitasking. The building had yet to have any serious breach.


"I'll have you guys in mind while I'm out," he called back to them. "Take care!"


"You, too, Mr. Aurelius."

 

[Elle Joyner]

Isabelle Lockwood

The Clock: Looking for Trouble

​

The sexy little nutjob had bolted. She shouldn't have been surprised, really... She hadn't exactly expected him to move in. What she had not anticipated was him sneaking out like he had. Of course, it wasn't the first time and she hardly imagined it would be the last, but somehow this time hurt more than the others. He had seemed to different - so unexpected... and to walk upstairs to find her bed empty, it had been a blow to the ego.


Getting dressed in what she could only describe as her sluttiest get up she owned - a fishnet top over a black tube dress and knee high stiletto boots in bright red, she grabbed her purse and her notepad she'd been working on and left her apartment in a storm.


She wasn't sure where she was going until she'd already arrived. Stepping through the doors of the Ticking Clock she frowned. It wasn't exactly the most populated hour, but even this early in the A.M. it was relatively busy. Stalking over to the bad she looked, at first, for a potential distraction in the form of that smoking hot new bartender, but then her eyes fell on someone else and with a wicked smirk she approached the little blonde, eyes hungry for trouble.


"...Still here, Wendy?"


Meanwhile, Gwen after being manhandled by the croc and yanked on, slopping the drinks all over herself though - miraculously, she thought, in a sort of detached way, without dropping the glasses. It would have been the third time that night; she had to kick that habit. Not something she was good at doing.


And then the croc hissed at her, hissed low, hissed sharp, hissed like a reptile darting out of the water, and Gwen the soft, unwitting mammal, simply froze as Mirelle thrashed. She didn’t even fully listen, just went limp, let the other woman hold her by her shirt, stared hopelessly down, not meeting eyes as something inside her broke. Such easy prey. Doesn't even fully listen - until.


"Your hook has already paid the price for calling it a fairy tale."


Gwen's sluggish brain struggled to kick back into action, dimly registering that it wass important, as Mirelle released her and she slumped down, clutching the bar to stay standing, taking in the rest of the words.


"If Hook is out..." Gwen repeated, and suddenly fear clicked into place. "What did you do to him?!" she blurted, and then, earning ire be damned, booth three be damned, Gwen was off, dashing to the back room she had fled from - only to find a small, smirking figure in her way, making a nasty greeting.


Gwen brushed quickly past the pixie with a "Fuck you." It was more desperate than snide, really, more frustration than anger. Could tonight get any worse? As she lurched towards the hallways, she thought it could. It could get much, much worse.


The Hatter was one thing. But Wendy? Oh no. She didn't get to rush off and be a bitch. Not tonight. Not ever. Reaching out, Isabelle looped her fingers around Gwen's wrist and tugged, harshly - half hoping the girl would fall on her backside from the force of the pull. Regardless, her grip is surprisingly strong... bruising, even.


"Well, that was rude. Where you off to in such a hurry, Darling?"


Gwen, of course, did fall. Eternally the weak one. She sat still for a moment, then growled, a high-pitched thing, and slammed her fist into the ground, failing to will away the beginning pricks of tears. It hurt. It was too much. Too much for one day. Too much for one person. "None your business! Leave me alone, Izzy." She turned away as she go up to hide the fat drops spilling down, and took another step towards the backrooms, slowly now, dreading what she would find now that some of the sheer panic had dissipated.


There was a healthy smattering of guilt in that step, too.


"So make it my business." Isabelle hissed, grabbing for her arm again. She had no reason to care why little Wendy was so upset, but deep down inside it was easier to be aggressive to the little trollop. She was responsible for so much hurt... Why not this, too.


Gwen wheeled around, slapping Izzy's hand away as a sob escaped her throat. "What did I do to ever do to you?!" she screamed, the only thing louder than her in the now nearly empty club being the music, surely drawing attention, making a scene. "It's Hook, are you happy now?!" She gasped, then swallowed, as if she could suck the words back in. As her fingers creeped up to cover her mouth, she shook her head, locking her lips against another word. Airing his dirty laundry?


She could expect punishment, for this.


If... If he was alright. What had that meant? "Paid the price?" "If he's out?" Still shaking her head, Wendy backed away, into a wall, and sank against it, shaking. Suddenly she was just so tired. Too tired to move. Too tired to do anything really.


"Dust," she gasped out. "I want some. How much?"


Isabelle's eyes narrowed at the outburst, her hands dropping to her side, balling into fists, "What did you do? Everything! You ruined everything! I will never, ever forgive you, and I will never let you forget it, no matter how smacked out you get!"


Right then it didn't matter what she meant about Hook. He was a big boy, as far as Isabelle was concerned, and he could take care of himself. She refused... absolutely refused to let Wendy see her falter, for even a second. She would have nothing in common with the feeble little brat.


When Wendy mewled for drugs, Isabelle stepped back, her lips curved in a smirk, "...Pitiful. You want dust... go sweep something. You won't get a pinch from me."


Gwen buried her face in her hands and went still. Went quiet. Did not respond. Just waited for the other girl to finish. Be done with her.


Gave up.


It had been a long night.


"You're pathetic! When are you gonna learn to fight your own battles?" Isabelle shouted, stepping back, "Get up. What's wrong with Hook?"


No response. She wanted it to go away. Go away, Isabelle, go away... Go away, Hook. Go away, Mirelle. Go away, Peter and Michael and John and Wendy. Go away, ground. Let her fly for a while.


Rolling her eyes, Isabelle knelt down and reached out, pulling Wendy's hands away from her face, "Hey. You want the Dust, you need to answer my question. What happened?"


Gwen's eyes snapped up to meet Isabelle's, attention gotten. If it was just her, it'd be okay, right...? But she'd been doing so good. Trying to stay clean. Should she really - Go away go away go away - yes, she should.


"Customer being difficult... He seemed to know her. Talking crazy talk about Neverland. I left them in the back, but now she's there... at the bar. Said he'd 'paid the price.' Not for her drink, I mean, something about calling it a fairy tail..."


The feel of waves rocking her to sleep and the smell of the sea surfaced in her memory. Hm? She'd never been on a boat. She'd thought she had, once, though she couldn't quite remember, but Hook assured her she was mistaken.


Straightening, Isabelle's eyes narrowed, and she looked around, quickly, "What... Who was she? Is she still here? Point her out..."


Gwen jerked her head in the direction in which was Mirelle's seat. "Dark hair. Not as pretty as she looks." A small, childish pout appeared on her lips.


Following the gesture, Isabelle frowned, "...Lying is beneath you, Wendy. Especially over jealousy. She's a fox. Who is she, though? Does she have a name...?"


Wendy made a face. "More like snake." Crocodile, Wendy, but close enough. "I think it's Mirelle? That's what Hook called her..."


Looking back to Wendy, Isabelle smirked, wickedly, "...Mm... Green's not your color, Little Darling. Should we go chat with her? Find out just what she means by coming here...? Come on, Wendy. You know we love a good adventure."


Under her breath Gwen muttered, "No, but it looks great on you."


And as for adventure - she'd always wanted to go. Move with the wind. Have some epic tales spun of her travels. But there were no ships and swords like there used to be; all there was now was Dust, alcohol, and this damnable club. Doesn't this girl know? If there was such a thing as adventure, Wendy would be long gone.


After staring incredulously at Isabelle, Gwen shook her head and said, "If you want to, fine, but she's insane. I don't think you'll get anything, except maybe attacked."


"Uh uh. You're going with me. C'mon... up on your feet. There's safety in numbers, after all."


Gwen sighed and leaned forwards, hands on her knees as she curled out of her crouch, as if testing her legs' ability to support her still-trembling body. She was calmer, now – didn’t even want the Dust so desperately now, was very glad in fact that that request didn't yield immediate results. But she was too tired to argue, now.


"Fine..." She straightened up and looks down at the shorter girl, momentarily reveling in the feeling of superiority - never mind she was a sobbing weakling mess mere moments ago.


"There's a girl..." Isabelle said with a smirk, "Let's see who this tart thinks she is..."


(Collab with @Dusky )

 

[Dusky]

Gwen Darling

Ticking Clock - Getting Real Sick of This Shit

Collab with @Elle Joyner and @Teh Frixz
​

Gwen stares at Izzy for a second before realizing that she is not, in fact, going to lead the way. She frowns and puts a reluctant foot forward - going back is always so much harder than running away. They approach the bar where she left Mirelle, Gwen with her eyes downcast. Oh, how she wishes Isabelle would do the talking... She clears her throat, intending to ask just what she had meant by Hook paying, but what come out is "Can I get you another?"


...Really, me? Really? She winces.


"No. I'm fine." Her sluggish eyes drift over the defeated woman, no sign of a reaction to show the disdain she felt. There was a scent on her now, something that made her eyes nearly retract to slits. Dust...


"Who is your friend you went crying to?"


Gwen's spine shivers with the jolt of... of... of something. Something that feels very familiar and old, a little piece of the girl who danced in front of crocodiles and slew pirates and told Peter Pan himself that he would, indeed, be going to bed before eight o'clock, and she did not care what he had to say on the matter. Her mouth twisting into a wry grin, she says, "Mirelle, meet Isabelle. Isabelle, meet Mirelle. You two have a lot in common, I'm sure you'll get along swell."


Isabelle's lips curve in a smirk, but there is no humor, no joy behind it... it's the smile of a girl all too familiar with reptiles, one who may just have picked up a few habits, herself, "I wish I could say it was a pleasure."


Eyes roving over the brunette, she shrugged, "But I don't like to lie. Well, that's not exactly true... honesty is kind of a new thing for me. Figured I'd give it a shot. Now let's see how you do. What do you want from Hook?"


Mirelle switches targets, her eyes slowly sliding over to the pixie. Her finger which had been running over the top of the glass moves up to pick at her teeth. What she wouldn't give for a little plover friend.


"Hook is out of the picture" She says after an almost awkwardly long pause. This encounter would be at her pace, not theirs. "But what he had, you have. Lots and lots of Dust and a ship. We are going back."


And Gwen’s spark is gone. "What does that mean?!"


"It means we've got a smacked out junkie on our hands and security should remove them, before they upset the paying customers." Isabelle watches the woman with a new expression, however... One of careful, unmoving focus.


"Wendy, darling, would you be so kind as to fetch a bouncer?"


"Don't be an idiot pixie." Mirelle holds the gaze, still never blinking. "It doesn't work on me and if it did, I'd never waste it. No, we need Dust to cover the ship. Yes, we are taking the ship back home."


"Sorry, Sweetie. My Dust doesn't give you the kind of high you're looking for. I'm not a pixie, anymore... Well, not that kind, anyway. And no amount of happy thoughts are gonna get you back home. You know, I'm aware that reptiles aren't particularly known for the size of their brains, but you do still have one, right? If we had a way to get back to Neverland, do you honestly think we'd be hanging out this hell hole?"


Stepping back, hands on her hips, she appraises the woman, "...Now... why don't you go off and haunt some other dive, because I'm pretty sure you're not welcome here."


"Big talk coming from a little glowworm. " She gives a loping sort of head bob in irritation "It got us here, it can get us back. Just need the ship" Mirelle reaches down, withdrawing a large brass key. "I followed Hook before and where did it get me?" Her eyes flash "Stuck in this pink...skin? It stinks, everything hurts and I'm going to lose what little I have left." Exuding an alien sense of danger, she exhales in a low hiss. "If you don't help me, I'm going to kill every single customer you deal with. Then I'll eat them. Don't think I can't in this body. And no amount of clapping will bring them back..."


"You think I give a damn about my customers? I sell them a mind debilitating drug that's just about as safe as riding a surf board on top of a moving mack truck - and I overcharge. Threats will get you nowhere. I'm not a little glowworm anymore, and you... well, you're not the croc you used to be. Really, my heart bleeds for you. And while I don't doubt for a second you're cracked enough to try to eat a person, all that's gonna get you is indigestion and a room in a loony bin - maybe not the worst idea, come to think."


Slowly, she shrugs, "Doesn't change the truth. Magic doesn't work the way it used to... You want to get home, you are just gonna have to find a way to learn to fly, all on your own."


"I've got the ship. I've got the hook. All I need is the dust and happy thoughts. Magic is out there and if that's what I need, I'll get that too." She squints her eyes. "I'll kill the other pixies then. I don't care. You will start helping me."


Another exhaling hiss.


"I'm desperate."


"Poor baby. I told you... threats don't work, and even if they did... even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't. You need to wake up, Croc. This is it! This is the world now... You want Dust? Fine... I've got loads - You'll pay out the ears for it and you'll sprinkle it on that ship and all you'll have is soggy product and a huge waste of money. You will never get back that way...."


A bouncer is making his way up to the pair now, closely followed by Wendy.


"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," he says, stopping in front of Mirelle. He doesn't move to touch her, not yet - but for all her cold blood, that thick neck and those ropes of muscles suggest she'd have a hard time trying to stop him if he changed his mind.


Looking to Wendy and to the bouncer, Isabelle frowns, "Now... You've got a choice. You either slink out of here like a good girl and don't darken our doorstep again, or my big meaty friend here carts you out like croc-skin luggage and tosses your scaly ass in a dumpster. Honestly, I'm hoping for option B, but it's your call."


There comes that barking laugh again, like a creature not accustomed to making such a joyous noise, it's unnatural.


"Actually, I'll take C."


Once again, a quick dive into her purse to pull out a document.


"Did you think I was kidding when I said I had hook? Read the deed."


A point down to the deed ownership line quickly shows a signature along with hook's. "The captain can never leave without giving me at least a hand. This time in the business"


This time it's the crocodiles turn to smile.


Isabelle's eyes flick to the paper, and while nothing registers in the green depths, she nevertheless appears tense... uncertain, "...He would never sign the clock over to a nutjob like you."


At this point Gwen doesn't have the emotional stamina left to raise her voice beyond normal volumes, though the frustration is there in spades. "Hook wouldn't - what - you still haven't said what the fuck you did to him!" The bouncer, for his part, coughs and ambles away, not, it seems, up to dealing with this.


"Are you now both forgetting the special...relationship Hook and I had? Without me, why, he'd have been nothing. I simply let him know his place and mine and what happened to the last bit of him I had to snap at. I imagine he's already past the first star on the right and heading straight on."


She frowns, then smiles, then goes back to the dull look she managed to maintain in lieu of actually showing true emotion.


"Now. Let’s start again. I've got the ship, I know the way. You've got the dust. Now all we need is a new captain. One that crows."


Gwen rubs her face, still not sure what the hell this woman is on. Just what was she to Hook? And... why hadn't Hook... told Gwen...? She bites back that uncertainty. None of this sounds familiar but it all sounds right somehow - place, snap, star, right, ship, dust, captain, crows...


Crows crows crows crows CROWS - BANGARANG through the air BANGARANG through the sea BANGARANG through the overgrown green of the wilderness –


"You're not making any sense," Gwen says hopelessly. She turns to Izzy and hisses under her breath. "Do you see what I mean? This is pointless. And what's that about Hook?"


Shaking her head, Isabelle looks between the two women.


"What the hell. You want the dust, fine. It'll cost you, though. Just tell me how much you need and you can write me a check. You wanna waste your time, trying to get home, that's on you. I'm done trying to talk sense into crazy people and I've had more than my share of them, tonight. But you want a captain who crows, you go find a rooster. I don't know where Peter is and I'm sure as hell not going looking for that traitor."


Taking two steps away from the bar she holds up her hands, "Now, I'm not on the clock, so... I'm gonna go enjoy myself with people who don't make my skin crawl. My guess on Hook, Gwen... he's off getting drunk, somewhere. She wouldn't hurt him. Not really... She still needs him. But if he signed over the Clock to this psycho bitch, well... I wouldn't put in too much time or energy looking for him. He clearly doesn't give a damn about any of us."


Shaking her head, she spins on her heels and gives a wave before disappearing into the meager crowd.


Gwen is mentally nodding along, watching her nemesis go with something akin to approval, until she realizes –


Get home? Peter? Who said anything about-


She dives into the crowd - it shouldn't be hard to find a pixie in dead hour - but she looks left, looks right, and it's a big club and she doesn't see Izzy anywhere and she doesn't think she can deal with much more drama tonight and if she leaves now and takes a bottle of tequila with her nobody will really miss her and nobody will really miss it.


Gwen orchestrates her own disappearance, as well.

 

[Teh Frixz]

The Crocodile
Mirelle Dylan

"How cheerfully she seems to grin,


How neatly spreads her claws,


And welcomes little fishes in


With gently smiling jaws!"

​

The crocodile watches the hot blooded fairy pout off. A halfway normal sort of smile grows on her face as the pixie played out her pattern as precisely as a ticking clock. She'd pout, pretend she didn't care, that she was above it all, and slowly yet surely she'd go find Peter for her. Like a wounded deer crawling back to the nest, all Mirelle had to do was follow the scent of blood.


Dipping her finger in the drink glass and stirring the salty contents, she watches the darling girl leave too. What a fall from grace that one was. Darling would take the lost boys to the beaches, tell stories that entertained the eavesdropping crocodile, and watched over the other darlings like a bear. It was too much of a jump from Neverland to...this place and it was killing all of them. Mirelle's own first years back were disturbingly similar but different. For almost a month after beaching in South America, she refused to accept what had happened. The ship was leaving Neverland and she couldn't let Hook escape. The sea waves crashed around her as her thirty foot long bulk of armor plating, teeth and muscle swam freely then the next moment she washed up on the beach outside Rio, half dead and a pink mess. She snapped and fought but the hospital took her and gave her drugs that didn't do anything. Then came the letter and her release.


By then her scents had come back and all she had done was follow Hook to this city. Here she found the dust and the darling girl and the pixie and almost everyone. Since then she had become close, devastatingly close, to getting them all home. Dust, Ship, and Hook. All she needed now was Peter and happy thoughts.


For some reason, a part of her realized that the hardest part was yet to come.

 

[Kagura]

Lil' Bo Peep


The Ticking Clock

Simin was allowed the moment to put his cigarillo back into the ashtray before his hand rested on her upper thigh. Their lips finally met and she moved in tandem with his rhythm, letting him lead the kiss until he grasped her bottom lip before pulling away. Mary licked her lips in the moment to follow, taking a moment to place a rough kiss where his beard ended and his neck began.


The man was speaking to Esther but Mary remained interested in his plight - it was the barkeep's well-being after all, and it mattered to her too. It wasn't as if he was disinterested in her either, allowing her the position on his lap while he continued to smoke. She took the moment to adjust herself, finally straddling him, flush against his body. When he put his cigarillo back in the ashtray, his lips had found her face again and she giggled, meeting his lips.


Mary was a little rougher this time, using a little bit of teeth on his bottom lip and exploring the expanse of his chest.


@Tree @Elle Joyner

 

[Erica]

Archer Robert Moore (Robin Hood)Marian's Home on Citron Court, Emerald City

​

A small, rueful smile emerged unbidden as Marian immediately ignored his desire to keep her out of their troubles. True to her nature, she immediately focused on the issue, offering solutions - all of which would likely put her in harm’s way. He had known this before they came tonight, though. The woman he had wed so many years ago would never be content to sit on the sidelines while the Merry Men faced danger. I encouraged him to see that, at least, had not changed.


The friends around the table had once been inseparable. Now the gulf between them transformed the once-easy conversation into something stilted and awkward, like a dance set to the wrong tempo. Rob frowned at Will’s endless quest for revenge arose again, still so intense that he could not speak of it directly. While beside him, Johnna’s disappointment hung like a cloud around her.


Johnna forged ahead, as was her way, and Rob followed her lead. Marian’s invitation provided a lovely compromise; Johnna’s acceptance saved him the fight that would have ensued when he insisted she stay at the Merry Men headquarters for now. “Then that’s settled,” he said to Johnna with a small encouraging smile before he met Will’s gaze. “As for support, you have always had that.” In the beat that followed, a glance between him and Will communicated the unresolved matters they had argued about generations ago. Rob would not rehash them now. He looked to Marian, hesitating only a moment before he addressed everyone.


“Fate has brought us together. It does not matter that fate’s instrument is now a Senator; he does not stand a chance against friends united.” He raised his glass with a warm smile, ignoring the fact that it only contained water. For tonight, at least, they could be merry.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Esther Tellman

The Ticking Clock

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Her thoughts, morbid and unpleasant and not nearly clouded enough were interrupted, as Simin's barking echoed to her from over the bar top. Frowning, she looked at her empty glass, refilled it and rose to her feet, giving the conjoined pair a narrow-eyed glare. Silently, she grabbed a second glass and filled it to the rim, the amber liquid sloshing out as she slid it, haphazardly in Simin's direction, "I'm off the clock, you know."


She watched as they pawed at one another, her resolve steadily crumbling. It wasn't fair, really... they had every right, and it wasn't like it was an unusual experience at the Clock, but somehow, after the week she'd had and with everything coming to a head in such an ugly fashion, it was all she could do not to scream at them when their lips locked a second time, before she'd had a chance to even answer Simin's inquiry. Not that she'd been planning to, really...


Rolling her eyes, she plunked the bottle on the bar top, the glass behind it and untied her apron, leaving it where it dropped to the floor, "Yeah. I can see from your actions right now you're terribly concerned, Sim. That guy out there? I have no damn idea who he is, except to say I've seen him around, but if I had to put money on a guess I'd say he was here to kill me. Guess I'll find out when I go out to my car. But please, don't let me interrupt your PDA with my tales of woe."


Shaking her head, she bent and scooped up her apron, hung it on a hook by the bar exist and unclipped the gate that would allow her out into the club floor, "...You two have a blast. I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe."