get a clue

ABIGAIL WREN GABBLE

“how could this be done / by such a smiling sweetheart? / oh, and your sweet and pretty face / in such an ugly way / something so beautiful / oh, that every time i look inside / i know she knows that I'm not fond of asking / true or false, it may be / well, she's still out to get me”

Nicknames: Gail, Abby (family only) Magic status: Mundus Nationality: English-French Ethnicity: White Accent: English (London) Height: 5’5 Build: Average Complexion: Pale, faint freckles on nose Eye color: Green Hair color/length/style: Blonde, straight chin length bob, usually worn natural so a vaguely wavy, sometimes half up Tattoos/piercings/daily jewelry: Tattoo of a magnifying glass on right wrist, ear piercings: regular, second, cartilage, wears nice necklaces but not the same thing every day, has a nice watch she wears daily, hates bracelets

Occupation: Podcaster, co-hosts Foul podcast; Swynlake Squire, photographer; freelance photographer What would you find if you Googled them?: Her podcast Foul, her mother (a judge) being disgraced for taking bribes, her father’s books — he is a famous mystery novelist (very James Patterson) What natives would know about them: Related to the Bonfamilles.  Other: She has an identical twin sister, the only way to know the difference is Gail wears mostly blue, Amy wears mostly pink, and their matching tattoos are on opposite wrists. Her podcast with her sister, Foul, has over a million listeners and is a Magick-positive true crime podcast that focuses on mysteries/folktales/etc., as well as murders. 

boointhenight​:

.

“Sure do.” Among many other knives and daggers. What? She liked knives. She liked to pretend they were part of her work as a demonologist, and they certainly helped for self defense when she was in the woods by herself. But the simple fact was that she liked knives and had a whole bunch of them. 

“I’ve got a target I use to practice with. We can set up something so I can show off. And maybe if you ask real nicely, I can give you a few tips so you can try it yourself.” She smirked over at Gail, one eyebrow raised in a little bit of a challenge. She had a feeling this wasn’t something the other woman had tried before, but it would be interesting to see how she did.

...

Abigail was not the sort of girl who threw knives.

That was what her mother would say, when she tittered on about her daughters. Abigail was polite and quiet, she had a penchant for the morbid, but not anything that would be considered scandalous...like knife throwing.

But what if she wanted to be the sort of girl who threw knives?

She probably wouldn’t be very good at it. That sort of thing was Amelia’s. She was the bold one. She was the one who took risks. The one who went out and grabbed the things she wanted.

“Oh, well--maybe,” Gail said with a little blush, keeping her eyes focused ahead of them. “I don’t know how good I’d be but it would be good for research, at the very least. In case I ever come across a case where it is relevant.”

boointhenight​:

Seeing the wounded guard standing in front of the two women, more of the assassins attempted to rush forward. She could see Leo fighting his way through the crowd - it was obviously him who had taken down the nearly fatal archer - but he was still too far away to help. She would stand alone. 

Distantly, she was aware of the ache in her shoulder, but she shoved the knowledge of the pain aside. Instead, she focused on the fight. 

Parry, parry, thrust, slash, block, thrust, each move happened nearly automatically as her muscles moved as fast as thought to respond to each new wave of the threat. In front of her the bodies began to pile up, but she couldn’t tell who was dead and who was unconscious, only caring that they weren’t moving to be an immediately threat. 

One of them shifted the angle of their swing at the last moment, directly it at the arrow sticking out of her shoulder and she gasped, pain whiting out her vision for a moment as the blades path shoved the arrow up into the muscle. At the last minute she got her sword up to block the downward strike, shoving him back with all her strength to buy herself just a little more time. 

Then there was the light. 

With her back to the princesses, she watched as it spread across the room, illuminating and blinding everyone who had been facing them. She watched as person after person dropped their weapons, despair in their expressions as they realized what this had meant. 

They had failed. The prophecy had been fulfilled. Amelia and Abigail had been crowned queen, and now - either together or on their own - they would change the world. 

The people of their kingdom let out a deafening roar at this signal of the end of years of strife and worry. 

“All Hail Queen Amelia! All Hail Queen Abigail!”

“Hail Queen Amelia! Hail Queen Abigail!”

The crown was heavy. She felt as if its weight was nailing her to the floor. Would she be able to stand up? As scary as it was, there was also something...sturdy about the feeling. Or maybe that was the rancorous shouting that was rising from the pews. Her name, her sister’s name. Queen.

There were dead bodies littering the altar. There was blood splattered on the hem of her dress. Was this what her rule would be? Or would the prophecy be true and she and Amelia would usher in an era of great peace? Gail wasn’t sure. It didn’t seem to make sense that just because Amelia and Abigail were now queens everything would suddenly be fine.

It would be work. And if the prophecy was wrong, it would no longer be her name that people would be calling out in adoration.

The reality of it swept over and over her, crashing like waves. There was still much to do. They needed to tend to their wounded, they needed to round up all the assassains. Question them. Do...something with them. (Make an example of them. Gail was not opposed to this, considering what they had done to Mary--)

Mary.

Gail’s gaze found her guard, her friend. she was beaten and bloody and looked near collapse. Her heart squeezed.

“Captain Leo,” her voice rang beneath the cheering, but he was near enough. “See that everyone here is attended to properly.”

“Aye, Your Majesty.”

Gail nodded once and then turned to Mary and wanted to reach for her. She only just stopped herself, otherwise her pearlescent gloves would get stained with blood and no matter how much she wanted to touch her friend and make sure she was alright, she couldn’t. She did not want to start her reign with literal blood on her hands.

amelia-o-gabble​:

Amy had catalogued every person who’d ever bothered Gail into the back of her mind for her own personal reference. If they ever became more than a nuisance to her sister, she’d do something about it.

To Amy’s knowledge the girl she spoke of was just a pestering secondary kid, nothing to write home about. No real pain inflicted. “Yeah, what about her?” Amy asked as her sister sorted through computer tabs, scooting in closer to peek.

“Oh…,” her expression changed from quizzical to more disbelieving at the sight of the images. “Oh.”

There was no doubt in her mind that it was indeed the same girl. She shot a look to Gail, her intense gaze subtly turning to a satisfied smirk. There was always a particular look in her eyes when Amy was hooked on a mystery. A hungry gleam, a willful smirk. “You’re not crazy, Gail. You’re a genius. The real question is, why hasn’t she aged a day in almost twenty years?”

She turned her attention back to the images and began the cork conspiracy board in her head.

...

Gail preened a bit under Amy’s praise. To many people, it appeared that Gail did not care about praise. But she had been raised by her mother, a Bonfamille, after all. Bonfamilles thrived on praise. It was just that you also could not show this, because it meant you were unsure of your own worth, of your own capability. This was something Gail was always unsure of.

Amy’s praise meant more than anyone else’s, because Amy was the kind of person that Gail wanted to be. Bold, straightforward, and charming.

Maybe she’d never be those things, but at least she could be smart.

“I don’t know! It has to be magic, right? Unless her mother or sister looks exactly like her and has the same name. No one’s skin routine is that good.” She smirked at her own joke. “But what is it is the question--is she a vampire?”

boointhenight​:

.

“The right kind of mess can hide a lot of perfection in it, you just gotta give it a chance.” 

She didn’t know if she was still talking purely about the idea of murder or if it was something else considering the dream that had its shadow over the whole conversation, but she wasn’t going to think about that now. 

“Sure am. I’d demonstrate for you, but I don’t have good pockets for my throwing knives in my jogging clothes so it’ll have to be another time.”

It helped that her knives were good quality and she kept them nicely sharpened. Thanks Uncle Sam for being the one cool one of her relatives who bought her presents she’d actually like and use. Even if whichever other family member bitched about them being ‘inappropriate’ for her. Someday she might have to replace them, but it wouldn’t be any time soon. 

...

Gail frowned. She disliked mess. That was why she was so good at putting things into boxes. She put her cousin being a werewolf into a box. She put her mother’s betrayal in a box. The fact that she was poor now. The fact that she had no idea what was going to happen to her and her sister and the fact she had never felt so out of control...

The dream too. All of Maryboo. She went into a box. A separate box that Gail wasn’t sure how to label. It kept shifting: acquaintance, running buddy, someone who disliked her, running buddy. She put the dream in that box too, unsure what to label it. She put it away, sealed it tight and tried not to think about it.

“You have throwing daggers?” Gail asked, raising her eyebrows and looking over at the other woman. That sounded...fun. A little smile wound its way onto her lips. “I wouldn’t mind a demonstration sometime.”

sebastian-morey​:

Yes, in simplest terms if they used the television they both would be able to see more easily. Of course that meant that the pair of them would be sitting on his bed together which was completely fine - but it brought a small smile to his lips that she had chosen that option. Sebastian wasn’t sure why he was surprised though - but perhaps it was because he still thought the woman seemed a fair bit shy at times. 

Then again, it all could have just been part of an act. He didn’t quite know her well enough yet to know if that part of her was genuine or just a piece of playing coy. 

Probably the former, but who knew. Still, he nodded belatedly with a quiet laugh. “Yeah - that’s a good point.” He responded casually with a small bump of his shoulders, moving to grab the controllers out of his drawer before he gently tossed them onto the bed with a nod. “Ladies first.” He teased, gesturing towards the bed before he turned to switch the TV on as well as get the game set up easily to go to the TV rather than his monitor. Also giving Abigail plenty of time to situate herself onto his bed in a skirt. Not that it was short skirt by any means, it was down to her ankles and all but still.. Never knew how much of a production it might’ve been for her to get comfortable. “Just means the risk for foul play is increased, by the way. Much easily to sabotage you without the barrier of a chair between us.” Sebastian joked easily as he turned back again and hopped up onto the bed himself (leaving a respectful distance between them, of course - he was a gentleman). “Hazards of the choice n’all. You understand.” 

At the invitation, Gail climbed up onto the bed gingerly. Not so much because of her skirt (she lived in long skirts a lot of the time, maneuvering them was second  nature to her), but because she was curious. There was that stereotype about boys with their single, navy blue bed sheet and a comforter that only got washed once a month after all.

Gail had never washed a set of sheets in her life, so she could not speak to how difficult it was--but certainly not so difficult, considering the housekeeper for the Gabbles had always done it once a week. Then again, Gail was aware that washing sheets was her whole job and that most men had other jobs. So, maybe they didn’t have enough time...

Needless to say, Sebastian’s bed seemed clean, even if it did have the cliche single blue sheet.

By the time he climbed up next to her, she was sitting with her legs crossed, posture perfectly straight. The mattress bounced slightly and Gail blushed again as she tipped a little towards him and their shoulders knocked until he got properly settled.

She laughed. “Thank you for the warning, but if you are giving me leave to sabotage you back, I think that is perfectly fair.” She took the controller he handed her and smoothed her fingers over the buttons, getting acquainted with the different controller than the one she had at home for her computer.

boointhenight​:

.

At Gail’s question, Mary just smirked over at her, catching a glimpse of that judgmental arched eyebrow. But this time the judgment didn’t put her on edge, it only amused her and felt like a comfortable part of the conversation.·

“First off, I don’t miss, not if I’ve got surprise on my side. Different case if they’re running away or aware of me, sure, but if we’re planning we can assume I’ve had time to pick out a spot that’ll work for my purposes.” It was maybe a little arrogant, but it felt like earned arrogance. She’d been messing around with knives since she was a kid and studying seriously how to use them for a decade. She was good by now and she knew it.·

“I’ll give you potentially getting blood on me, but put the knife in a plastic bag and run it through the dishwasher when you get back and you’ve got a handy clean knife again. As long as you don’t use anything too distinctive and all your sets are complete, it shouldn’t draw too much attention.”

...

There were, of course, flaws in Gail’s own plan. Many of which could be easily mitigated. Drive somewhere far to get the poison, pay in cash. The person could not drink what you give them, but then--you would just get to try again. Getting rid of the evidence would be easy as well.

But a knife? There was so much that could go wrong.

Gail snorted primly. “Just seems rather messy, not the perfect crime, by any means.” And that was the point, wasn’t it? To pull off the perfect crime. To be able to get away with murder?

They ran quietly for a few steps. Only the sound of their trainers on the road and their breath. “Are you really that good at knife throwing?” she asked curiously.

boointhenight​:

Mary could feel the rising tension in all the guards as the ceremony continued. This was the last moment where people could interrupt and change the course history was about to take. The point of maximum danger for the two women currently kneeling in the front of the room. 

It felt like her eyes were constantly torn between watching Gail waiting patiently and scanning the room for signs of anything that looked wrong. The problem was, everything felt wrong. 

And yet, even with all her tension, she missed the moment when the first arrow was fired. Looking at Gail, she watched in horror as the Bishop suddenly collapsed and people began to scream, the other guards erupting into action in the same moment. 

There was a plan. Mary forgot it. She only saw Gail. 

Unsheathing her sword, she ran forward, making it there just as a figure all in black came screaming into their space. With a feral cry, she lunged forward, blocking his attack and forcing him off balance so she could step in between him and the sisters. 

He tried to lunge at her again, but his swing went wide and she swung her sword up into his armpit, ignoring his scream of pain as she did so. Pulling her sword back, she reversed her grip and slammed the handle into his head so he went down hard, bleeding out from the wound she had caused. 

She backed up another step, glancing around. That was when she saw the archer. 

“NO!”

She didn’t think, turning to run up the last few steps and flinging herself in front of her Princess. It meant she was staring into Gail’s eyes as the arrow buried itself into her left shoulder. Behind her, she heard a pained cry as someone took the archer down.

Hissing sharply as the pain hit, she gripped her sword handle tightly to ground her. “Finish the ceremony. Get someone to finish the damn ceremony,” she said through clenched teeth. 

Then she stepped back, ignoring the injury as she held her sword up again to fight whoever came next. 

As soon as the chaos started, Gail reached for Amelia and Amelia reached for her. They ducked their heads, clutching at each other--and she didn’t know how Amelia felt, but she felt like she was just waiting for the moment where an arrow pierced her chest or side or back. It was terrifying. She wanted to be brave, like Mary was, like she was when she and Mary used to play--

But no. Gail cowered. She wanted to scream, like the other people in the crowd.

After a few moments, it was Amelia, pulling her up--stronger than she was. Not that she was surprised. Even when they were younger, Amelia was always bolder than her. Gail had forgotten, since they’d been apart.

She glanced around, saw people fall, but there was only chaos. People running, people fighting. Her gaze darted around, looking for Mary. When she saw it, it was just a moment before Mary threw herself in front of her. Gail’s arms went out at once, catching Mary, feeling the impact of the arrow as Mary’s body slammed against hers, even as the guard stayed up. Gail searched her eyes frantically, feeling her stomach turn over.

But Mary was always in charge. She was brave and she didn’t even flinch. (Well, she did but--that wasn’t the point. )

The king came towards them. “I will finish!” he said, grabbing both of his daughters by the hand.

“Do you swear, Amelia, to protect this country? To always put it before yourself? And to rule with a brave heart?” Amelia’s gaze was steely.

“Yes, I do.”

“And do you swear, Abigail, to protect this country? To always put it before yourself? And to rule with a kind heart?”

Gail was still trembling. Her father held her hand tightly. She gripped him back and nodded, swallowed--tried again: “Yes, I-I do.”

“It is my pride,” he said and she could see it shining in his eyes, “to crown you both queen. Kneel, girls.”

Gail almost stumbled as she knelt onto the cushions, but her sister was gripping her hand. She couldn’t stop glancing towards Mary as she crossed swords with someone else, then someone else. She was shaking as her father laid the crown on her head.

boointhenight​:

.

Honestly, she thought it was interesting what methods of murder people chose when they talked about it. It was a fun way to see what people thought of themselves because plenty of people pretended they didn’t have an opinion until they got asked. She could see poison for Gail though. It made sense. 

Mary only had to think about it for a moment before replying, “I mean, if I was going for poison, ethylene glycol. Most people have anti-freeze around if you’re having to deal with snow, and you’ve got the odorless-tasteless thing going for you again.”

“But personally I’m more of a hands on kinda gal. A properly thrown knife gets you out of the way of blood spatter, retrieve it so you don’t leave evidence, take a solid shower and you’re good for the day.” 

...

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Gail asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow before looking back on the path they were running.

It was...not surprising. Though, she wondered how much of that was what she knew about Boo from these morning runs and such, and how much of it was the impression from that dream? And was that really fair? After all, Gail had been much bolder in that dream than she was in real life.

Maybe Maryboo had been...something different too. Or maybe she was the same. Loyal and brave and steadfast...

“There is so much that can go wrong with that plan,” Gail pointed out, ignoring the blush on her cheeks. “If you miss, for one. If you get blood on you retrieving the knife. If you don’t dispose of the knife properly.” She shook her head.