wanderess

When it came to bad habits Maggie knew fine well that she had her fair share of them and while it wasn’t usually her worst one the way that she had to always throw herself into work had been becoming increasingly more obvious. There had never been a time in her life that she had ever wanted to do anything by halves (with the exception of personal relationships, they would never get her all) and it was now turning into something of an obsession when almost every free moment she had was dedicated to the case. When her sister grabs her attention her first instinct is to say no but knowing that they’re both as stubborn as each other she concedes with a sigh. “Fine.” Eyeing the container she knew it wasn’t a bad idea when her last break had been an entirely different kind of refreshment. “Ten minutes but only because you brought food.” There’s a smirk aimed her sister’s way with a fondness reserved solely for her. “You said that last time.” And yet her hand still reached out for one anyway. 

The dark circles under her sister’s eyes were difficult to ignore but Hilma shoved her sisterly concern down, for the time being, she had paid a visit to Maggie in the hopes she might alleviate her spirits and a comment on her poor self-care habits now would be the exact opposite of what she hoped to achieve. Truth be told Hilma didn’t understand most of her sister’s choices since coming to Fabletown, least of all the one she’d made to join the police force. Perhaps there was simply some bravery, goodness that existed within her younger sister and that Hilma did not possess. Hilma had always been a survivalist first, even long before their encounter with the witch.

The one exception had been and remained her sister, for her Hilma would lay down her life but she had never stopped to consider extending her nurturing to other people. Her own blood had betrayed her, abandoned her to die somewhere in the woods so could she truly be faulted for finding it hard to trust again or even to care? Clearly, Maggie had recovered more swiftly through and what she was doing for Fabletown and its residents was noble even though the toll of it was too high. Many times Hilma had thought to suggest that they leave, motivated mainly by a selfish desire to return to the status quo, to what they had called normal for years but had bitten her tongue. This was another one of those times, tamping down on her fear and her doubts for Maggie’s sake. “The booze I bring is already deduced from my shitty pay, Maggie so drink up and say thank you,” Hilma replied sardonically, her tone a little more biting than usual. She too was exhausted and it showed. “I would ask you how the investigation is going but by the looks of your office, I’m going to guess it’s slow going. How many of you are on this case anyway? I thought the Sheriff was handling it.”

Wolf wasn’t stupid or blind, no matter how little Hilma seemed to think of him. “Thanks for the heads up.” His words were devoid of any genuine meaning. The last thing he wanted to deal with was someone that thought they had some breaking news about his fate in Fabletown, lacing their reply with words that were not straight to the point. Wolf despised people that play games, whether it was on the form that Scarlet was far too good at or hiding their true intentions behind vague words. His patience was already running thin and no one was safe from his less than stellar attitude. Safe for a few people that were not in his presence at that moment. Wolf knew where he stood. Goldilocks’ death was a turning point for a lot of people in town and it could be the end of him, the perfect excuse to take him out from his position and be sure he’d be treated like the animal he was. 

Wolf pressed his lips together at Hilma’s words, shaking his head before he let out a subtle sigh. They didn’t sit right with him, especially since he knew Maggie wasn’t a child that needed supervision. “You do know your sister can take care of herself, right?” Wolf spoke, looking at Hilma. He wasn’t going to promise Hilma he was going to look after her sister like some kind of hawk. He and Maggie were partners, not protector and damsel in distress. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on fighting anyone today.” Wolf simply replied, looking around the bar as far as his unmoving head could let him see. He wasn’t going to look behind his back — whoever wanted to come for him, could do so at their own peril. 

“Always happy to help the police force of our beautiful town.” Hilma retorted, her voice positively dripping with sarcasm. It was no secret to anyone that the words justice meant very little in Fabletown. Short of murdering another resident, crimes went unpunished a lot more frequently than they ought to and that was in her eyes a fatal flaw. It was foolish to think that when thieves and petty criminals were allowed to wreak havoc on the town and be let off with a slap on the hand, that the criminality wouldn’t escalate at some point. She hadn’t been surprised at all when the death of Goldi had been announced as it was the culminating point of years and years of leniency. One could only hope that King Cole would see it fit to enforce new and more severe rules, for all of their sakes.

“My idea of funny is a severed head in a bowl of porridge. I mean, not just any head, obviously, that specific one is just hilarious.” Baba wasn’t sure if she would ever get used to people taking everything so seriously. Goldilocks had lived a ridiculously long life, why was it such a problem that she was dead? “Shame. It’s always an interesting daydream.”

“Ok, tone down the sarcasm now. You’re the one that started practically waxing poetics about a damn decapitated head. If that’s what gets your motor running, fine but we’re not all quite that freaky.” Hilma retorted, growing a little aggravated with Baba Yaga’s tone with each passing second. Truth be told she had heard too much chatter about the murder as it was and her patience was wearing thin. “Right. Did you want to order a drink or did you come over here simply to chat about the dear ol’ departed, then?”

Wolf scoffed. Hilma’s words had caused him to feel a tinge of anger, not the need to laugh. “Thrilling wouldn’t be the word I’d use.” No matter how many different people there were in Fabletown, Wolf knew that neither of them was happy that their safe haven had been turned into the playground of a killer with a sick sense of humor. Up until now, all the citizens of Fabletown had to worry about were each other and any past history they had with one another —- fights, Fables disappearing and then appearing after a few days, people getting robbed, some blood here and there… it was nothing too worrisome because it was what they had always had. Their ability to heal helped with the more bloodied situations and none ever had to worry about anything else. Now, there was a permanently dead Fable, her head found in a porridge bowl and no answers in sight.

I’d hate to see more people get hurt. Wolf noticed the way she had said those words and he had half a mind to realize who she was talking about. Although he was pretty sure Hilma didn’t know about Maggie and Wolf’s… arrangement, he could only imagine she wasn’t a fan of him because of who he was and how close to her sister he worked. “I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that.” Wolf didn’t know much about Hilma and Maggie’s relationship, but he knew Maggie could take care of herself and he also knew he didn’t have time to deal with sisterly worry. Wolf never really understood the whole sibling connection, even if he had six older brothers. “Liquid dinner sounds as good as it’s going to get. Scotch, double.”

“Of course not, you’re the Sheriff. All eyes are on you, expecting you to find this son of a bitch and put him behind bars, I don’t expect you to be thrilled but you’d be surprised by the way certain people look at this turn of events.” Hilma wasn’t sure whether Wolf was playing dumb now or if he was simply unaware of the way the news of Goldilock’s death had traveled and the impact it had on the residents of Fabletown. If the good women and men of Fabletown’s police department weren’t worried in a hurry to catch the killer then they must not have been paying attention. The more time passed and the more the folks would demand someone paid for what had happened, for the breaking of the peace and if it wasn’t the killer, it would be someone else. The Sheriff was perfect in that role, a lamb ready for the slaughter. The townsfolk were already willing to burn him for his past sins but add to that failures to keep them safe and he would be in big trouble. If he couldn’t be bothered to factor that in then far be it from Hilma to be the one to clue him in.

“I do worry. She’s all I have. We protect one another but I can’t protect her when she’s out there doing her job so I need to know someone has her back now more than ever. Do you understand?” Her response came quickly, there was no need to beat around the bush when it came to her feelings on this partnership Maggie and Wolf found themselves in. So long as Wolf had Maggie’s back, he was good in Hilma’s book, she could swallow down her pride and be civil but if he put her sister in danger in any way then all bets were off. Her question didn’t hang in the air too long as she reverted back to her more detached demeanor, barely there smile on her lips as she nodded. “Scotch, noted. I’m sure you know the rules, no trashing the place if you get drunk. No bar brawls either. I’m too tired to deal with any of this nonsense today.” 

Of all the bars in town, Hook’s establishment was the Sheriff’s least dreaded one, even though he had a less than pleasant conversation with its owner. Wolf ignored the momentary silence that had fallen on the patrons of the bar the moment he walked in; he had grown used to it and whether or not it meant trouble for him, the Sheriff was past any sort of care towards his own self. Walking over to the bar, his eyes quickly landed on a familiar face; familiar not because they had interacted much before, but because he knew exactly who she was. Maggie’s sister. A part of him felt weightless just at the thought of his partner but it was fleeting, at that moment. Giving the woman a slight and polite quirk of his lips, he acknowledged her words. “Yeah,” Wolf realized that Hansel hadn’t quite understood the meaning of him being the talk of that night, “guess it’s gonna be the talk of the town for a while.” Whatever people were saying about it, it was never good and Wolf knew that a murder would only make people either too scared to act or too frustrated to just sit tight. “That’s the plan. I really don’t want to deal with any pitchforks.”

Hilma wouldn’t admit it, not even under torture but seeing the good Sheriff at the Crusty Lemon is actually a relief for once. She knows from him she won’t hear words of worry over the murder, she might not hear any word at all. He’s not much of a talker and she has never been much for listening either. She tries to see the good in him, she has but no matter how sincere her attempts are her mind always takes her back to what she knows him to be. A killer. An animal. A threat. And Hilma has long shed her ability for childlike belief, deems forgiveness to be an honor of the highest form and even if the Mayor himself has granted Wolf amnesty, she can’t bring herself to do the same. In her mind, the man before her is more of a beast than a mortal. It’s an effort than to grit her teeth and swallow both doubts and hostility but she does it for her sister. She plays nice. 

She isn’t sure how long she can keep the charade up but she does, it would help if she could understand what Maggie sees in the man but as is often the case, her sister’s mind remains a mystery to Hilma. “Can you blame them? Nothing ever happens here. This must be thrilling for them.” She replies, amused. “Hope the plan goes without a hitch, then. I’d hate to see more people get hurt.” It’s as close to a warning as she’ll get without saying the words but she trusts Wolf can fill in the blanks. It’s been in each looks she’s given him since they met anyway. If my sister gets hurt, you’ll be sorry. She knows he doesn’t fear her, though. Doesn’t take her seriously. Then again no one ever does until it’s too late. “Do you want to order anything or are you in for a liquid dinner too?” She asks, one hand finding the notepad in her pocket, the other fiddling with her pen as she waits.

“I mean, sure, but fucked up in a funny way.” Baba knew that was definitely not the response the other woman was looking for, but she certainly wasn’t one to cater to other people’s wants or needs or anything like that. She thought it was hilarious, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it. “What, it takes creativity to think that up. Haven’t you ever wondered what the best way to be killed would be?” She had, but then, she’d had a lot of time being bored to figure it out. 

“I know Fabletown isn’t exactly the most entertaining of places but really? Your idea of fun is a severed head in a bowl of porridge. You should get out more often.”Hilma replied on a scoff, eyeing the woman as though she was disturbed, and quite frankly she was starting to believe she might truly be. “I don’t have time to spend daydreaming about my own death, no.” She said. It was so much more fun to daydream about the death of people she loathed instead, not that she had it in her to kill but it was nice to imagine she could. Violence as escapism. Perhaps Hilma was also a bit disturbed in her own way.