MIND OF STONE.

His silence has her doubting her own words, whether her acceptance of such a thing had damned her in his mind and making her wondering if it had been the reaction he’d wanted from her. Perhaps some part of him had thought he’d deserved some sort of admonishment for his supposed trespasses, for her to look at him with disappointment or disgust that she knew she would never be able to summon in his presence. 

Slowly though, she realises that his reaction is almost identical to what she could only imagine hers would have been had she been the one to bare a portion of her soul: disbelief. 

That was something she could handle when there was enough new territory being covered now that she was struggling to wrap her head around what was taking place between them. Any other time and any other person she wouldn’t have been able to make herself stay in the room when there was so much vulnerability on show and yet now it was all reverse and instead of fighting to leave she finds herself fighting to stay.

Any sense of preservation that usually made her so much of a flight risk around emotions was overwhelmed by the need to at least try to be the antidote to whatever poison that woman had caused to seep into his mind. There was a part of her crying out that she was only setting herself up for a fall by investing in anyone at all but at that moment in time she couldn’t bring herself to listen to it.

A frown finds its way back on her features at his words and even if she understands the meaning behind them she can’t help but question them, issuing a soft challenge when she had never done well with being advised in anyway. It meant any mistakes she made were solely her own. “Don’t what?” 

There’s a little shake of her head in some sort of admission that she had heard him loud and clear but there words she spoke next perhaps wouldn’t fill him with confidence. “You know I can take care of myself.” Empty promises had never been something that she had given and she didn’t intend to start now when she hadn’t quite decided how her anger at the queen would choose to express itself. 

The one certainty that she did have was that this would not go unchallenged and if she had any power over the former monarch she would use it to ensure it never happened again.

Feet carry her forward without thinking much about it, steps smooth, confident and completely lacking in any of the hesitancy she was now feeling. They always communicated best by not really speaking at all, all done through eyes and body language but despite how familiar they were with each other this felt all the more naked than they ever had been.

The distance between them isn’t quite closed, the last step hovering between them as she looks up at him in earnest and there’s no mistaking the determination in her eyes as she speaks. “I don’t know what she said to you and I don’t care because she doesn’t know you.” The firmness in her tone suggests that she doesn’t expect there to be any arguments and there’s a conviction to it that she isn’t quite sure where it came from. 

A breath is sucked in slightly, preparing herself for perhaps the riskiest thing she could put on the line when she had no idea where his esteem for her lay. It could be that she was vastly overestimating her importance in his life. “Do you think I’d be here if you were someone who could prove her right?”

Everything he says and everything he does will weigh on his mind, out of guilt and out of hatred for himself and what the Queen’s words made him become. He hated this feeling, he hated that he had told Maggie to not do something because he was afraid the Queen would get to her. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t imagine not saying it. The thought of Maggie being on the receiving end of whatever fucked up words the Queen could come up with made him angry. Protective. 

Wolf knew Maggie could take care of herself but he still felt uneasy at the thought of Maggie and Scarlet in the same room. Wolf didn’t mind if Scarlet ruined him, time and time again, made him nothing but a shell, as long as his partner was untouched. She was better than him, in every single way. 

He sighed, shaking his head at what went through his mind. “I don’t want her to get to you.” That was all he said, all he allowed himself to say, in a low voice, almost ashamed of what he was saying. Not for his words but because he knew that saying them was a gamble. They were heavy with vulnerability but at that moment, he didn’t care. Tomorrow, he would either regret it or thank his own mind for being all messed up. 

Wolf trusted Maggie more than he cared to admit to himself but he didn’t trust Scarlet one bit. 

The moment he heard her steps, Wolf looked up. His chest tightened each time he found her getting close to him. They had been closer than that many times before, no space between them whatsoever, and yet the last step between them was the one thing that made him forget to let out breath for a few seconds. 

He just looked at her, at her expression, her eyes, looking for any evidence that he was messing everything up. The anticipation was killing him, he just didn’t know what the anticipation was for. Her words had taken his thoughts outside of his head and all he could do for a few moments was stare at her. She doesn’t know you. Part of him wanted to believe Maggie, tell his own mind that Scarlet wasn’t right, that she was just doing what she does best. The other part of him knew who he was: animal, killer. Cold facts that can’t be changed. 

His hands were itching to touch her, pull her closer to him. Wolf never wanted her to leave. Not when they were in the comfort of his shitty apartment and especially not at that moment. Her words kept pulling him further and further towards her and all he wanted to do was let his body follow. It was that simple and at the same time so complicated. 

Do you think I’d be here if you were someone who could prove her right?

Those words had come like a ton of bricks. Everything inside of him was both quiet and too loud, numb and overwhelming. What was he supposed to say? Words had never been Wolf’s strongest tactic, not in any situation and even more when Maggie was involved. 

Instead, he did the one thing he knew both of them would understand; there would be no room for miscommunication, not between them. Whatever he was feeling, whatever this overwhelming sensation was, he would let it all out the only way he knew how. The way he knew Maggie would understand. 

Taking that last step forward, Wolf didn’t think about his next movements. He didn’t think about anything when he cupped her face and put his lips to hers. Or when he wrapped his hand around her waist, holding her to him. He was almost begging her to never be any further from him than in that moment. 

“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.” 

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. 

If it could have been anyone at all in Fabletown to have spotted him in a moment of weakness, the Huntsman could have dealt with it by either punching them or at least threatening them, followed by a hard liquor until he passed out, but of all people it had to be Wolf. Of course it did, since things tended to spite him over the course of his life. Ironically enough fighting or threatening were not the Huntsman’s intentions for Wolf right now - he had promised Scarlet his head and while he was adamant about doing it, there were smarter ways to follow through his plan than to skin Wolf alive on the pavement.

“They were for your funeral.” Hunter replied with a scoff, averting his gaze from his nemesis. “Thought it would be a nice touch, sending you off with flowers. Just to show I would miss punching you in the face.” 

As Wolf stood, only a few steps away from his foe, he felt uneasy. Not because it was Hunter, but because they weren’t going at each other’s throats already. No matter what, Hunter seemed to always find a way to swing his fist at Wolf and their usual fight would ensue. It was what Wolf expected so when it doesn’t happen, he feels as if there’s something missing. Wolf didn’t know whether to count himself lucky he didn’t have to tire himself out again or count his blessing because something worse was to come. For the time being, he would worry about the murder case in his hands. 

He scoffed, running a hand on his beard as he looked at the shop window Hunter was focused on before he had arrived. Either Hunter was looking to finally decorate his home or there was something missing from the equation, which created another question: who the fuck would he buy flowers for? “I’m glad to know that you would come to my funeral. ” Wolf retorted, keeping his expression the same as always though his words were laced with a teasing tone. “I know you’d cause it if it ever happened but never attend it. You aren’t going soft on me, are you?”

“It’s Fabletown. Everyone knew her.” Lance points out dryly. She picks at her lips with her teeth. “But I should have assumed. I just thought this place was supposed to be a safe haven.” She sighs, sinking into the chair beside his desk. “And this note has me worried, too. I mean, this town … it’s all I have. All most of us have anymore.”

Baba rolled her eyes in a manner that gave the impression that she was somehow using her entire body to do so. Honestly, the people in this town were just boring. She had no idea how she’d managed to last so long with them. “I never said they weren’t a killer. I just can appreciate a good sense of humor, is all. Some of us are still capable of laughing.”

Snow nodded at his response. The mention of the Prince she had escaped made her skin crawl. It was almost like a post-traumatic experience she had when thinking about him, but she always tried hard to suppress those feelings about him. It was her coping mechanism - can’t let him see her weak, can’t let anyone see her weak, otherwise they might think they can take advantage of her like he did. “Otherwise you would have another murder case on your hands,” she said as a joke, halfheartedly meaning she would be the first to kill him if the Prince ever stepped foot in Fabletown, but she knew it could well be her that wound up dead in that situation. She pushed it to the back of her brain. “I’ve been trying to avoid him. I heard he was in town, but didn’t really want to believe it… until the other day when I tried looking for a job. It was a last resort trying the Trip Trap for any vacancies… but unfortunately I walked in there unaware that he worked there. It didn’t end well.”

Wolf narrowed his eyes at Snow’s response, unaware of how to react to it. Something about her whole demeanor seemed to give away that she wasn’t completely joking. “Wouldn’t want that.” Wolf replied, trying to match whatever tone she had used. As a sheriff, Wolf knew he couldn’t humor the woman but as someone that had done things that were just as bad, or even worse, and held no shred of regret, he knew he couldn’t blame her for feeling what she was feeling. Whatever the Prince had done to warrant such a remark, Wolf figured he deserved whatever came to him ---- just like he did. Wolf scoffed after hearing Snow tell him about her little encounter with Hunter. He wasn’t surprised, though. If things ended ány other way, then the person she had talked to wasn’t Hunter. “I didn’t think it would,” the Fable commented, unafraid of whoever might hear, “things have a way of ending terribly whenever he’s involved.” Have you tried the museum?”

Vermillion wounds define deft digits from excessive exertion; tendons comprise themselves of expert ache. The archer lowers his bow, peers, permits a forearm to combat the fiery globe’s domineering stature. As targeted, four arrows forge an embedded, vertical line within a dilapidated oak across the clearing. A fifth arrow is plucked from its quiver and nocked upon bowstring as both index and middle digits graze feathered fletching. The weapon is raised once more, canted in accordance with frigid gusts as he pinpoints his concluding shot. inhale –– cant another two centimeters –– exhale, release. the arrow strikes home, its razor-edged point lodging itself within lumbered core as commanded, cleaving its twinned marker.

Yet his evasion of fabled masses has met solitary ruination. An unsanctioned presence interrupts his tranquil ritual, and a molten stare hails the tread of a wolf –– does his descension exist to accuse him of vile transgressions ? His gaze shifts; distrustful and searching. ❝ I thought I heard a howl. ❞ he dares, striding toward fixed arrows. Fingers smooth along mortal bases as they aim to retrieve obstinate bolts. By the third’s liberation and the prompt of static shadow, Robin halts his toiling, providing the other with succeeding addressment meant to banish. ❝ Maggie’s not with me. ❞

                 🏹  STARTER  .  //  @sherffwolf

Wolf had been observing Robin for a few minutes. Weapons weren’t his style. I thought I heard a howl. Wolf let out a sharp breath through his nose, shaking his head at Robin’s little remark. “Funny.” Short and sarcastic, which was the most Wolf could do at that comment. Overdone, not funny, annoying... Wolf had heard enough to last two lifetimes and although he had become somewhat numb to them, they were still the last thing he wanted to hear at any given moment. When the moments of silence between them emerged, Wolf buried his hands in his jacket’s pockets and wondered how he was going to say what he needed to say. He wasn’t the best at asking for help, even when he needed it. 

It was Robin’s next words that struck... something inside of Wolf, however. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand. It wasn’t as much the mention of Maggie that had caused his reaction, but the reason why she had been mentioned in the first place. Wolf couldn’t understand. If he wanted to go find Maggie and go back to his apartment with her, then he would’ve gone to her, not Robin. Perhaps the archer was protective of her. “I can see that.” Wolf merely replied, not wanting to dwell any further on the topic, though it would still be at the back of his mind, growing and growing until it was too late to deal with it. 

“I actually came to talk to you.”

     wolf referring to him as a small fish once more doesn’t stir any emotions. knave has been use to his level on the food chain since he was a street rat in wonderland. always the small fish, never the shark. but why show off what you can do as a shark and warn those around you ?? you play the part of a little fish, let them undermine you, underestimate, and when they’re not looking you rip out their throat. it has worked for him for many years. the knave, a mere servant, a lap dog. every encounter always caused a sneer in his direction, they’d shrug him off, insult him, take their eye off the ball because- he was a small fish. you play dumb, you act dumb, then you slit their throat when they believe you.

     ❝ so you did jack-off. must’ve felt good. locking her in a tiny cell thinking she’s powerless. bars don’t do shit, pretty boy. ❞ he chuckles, pulling out his knife simply to remove the dirt under his fingernails. ❝ i gave her company till bail, but i had some of my own things to sort out. ❞ he could’ve easily done a crime that had him in the cell with her the entire time. but while he’s loyal, he has his own plans. though if the queen needs him during them he will take time out to go to her. ❝ by the way- ❞ he pauses, removing some first from his nail with the blade before continuing. ❝ might wanna get some of your pigs to watch the jewellery store later. heard a couple kids talking about it. ❞ maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he isn’t. maybe this is a decoy or he’s twisting the truth for what he needs. wolf won’t know till tonight.

Wolf pressed his lips together, running his hand on his face while trying to remind himself that, whatever he wanted to do, was something that he shouldn’t do. Knave had one talent that Wolf knew of: annoying him just by breathing. In times like these, Wolf wished he wasn’t the Sheriff. Although it was a position that he knew King Cole had given him with a vote of his trust, part of Wolf wished he had a lot more freedom to go around and let out his frustrations right on the spot. Which is what he wanted to do to Knave. Every word that left the other’s mouth became a challenge for Wolf, knowing that he had to endure through them --- the smallest thing he’d do would ruin a big part of the trust he had already gained, which wasn’t much. And Wolf wasn’t angry enough to throw that out the window just yet. 

“I don’t think much about her at all,” all he cared to do was have a break from her influence and with her behind bars, he got just that, “or care enough about her situation. If she’s got a complaint, she can take it up with the Sheriff.” Event beneath his serious exterior, Wolf had a little bit of a sense of humor --- granted, it wasn’t the best and it was only for himself, most of the time. Looking at Knave, Wolf had to wonder what was it that she had given him to warrant such blind loyalty. He knew that, somehow, she had people that were loyal to her, Knave being the one and only person that Wolf even cared to give a second look to. “You mean Scarlet’s shop? I don’t give a shit what happens to it.”

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.

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.

Wendy returned her gaze to him, lips pressed into a tight smile. She could tell she made him feel guilty and though she didn’t mean to, she had still forgotten how emotionally distant Wolf can be. His distance was reasonable. Many of the townspeople tended to be close-minded about others. Hiding your emotions was the only way to keep your enemies at bay. Judging from the fact that he got into a lot of fights as of late, Wendy figured there were a lot of people he was dealing with. The young woman placed her hand on the table, reaching across to pat his hand gently. She smiled softly. “I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She thought about her next words before chuckling. “I do hope you know that you are a good person… to me anyway.” She nodded. He became her family in Fabletown and she hoped that would never change.

Wendy sighed and shook her head. “You can’t be serious.” The fact that Wolf had been getting into fights didn’t really help his reputation nor her concern. She tended to overthink scenarios when he showed up cut and bruised; many of them concerned death and other macabre situations. “You know by not calling me, I automatically assume the worst,” she said with a frown, as a few “what if” scenarios crossed her mind. Although she wasn’t very capable in the fighting department, she was more than capable in the caring department. She’d be damned if he ever got hurt and she wasn’t there to take care of him. She let out a small sigh. “I know,” she said before smiling again. “Otherwise, who else would you have lunch with?”

Wolf kept his eyes on Wendy, trying to study what was going on inside her mind. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about the words she had said to him. Sometimes, Wolf leaves all empathy aside and will say whatever he needs to say, even if it means becoming the bad guy in their life; but that only happened when he was interacting with someone that he had no care for or was beyond dealing with. When dealing with Wendy though, he could never bring himself to say something hurtful on purpose; the relationship they had was far too important and uncomplicated for Wolf to throw it away. 

That’s why he wanted to say something about whatever it was that she felt bad about but he knew he’d just end up ruining it. “You didn’t.” That was all he had managed to say and it wasn’t, in its entirety, a lie. When he felt Wendy’s hand on his, he didn’t take it away. There were only a handful of people (maybe less) that didn’t warrant any kind of negative reaction at their touch. At her next words, Wolf didn’t know what to say. She saw him as a good person and that only meant that, sooner or later, he would disappoint her. Not wanting to ruin the conversation even further, Wolf only gave her a small and subtle half-smile.