#bdrpag

Maybe if Moana was smarter, if she didn’t have such a large chip on her shoulder she would have stopped to think of what she was doing. Thought of the risks associated with what she was doing. She barely knew anything of ancient Greece. Of the underworld. 

She didn’t know what she was doing.

Staring at those steps in the middle of what felt like an empty forest she took a deep breath. There was no going back. Just like all those that got dragged off to jail, they were fighting for what they believed in. So she would as well. Moana would help others. That’s what her deal was. And even if her Father would tell her to use her words and help like that.

She wasn’t going to stand back and play princess in her house. She had a sword on her hip and magic in her fingers she could do it.

So lost in her thoughts she didn’t hear the other pair of footsteps walking toward her until it was too late and quickly she spun around ready to fight if needed.

“What are you doing out here Maui?”

Marlin never trusted premonitions, but something felt different about this. He had heard whispers that ghosts had been released from the Underworld or something to that effect, and was sure he had seen some, and now he was hearing voices. He was having a hard time making out exactly what it was saying, but there was no mistaking whose voice it was: Coral’s. And if he listened closely enough, he thought he could hear the cries of children, too. Maybe, Marlin thought, I’m finally going insane. Or maybe this was part of the chaos that had fallen on Swynlake.

The nagging thought that he had to get back to work kept bothering him, but instead Marlin was wandering the agora, trying to hear the voices more clearly. They were garbled and distorted, like a phone call in poor service, but present, and, Marlin had to admit, spooky. “Excuse me, do you hear that?” Marlin asked the next person he saw. There had to be someone who knew what was going on. Marlin knew very little about the nature of the Second World.

@panicked-percy

Ariel was gone.

Gone.

Disappeared in the night of the second day--and there were only two options:

Ariel had been taken or she had gone down into Hell herself. Now, Attina knew her littlest sister and she knew that the probability of her having gone down into those depths--they were rather high.

@phillipxknight

Sooooooo this was bogus.

Mer had heard plenty of funny rumours about Swynlake but she’d never expected somethin’ like this: everythin’ normal one moment, and the next she was in some sort of cloth tunic listening to some lunatic go on and on about obedience and loyalty and blaaa blaa blaa blaaa bla. Durin’ the whole speech, Merida’s eyes had darted like a rabbit through the crowd, the rest of her stoic. She chewed on her own tongue so she’d not say anythin’ stupid. Merida could hear her mum’s voice in her head: Ladies do not interrupt--

Boy-o, how she wished she could tell this Urania to stick her head in the pithos and spare ‘em.

But as the crowd dispersed, those rabbit-eyes of hers darted to one lad in particular and her hand darted out to grab Phil by the wrist. They’d spotted each other earlier in the first moments of this gammy curse (for a round of Phil?! Merida?!) before they got pushed out for Urania’s address. Now with everyone milling around trying to find their own footing, the chaos still unsettled, it felt like a rare moment that she needed to grab onto, hold on real tight. 

So she did. Grab, that is, and then drag Phil off a few steps.

“What is goin’ on?” she hissed immediately. “Sides hell bein’ unleashed o’ course-- what are y’doin’ here?”

Jane Porter had been in the market with Roger Radcliffe, since apparently she needed a bloody escort to go to the bloody agora and now he’d wandered off, muttering something about some engagement, and jane was trying to look at the tomatoes for sale and trying not to snap at the vendor for no reason.

The reason Jane was so on edge was because she’d just seen her boyfriend raise his hand to volunteer to be dragged into the pits of Hell and she had to restrain herself so much not to toss up her hand and join him. It was funny, in a way, since what Milo had done was a normally very Jane move and what Jane had done was normally a very Milo move, but no matter—

The fact was, she was here and he was not and she had made up her mind to run the moment she could.

Also the other thing bothering her was apparently she was married to Paul and he had cheated on her and was raising his bastard son. This would not bother her at all, she knew she wasn’t actually married to Paul (the sort of hazed magic stupor had snapped the instant she saw Milo dragged off to the Underworld), if not for the fact that most everyone seemed to be playing along and people kept giving her pitying looks.

Someone had come up to her and muttered something that sounded like “ah poor woman” and Jane whirled on her heel.

“For the last time I do not care that my husband had kids with some other woman!” she snapped and then instantly felt better for having said something at all.

“Hello,” Daisy said, with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Are you here to make your offering to our Great Queen?”

@dodgerjones

Minnie couldn’t sleep. She had tried, was still sort of trying as she shifted around in the make shift bed that was given to her in her current Master’s home. There were far too many things pressing in her mind.

She felt like she was living in a nightmare.

She has yet to find where Dodger was and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She didn’t know what house he was placed in, if he was okay, if he was even here at all, or in the Underworld. That ate at her every nerve. She hardly knew where any of her other close friends were either save two, who she saw get taken away before her very eyes leaving her worried about their safety.

In short, she knew nothing. It was all a nightmare. Losing the battle in gaining sleep, Minnie slipped out of the bed moving ever so quietly within the House of Water making her way into the kitchen. She was the most comfortable there because her other self felt at home within the space of the kitchen. She thought of maybe making something to help calm her nerves when her eyes caught the form of a shadow creeping by. 

Minnie froze a little, who could be up this late? A guard... was it.. was it one of the guards? It had to be... She whispered then quietly, but with enough force to be sorta heard. “H-hello....? I-is is anyone there...?” 

@bbambi-deerest

The sun was setting on the second day of this New World-- a world of dark and fire. The Prince stood by the window of the home he’d been assigned to, looking out at the trees and their shadows, and he felt sick to his stomach for his real home-- the one that was stolen from him. The forest was weaponized with the demons who crawled through its branches; not even the Prince could go there after dark now.

He craved the stars, the grass, the river, the trees, more than ever. He longed to go outside and sleep with the fresh air tickling his face.

Inside, all he could hear were the ghosts.

Since he’d woken in this strange world, there had been whispers. He’d first thought it was the trees, calling for him, but when he’d listened, he could not make out the voices nor the words. They followed on his heel, a second shadow that he could not see. They came to him to the bathhouse and the market and lingered at the dinner table. He tried to ignore them. But like the rest of this world, it was becoming very very difficult to ignore. The Prince knew that he could not wait forever to figure out some alternative-- just as the voices, whoever they were, would not wait forever for Prince to answer them.

And his family was waiting for him to figure out the answer, he knew this was true. He’d told all of his slaves, on the first day after Urania’s speech at the Agora, that they needn’t worry. In the house, they could move freely and he would not order them. He had asked them for this gift of time, so he could figure out what to do. On this eve of the second day though, looking out at the sunset, the Prince was nowhere closer to knowing how to overcome this.

He wanted… to talk to Friend Owl. Or Clarion or Grandmother Willow. He wanted-- to talk to his son.

So he moved through the house toward Bambi’s room, the whispers on his heel. The door was closed and he knocked gently before he pushed it open. Bambi was inside, his lantern near his bed was lit. For a brief moment, the Prince’s heart did not ache so. Because at least Bambi was still safe, and above all else, he must protect his son.

“I was... just coming to say good night,” he said, still lingering just inside the door.