#c. killian

As Vivian strutted through the streets of Banchory with nothing in particular to do, she stopped dead in tracks as her icy gaze landed on a familiar face. She would hardly call Killian Whitehorn a friend; more so like the devil who took her under his wing some time ago. But Vivian was an entirely different person now, and she couldn’t recall the last time the spoke. Surely it had been the beginning of the year. Her brows furrowed. 

“I thought you died.” 

Helen walked into the small town of Storybrooke, Maine. She looked around and sighed softly her eyes closing as she smelt the air. It felt so familiar and so much like home. It had been her home at one point but now the darkness was back and She had to return after being gone out of Storybrooke, for years. She walked around heading to the docks which was near where her new apartment was. She always love the open ocean and everything until the Dark one took her brother.