#cassandraverge

it’s not hard to recognize this woman. dark hair tumbling down her back and blue eyes that pierce, even when they shift to a stormy or steely gray. she’s not that tall, actually. so her nature of imposition is somewhat of a surprise. “cassandra, wasn’t it? we’ve met a few times around town. how are you enjoying the lectures?”

“Okay, so it’s not like I drew you as this character, you just heavily inspired it. So, Eugene totally won’t notice, right?”

Gertrude was fantastic at mapping out the moves of friends and foes. And most of it was for keen observational habit. But one person, in particular, eluded her at the right times. Unpredictable, but she shouldn’t be. Or maybe that was because it took Gertrude so long to track her down. 

Cassandra Verge moved around the city doing the important things she was meant to do working with children’s books and two doe-eyed but world-weary peers that seemed to both adore her but grate on her. 

Anyways, Gertrude was finally able to orchestrate three meetings in the past week. Run-ins. She was glad for the school being out on fall holiday, even if it did mean that more kids ran around the city streets, which was a nuisance to Gertrude. Once at a coffee place, in passing. Once locking eyes, intense eyes that seemed to match tone emotionally but not in terms of hue. And now.

This time, Gertrude was able to arrange a run-in at a bookstore. She figured Cass had to do it for at least some research in the book industry. But Gertrude was able to catch Cass at a moment now, over by the new releases of watercolour-themed animal stories. 

“Oh, it’s you, isn’t it? I’ve seen you around a lot lately,” Gertrude says, having reached for a book that Cass was looking at, Gertrude’s face becoming a thing of surprise. “Were you going to look at this... Songbird book? Lovely art, I think.”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s like I’m being... drawn to something? I feel like I have to go look for it. But I don’t even know where it is. I can hardly sleep and when I do I have nightmares. And not like Gothel nightmares, like... new nightmares.”

There is a very thin line between love and hate. Gertrude Gothel felt it acutely for the young blonde girl she had grown to both adore and loathe. The girl she had raised. Rapunzel was ungrateful, Gertrude told herself. She had chanted it like a mantra trying to justify her own wickedness. No, it wasn’t wicked. A great deal of thought rushed in her head, leaving her senses dulled as she walked along the morning streets. Summer had come across the city and Gertrude was ever so grateful she only had summer lectures to give on occasion at the Academy. When they wanted a guest speaker of some kind, she knew.

She walked her usual route through the streets. Mindlessly dodging tourists who have come for the summer holiday to meander the streets and take pictures of all the landmarks NYC had to offer. Gertrude was mid eye roll when she felt her body pull. The tie on her sweater (because Emmaline Mutter wears sweaters) was caught on something and Gertrude felt herself stagger slightly before turning, seeing that the loose fabric tie and caught on a young woman’s bag.

Gertrude paused a good moment, saying a crisp apology as she freed her sweater, before looking up. Into... somewhat familiar eyes. It was eerie, but Gertrude straightened, realizing, she thinks, who she is talking to. This was... Rapunzel’s friend, wasn’t it?

“Ah, so sorry to tie up your time,” Gertrude says in her best Emily demeanor, working the last of the caught threads from the young woman’s bag, “hope you aren’t in a hurry.”