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"Rumple, have you ever been to a land called Arendelle? I looked for it in the library and I could not find anything on it."
"Arendelle? Not been there, but I’ve heard of it. You might know it by a more ancient name—Forochel. It’s about a week away by boat. Why the curiosity?"
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{ chippedcupbelle }
Belle was concerned hearing that she was correct, the last person who had arrived in Storybrooke and no one knew her, was Zelena. “Can I ask who you are looking for?”
"Why?" Elsa sneered then retracted a bit. The brunette was someone who was unfamiliar to her but the blonde should have attempted to be more pleasing. "Does the matter of this person pertain to you or someone you know?"
"I don't believe I have seen you in Storybrooke before."
"———— Storybrooke."
The Queen remembers seeing the sign just outside of the town. Why was she here? Who was this brunette woman speaking?
"Where is my sister?"
chippedcupbelle
Belle wasn’t sure if that was possible at this point, Rumple had told her that they knew all who were cursed already. “Can I ask who you are?”
"Ooookay?" Anna raised an eyebrow, "I'm Anna-- Erm, Princess Anna of Arendelle," she curtsied awkwardly at the woman in front of her, "And you are--?"
Books and a Bad Reputation || chippedcupbelle
Robert Gold couldn't be faulted with a poor study ethic. Quite the contrary--he believed he worked harder than any other student. He didn't always make A's, but the teachers who got to know him understood fairly quickly that he wanted to succeed academically. He was studious, meticulous, responsible. Completely unlike his father, he chanted to himself.
Most students and even a fair percent of teachers never noticed his efforts. He was still a Gold, in fact the son of Malcolm Gold, Storybrooke's skeevy, suspiciously well-off pawnbroker. Bobby's quiet demeanor didn't help matters. They took his silence for the contemplative mode of a schemer. Resentment stemmed just as much from the fact so many people were in Malcolm's pocket, usually out of desperation, as from a general moral condemnation of the man, and by extension his progeny.
Robert walked into school the first day of his junior year expecting more of the same looks--the fearful gawks, the sneers--and the same bubble of isolation that formed around him when he walked through the lunchroom or down the halls. Sometimes a big guy like Gaston Redman or one of the Bean Boys (the Beanstalks, as the school populous called them) would bump him on purpose, trip him, shove him against a locker. Despite Bobby's shortness and skinny frame, he rarely suffered major injury. There was that Hod kid who utterly humiliated him freshman year, then landed him in the hospital with a couple broken ribs. Malcolm made sure Hod's father paid the bills.
The homeroom bell rang. Robert hurried to his assigned room, which thankfully was headed by Mr. Hopper this year, one of the only teachers who showed him kindness. Nevertheless he sat in the back. His satchel slumped against the chair. He pulled out The Grapes of Wrath and delved into it, gladly ignoring the conversations bouncing around him.
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"Rumple, does your ankle bother you often?"
A flicker of nervousness passed across Rumple’s face. His tongue unconsciously poked out to wet his lower lip. “I’ve grown used to it over the years. If I exert it too much, it can be bothersome. But, now and then, it almost slips my notice.”
Text: Lily? Oh my! I am very sorry. I have been up in the attic, digging in your father's chests for his leather pants so I wasn't paying much attention when I sent that.
Text: It’s okay Mama…
Text: Should I not come home… are you and Papa gonna be… busy?
Text: Cause you know… I don’t have to come home right now…
"That does seem to be the case. I wish I could be more helpful." Belle said with sadly. "I am sorry, Lily."
"No Mama, I’m sorry. I feel like I have put you in a really awkward position and thats not fair. I love you," she said with a weak smile.
