#drorahwalks

...and giving Cassie some level of fluff. That’s it, that’s the plot. (A starter for @drorah-walks )

“No one needs to be yelling,” Cassie choked, grimacing as the two Death Eaters who had brought her to St. Mungos began to call for help the moment they apparated into the foyer. Sure, she was rapidly losing the ability to breathe, and there was this deep rooted cold somewhere deep inside her torso, but it’s not like she was dying or anything. 

A nurse came first, asking what Cassie had been hit with, and the ever-helpful Mulciber had forgotten the name of the curse. “It was-” Cassie interjected, but was cut short by an intense coughing fit. “It’s called-” she tried again, but something caught in her throat, and she promptly vomited chunks of frozen bile onto the tile floor. She was apparently freezing from the inside out, which wasn’t ideal. Perhaps the yelling had been necessary. 

“Hey, Cass, don’t be choking now,” Mulciber said nervously. “Fuck fuck fuck I was supposed to be covering you if you die I’m good as dead so please please don’t die.”

Cassie tried to tell the man beside her to fuck off, but all that came out was more bile, so she threw him an obscene hand gesture instead. 

“Oh, come on, I’ll miss our friendship too of course, but I can only miss you if I’m alive...”

Continued from Here with @drorah-walks

Gabby gave a little nod. “Mmhmm, a wolverine. He's awesome, but he has to go for walks every so often. If not he tries eating the plastic pelican.” It was clear the girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen at most saw nothing at all wrong with what she had just said. Voice cheerful, and quite matter of fact her head was tilted back a bit to look up at D'rorah.

“Practice helps with everything, and okay! Thanks! If you are sure you can. I know adults have a habit of being all busy with stuff. Mmhmm Jonathan. Normally I can keep hold of him even when he starts to run, but he's been getting stronger. I ran into a fire hydrant by accident.” There was a faint bruise on her face that was quickly disappearing as she offered a sheepish smile and scratched at the back of her neck.

Laughing, smiling, one hand in D'rorah's as they stepped through a portal Rumple was honestly happy as well as content. She was far enough along in her pregnancy to start showing just a bit, and the trip had gone quite well. Now though it was nice just to be home. “Well let's hope the contractors have all finished up, yes?” Turning she started to lean up to kiss the other woman before her eyes went wide hearing a voice.

Winter cold, masculine, and tinged with the same manic feel as Jester's voice there was a Fae male standing behind the two of them with a smirk somewhere between violence inducing and utterly delightful. “There's my exquisite Hunter of Hunter's! Welcome, welcome back. A pleasure indeed,so it is although perhaps it's I who should be welcomed yes? Ohhh come now you aren't going to be hiding things from me are you?” He had of course been speaking purely in their native language. If Rumple or her companion couldn't understand that was their problem.

That smile that had been on Rumple's face faded as she took one step to the side, and another step towards the man who was speaking as she turned to face him. Entirely glamour fading her wings flickered out for a moment before tucking in behind her back as she went down to one knee, head bowing, one hand on the floor and the other hand to her chest. “My Liege Lord. Your Hunter of Hunter's hides nothing, and welcomes you to house, and hearth.” Rumple responded in the same exact language as it became quickly obvious she never even considered refusing him, and that despite it having been hundred of years since she was last in the Courts somethings never went away.

MUSE IS UNDER TRUTH SERUM FOR ONE HOUR. ASK ME ANYTHING

She’s strolling away when she hears the call and the sheer sense of oh fuck stops Darcy in her steps, hands held up and away from her body as if the other woman were, like, what? The police?Still, the offending key is held in her hand, and Darcy knows she is, as the old people like to say, up Shit Creek without a paddle.

Slowly, Darcy turns on her heels to regard the woman, and, yeah, that’s about what I assumed. Blonde hair, tall and willowy, pale skin and willowy and just distinctly muscular, a little bit older -- maybe a tennis mom? She’s dressed in all white, like, come on,dude. 

“Me?” Darcy gestures at herself, taking on a look of innocence that doesn’t quite fit on a face so used to displaying mischief or skepticism.

{ @drorah-walks } || put ☎ in my ask for your muses info in my muses phone – status; accepting

NAME: D’rorahRINGTONE: Mirage by Lindsey StirlingPICTURE: THIS ONE–because she looks stunning. 

Continued from Here: with @drorah-walks

“Well,” D'rorah began, “there are two possibilities.”  She considered the statement a moment longer.  "Well, actually, there are many possibilities.“

"It could be that, one, this is not the end of the book.  Or perhaps two, you are not the monster you believe you are.  It could be both of those together.  Or… it could be that this is no book.  It is life, and we are all just… beings trying to make our way through the worlds as best we can.  What is monstrous to the hen is merely survival for the fox.”

She sat on the windowsill, looking out at the stars and shaking her head slightly.  "If you are looking for someone to condemn you, I doubt I am in any way qualified to cast the first stone.“

Rumple had actually been intending to make fun of the document she was reading more then anything else, but as D'rorah started talking she looked back at the other woman and gave a little nod. “As it so happens I actually enjoy your company because you don't condemn me dearie. It makes me worry at times that eventually you will end up condemning me, but for now I enjoy the acceptance you offer.”

@drorah-walks:

“Yes, I can certainly take a more in-depth look,” D’rorah agreed.  She was hardly bothered by the idea of what Hel might have done to anyone following her.  If they were after this box, their intentions weren’t likely to be any good at all.  All the better if she didn’t have to worry about them becoming a problem later, in D’rorah’s opinion.

“Though it occurs to me that some of the people following you, seeking this item out, may have a better idea exactly what it is meant to do.  We might try keeping a wary eye out for them from this point forward and see whether we can safely corral one into a position where they might feel compelled to give us some information.”

She sat at a long wooden table and set the box in front of her, testing out the pieces to find the one that would open the box itself.  A small gesture of the hand was enough to put a warding field around the object, just in case she pressed something she shouldn’t.  “Can you tell me anything else about the man who sent you to get this?  How did he seem?  What did he look like?  Anything might be helpful.”

Helena nodded and huffed in slight irritation at the disturbers: she’d already questioned those that had been following her, before dealing with them for good, yet they appeared to have been but simple minions, a hired help, if anything, tasked with one job -- tailing the woman, mostly. Only one attacked her directly and tried to take away the box, but even he appeared to have been incredibly clueless. If there was any concept in this world she strongly disliked - it was that of a foolish henchman. D’rorah was very much correct on the matter, however, there was no need to give up on the idea that one of them could eventually be useful and potentially lead to whomever was behind all of this.

‘Let’s see,’ she hummed, trying to recall every bit of information she’d had -- which to her own frustration was not nearly enough. ‘This man found me when I was getting my morning coffee, which means he knew my routine and very few people know it. He told me that we had a common witch acquaintance-- I checked with her and she claimed not to know this man-- something that I didn’t get to confront him over, when he didn’t make it to the meeting at the park. He promised me a rare magic book in exchange for a trivial find. I know many people who collect antiques, so I basically just had to make a couple of phone calls, call in a few favours, and make one easy travel. If I were honest, he was over-paying me and gave me more than enough time to find it, I guess. Suppose, he wasn’t in a rush and thought that his life was in no danger but since he didn’t make an appearance, he may have been wrong about that.’ She chuckled and scratched her nose. ‘He was tall, dark, mysterious. I’d say in his late 40s early 50s. He had a beard and was dressed... I want to say: okay, but he did have that mage vibe all mages give off. I can’t really explain, they never really dress enough to blend in with average people no matter how hard they try. Always trinkets on them, the fabric is way nicer, not your cheap knock-off. He had a ruby ring on his index finger and there was a silver chain hanging from his belt, attached to something that was in his pocket, I’m assuming a pocket watch but it could’ve been anything else.’