" I DON'T KNOW WHAT EVERYONE IS SO FUSSY ABOUT , " dorothy voiced , but the words were spoken between shallow and bitter breaths , having just teetered off the stage from a particularly grim performance ( the town's happenings had left little room for pallet - soothing whimsy , but perhaps her audience could have done without her celebratory merriment about the witch's fate ) . taking the scarlet fingertip of a stain glove between her teeth , dorothy tugged the costume piece off her tawny limb before discarding it behind her on the bar top .
" ─── anyone in their right state of mind would be relieved . feel , , , safer . " it were almost as if dorothy were self soothing ( as if she were one to talk about what defined a ' right state of mind ' ) , shifting her bite to show her opposing glove the same attentions she had gifted the first . then , swirling on the stool so she was facing bar side , dorothy collected her thick , loose hair and pulled it over her shoulder , beginning to anxiously thread it into a loose plait , only to run her fingers through it and start over .
over . and over . and over again .
her eyes find the occupant of the seat next to her , eyes like that of a sleepy pup's as painted lashes framed droopy lids . she was so tired , their features blurring , a yawn burning her throat that she didn't let surface .
" i think we should give whoever did it a proper thanking . "
a 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set at 𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐩𝐢𝐞 the eve the news broke of the murder . ( @detr1tus , @gravemist , @lcgendaries , @einchants , @daydreambeliiever , @unyearning / @unforsworn )
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
mise en scenè ⸺ the crooked mile, at the juncture between the open arms hotel and the lucky pawn, an hour before sunset.
in a few hours, fables from each parcel of their sequestered town will march their inexorable way to the woodland in the opaque night, beneath the cool balm of stars. the sun will slope beneath the horizon—the world aflame, then put out as if drowned—and the shoulders of the sky will falter, will capitulate to the black sails of darkness. the day’s light, extinguished in but a short breath, a short-lived exhalation of time.
natural occurrences still startle lancelot, but he supposes it is to be expected, even excused: after all, he was only recently roused from an interminable stupor. hanging from a tree for the better part of four centuries will do that to you, king cole had said. the symbol of death marks him still; no signet of valiance or virtue or the life he paraded and prided himself in when camelot still stood tall and unfallen. no fate could be so final and so essentially pathetic. nothing, not even the glory of a name, could absolutely survive death.
this world, this mundane world, had prevailed and thrived long before the fables arrived. it will continue to do so long after they are gone. one way or another, he thinks. how long before their magic is depleted? before the cardinal bond between birthplace and creation is severed completely? until no one who has entered the heart of their collective tale can remember it, can pass it on?
for now, he waits, a sombre sentry hemmed in between the open arms and the lucky pawn. the fleet of footsteps draws neither his eye nor his ear, but he inclines his head nonetheless. “for how long do you think we’ll remain hidden? another decade? another century? tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll wake to the mundane authority storming our homes.”
it had been the wrong day for yvonne to have such a large responsibility when it came to remembrance day. she knew it was coming but the woman is still drained from last night's sleepwalking episode, how she'd somehow opened all the locks and awoken in the middle of a pathway in her white night dress. still, she cleans up well, sleeks her hair back and dons professional attire - this is her moment for her efforts to be recognised by the people of fabletown. yvonne robertson is very good at her job, she has to be and no matter if she's exhausted, she will deliver. still, making everyone pledge once more did seem like a clerical nightmare and she could have done without it. "come to renew your vows to this place?" she hums, hardly looking up towards them as dark circles weigh her bloodshot blue eyes down. of course, there had been no hesitancy with yvonne signing herself away once more - still no closer to being appreciated or getting the recognition she deserved. things would be different if she didn't pick this job but she had to remain close to them... she was always close to them.
and lo, fabletown held raucous revel all through the day and night: in shared joy and commiseration, in inexorable melancholy and brazen temerity. they raised cups, garlands, and hands as they danced and gathered the stars falling in crystal myriads. had they known what would transpire thereafter, they might have cleaved more steadfastly to the day’s heartbeat, for its hard-won peace would not be known again.
at daybreak on april 27, 1987, the residents of fabletown began moving deathward: before the sun could scrape the eastern flank of new york city, a seed of discord had veritably been sowed.
the following is a report submitted by the sheriff’s office to the deputy mayor for evaluation:
on 04/26/87 at 23:49 hours, the sheriff’s office received an anonymous tip-off that a residence on the fourth floor of the woodland luxury apartments had been burgled. the detective on duty said that the call could not be traced, and that the voice had either been magically manipulated, or processed with a vocoder.
the sheriff was dispatched to the scene, where he gained entry to the apartment without issue; the door was unlocked. he discovered a cadaver in the living room and identified the victim as frau trude, a fable who had until recently been a witch of the thirteenth floor. the principal cause of death is presently indeterminate, but there is evidence of strangulation and blunt force trauma. an autopsy will be performed by the knights of malta post-haste, with the deputy mayor presiding.
with effect from 04/27/87 05:00 hours, the mayor has placed the town on lockdown. all fables, including authorities, are to present themselves to the magic mirror (located in the chamber adjoining the sheriff’s office, in the understructure of the woodland luxury apartments), where they must provide a detailed statement disclosing their whereabouts and activity on 04/26/87.
no movement of fables and vehicles beyond the main enclave will be permitted unless authorised. all business on the crooked mile is hereby suspended until further notice. operations on the farm shall in the meantime be overseen by weyland smith, who has heretofore submitted himself for questioning and is sanctioned by the magic mirror.
decedent: frau trude, fable. case: 13-177.
this is an ongoing investigation.
king roberon cole did not leave the mayoral penthouse until 13:44, as vouched by his housekeeper, and was seen in the “crimson silk” (run by mila yukimura) for a tailoring appointment. at 14:50, he returned to the penthouse, and remained there until the incident was reported. / trudie was a recluse, you know… even when she was on the thirteenth, she preferred to be left alone. i don’t think she had any family.
bluebeard spent the morning in his apartment on the eighteenth floor of the woodland, where he lives, alone. at 09:05, he called on the business office to oversee the retrieval of the fabletown compact, re-signed it, and left at 09:40 for the sheriff’s office. he was briefed by the department on the enforcement protocol for the day. at 10:24, he made haste to the crooked mile for a scheduled appointment with the proprietors of the lucky pawn. after affirming that none of the establishment’s goods were in breach of the regulations, he exited the shoppe and returned to the woodland luxury apartments, whereby he sat in attendance of the council meeting (or what remained of it) until 12:34. he was seen again at 13:02, when he checked on the thirteenth floor witches. at 13:20, he met with the mayor in his penthouse and remained there until the incident was reported. / i am deeply aggrieved by what has transpired on the heels of what was a joyous occasion, and now shall and can only be seen as the lull before the storm… i will do everything in my power to find and apprehend the murderer.
ichabod crane did not leave his room in the open arms hotel, where he has been a permanent guest for three months, until 13:19. this is corroborated by the receptionists on shift. crane whiled away an hour in the trip trap, which was milling with patrons due to the event, and was seen leaving at 14:20 by a bartender. he was entertained by the staff at the pudding & pie until 15:40, whereupon he made his way to the business office, re-signed the compact at 16:06, and left for the gala at 16:20. he returned to the hotel at 22:14 and remained there until the incident was reported. / i didn’t know her… how could this happen? what’ll become of us?
weyland smith arrived in the main enclave from the farm at 16:33, and proceeded to re-sign the compact at the business office at 17:03. he was seen amid the revellers at the gala as early as 17:20, until as late as 23:50, and is vouched for by more than twenty fables. / i knew trude—she’d been with us since the beginning. left the homelands on the same ship, we did. i just can’t believe it. i can’t imagine who could’ve had the means or reason to do it.
part two of remembrance will run from may 3, 12.00 p.m. cst / 1.00 p.m. est to may 17, 12.00 p.m. cst / 1.00 p.m. est. members are free to continue threads from part one, as well as non-event threads. for logistical purposes, all event threads for part two take place on april 27, 1987, in game. fables who do not have residences within the main enclave can assume temporary stay in the apartments.
if you wish to participate in this chapter, please post an account of your fable’s whereabouts and activity on remembrance day (any length, prose or bulleted) along with a short in-character quote (see above) in the #event-planning channel in our discord server. this post will be updated with submissions forthwith. the time for judgement is nigh…
This was one event that Vasilisa would never understand. Today had never felt like a day of celebration to her, how could it when in the end the adversary had decisively won. Why revel in their hasty retreat to land where they had to conceal all that they were. Still she would make an appearance, more out of obligation than anything else.
It wasn’t long before she slinked away to an empty balcony for a bit of fresh air and a quick smoke. Vasilisa didn’t partake of the vice often, it was dependent on her mood and the melancholiness she felt now called for it. Smoke curled into the night air as she took a drag. The smell reminded her of her father, long gone by now. He had a pipe he would smoke and would let her take hits when no one was watching. Old memories absorbed her as she leaned against the railing staring out into the night. The sound of footsteps behind her startled her out of it. “Shit.” She muttered under her breath as she snubbed out the cigarette. Vasilisa typically didn’t like for people to see her smoke, a stupid insecurity about maintaining an image of herself. “Didn’t expect anyone else to come out here. Probably should have since it’s not a bad place to escape the party.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
" you've heard of frau trude's passing ?? " though the real question was — who hadn't ?? news of the witch's passing ringing like church bells throughout fabletown , whispers of it occupying every corner ( no matter how dark ) of the town , probing the sound barrier with a most stubborn persistence . a refusal to go UNACKNOWLEDGED . those bells struck a familiar chord within the princess , who sat on the opposing side of the park bench occupied by her fellow fable . a gold-spun lock of hair is twisted around the tip of a manicured finger , petal lips pressed into an empathetic frown .
" i'm sure the town will see to it that the rest of us are spared such a fate , " briar had already bested death once — it wasn't something she were wishing to have to face again . lifting one of the wildflowers she had procured from the edge of the woods during one of daily her walks through the park , she offers the fresh flora to them .
" here . i do hope it will lift your spirits . "
an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘉𝘙𝘐𝘈𝘙 𝘙𝘖𝘚𝘌 set on a park bench on a warm afternoon after the announcement of the witch's death . 0 / 5 replies !!
DOROTHY SAW THE WORLD IN FRACTALS , crafted of imagery based in her imagination as well as the semblance of reality the rest of the world seemed to claim . the impending summer wind was thick with condensation , a blooming fog awaiting a downpour to wash it away , and the evening breeze feathered across her cheeks as she stood on the side of the road with her palms gripping the handlebars of her baby blue bike . worn and aged tassels protruded from their grips , flittering strands of ribbon flicking against her wrists . dorothy was staring at something , beady eyes narrowed into thin , concentrated slits . something was across the road . something .
someone ??
her breaths quickened , sternum blooming with each shallow intake of air , jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ground together . the muscles beneath tawny skin twitched , not even a wisp of brown hair ( fallen free from a loose braided plait ) striking her eye enough to deter her leveled glare . a shadow shifted at her feet , however , managed to catch her attention . she looked around , desperate to find its owner ; " you shouldn't creep up on people like that !! " she reprimanded the unknown . her bike was drawn closer to her , grip turning knuckle white as she held on for dear life , straightening her spine and lifting her chin . " you'll frighten them . and there's a curfew , you know !! " her voice shook , looking around , and despite being aware of the rules herself , she didn't move . she spoke smaller then , with timid crack to her words ;
" you ought to get home . "
an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set just before curfew , a mile or so from pudding & pie . 1 / 5 replies !!
─── REMEMBERING . oh , how dorothy l o a t h e d to remember !!
dreadful fantasy and grisly delusions plagued the girl's mind , often splintering the world into fractals of strange peculiarity she could never make sense of . the sidewalk she traipsed down to get to tonight's festivities might as well have been the ebbing waves of an ocean as it seemed to roll beneath her feet ( not that the midwestern girl had ever seen one ) , the wind carrying the echo of a most harrowing laugh who's timbre was all but unfamiliar . that dreadful glinda's , she thought .
dorothy hoped that wicked WITCH wouldn't show her face this eve .
the girl lingered by a concessions table , brandishing an empty cup , brows coming to a furrow as she investigates the surplus of options . which had been poisoned ?? had any ?? she leaned over , pressing onto the balls of her glittering red shoes , though as her face just barely crossed over the threshold of the bowl , a reflection of the most horrifying nature looked back at her . dorothy jumped , launched back in fright , right into the chest of someone else . with a yip that'd put toto's to shame , dorothy spun , horror painted across her features as she clutched her empty cup to her quick beating pulse .
" oh !! " she gasped , looking up at them . an anxious , bashful laugh sounded like wind chimes in a slow-brewing storm as she shrunk into herself . " sorry — i thought i , , , saw something in that bowl . here , " she steps aside , lifting a hand from her empty glass to gesture vaguely towards the assortment of bowled beverages . " you go ahead , i'm not thirsty . "
an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set at the remembrance day festivities . 3 / 3 replies !!
