#infectiousacademic

Sometimes, someone would recognize Marigold for what she was.

It wasn’t often that it would happen.  Selkies were one of the fae that had drifted into obscurity, but there were people who still knew the stories -- whose faery sight let them recognize the feral seal women who walked in human form.  On that particular day, Marigold was the unlucky selkie who had been recognized by one of these people.

He backed her into a corner of an alley, face shrouded by the dark, voice rough as he demanded she hand over her seal skin.  Mari would have been lying if she said she wasn’t afraid.  Still, she stood tall and glared, hands curling tightly around the strap of her bag that contained her precious coat.

“I am mine before I am ever anyone else’s.”

She must have spoken louder than she thought, because before she knew it there was another man, phone in hand, looking expectantly at her aggressor.  His appearance was enough of a distraction for Marigold to deliver a swift punch to the attacker’s jaw.

He stumbled back, giving Mari enough room to slip by.  With nowhere else to really go, she went towards the man who was -- apparently -- helping her.  She stopped a few feet away, uncertain.  Finally, she spoke.  

Storybrooke, Maine. Small town set-up…. It shouldn’t be too hard to get there, and he shouldn’t be there for too long. There are surroundings forests in the area, which is where he’ll need to be and need to look. If he’s lucky and the situation is ideal, he won’t need to run into anyone, really.

Granted, plans don’t always go quite the way you want them to, and it’s not exactly known to him that some of the residents in the area, for one reason or another, have a habit of… roaming these woods. He’d only been there perhaps an hour when a voice called out from somewhere further back. Upon hearing it, the stranger to the area paused, very briefly taking mental stock of the situation.

Does he have attributes visible that would mark him as nonhuman? No, not currently. Good. Are they close? A slow turn of his head to the side to get them within view enough to tell gleans an answer, which is a mix of yes and no. Close enough to be clearly visible, which is more than he’d have preferred, but not close enough that they’re inherently in danger. The stranger, squatting nearby one of the larger trees in the area, turned their gaze back towards the seemingly empty of ink pen that he’s holding in one gloved hand, gently and slowly lowering and tilting it so that a spider skittered off of the top of it and onto the ground. Afterwards, Daiki stood to his full height before placing his pen on the cover of a green notebook that he carried.

“My apologies if my being here frightened you, but I might ask you the same question, young man. Is it not potentially dangerous for one so young to be wandering in the woods by your lonesome?”

continued from here

Henry didn’t like this man being in the woods. For one, he’d never seen him in Storybrooke before. He was a stranger, and strangers in Storybrooke had a habit of wanting to destroy either the town or one of its inhabitants. But it was also that he was alone in the woods. No one knew he was even inside the city limits, save Henry of course. What was he up to that was so secretive? Was he making a spell that would destroy the whole town?

“It’s not usually dangerous roaming the woods, no. It’s only dangerous when there are weird people around,” Henry told the man, crossing his arms to try and seem tougher than he actually was. “I decided to go for a walk. And my mom knows where I am.” That was a lie, but hopefully it would deter the man from doing anything to him.

colorful headcanons

acacia: how much does it take for your muse to hate someone?

Even if Ivakir says that she hates something, then in fact it’s not real hatred, but just a strong irritation. The difference between disgust and hatred is that when you hate something, then you want to erase, destroy, or get rid of it. Iv has such a strange philosophy: if you hate something, then you have to eat it. It borders between her strange taste preferences and eternal hunger, and also because the object of your hate must pass through you.

If someone does something horrible to her friends or relatives, then Ivakir turns into a berserker, who has only one goal - to destroy the object of her hatred. This is a very important reason to start hating someone.

cadmium yellow: what subjects or topics does your muse avoid, because they bring up harmful / painful memories?

Talk about the deaths of old people. The fact is that Iv is really worried about her grandmother, because Iv is afraid that one day she will not receive a letter from her grandma with an invitation to come to the annual family convention.

She also avoids any discussion about hospices, about death and about elderly people. She either gets up and leaves or explodes and says that you are wrong and you don’t know anything at all and don’t have the right to say whatever you are going to say. The fact is that Ivakir secretly visits nursing homes and hospices. She cares for people there, sometimes entertains them and makes for them talismans, which, in theory, should help them to ease their pain. Of course, talismans are not real and don’t have any magic in them. But they work.

Red would have to be the color I would chose. It also happens to be one of Henry’s favorites. :)

Red really seems to fit Henry though. You think of red when you think of fighting, and boy does he fight. If he decides something is the right thing to do, he’ll fight for it and not stop. I also kind of associate red with bravery sometimes, and he’s a brave kid.