#obscurity.closed

Goldilock’s disappearance had taken a toll of Fabletown. Wolf hadn’t known her well but he knew that she was one of the people he was supposed to protect. So, if he had to revisit every sight she had gone to, and interview the same people two or three times --- maybe more --- then he would. Whether it was for his own peace of mind or not, it didn’t matter. Not if that and doing his job overlapped. 

The moment he stepped outside into the back alley, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Even in the darkness, his senses worked ten times better than the usual. Wolf hated feeling observed and, seeing as he felt like everyone looked at him wherever he went and not for the best reasons, it was only normal for him to feel defensive. A metallic clank echoed between the walls of the alley and Wolf stopped on his tracks, turning on his heels. 

“If you come out now, I promise I won’t eat you.” It was a joke, of course. A poorly made one when he already had a bad reputation among most Fables.

He was not going to make the same mistake twice; letting her go was no longer an option. With no clue what he was going to say and ignoring the fact that Scarlet would disapprove, Hunter made his way to The Woodlands. He stood outside the building for some time, pacing back and forth as he kept convincing himself to leave them arguing that he ought to follow through with his intentions if he was any kind of man. In a moment of brazenness, Hunter held his breath as he entered the building and headed straight for her apartment with no time or care to acknowledge anyone else.

As he reached the door the adrenaline kicked in - or were they nerves? - and he knocked heavily on the door. No answer. He tried again, harder this time, and a sigh fell from his lips at the silence. He figured she was probably watching him through the keyhole, laughing at his pathetic attempt to come crawling back with his tail between his legs, and just the thought of it irritated him. “Open the fucking door before I kick it in.” He threatened, with every intention of following through. He thudded his fist against the wood in anger at her lack of response, and took a step back. “You better fucking move.” The warning came mere seconds before he exerted most of his strength in a powerful kick that knocked the door in. He hadn’t used enough force to knock it off the hinges, just enough to let her know he meant business.

But there she was.

In a heap on the floor with limp limbs and barely any life to her, Scarlet somehow found a way to draw yet another emotion from the Huntsman - fear for her life. It was difficult to tell exactly what had happened or how long she had been there but it was clear she was out cold and had been left here by someone else. Pushing his worry aside, Hunter used his wits to quickly check the apartment for the culprit, but after finding nothing he simply returned to her and scooped up her unresponsive body. He couldn’t just leave her there. 

He carried her into her bedroom and placed her on the bed, taking a few steps back and simply looking at her. How could someone comatose make him feel so many things? He hated her for it all the more, but he couldn’t leave now. He glanced about the room for somewhere to sit and, upon finding nothing, ventured into the living room where he lifted one of the chairs from its clearly well-thought-out spot and carried it into the bedroom with ease where he dropped it near the door and sat himself down. He would wait, he decided, until she woke up. No matter how long it took.

Evelyn sees him before it’s too late before she can make her quick escape from the Sheriff’s office and just be on her way. Lancelot has already interrogated her for what felt like an eternity and she aches everywhere. She doesn’t need to add a headache to the ever growing list of her grievances but of course Wolf would be here, he works here after all. She had just hoped he would be busy and she stops in her tracks, seriously considering just running for the door. “Fuck.” She swears, to herself and then stops. “Deputy Lance already did the whole interrogation song and dance so if we’re done here, I’d like to leave.” She says. He is the Sheriff, after all, she supposes he could keep her here and just ask more inane questions if he really felt like it so she plays along, waits for him to say she can go rather than run like she really wants to. She can’t look him in the eye though, not after the last time she saw him was so disastrous. She focuses on the wall instead, nails sunk into her hand in frustration.

Like a black bird flying through the skies, walking through the doors of the Trip Trap feels like sending a message, feels like she is made of feathers and bone and she has flown so far from herself that she can’t recognize who she is anymore. There are so many other bars she favors, so many other places in Fabletown that don’t make her feel so much... well, like a fable. There are places where she goes to forget herself, places where she goes to feel free, and places where she goes to embrace this new life of hers, but here in the Trip Trap there’s nowhere to hide. Here she is surrounded by Fables commiserating and drinking and it feels like something dangerous, like a place where who she is and who she is not is going to be made public, and that’s not something she’ll ever be ready for. 

But Théo is here, sipping at a nearly empty drink and talking to the woman behind the bar, and it is Théo that she wants to talk to, Theo that she needs to talk to. If Wolf won’t find out what happened to Goldi, then she’ll do it herself. "Tequila, please,” she says, sliding onto the empty stool next to him. She makes no hesitations, no play acting at just noticing him there, and turns to him immediately. “Can I buy you another?”

Alice was bored at work and she had begun to wonder if she truly needed it, especially since she never spent any time at home ---- wandering the town and not sleeping was a whole lot better than lying motionless in a shitty bed for five hours, anyway. Dreams did not satisfy her; they were inconclusive and, for someone like Alice, not having a proper end to an epic adventure was some sort of torture. 

Just like a snap of fingers, however, the whole night became a lot more interesting. 

A small smirk appeared on her lips as she used an old cloth to wipe the counter, her eyes never leaving who she knew would be her company for the night. “Welcome to Trip Trap” Alice began, a subtle and devious look on her eyes as she eyed Knave up and down, “I hope you left your knives at the door.” The Fable teased, knowing full well he wouldn’t be Knave without his knives. 

@sherffwolf​

It wasn’t as if Théo had ever aspired to owning such an... establishment, as The Lucky Pawn. Oh, no. Hardly. But the opportunity had knocked - in the form of the place’s former owner, an odious Fable who’d enjoyed stopping by the Farm to brag, gamble with whoever could hold cards, and, fortunately, drink himself reckless. What harm could come, the fellow might as well have said; he was only betting with dumb animals, after all. 

As it turned out, some animals were dumber than others, and a few rounds of Papa Bear’s moonshine had done the Pawn’s owner no favors. Puss, though? He was never one to let a favor slip through his paws. And so he’d sunk his claws into his winnings (and the loser’s face, when the man’s whinging started to get a touch too belligerent for Puss’s liking) and made his way to Fabletown. Not for the first time. Not by far. He’d been doing his damnedest to leave the Farm behind since the day they dropped him there - they, the so-called Mayor’s office, those Fables who had the cash-clout and presumptuousness to attempt to run this little pantomime show of a society. Though, of course, he’d never been brought before old Cole and the rest. A straying cat? They had people for that sort of thing, the dirty work, here as in the Homelands. Most of all, they had the wolf. That one. Of legends big and bad. Their sheriff.

His only customer, at present.

The shop’s many benefits included a distinct lack of holiday rush, so Théo’s ears had perked at the jangle of the bell, and he’d peered out of the back room, roused from his dusting, to find Wolf strolling along past the cases. Putain. Thankfully, his glamour had no hackles to raise. So he smoothed his hair - already impeccable, but a gentle pet could be soothing - and drew a pleasant smile on, then slunk forth. “Ah, Sheriff,” he began, so very politely. Keeping the counter between them. “How might I be of assistance, this lovely day?” 

Humming softly to herself, Wendy walked down the street towards one of her favourite shops, the Grand Green Florist. One of her fondest memories of home was gardening with her mother. Though they had the gardeners to tend to their flowers, Mrs. Mary Darling preferred tending them herself. She would send the gardeners out and take Wendy with her to help. As unladylike as it was (women weren’t allowed to dirty their skirts), the Darling women enjoyed it. It was the one thing Mr. Darling would turn a blind eye to. It was the least he could do for her mother.

Upon reaching her destination, she entered the store, the familiar twinkling of the bell ringing in her ears. Wendy looked around for the woman she always saw in the store. She was familiar with Evelyn. She had visited the store enough times to get to know her and she was one of the kindest people in town. Not to mention her gardening tips and tricks were very useful. “Evelyn? I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I need to buy another bouquet. The previous one withered, unfortunately.”