#sherffwolf

CHARACTER  POSTER  EDITS  { 002  /  ???  }

LITTLE  RED  RIDING  HOOD  ||  THE  BIG  BAD  WOLF

Evie’s whole body was thrumming, veins alight with warmth. She hadn’t had much experience with alcohol but she liked how it made her feel thus far. Invincible and giddy. She had downed three whole glasses of that Sazerac that Hunter had poured for her and then she had gone out, went looking for the lake. She’d heard Maera talk about the see too many times, how free it was to just swim in the ocean and she had envied her then, had wondered what that would feel like. There was no ocean though, in Fabletown only a lake but that would have to do. She had stripped down to her underwear, living her nightgown and coat somewhere on the grass nearby and she ran into the water only yelping at the coldness of it before diving in. She heard the footsteps when it was too late to hide and she got out of the water, trying to get a better look at whoever was out there. A languid smile spread over her lips as she recognized the Sheriff. “Wolfie! What are you doing here so late? Did you come to swim too?” She asked, advancing on him and trying to reach for his neck on unsteady feet, careless with where she put her wet hands in the process.

It wasn’t so much the words that startled them but how she couldn’t quite believe that he would have any reason to ask them of her. Brows furrowed slightly, equal parts confusion and concern as she posed the most logical question she could think of, keen to get to the bottom of wherever his doubt in her faith in him had sprung from. They certainly weren’t words that had even crossed her mind let alone been spoken aloud in any capacity and she was more than a little anxious to nip it in the bud. “Where did you hear that?”

A few steps were taken forward with the concern still etched on her features, she knew that words had to be chosen carefully to ensure that they were as sincere as intended and there was little room for making things too flowery or embellished. She trusted him completely and that was all that needed to be said, firmly enough that he would believe her. “Wolf,” Voice soft but earnest she began to speak as freely and easily as she could. “I can count on one hand the amount of people I trust as much as I do you. There’s almost no one else I would spend an evening with and feel completely secure. There’s never once been any doubt, I promise. I’m not exactly sure why you’ve chosen to look out for me but just know that I’m nothing but thankful that you do.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions. Who says I’m looking for anything?” Comes the reply, accompanied by a shake of her head. The alcohol in her veins is warming her up, filling her with a courage that will be gone come morning. She isn’t drunk yet but she’s not exactly sober. She puts her drink down on the bar counter, looking at Wolf, seizing him up. Her mind conjures up their last conversation and for a moment she considers throwing the glass at him, how lovely it might be to see him in pain. Payback is a bitch, her mind supplies and she laughs, sudden and free. “I know what you’re not, Wolf. You’re not a friend, that’s for sure. You’re not trustworthy but more than anything right now you are not worth my time.” She says, putting down a five dollar bill to cover her last drink and standing up to leave.

“Bullshit!” The word is out of her mouth before Wolf can even begin another sentence or make a move. She is so done with justifications and excuses. There is always a choice and if Wolf keeps making the wrong ones over and over then she doesn’t have to be there to pick up the pieces, pat him on the back and pretend she understands. Not when it is at her expense. “You always have a choice, Wolf. It’s called free will and you don’t get to blame your shitty decisions on the universe or on whoever has pissed you off an hour ago.” She continues, running a hand through her hair, exasperated. “Whatever it is you expect me to say, whatever you want to hear I’m not going to say it so you might as well go.” She finishes lamely, eyes fixed on the ground.

Fabletown is a small town, too small in fact and Evelyn hasn’t been more aware of it than she has in the last couple of days. Rounding every corner there was one person she was less than eager to stumble upon. Worse than that though is the sneaking sensation of fear that seems to run through her at a low frequency. She feels trapped and small, once again. A part of her absolutely loathes Wolf for it. She’s back in the tower even though she’s left and it’s all because he felt the need to push her around so she would shut up. A flower stem snaps under her hand with a loud crack and then the door of the shop flies open. She hadn’t heard the bell or seen anyone approaching the shop too engrossed in her thoughts. And of course, the very person she has no desire of seeing as stepped into the shop, presumably looking for Beast and all she can do is stare. His words barely register and he repeats himself. She straightens up and without looking at him she replies, hands still tending to the roses she was composing a bouquet with. “This isn’t my shop. You can do what you like.” She says, her tone lacking all the warmth it usually possesses. Indifference is worse than hate she finds, worse than anger and venomous words, worse perhaps than even violence. She’s not sure what Wolf was looking for when he came to Beast’s shop knowing she’d be there too but if it was another fight, he won’t have it. 

Vermillion wounds define deft digits from excessive exertion; tendons comprise themselves of expert ache. The archer lowers his bow, peers, permits a forearm to combat the fiery globe’s domineering stature. As targeted, four arrows forge an embedded, vertical line within a dilapidated oak across the clearing. A fifth arrow is plucked from its quiver and nocked upon bowstring as both index and middle digits graze feathered fletching. The weapon is raised once more, canted in accordance with frigid gusts as he pinpoints his concluding shot. inhale –– cant another two centimeters –– exhale, release. the arrow strikes home, its razor-edged point lodging itself within lumbered core as commanded, cleaving its twinned marker.

Yet his evasion of fabled masses has met solitary ruination. An unsanctioned presence interrupts his tranquil ritual, and a molten stare hails the tread of a wolf –– does his descension exist to accuse him of vile transgressions ? His gaze shifts; distrustful and searching. ❝ I thought I heard a howl. ❞ he dares, striding toward fixed arrows. Fingers smooth along mortal bases as they aim to retrieve obstinate bolts. By the third’s liberation and the prompt of static shadow, Robin halts his toiling, providing the other with succeeding addressment meant to banish. ❝ Maggie’s not with me. ❞

The words didn’t hit her all at once but rather sank in slowly so there was no way she could claim that she’d misunderstood them or needed a repetition. She didn’t need to be told twice that the was following the suit of everyone before and abandoning her just as things started to get a little bit difficult. When she started to get difficult. Time and again it had proven to be true and she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she’d started thinking that this time was any difference, it can’t have been conscious or it would have been her at the door leaving him with only empty space. 

There’d been so much care taken to remain aloof, to be the one that could up and leave without a single look back but somewhere along the lines she must have slipped up. There was no other explanation for the way her chest ached. But the pain doesn’t last long when it feels too much like weakness and so instead shoulders are squared and eyes narrowed, choosing anger though whether it was at him or herself for her own foolishness she couldn’t be certain. 

It was easier to get mad than disappointed, vitriol suited her much better than defeatedness. Her voice doesn’t shake when there’s too much force behind it but the words are quiet when she can’t bring herself to shout. “Then go. You know where the door is.”