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LITTLEĀ REDĀ RIDINGĀ HOODĀ || Ā THEĀ BIGĀ BADĀ WOLF
@sherffwolf
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CHARACTER Ā POSTER Ā EDITS Ā { 002 Ā / Ā ??? Ā }
LITTLEĀ REDĀ RIDINGĀ HOODĀ || Ā THEĀ BIGĀ BADĀ WOLF
@sherffwolf

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@sherffwolf
Evieās whole body was thrumming, veins alight with warmth. She hadnāt 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. Sheād heard MaeraĀ 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.Ā āWolfie! What are you doing here so late? Did you come to swim too?ā 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.
āso you donāt trust me?ā
It wasnāt so much the words that startled them but how she couldnāt 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 werenāt 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. āWhere did you hear that?ā
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.Ā āWolf,ā Voice soft but earnest she began to speak as freely and easily as she could. āI can count on one hand the amount of people I trust as much as I do you. Thereās almost no one else I would spend an evening with and feel completely secure. Thereās never once been any doubt, I promise. Iām not exactly sure why youāve chosen to look out for me but just know that Iām nothing but thankful that you do.ā
A pause sits between them as she considers her next words and this time the are far more hushed, almost a confession. āItās not just about me though, I trust you to look after him while I canāt and I donāt think thereās anyone else I would be able to feel as at ease about that with.ā
ā whatever it is youāre looking for ⦠iām not it. ā
āYouāre making a lot of assumptions. Who says Iām looking for anything?ā 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 isnāt drunk yet but sheās 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.Ā āI know what youāre not, Wolf. Youāre not a friend, thatās for sure. Youāre not trustworthy but more than anything right now you are not worth my time.ā She says, putting down a five dollar bill to cover her last drink and standing up to leave.
ā i didnāt have a choice. ā
āBullshit!ā 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 doesnāt 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.Ā āYou always have a choice, Wolf. Itās called free will and you donāt get to blame your shitty decisions on the universe or on whoever has pissed you off an hour ago.ā She continues, running a hand through her hair, exasperated.Ā āWhatever it is you expect me to say, whatever you want to hear Iām not going to say it so you might as well go.ā She finishes lamely, eyes fixed on the ground.

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ā want me to leave? ā
Fabletown is a small town, too small in fact and Evelyn hasnāt 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. Sheās back in the tower even though sheās left and itās 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 hadnāt 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.Ā āThis isnāt my shop. You can do what you like.ā 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. Sheās not sure what Wolf was looking for when he came to Beastās shop knowing sheād be there too but if it was another fight, he wonāt have it.Ā
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 globeās 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. inhaleĀ āā cant another two centimetersĀ āā 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 wolfĀ āā does his descension exist to accuse him of vile transgressions ? His gaze shifts; distrustful and searching. ā I thought I heard a howl. ā he dares, striding toward fixed arrows. Fingers smooth along mortal bases as they aim to retrieve obstinate bolts. By the thirdās liberation and the prompt of static shadow, Robin halts his toiling, providing the other with succeeding addressment meant to banish. ā Maggieās not with me. ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā š¹ Ā STARTER Ā . Ā // Ā @sherffwolf
āiām leaving.ā
The words didnāt hit her all at once but rather sank in slowly so there was no way she could claim that sheād misunderstood them or needed a repetition. She didnāt 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 couldnāt pinpoint exactly when sheād started thinking that this time was any difference, it canāt have been conscious or it would have been her at the door leaving him with only empty space.Ā
Thereād 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 doesnāt 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 couldnāt be certain.Ā
It was easier to get mad than disappointed, vitriol suited her much better than defeatedness. Her voice doesnāt shake when thereās too much force behind it but the words are quiet when she canāt bring herself to shout. āThen go. You know where the door is.ā