♚ ;s n o w q u e e n

"I was an idiot to think you’d changed."

"You never listen, do you?"

"You’re hopeless. Get up."

"No, I meant it. I meant every word."

"You’re a bad person."

"Get out of my life."

"Let go of me!"

"And to think I loved you."

"I never want to see you again."

"I wish you were dead."

"I never lied!"

"I’d kill you if I had any mercy."

"Don’t you understand? I want you to hate me."

"Fine! Leave! Everyone else does."

"Don’t let me walk away."

"You have no idea what I’ve been through to be here."

"Tell me I’ll see you again."

"I have always been with you."

"You mean nothing to me."

▉▎♚〈 ❝  ᴘʟᴜᴄᴋʏ 〉  

                                        SHE DIDN’T HESITATE to take a few steps forward, eventually reaching the bar as she had desired.  But her head did tilt and shelistens to what is being spoken towards her, plump lips pursing in thought.

              Ingrid watched the woman pass beside her               and head to the bar. She could tell that her               WARNING had passed right over the woman's               head and she sighed inwardly. 

                      A sculpted brow rose at the brunette's offer but                       she didn't turn her down, instead stepping forward                       as slim shoulders l i f t e d in a shrug. 

    Carm waved off the comment instantly with a flip of a pale hand, a languid tilt of her head. Perhaps the blunt instrument she’d taken to the temple had been deserved on some level — trying to eat someone in an alley did have its downsides — but the lingering taste of blood on her tongue made it all worthwhile.

               "My name is Ingrid," she nodded, taking                 a slight step back when the dark haired                 girl waved off her comment. If the stranger                 didn't want her help, than it was no concern                 of hers. She had more important things                 to be doing anyway. 

          What was in the damn ice cream? Regina had to know.

          ❝ Oh, I’m sure your recipes are trade secrets. I would never ask for those. ❞

          A big, winning smile. Regina leaned a little closer to the counter, trying to give a confidential atmosphere to the chilly space between them. She’d had a small cup of Rocky Road here a week or so before and it had been incredible. The best ice cream in town. Quickly, the question of what was in the ice cream began to obsess Regina, who had a scientist’s mind in a glutton’s body. She might make snappy comments about keeping her figure, but truthfully, she loved sweets — and hated that she might have to come back here every time she wanted a fix.

          What could she do? She had to find out how this Sarah Fisher woman made the ice cream. Regina had consulted On Food And Cooking, had dug through her cookbooks, come up with nothing. Was it just that she made her ice cream in an industrial machine, a powerhouse compared to Regina’s small home ice cream maker? Could that be enough?

          First, Regina thought she’d come up with some kind of health inspection to get into the back room. Then she remembered — what the hell would the mayor be doing at a health inspection? It took a session of brooding before she hit upon the answer.

          ❝ It’s just… My son, Henry. Do you know him? He comes in here — ❞ a titter of a laugh — ❝ every other day, it seems like. He’s asked me how ice cream is made. We did a little research together, of course, but… He’d love to see how you do it. Your ice cream is his favorite in the whole town. Better than Granny’s. ❞

          One more smile, smaller, more private, to seal the deal.

                        Ingrid glanced up at the brunette, a smile crinkling the corners                         of her eyes as she scooped Caramel Crunch out of container                          and into a decorative glass bowl. The mayor wasn't her only                          customer, and she added a drizzle of this and a sprinkle of that                         to her c r e a t i o n. 

                        She wasn't naive enough not to realize what Regina was trying                         to get at, and she laughed to herself when the woman used her                         son as a distraction. It was clever, but Ingrid was not fooled. 

              "Oh yes, I know Henry. He is one of my                 favorite customers," she smiled. "Such                 a charming young man." 

                         Handing the overflowing cup of caramel ice cream to the young                          girl waiting in line, she gave her brightest smile and called,                         "Enjoy! I'll see you tomorrow." 

                         Turning back to the mayor, she wiped her hands on a spotless                          apron and brushed the hair back from her face. 

    Lips red with blood and faded lipstick widened almost obscenely. Sure, this was a new land, a different world, and the woman staring straight in her direction seemed like an extension of it — but centuries of existence would be a bore without wild adventures.

    "Styria?"

                  Her confusion could almost be believed                   as eyebrows H I K E D and pale lips twitched                   in a display of nearly forgotten innocence. 

                             "I'm afraid not, dear." 

                  A cerulean gaze landed on the spot where the                   girl's hand was pressed to her head and something                   like concern flashed through her eyes.