[Pan's goals had been thwarted, but the boy, himself, had escaped, fleeing over the town line to wait. He may not have magic out there, but he knew how to hide and stalk about in the woods and Emma's attempts at locating him were met with disappointment.
And he still managed to sneak into Storybrooke. A murder here, a bit of destruction there- enough to keep the people on edge, but never ever enough to get him caught. Clever bastard that he is.
And worse still, he mowed through Gold's own magic as if it were parlor tricks. The Black Fairy's wand was no use for barrier spells and the fairies were having trouble with their own. Pan was engaging in guerrilla warfare right in their own backyard and no one could find him.
A week into this, Emma Swan turns up with security footage of Gold committing a murder and enough evidence to claim he's the one responsible. Three days later, Emma is screeching about sleeping spells and Gold's locked himself in the shop trying to figure out what the hell happened here.
That's when he notices his hand. While he leans on one of the display cases, trying to sort through his thoughts, his fingers began tapping lightly on the glass of their own accord. Just a simple rhythmic tapping that continues after he wills it to stop, believing it to be a nervous habit.
Twenty minutes later, the barrier spell has pulled down, the shop is in shambles, and Gold is presently on the floor of the backroom, tangled in the ugly curtain that separates the front of the store from his office and gripping his wrist to keep it from going for more of the china.]
[While everyone else has bought Gold's ignorance of the murder spree, Hook sure hasn't. Gold killed Milah. Some strangers would be nothing to him. Hook may be done with revenge but... well, he can't deny he wouldn't cry at the Crocodile's passing. Or imprisonment, if they had a way to actually hold him.
But he doesn't have proof. Besides the undeniable living image thing that Emma says proves it. But Hook thinks they can do better. And so, he storms into Gold's shop, ready to confront the other man.
Except... it sure looks ransacked.
Hook moves forward cautiously, sword drawn, as he tries to figure out what the hell happened.]
[Gold freezes. So does his possessed hand. If a man and his left hand could exchange meaningful looks, that would be happening right now, but alas... it's just a guy staring at his fingers.]
We may be in agreement on this, but now is not- [YOU KNOW WHAT, EVIL HAND DOESN'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT. Through a very complicated dance of destroying natural laws, his hand jerks free of his grip and tries to crawl its way to freedom/ a blunt object to kill Hook with. Being that it is still attached to Gold, this proves to be a problem. Gold fumbles for a second and finds a pen knife in the wreckage, which he promptly stabs into his creeping hand.
The good news is: the hand has stopped.
The bad news is: sticking a knife all the way through your hand and into the floor has a tendency to make a man yell like a little girl.
So, you know, Hook can now follow that yelling to the sight of Gold lying on his stomach in the back room, still tangled in an ugly curtain with a pen knife shoved through his left hand.
[There is nothing in this moment he hates more than you right now, Hook, and that includes his dicktaint of a father and his currently possessed hand.]
If you think I've forgotten how, I'd be more than happy to demonstrate on your other hand. [Also his hand is wriggling really creepily under that pen knife. That's not normal. Gold's a bit too busy baring his teeth in fury to care.]
[Hook could probably act more helpful or more scared about the FUCKING POSSESSED HAND but he sure.... doesn't. He crouches a little ways away, smirking at the situation Gold's got himself in.]
And how do you intend to do that? You seem a bit... otherwise occupied.
[HE CAN STILL TURN YOU INTO A NEWT, YOU SCURVY-TAINTED SWINEDOG.
The following would be much easier if Hook wore something with a collar so really Gold just... grabbed a handful of his vest and yanked to bring the pirate down a bit lower- this is what not wearing buttons gets you, Hook.]
Consider this, Captain. I could do any number of horrific things to you with magic that you can scarcely imagine, but that would serve no purpose, other than make my day significantly more bearable. So instead, I'm going to go against my nature and make you offer you really don't want to refuse.
[There is a long, agonizing pause. The possessed hand draws up on five fingers in an attempt to yank itself free of the knife and Gold hisses in pain. This is not a question he really wants to ask.]
Cut it off. [So he's... not even asking. He's just demanding.]
[...oh, this is too good. Hook doesn't know what the hell is happening or how it got so bad that Gold feels the need to lose his hand rather than try counterspelling it or something, and honestly, he doesn't care. He just grins, pulling himself away from Gold and eyeing his sword speculatively.]
Really, now. How badly do you want me to?
[Beg, bitch. Though lbr it won't take much. Hook's way too happy to do this. Still, he wants to savor the moment.]
[ The girl slinks into his shop, filthy and pale. There is a certain sullenness to her expression, a darkness around her eyes that might convince an unwise observer to suggest she smile more but the purse of her lips assures that it would not be taken kindly. She closes the door gently behind her, as if she were taught some manners at some point, but she avoids eye contact with him, moving instead to begin staring down into the display cases, dragging dirty fingertips along the glass tops. ]
[The shop gets all comers- Gold's rarely found cause to be picky about his clientele and that went double for when he was Rumplstiltskin, wholly and utterly. That said, the girl is mostly unfamiliar (odd, but not unheard of, given the state of her- not exactly a tenant of one of his many apartments) and when the bell jingles its welcome tune, he observes her for a second before turning his attention back to the book he's scrawling in, paying her as little heed as she paid him.
The silence is allowed to become nearly deafening before he speaks, still not looking up from his records.] Looking for something in particular, dear?
[ She goes still at his voice, the light click-shuffle or her feet clad in worn brown leather boots ceasing immediately. She glances at him sideways, her posture wary and feral. ]
I smelled magic.
[ Her voice is throaty, pleasantly deep in a way contradictory to her waif-like appearance. There is not hesitance in her statement, but an underlying question as to whether or not it would be admitted, probing at the rules of a city unfamiliar to her. ]
[Gold closes the book pointedly and leans across the counter, neither surprised nor condemning in regards to the statement.] Did you now?
[There's a note of mild condescension in the way he cants his head and turns his mouth up in a smirk, but there's something about how natural the expression is (it suits the lines of his face), that suggests he would be reacting this way to anyone.]
And what, pray tell, does magic smell like?
[He will neither confirm nor deny there is magic here- he doesn't know the girl, which could mean any number of things about the state of Storybrooke as it stands. Best to be vague and see what comes of it. He will not invite another Greg Mendel into his house.]
[ She does not much care for condescension, the sullenness of her eyes darkens, but she does not bare her teeth, just slinks towards him. She slouches, an animal posture with her head kept lower down between her shoulders than most humans would find pleasing to the eye.
She stares up at him, blue eyes piercing. She had her grandmother's eyes, a madwoman who had once devoured her own child in order to profess her love for Satan. Hekate does not blink. ]
Metal and rot.
[ Metal was the smell of power. Rot was the scent of age and the natural world. There was nothing quite so intrinsic to the world as magic. ]
[He holds her gaze the way most people wouldn't, still smirking. Madness understands madness, and there's a saying in Wonderland about that- not that he's ever spent a great deal of time in that insipid little world. Their cliches apply.]
Good answer. [He leans back away from the counter and works his way out from behind it, cane tapping on the hardwood floors. She knows what she's talking about, which doesn't mean he can trust her, but he can indulge his curiosity a bit.] Now the real question is... why on earth are you following the scent of magic? Idle curiosity? Or do you have need of it?
[ His smile and his movement signify the first moment she blinks. An animal habit, unwilling to be the first to move on from the stare. Hekate does not precisely relax, she is never precisely relaxed, but now that the conversation is struck her back straightens just so, her gaze moves more casually around the items in the shop rather than jumping from the two extremes: severe avoidance of his gaze and direct unflinching contact. ]
I have a need. [ She flexes one of her bony hands, as if trying to grab hold of something just beyond her reach. Her already sullen expression turns frowning for a moment. ] I have deserted my coven.
[ There is something almost lilting in her gravelly voice, like the recitation of the beginning of a fairy tale. ]
Gold's a paranoid man- he hasn't survived as long as has without being so. Since his confrontation with the Snow Queen, since Belle used the fake dagger to "control" him, his guilt wars with his ability to trust in his True Love and the matter makes him sick.
He's had this goal in mind long before he met Belle. He may have it long after, though he shudders to think of a world without her, and yet that future seems more real every day that passes that he continues to lie to her. There are worse ways to lose someone than death.
His own reflection mocks him- not even enchanted like Ingrid's mirror, but still sniping at him. He's going mad, consumed with ambition and guilt. Any moment now, he'll snap and reveal everything to Belle and watch her walk away from him. Any moment...
The bell jingles and he rips himself away from the half-covered mirror in the corner of his shop, expecting to see Henry back from Granny's with their lunch, but it's Belle he's faced with and his heart seizes up. She's never here this early.]
[ it nags at her, even when she pretends it doesn't. to be fair, she does an awfully good job at pretending that it doesn't, pretending that it never happened. somewhere in between being a hero and honoring a sacrifice, learn from the past became the past does not exist.
belle thinks that she can pretend that there was no mirror, that there were no words, that there was no wound and that there were no secrets, and she knows what she wants to believe. but the longer you ignore something, perhaps the longer it has to fester.
belle's hands shake when she closes the door to the shop, and she clasps it with her other in front of her to hide it. she takes a deep breath, covering it all up with a smile, and she asks simply: ] How's your neck?
[ after all - she did graze him, didn't she? she's a doting wife, perhaps, but that doesn't mean she can't continue to show come kind of apprehensive concern. ]
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incheapfiction2014-02-17 12:03 am
you literally asked for it....
I DID. I REALLY DID. this is some effed up 3A AU
And he still managed to sneak into Storybrooke. A murder here, a bit of destruction there- enough to keep the people on edge, but never ever enough to get him caught. Clever bastard that he is.
And worse still, he mowed through Gold's own magic as if it were parlor tricks. The Black Fairy's wand was no use for barrier spells and the fairies were having trouble with their own. Pan was engaging in guerrilla warfare right in their own backyard and no one could find him.
A week into this, Emma Swan turns up with security footage of Gold committing a murder and enough evidence to claim he's the one responsible. Three days later, Emma is screeching about sleeping spells and Gold's locked himself in the shop trying to figure out what the hell happened here.
That's when he notices his hand. While he leans on one of the display cases, trying to sort through his thoughts, his fingers began tapping lightly on the glass of their own accord. Just a simple rhythmic tapping that continues after he wills it to stop, believing it to be a nervous habit.
Twenty minutes later, the barrier spell has pulled down, the shop is in shambles, and Gold is presently on the floor of the backroom, tangled in the ugly curtain that separates the front of the store from his office and gripping his wrist to keep it from going for more of the china.]
no subject
But he doesn't have proof. Besides the undeniable living image thing that Emma says proves it. But Hook thinks they can do better. And so, he storms into Gold's shop, ready to confront the other man.
Except... it sure looks ransacked.
Hook moves forward cautiously, sword drawn, as he tries to figure out what the hell happened.]
Rumplestiltskin...?
no subject
We may be in agreement on this, but now is not- [YOU KNOW WHAT, EVIL HAND DOESN'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT. Through a very complicated dance of destroying natural laws, his hand jerks free of his grip and tries to crawl its way to freedom/ a blunt object to kill Hook with. Being that it is still attached to Gold, this proves to be a problem. Gold fumbles for a second and finds a pen knife in the wreckage, which he promptly stabs into his creeping hand.
The good news is: the hand has stopped.
The bad news is: sticking a knife all the way through your hand and into the floor has a tendency to make a man yell like a little girl.
So, you know, Hook can now follow that yelling to the sight of Gold lying on his stomach in the back room, still tangled in an ugly curtain with a pen knife shoved through his left hand.
It's the best day ever.]
no subject
He's not sure what he expected, but Gold with a bloody (literally) pen knife through his hand isn't it.
He stares for a moment. Then he smirks.]
If you really were so determined to be more like me, that's not where I'd have started.
no subject
If you think I've forgotten how, I'd be more than happy to demonstrate on your other hand. [Also his hand is wriggling really creepily under that pen knife. That's not normal. Gold's a bit too busy baring his teeth in fury to care.]
no subject
And how do you intend to do that? You seem a bit... otherwise occupied.
no subject
The following would be much easier if Hook wore something with a collar so really Gold just... grabbed a handful of his vest and yanked to bring the pirate down a bit lower- this is what not wearing buttons gets you, Hook.]
Consider this, Captain. I could do any number of horrific things to you with magic that you can scarcely imagine, but that would serve no purpose, other than make my day significantly more bearable. So instead, I'm going to go against my nature and make you offer you really don't want to refuse.
[No homo.]
no subject
[But if you're offering him sparkledick he really can refuse that just watch him.]
no subject
Cut it off. [So he's... not even asking. He's just demanding.]
no subject
Really, now. How badly do you want me to?
[Beg, bitch. Though lbr it won't take much. Hook's way too happy to do this. Still, he wants to savor the moment.]
no subject
no subject
The silence is allowed to become nearly deafening before he speaks, still not looking up from his records.] Looking for something in particular, dear?
no subject
I smelled magic.
[ Her voice is throaty, pleasantly deep in a way contradictory to her waif-like appearance. There is not hesitance in her statement, but an underlying question as to whether or not it would be admitted, probing at the rules of a city unfamiliar to her. ]
no subject
[There's a note of mild condescension in the way he cants his head and turns his mouth up in a smirk, but there's something about how natural the expression is (it suits the lines of his face), that suggests he would be reacting this way to anyone.]
And what, pray tell, does magic smell like?
[He will neither confirm nor deny there is magic here- he doesn't know the girl, which could mean any number of things about the state of Storybrooke as it stands. Best to be vague and see what comes of it. He will not invite another Greg Mendel into his house.]
no subject
She stares up at him, blue eyes piercing. She had her grandmother's eyes, a madwoman who had once devoured her own child in order to profess her love for Satan. Hekate does not blink. ]
Metal and rot.
[ Metal was the smell of power. Rot was the scent of age and the natural world. There was nothing quite so intrinsic to the world as magic. ]
no subject
Good answer. [He leans back away from the counter and works his way out from behind it, cane tapping on the hardwood floors. She knows what she's talking about, which doesn't mean he can trust her, but he can indulge his curiosity a bit.] Now the real question is... why on earth are you following the scent of magic? Idle curiosity? Or do you have need of it?
no subject
I have a need. [ She flexes one of her bony hands, as if trying to grab hold of something just beyond her reach. Her already sullen expression turns frowning for a moment. ] I have deserted my coven.
[ There is something almost lilting in her gravelly voice, like the recitation of the beginning of a fairy tale. ]
I hunt for something new.
i came back 4 uuuuu
BRING OUT THE QUARTERFLASH
Gold's a paranoid man- he hasn't survived as long as has without being so. Since his confrontation with the Snow Queen, since Belle used the fake dagger to "control" him, his guilt wars with his ability to trust in his True Love and the matter makes him sick.
He's had this goal in mind long before he met Belle. He may have it long after, though he shudders to think of a world without her, and yet that future seems more real every day that passes that he continues to lie to her. There are worse ways to lose someone than death.
His own reflection mocks him- not even enchanted like Ingrid's mirror, but still sniping at him. He's going mad, consumed with ambition and guilt. Any moment now, he'll snap and reveal everything to Belle and watch her walk away from him. Any moment...
The bell jingles and he rips himself away from the half-covered mirror in the corner of his shop, expecting to see Henry back from Granny's with their lunch, but it's Belle he's faced with and his heart seizes up. She's never here this early.]
Belle? Is something wrong?
/SAXOPHONE
belle thinks that she can pretend that there was no mirror, that there were no words, that there was no wound and that there were no secrets, and she knows what she wants to believe. but the longer you ignore something, perhaps the longer it has to fester.
belle's hands shake when she closes the door to the shop, and she clasps it with her other in front of her to hide it. she takes a deep breath, covering it all up with a smile, and she asks simply: ] How's your neck?
[ after all - she did graze him, didn't she? she's a doting wife, perhaps, but that doesn't mean she can't continue to show come kind of apprehensive concern. ]