[It takes a second longer than it possibly should for it to register that yes, Emma really is going to run full-on into the flaming figure of the facsimile. Gold could almost let his frustrations about this whole mess get the better of him and allow her the injury to go with her foolishness, but instead lifts a hand in a sharp, slicing gesture. She runs into a solid, invisible barrier only steps away from the crumpling, charred body of what had been the false Henry, saving her from burning but apparently not from distress.
Not that he's ever had the magic to solve that.]
You're standing in the middle of an illusion, Miss Swan. [He sounds almost helpful, for a moment, instruction in a level but firm tone. And then something more like dissatisfaction creeps in.] I would have hoped you'd realise that already.
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Not that he's ever had the magic to solve that.]
You're standing in the middle of an illusion, Miss Swan. [He sounds almost helpful, for a moment, instruction in a level but firm tone. And then something more like dissatisfaction creeps in.] I would have hoped you'd realise that already.