open-ish | i'm just trying to find my way to you

[uncurse]

CHARACTERS: EMMA SWAN and HOOK, SIX; and GOLD; others as they happen
LOCATION: Medical Bay ; Floor 013 ; others as they happen
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Catch-all for September closed logs.
NOTES: If you wanna hit Emma up for anything, feel free to drop your own starter in this post, or get in touch with me.

Comments

[hedoniste]

Real life never lives up to storybooks.

( so unfair. )

[uncurse]

That's why they call it real.

[ #cynic. ]

[hedoniste]

Not always worse, just, you know. God forbid anybody think they're prepared for anything.

( depending on the stories you're reading, after all, fairytales can be pretty fucking horrifying. or they were when people were reading them to her, as a child. she refused to wear red shoes under any circumstances until she was well into her adolescence.

just in case. )

[uncurse]

I guess that's what happens when there's a billion of us writing the story instead of just one.

[ Except fairytales aren't just stories for her. They're her family history. The mental block between her and accepting that fact remains, however. ]

[hedoniste]

And there were already plenty of cooks in that kitchen. The sheer variety of versions must get a bit -

( little gesture. like emma's already said, peter pan and wendy: not exactly as advertised. proper fairytales-- she'd be hard pressed to think of one that has just one singular accepted text.

sifting through all that by necessity sounds a lot less fun. )

[uncurse]

I found a reliable source.

[ Even if she still doesn't know who that source came from. The book is as much a mystery as anything else at this point. ]

[hedoniste]

( wryly: ) Just one?

( it's a knowing sort of wryness, not mocking; ilde's got her trustworthy source, too, but like a single book without an author, she has gervase's records but no gervase to clarify them for her. )

[uncurse]

I'll let you know if it turns into a collectible set. But for now? Yeah. One.

[hedoniste]

Me, too.

( so it goes. )

I guess we just try to be reliable ourselves.

( it's a bit tentative, like she's not sure emma won't dismiss her presumption at grammatical inclusion, but well-meant; it's not often ilde encounters someone in an even slightly comparable position, back home, spending more of her time trying to obscure the fact that she's pretty much winging this shit. even the kind of fleeting sort of 'yeah, this shit' bonding of a glance that's never followed up would be sort of nice. )

[uncurse]

[ She hesitates.

More specifically, she waffles, actually leaning away for a minute as the uncertainty buffets her expression. Emma struggles with trust, and even moreso she struggles to trust people from some fairytale world that she can only barely accept as real.

But she's trying. Ilde's similarities only make her fight harder—on the one hand, Emma knows all the terrible things that she's done herself, which makes her more inclined to believe that others like her are capable of something precisely that bad, but she also knows that she forgave herself for it. And so did Henry.

Finally, she drums up a smile. ]

I guess so.

[ Reluctantly, she steps forward, reaching out one hand. ]

I'm Emma.

[hedoniste]

( ilde is just about ready to give it up for an awkward lost cause when emma decides abruptly not to ice her out; there's a split-second of frank surprise on her face, because the reaction being telegraphed really wasn't 'social acceptance'. she hadn't been particularly offended - more like resignedly unsurprised, because while her trust issues present themselves differently to emma's, she expects very little from more or less everyone around her.

there's a fleeting moment where she actually isn't sure how to react to emma's effort.

but it's fine. this is fine, don't be weird about it, ilde. she shakes her hand (hers is cool to the touch, a little too smooth, more reminiscent of living mother of pearl), ) Ilde. ( eel-day, the italian pronunciation. then, wryly, ) Not especially reliable.

( and she knows it. )

[uncurse]

At least you're warning me ahead of time.

[ She's seen unreliable before. Usually, she doesn't get a heads up. Quite the opposite. Usually, they leave her in the lurch without ever giving an indication that she should be on the look-out. Her smile takes a turn for the wry as she drops Ilde's hand. ]

[hedoniste]

Oh, I always knew what I was. You can really only justify so much patience for sad little rich girls. ( who grow up to be restless, unsatisfied socialite brides, unironically wearing oversized hats to attend rowing races and nodding along at their husband's tory-leaning political opinions at dinner parties.

then the apocalypse! and some sick part of her was glad just for the break in routine, and she has to live with remembering that treacherous thought every day that she believes her youngest child to be dead.

so, you know. good times. )

I'm fun at parties, though.

[uncurse]

Well, that makes one of us.

[ Introvert that she is, Emma has never been much of a hit at parties. She's always been too much of a loner. While she knows how to engage with people, and how to get what she needs from them, any extended conversation with the expectation of something genuine is, well.

Painful.

Which is why she's quickly approaching her quota with Ilde now. She forces a tight smile. ]

If I hear about one, I'll be sure to give you a call.