néstor arrives before the rest of the crowd, a model citizen, a representative here to perform his civic duty. truthfully, he wields the title so he doesn’t have to wait in line with all the rest of them. “i’ve never been good with vows.” a flash of a smile. though he can tell she can’t be bothered with conversation, néstor leans forward with a comfortable air, deliberately relaxed, as if in the presence of an old friend.
“but contracts? those i am familiar with. in truth, i prefer to think of my time here as a profitable arrangement, more business than pleasure.” though certainly it can be said that he finds ways to derive pleasure from most things, business included. he can’t remember the last time he has lingered in this office of his own free will, usually preferring to make quick work of this. yet he remains all the same, looking around with a renewed curiosity.
yvonne expects nothing less from representatives, including the bravado that's packaged along with them. she's just doing her job, her duty that's got her trapped close but yet so far to power. perhaps now she's separated she can begin to push herself as opposed to an ungrateful man that would point the finger at her for his wrongdoings and admit defeat - she can't stand it.
"we are not in a theatre, mr. carrillo." the other demanded attention with his presence, a good fit for the duties he upholds but the melodramatics had no place with her. stoicism seemed to be yvonne robertson's companion when she was conscious. she keeps her eyes on him, noticing his eyes dance around his surroundings - she would have looked at her watch if she didn't have tact. "it plays well that you are early-" a gentle nod is given as she clasps her hands together. "- to have the pleasure of contracting yourself."
it's rare indeed that sara drags herself from the recesses of the library, never one to stray from its hallowed aisles, shelves silently groaning under the weight of ancient tomes and stories, much like the cavernous depths of her own mind. "i suppose we ought to all lead by example, hm?" bemusement colours her tone warmly, the gentle clinking of her jewelry almost announcing her arrival at the secretary's desk before she can do so herself. even still, her features are devoid of a smile; the compact has been a point of contention in her own mind ever since her hand first passed over it, and the annual recommittances do little to reconcile it. something about it drums up suspicion within her, and the timing certainly strikes her as being convenient this time around, what with the interest in their kind that the mundies have seemingly renewed for the umpteenth time since sara first crossed through the portal. "you look as though this is the last place you want to be right now, yvonne."
yvonne holds herself in high regard, that's clear from the way she holds herself, the long pauses she creates before responding to someone - nothing is ever a rush for the woman as she needs to take care to avoid missteps. the only time the woman doesn't have control is when she's asleep. her need for control could be a reason why her relationship has finally faltered, that there is nothing for her to control or push on her counterpart but a lot had befallen the two. no matter how much a certain narrative was pushed, they were both equally culpable in their downfalls (it wasn't a mere matter of 'she told him to and so it was'). "if no bar has been set, others will not know how high it is." yvonne is someone who takes herself seriously - there is no room for making light of situations in her mind. "doubt is a dangerous thing. i hold my position here with respect and gratitude. don't let my face trick you into thinking otherwise."
Signing the pact once again was something Vasilisa put little thought into every year. Her hand easily signed it the first time so many years ago. Then again she would have signed just about anything back then if it meant that she could carry on. Now it was just another thing that needed to be done so she could move on with her day. Thus she found herself in the business office, a place that she rarely found herself needing to visit. “Aren’t we all.” Her eyes studied the other’s for a moment. “You look like you’ve seen better days. Is that a sign of trouble ahead?” With the mundanes sniffing about more than usual it seemed as if fabletown was on the precipice of another downfall. Sure there were promises from King Cole that was well and would remain so, but he wasn’t exactly a man of action. So Vasilisa would hold her reservations until they proved unfounded.
to yvonne's eyes, there was an attempt to cover up the trying times that had befallen them - she was always in trying times... the war, the loss, the looming threat - when would it not be under such duress?the raven haired woman kept her gaze locked on the other as she confirmed the obvious, although, she was a little taken back by the other's comment on her appearance. still, yvonne's face held its own, not a crack of annoyance falling. letting out the smallest sigh, her brow raised slightly. her somewhat sleepless night was manifesting in ways that she couldn't control, drowning her out. the other was perceiving weakness by highlighting it and she never wanted to let herself be wak again. yvonne took her duties seriously; someone had to make sure those in charge kept on the right path (they could be so oblivious to their own errors). "i am well." that was rich coming from her but she was here to do her work, not make her personal life everyone else's issue. "this is to unite us, remember that.
it had been the wrong day for yvonne to have such a large responsibility when it came to remembrance day. she knew it was coming but the woman is still drained from last night's sleepwalking episode, how she'd somehow opened all the locks and awoken in the middle of a pathway in her white night dress. still, she cleans up well, sleeks her hair back and dons professional attire - this is her moment for her efforts to be recognised by the people of fabletown. yvonne robertson is very good at her job, she has to be and no matter if she's exhausted, she will deliver. still, making everyone pledge once more did seem like a clerical nightmare and she could have done without it. "come to renew your vows to this place?" she hums, hardly looking up towards them as dark circles weigh her bloodshot blue eyes down. of course, there had been no hesitancy with yvonne signing herself away once more - still no closer to being appreciated or getting the recognition she deserved. things would be different if she didn't pick this job but she had to remain close to them... she was always close to them.
the crows caw and flap their wings a couple of times ━━ just like mila has once shared the same feeling of a feathered flight so do they share the vexation that courses through mila's veins at what the other woman decides to say. the crane scoffs, head shaking as she questions the karma of this whole situation ( who could she have pissed off enough that the universe decides to start her night with a conversation like this? ). "self-defense, for starters." mila almost doesn't reply to the other's question and, if she didn't know better, she would say it is as if amiria is out looking for a fight ━━ mila is almost sure she is wrong but, either way, she does not have the patience to deal with pettiness. "i was simply saying you could approach without fear. you just decided to take it a step further." mila strokes her crows' feathers, mentally urging them to settle down. she offers them a bribe of another handful of nuts. "do you usually perceive threats that are not there? you should talk to someone about that. definitely not me, though."
it was almost as if she and the boy who cried wolf now have some common ground. the woman had been fabricated stories, terrible ones to keep control of another but every lie and rumour had an element of truth. with how affairs were at the moment, it seemed that the truth was becoming more and more apparent - visible. amiria flinches at the sudden flapping of the wings, a touched nerve somewhere but it was a thread and she believed she had responded accordingly. "self defense?" her eyebrows raise again and a slight chuckle leaves her lips; that was for people who didn't want to take responsibility. amiria felt as if she had been culpable for her crimes, didn't bother arguing that she had something stolen from her to begin with but she would never forget it. "not there?" the threat had been evident, the other had lead with it and now was trying to act that it was all a figment of her imagination. "not there." a smirk graces her features as eyes dark back to the other. this is an example of why she would distance herself after once being so sociably - people could not be trusted and would happily point the finger at her after a moment. the woman doesn't say much but her stare is piercing. "there are many enemies on the outside. best not to make them here."
time: at sunset. location: sidewalk, outside the woodland. status: for @thievesandwitches, @damnedspots + 2 open spot(s).
dread ━━ that is what courses through mila's veins, a feeling pumped out with every heartbeat and growing more and more debilitating the closer they get to the gala site. it is nothing but a reminder that this safe haven of theirs is fickle ━━ if it's not the adversary, then it's the mundanes ( people known to fear and despise the unknown in equal measure. if they do find fabletown and stick their noses where it does not belong, they're not going to be the ones to worry about their safety ) and mila can't help but hold little faith that all will be well.
the seamstress sits on the sidewalk, silence and sorrow on each of her crisscrossed knees. mila is feeding them nuts, one at a time and they wait, patiently and calmly. both of their heads turn to footsteps as they near where she is. "they won't attack you, not unless i ask them to." mila comments and no lie is to be found amidst her syllables. after a moment, the crane finally looks up and thinks of nothing but the gala. "are you heading inside?" head tilts towards the entrance.
amiria has finally reached the woodland and the walk seems to have somewhat done her good. yes, she's now out of her bubble that she keeps to in order to be the model citizen she's proving to be but the laws of the land must be respected and held in high regard considering how fragile they truly are at this time. so many components could destroy this sanctuary in an instant, so many things could hurt them and she certainly wasn't about to let that happen. still, in a place of sanctuary, another looms an unspoken thread towards her.
"hmm..." the woman's brow furrowed slightly. "and what could possibly warrant for you to tell them to do so?" amiria cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows. "yes, going to remember why i'm dedicated to this place in the first place." it has given her a 'second chance' but that's not entirely true as her past mistakes are still remembered and people also are reminded in slight behaviours that creep in every once in a while - despite her desperate attempt to appear good. "it is meant to be safe here. you know better than to be making mild threats to those on the inside at a time like this." she will remember this - perhaps a new enemy on the horizon? she has to be wary of the other. "i like privacy nowadays but this is for the king, for fabletown and i will honor it... as should you, instead of posing as a threat." a single eyebrow raises this time, as if she's challenging slightly.
mise en scenè ⸺ the crooked mile, at the juncture between the open arms hotel and the lucky pawn, an hour before sunset.
in a few hours, fables from each parcel of their sequestered town will march their inexorable way to the woodland in the opaque night, beneath the cool balm of stars. the sun will slope beneath the horizon—the world aflame, then put out as if drowned—and the shoulders of the sky will falter, will capitulate to the black sails of darkness. the day’s light, extinguished in but a short breath, a short-lived exhalation of time.
natural occurrences still startle lancelot, but he supposes it is to be expected, even excused: after all, he was only recently roused from an interminable stupor. hanging from a tree for the better part of four centuries will do that to you, king cole had said. the symbol of death marks him still; no signet of valiance or virtue or the life he paraded and prided himself in when camelot still stood tall and unfallen. no fate could be so final and so essentially pathetic. nothing, not even the glory of a name, could absolutely survive death.
this world, this mundane world, had prevailed and thrived long before the fables arrived. it will continue to do so long after they are gone. one way or another, he thinks. how long before their magic is depleted? before the cardinal bond between birthplace and creation is severed completely? until no one who has entered the heart of their collective tale can remember it, can pass it on?
for now, he waits, a sombre sentry hemmed in between the open arms and the lucky pawn. the fleet of footsteps draws neither his eye nor his ear, but he inclines his head nonetheless. “for how long do you think we’ll remain hidden? another decade? another century? tomorrow, perhaps, we’ll wake to the mundane authority storming our homes.”
it was decreed remembrance day so, as the model citizen she is, amiria would leave tending to her flowers to venture towards the woodland, to sign the compact that she respects so deeply - everyone needs to be reminded of the fact and needs to be kept safe. a few decades ago, the woman didn't concern herself with such things as she could handle the mundanes pretty well, so she thought. however, after being left with her own thoughts, they had done a lot of harm to her, as had the nobility who stole from her all those years ago...
king roberon's words offer amiria no comfort from the ghastly situations that could arise if the others get an inkling something transpires behind the unknown veil. there had been a time when the woman hadn't worried about such things, that she had even deterred people from their daily activities out of spite but now, she fully believes the lies that she had been telling for centuries. to keep you safe, that was always the line to the child, a manipulation tactic but as time passed, the more right she felt. there was meant to be no truth in her words, pure manipulation disguised as hypothesis... "one can only hope it will be forever. i do have worries about it." she knows better than to criticise the king aloud - everyone in the exact same space? seems like a perfect opportunity for someone to attack. instead of voicing it, the woman shakes her head and lets out a light hum, hoping that it disguises her worry as a passing thought and not something she was deeply concerned about happening.
cis woman. she/her. 42. ⸻ king roberon cole welcomes yvonne robertson to fabletown—or, as they were once known, lady macbeth from macbeth. before the magic mirror, they come glamoured in the mirage of a padlock upon a door lock to keep herself within, silk slip night dresses, one in black and one in white, interchangeable with a day and night wardrobe, a box of keepsakes secured on the top shelf of a wardrobe, sharp shoulder pad fashion pieces, a lipstick stain on her hand from smudging makeup, unable to fight an eyeroll when faced with statements deemed without merit. the tale from which they hail exalted their ambitious and decisive, but decried their hypocrisy and volatility in equal measure. no matter; this time, they shall write their own. in accordance with the fabletown compact, they are granted amnesty for any and all transgressions, even that which is little known: that her marriage was indeed a convenient arrangement to gain control.
it had all been an arrangement - two rather ambitious individuals wanting to rise up together. yvonne was hardly going to be able to do it on her own and the quicker she accepted it, the better off they'd be. the two would rise through their ranks and after several years, that thrill she felt would coincide with the attraction she felt for her husband. of course, she was more attracted to him when he was using his head and wasn't moping about but she'd grown to be slightly more accepting of his sensitive side. they were a good team.
societal pressures would always eat away at her. her own mother wanted nothing more than to have a grandchild, a grandson to succeed his father. she wasn't so sure of it - was she cut out to be a mother? every time she saw a child, lady macbeth wanted to run in the opposite direction. had she an aversion to them or was it because she wanted to get as far away from her 'rightful place', if possible... she'd managed to avoid the prospect for so long but inevitably, she fell pregnant. it was something that made her more worried than anything, when her gentlewoman made a comment that she was glowing, that she must be with child. her husband was elated with the prospect of a child, particularly a son - she shared this outlook as women couldn't get anywhere, not really. she was by his side but she was now more an accessory.
a week after their son is born, her husband has to go fight a war, bravely, willingly but that meant it took him away from the both of them. something was wrong. the child passed and he wasn't there. just when she had accustomed herself to taking a feminine role, to accept it, it was all taken away from her. she had to write to him to inform him of the news, something that she shouldn't have had to do but he still had to fight if he wanted to get the crown in the future.
her staff attempted to support her but it wasn't enough. still, they held out on fetching her a doctor for her mind in order to preserve both her image but also the grief she was feeling. he needed him back - she felt incredibly let down by him for not being there and would never quite be able to move past it. of course, her husband was heartbroken upon return, he was sensitive, but it hurt him to also see her in that way. she did need to pull herself together so she'd tap into her masculinity during the day to try hide it all from others but especially him. however, she had no control over what happened when she was asleep.
the sleepwalking would start but be sporadic, her gentlewoman keeping a watchful eye over her to make sure that she was safe. it was clear that she was suffering from an illness of the mind but approaching her could have cost them heir job or worse. she had a temper and her husband would see that when she started to emasculate him, to push him into being king because it's what they both wanted. despite this, she still saw herself as weak because she could feel it, how ugly she was on the inside so she needed to lean into it, to accept it so that both of them could come out on top.
feeling stuck with nowhere else to go, yvonne focuses on the plan - to push him so hard that he'd actually do it and they would come out on top. she'd always thought of him as quite the p*ssy... she wasn't well but he hadn't been privy to that as he knew it was always inside her, or perhaps he was but he'd chosen to ignore it. people would say that it was the guilt that 'drove her to madness' but it was already there. she'd comfort him, knowing that he'd gone through with it but then more crimes would follow and she'd be left with blood on her hands.
things took a drastic turn for the both of them and they ended up in fabletown. neither of them would utter a word about what transpired. they would get her a doctor and leave it at that. it was what was unspoken that would eventually pull them apart. there was a hatred coming from her side and her issues had been far from resolved. there had been multiple instances where he'd wake up and she'd be gone, walking in the streets somewhere as she slept. kind people would help her when they saw her laying on the streets but it was a stark contrast to how she was in her position as mayoral secretary.
her ambition was something she leaned back into, what she aspired to be like once more before she had seemingly lost it. she made sure she was still close to the power. perhaps that wasn't a good idea but she was positive she could pull it off and gain the trust of the king and bluebeard - she just can't let things go... apart from her husband. recently, she'd just had enough, completely broke down and told him that she couldn't do it anymore, not right now anyways. they're separated and yvonne always felt like she'd feel liberated by not being an extension of him but that's not entirely translated in real life. it had always been the two of them and without him to pile all of her shortcomings on, she was forced to look in the mirror and see a shell of the woman she once was - a force of nature.
now that she's alone, she's taking extra care to lock herself in at night - no one's going to notice if she's out when she's not supposed to be. her struggles at night have got worse but she's trying to manage it the best she can. it is exhausting but she has to push through to carry on proving herself. she's a control freak - she always has been and she's trying to reclaim as much as she possibly can.
there is talk that she has dabbled in magic in the past and whispers say that she could have previously been in alliance with the witches, however, none of that has ever been proven.
