[ficklefablcs]

" if we walk far enough , we shall 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 come to 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 !! "

dependent && private blog for @𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 penned by 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 ( she / they , twenty5 , est )

featuring the twisted , fantastical , esoteric mind of 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄

ⁱ. DOSSIER  ⁱⁱ. STARTERS  ⁱⁱⁱ. MUSINGS

[figm3nts]

peter  peverell  doesn’t  walk  like  someone  who  belonged  to  curfews  or  clocks.  he  walks  like  someone  who  is  always  halfway  between  staying  and  vanishing,  like  he's  on  borrowed  time  and  hasn't  decided  whether  or  not  to  give  it  back.  his  hands  are  in  his  pockets,  shoulders  slightly  hunched  from  the  weight  of  a  worn  satchel  slung  over  one  side,  like  he  hadn’t  meant  to  walk  this  far,  but  did  anyway.  he  stops  a  respectful  distance  from  dorothy’s  bike,  still  a  few  paces  from  the  reach  of  her  tassels,  and  tilts  his  head  slightly,  dark  curls  half-shadowed  by  the  low  orange  spill  of  the  setting  sun.  “i  didn't  mean  to  creep.”  he  admits,  shifting  his  weight  back  a  step  as  he  absentmindedly  rolls  up  the  sleeves  of  the  too  big  sweater  that  hangs  like  a  shadow  around  him. 

"oh,  is  it  almost  curfew  time ?"  he  says,  tilting  his  head  and  lifting  his  wrist  as  if  there's  a  watch  there,  squinting  at  the  bare  skin  with  a  crooked  sort  of  amusement.  the  streetlight  catches  on  the  edge  of  his  profile,  throwing  a  thin  gold  line  down  his  cheekbone,  and  he  glances  back  at  dorothy  with  something  softer  in  his  expression  now  —  curiosity,  maybe.  “must  have  lost  track  of  time.”  not  that  he  ever  kept  it  well  to  begin  with.  his  fingers  drum  absently  against  his  thigh,  a  quiet  staccato  to  fill  the  pause,  and  his  gaze  flicks  across  the  street  where  her  eyes  had  been  fixed  before.  “you  waiting  for  someone,  or  just  staring  down  ghosts ?”

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY'S HEAD WHIPS towards the sound of the voice , noting its unfamiliarity , taking a wary step away from the unknown individual and putting her bike between her stature and his own . her jaw tightens further , teeth aching from how hard porcelain was being pressed against itself , breastbone lifting as she took deep drags of impending evening air to keep herself grounded . as he spoke , she gave him a proper once over — looking for any indication that he were a figment of her imagination as opposed to a real person . her sanity was fickle , ebbing and flowing like the tides , not to be trusted in the realm of consistency .

did she respond ?? dorothy often found interacting with her hallucinations made them all the more REAL , but she just couldn't help herself ; sometimes ( most times ) she couldn't tell the difference . as his sights redirected themselves to where she had been staring , her own gaze momentarily shifts — coming to find that whatever she had thought she had seen across the way was now gone .

" time is easy to lose track of , " dorothy speaks , voice level as she attempts to stabilize her rapid intakes of breath , disguise her panic ( could he smell it on her ?? ) . a look back to him , an investigative cock of her head , eyes floating up and down his unfamiliar build before finding his gaze ;

" — as are most things that aren't real . "

she rolls the wheels of her bike forward and back , brown eyes momentarily transfixed on the swaying of frayed ribbons . a limp shrug of her shoulder , both dismissive and secretive in nature . " i thought i saw something , is all . one can never be too careful . "

[unyearning]

“the  fuss,  dorothy,  is  that  we  have  not  seen  violence  of  this  ilk  since  the  calamity,  the  exodus,  and  that  this  murder  will  inspire  the  same  sort  of  fear.”

sovay  stabbed  the  dead  cigarette  they’d  been  pulling  dregs  from  for  nigh  on  an  hour  into  the  crystalline  tray,  where  a  small  mound  of  ash  was  massing.  tiny,  lace-fine  strands  of  tobacco  curled  from  the  mashed  rod,  crisping  languidly  in  the  half-light. 

the  pulse  of  the  music  which  had  enervated  the  establishment  ran  down  and  through  every  limb,  so  that  their  fingers  quivered  ever  so  slightly.  darkness  settled  as  a  fine  film  of  dust  on  each  fixture  and  on  their  mind,  lined  every  valve  of  their  heart.  it  was  not  the  same  as  the  lightlessness  that  always  lent  the  pudding  &  pie  its  nocturnal  quality  (regardless  of  the  hour),  and  yet  it  was  the  same.  the  stage  lights  flickered,  panging  with  gentle  loss.  it  was  not  true  bereavement,  not  grief,  but  it  was  well  on  its  way.

they  watched  on  as  dorothy  took  herself  apart  with  the  machinations  of  a  doll  who’d  leapt  off  her  music  box—entirely  off-kilter,  and  unsettling  to  boot.  the  skittish  ritual  of  her  plaiting  and  unplaiting  gave  sovay  no  solace.  “watch  it.”  the  warning  came  whip-quick;  a  wyvern’s  cutlass  tail.  they  did  not  bristle,  as  a  less  equable  fable  might  have,  but  the  stare  they  levelled  at  dorothy  was  unyielding  in  its  solemnity.  “you  do  not  want  to  be  overheard  by  the  sort  who’d  take  you  at  your  word.”  and  it  will  not  be  with  my  connivance.

“it’ll  be  a  few  hours  yet  before  they  make  an  official  address.”  they  gestured  to  the  lounge  with  an  incline  of  their  head.  “you’re  drooping.  catch  some  sleep.”

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY FROWNS . justice sometimes requires violence , she thinks to herself . perhaps this wasn't justice for society as a collective — the excuse for one she and the other fables inhabited — but more so , an individual justice . a resolved vendetta or perhaps a score finally evened . either way , dorothy would never side with a witch , , , she couldn't .

after a moment blinks , realizing not only that sovay had been speaking , but her features had blurred ; the moisture veiling dorothy's gaze made the other look almost frighteningly uncanny . the warning is enough to make her blink , throat bone dry and itchy , adverting her eyes to the bar top . the downturn curve of her lips deepens . " i mean my word , " dorothy says , riding the coattail of sovay's admonishing with the stubbornness of a child . she combs her fingers aggressively through the braid she had been mindlessly knotting , undoing it once more . " having an opinion is not a crime . plenty here do and make it known with little regard for how others feel about it . "

dorothy's movements halt , turning statuesque in her seat , before reluctantly glancing back at the lounge . color drains from her painted cheeks , before she quickly looks away from it — like the inanimate furniture had said something to offend her . " i'm not tired , " she says plainly , words strained . dorothy then gives up on the one braid , turning her attentions to the other , finding a particularly fascinating stain on the bar top to focus on .

then , quietly ; " , , , why do you think they did it ?? "

[fablefallen]

they roll their eyes, arms moving to cross over their chest almost defensively.  "oh, go on, make your jokes. i've heard them all already."  pleasance is well aware that it is, at least partly, their own fault. when the suggestion was floated that adopting a name different to their own might help their acclimatisation to the mundane world, it was perhaps overlooked that she had quite a mundane name to begin with. in truth, she jumped at the chance to distance herself further from her family, hoping that the guilt she felt at surviving when they did not might lessen if she did not associate herself with the girl she once was.

"i think i've caught bits of it before."  a nonchalant little shrug is all that she can give, because she truly cannot remember: her memories are fragmented at the best of times. the few flashes of shows that she's seen in the pudding & pie are jumbled and malformed, and pleasance cannot for the life of her decipher if that is how they truly were, or if it is the doing of her own mind.  "i'm— friends—"  the word is unfamiliar on her tongue, lips struggling to form it,  "with oz. and, it's the only place open on the mile after the trip trap shuts."  they never have been one to mince words, or to favour schmaltz.

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY PUTS HER HANDS UP ; " oh , no — i'm not going to poke fun . it's just , , , interesting . " dorothy had heard weirder . ozians were particularly eccentric in the moniker department , and for a long while , she had felt her own name very plain in comparison . she's realized now she much prefeered to be a ' dorothy ' as opposed to whatever those beasts of that world were . " i like it . i do . pleasance . it has a nice ring to it . "

at the mention of the wizard , dorothy's unease deflates , as if her muscles themselves had exhaled sighs of weighted relief . " you are ?? " surely the wizard wouldn't be so foolish as to keep lethal company , , , not unless their swords were drawn in his favor , that was . . . a step towards the woman , returning a more close proximity , weaving her fingers between one another against her mid drift . " how'd you become , , , acquainted ?? "

a bashful laugh , rooted in nerves , as dorothy then waved her hands dismissively ( as if aiming to erase her own words from the air between them ) ; " oh goodness , , , nevermind !! that — that was a rather impolite thing for me to ask . it's just , well , , , i — too — am friends with the wizard , and i trust him very much . more than anyone . "

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY SAW THE WORLD IN FRACTALS , crafted of imagery based in her imagination as well as the semblance of reality the rest of the world seemed to claim . the impending summer wind was thick with condensation , a blooming fog awaiting a downpour to wash it away , and the evening breeze feathered across her cheeks as she stood on the side of the road with her palms gripping the handlebars of her baby blue bike . worn and aged tassels protruded from their grips , flittering strands of ribbon flicking against her wrists . dorothy was staring at something , beady eyes narrowed into thin , concentrated slits . something was across the road . something .

someone ??

her breaths quickened , sternum blooming with each shallow intake of air , jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ground together . the muscles beneath tawny skin twitched , not even a wisp of brown hair ( fallen free from a loose braided plait ) striking her eye enough to deter her leveled glare . a shadow shifted at her feet , however , managed to catch her attention . she looked around , desperate to find its owner ; " you shouldn't creep up on people like that !! " she reprimanded the unknown . her bike was drawn closer to her , grip turning knuckle white as she held on for dear life , straightening her spine and lifting her chin . " you'll frighten them . and there's a curfew , you know !! " her voice shook , looking around , and despite being aware of the rules herself , she didn't move . she spoke smaller then , with timid crack to her words ;

" you ought to get home . "

an 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set just before curfew , a mile or so from pudding & pie . 1 / 5 replies !!

[unnatvrals]

fingers  tap  on  the  bar  top,  the  faerie's  head  tilting  to  the  side  as  she  watches  one  dorothy  gale  spin  one  too  many  times.  boredom  has  no  true  cure,  not  for  someone  like  faye  ━━  it  is  only  dormant,  waiting  to  come  back  when  her  latest  entertainment  loses  it's  novelty.  pudding  &  pie  helps  little  but  it  is  better  than  being  surrounded  by  nothing  and  no  one.  and  who  knows?  perhaps  the  opportunity  to  amuse  herself  (  and  perhaps  make  someone  else's  day  less  than  ideal  )  will  come  on  a  silver  platter.

and  it  did.

hazel  eyes  focus  on  the  fable,  narrowed  in  both  wander  and  annoyance.  faye  could  not  give  less  of  a  damn  about  the  dead  witch  ━━  they  barely  give  a  damn  about  people  whose  name  they  do  not  forget  on  a  daily  basis  ━━  but  there  is  something  dense  about  such  a  celebration,  not  because  dorothy  is  only  a  few  steps  away  from  dancing  on  the  witch's  grave,  no  ━━  who  is  to  say  being  a  witch  is  why...  whoever  her  name  is,  is  dead?

faye  smirks,  though  it  does  not  quite  reach  her  eyes.  "ding  dong  the  witch  is  dead,  yeah?"  a  scoff,  a  sip  on  her  drink.  furrowed  eyebrows  paint  themselves  on  faye's  expression  ━━  a  part  to  play,  a  reaction  that  is  planned  more  than  genuine.  "ever  think  that  maybe  there  is  a  possibility  it  wasn't  because  she's  a  witch?  you  could  be  the  next  victim  for  all  we  know.  and  i  don't  know  about  you  but  i  like  being  alive."

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY , LOST IN THE RECESSES OF HER MIND , ( which , since that fateful day she returned home , had been cloaked in shadow ) , barely caught the other fable's words . though she was staring directly at faye — brown eyes burning with temperamental fury — dorothy took a moment to register her response . a twitch of her eyelid at the mention of that familiar song , though it sounded more like a sacred hymn being stolen on the fae's tongue . that had been the very tune cried amongst the munchkins when dorothy's unexpected arrival had murdered the wicked witch of the east in cold blood . and there had been so much blood .

" yeah , " dorothy replied , words curt as her forked tongue pressed against the back of her clenched teeth , muting the hiss that wished to sound from tight pressed lips . then , with a huff , dorothy stretched her reach forward so fingers were grabbing the opposite side of the bar , manicured digits curling over the wood's lip so her torso was nearly flush to its surface . " i never said i cared about why she was murdered , only that i didn't find it something to be sorrowful over . " a sentiment she stood by , eyes rolling as she blew a rogue tress that had fallen in front of her face ; the rest of her hair , a frizzy raven cape , splaying across her bare back which was exposed by the low-cut dip in her costume that ended just above her tailbone .

a look was then cast over at the blonde , cheek coming to rest upon her stretched arms as she furrowed her brows . she sat in silence that seemed to pulse , only for a moment , before asking : " do you think there will be a ' next ' ?? "

[detr1tus]

      it was merely in his nature to prod, sawing at every chain tightly spun around floodgates. every matter, regardless of its gravity, were treated with no more care than a jigsaw puzzle — a game, a toy, something to quell his incessant stirring that has yet to cease despite his age. one would assume that a handful of centuries in a world much grayer than his homelands would have satiated his temperament. if anything, it had grown stronger, and in doing so, cursed all that is near in subjection to his antics.

      that was all to say, each subsequent conversation with a girl kansas-born, one whose travels were more derailing than enlightening, seared at fionn's conscience in a way unprecedented to the fae. while not completely immune to the vast array of mundane emotions ( those that err on negative were much easier to ignore, on fionn's part ), he couldn't deny what felt like care, a burning affinity to whisk away the troubles that manifest on dorothy's person — those that take shape of a yawn, or the crease that sits between brows, even the rawness of chewed lips. he would so much as die to admit it, though. instead, he chose to act against such earthly dispositions, quelling the script of further questions and quips in an act of restraint.

      " why here ? why this ? " the finger that nudged at her head now capturing a tuft in its wake, some shoddy attempt at occupying his mind with anything other than the topic of witches. " pudding and pie, i mean. it surely beats the patrons of the tavern next door, but not by much. " for as long as he knew dorothy, he was quick to realize that truly knowing was something fionn lacked. " were you a performer ? back in your homeland. "

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY POUTED AT HIS CONVERSATION PIVOT , a bored and deflating sigh departing from rosebud lips as she propped a bony elbow atop the table before cradling her chin with her curved palm . pads of twitching fingers tapped against the apple of her cheek — the cherub curve ornamented with a crimson red dot — dollops of dried paint collecting beneath painted nails . " what do you mean WHY ?? " she asked , a slight whine possessing the drawl and bringing its timbre to a childish pinch . then , her brows wrinkled . why pudding & pie ?? because the wizard was here . because he kept her SAFE — warned her of the dangers of witches like glinda the ' good ' and helped keep her glittering feet on solid ground .

at the mention of her homeland , her expression faltered , her almost bratty , perturbed pout furling into a slight frown . pressing her lips together , coffee bean eyes shifted to the lock of hair he toyed with , a flush crawling up dorothy's slender neck as her voice grew small . " i didn't do much of anything back home , " she fessed , a somber tinge to the words , embarrassment making her drop her focus back down to her untouched glass . home — wherever that was .

" — i had my dog , and my auntie 'n' uncle but , not much else . i was bored , all the time , so i used to sing in the barn . make up stories while i was cloud watching . " she couldn't tell fionn about her connection to oz . to the great and powerful wizard . not unless she wanted the line she walked between fantasy and reality to blur any further than it already had . so she didn't lie , but she told a filtered truth ( the middle scooped out ) . then , a pathetic shrug of her shoulder ; " i dunno , it just felt , , , right . "

dorothy reconstructs her expression to be painted a bit more pleasant , warm brown eyes — like sun hitting soil — softening upon finding his attentive features . maybe it was good be known , even if the facts were no more than breadcrumbs . at least that'd make pieces of her REAL , , , wouldn't it ??

" what about you ?? "

[psychecreations]

ALEXA BARAJAS as MARI IBARRA Yellowjackets 3.04: 12 Angry Girls and 1 Drunk Travis

[detr1tus]

      fionn's hand remained loosely cupped around the glass, while his other, plain and unadorned by its usual length of satin gloves, outstretched against the top rim of their booth. a quick motion, playful in its movements, gently poked at the other's skull, the side currently untouched by twisting fingers who easily tangled within the lengths of raven tresses. " the good witch sounds much fairer in face than frau trude, too. " he was merely testing the waters, seeing how far dorothy's animosity could possibly go. the faerie had yet to witness that side of her, not until recent. of course, he was not foreign to her distate, but much of prior conversation revolved around the mundane — work, day-to-day, pleasantries & jests ... did it take a witch's untimely death to bring out the true dorothy gale ?

      a laugh had erupted from the blonde, visions of such legs poking from the underside of a home filling his brain with amusement. " perhaps your clear m.o. can attest to your innocence, in the case anyone points their finger in your direction. she was found unsquashed, fully three dimensional still, no ? or do they leave those aspects out of public record. " his eyes never once left her features — each moment, fixating upon something new, currently trapped on the way her jaw ticked with every subsequent reply.

      " neither. " he was quick to say, much too hasty for it to be a lie or a bold faced pleasantry. even his own unabashedness had him withdrawing, clearing his throat while his attention moved to the velour of his seat. " but i suppose either would be better than its counterpart — eternal sleep. i have heard others around here have experienced such a thing. what a shame ... to miss out on so much life without knowing. "

[ficklefablcs]

THE VIBRATIONS OF FIONN'S WORDS MOVED LIKE PARASITES BENEATH HER SKIN , urging her to itch as if she had broken out in hives . his laughter did little to quell the blooming fury that festered like a scarlet fever , burnt the skin beneath painted cheeks crimson , made her teeth bite too fiercely on the wet flesh of her inner cheek . her affinity for fionn had been rooted in camaraderie ; a desperate , HUMAN need for connection . on the nights in which they shared the amber glow of a downcast spotlight , they moved like twin snakes upon pudding & pie's stage , . in conversation , however , , , dorothy's finesse was far less impressive , as was her temperament ; her heart bled through the sleeve she tried to desperately tuck it back into .

dorothy head sharply turned towards fionn's face when he poked her , only to find his gaze sewn upon her . she could feel each watchful flicker of his pupils as they surveyed each movement of muscle beneath ornamented flesh — even of the most microscopic variety — shrinking beneath the weight of his fascination as she leaned back into the booth . dorothy's bite moved to her lower lip now , pillowy flesh puckering around her front teeth , eyes shifting back to her glass where her now sodden finger retreated to instead draw streaks in the puddle that had formed across the table top .

" i need to stay awake , fi , " she fessed , something desperate in her speech as she shifted fingers , dragging her thumb through the sweat of her glass and painting a stripe . the idea of an eternal sleep sounded downright horrid , a chill blanketing her skin ( goosebumps squeezing between flecks of glitter and freckles ) and making her shiver . then , quieter , more so a reassurance to herself than to him ; " — staying awake is how i stay alive . "

then , collecting herself , a second wind leaning her to sit up and drop her forearms atop aged wood . " lets talk about something else , " she proposed , a more pleasant lilt to her voice as she gave him an almost manic smile . " why don't you think up a way to distract us ?? " dorothy knew what she needed reprieve from , her exhaustion , but she silently wondered if there were unspoken horrors in which he , too , needed escape from .

[detr1tus]

      " not to cast ill upon our dearly departed, but frau trude was hardly a threat. " he doesn't mean to be so dismissive, even despite the obvious serration that bordered his tone, but he assumes dorothy knows him rather well enough to see that this is nowhere near a personal attack. even so, the topic of witches was always finnicky with the other, validly, given their history. that was not to say he hasn't had his own share of run ins — perhaps his mind had pushed such traumatic occurrences deep within its sticky, grey matter in self-preservation — but his most prideful aspects viewed himself as infalible, or at least fast enough to get away. " i once saw her ponder over a persimmon for five minutes ... didn't exactly scream sharp to me. " a pitiful attempt at consolation, but a try nonetheless.

      he shrugged, eyes unabashedly raking over her, lingering upon any tell-tale signs of her mental state. anything from dorothy's posture, to the way her lips take the shape of routine yawns, being a detective wasn't necessary to figure out that something was awry. " hardly. you are, actually, one of the more sane ones within this pool of townsfolk, madam gale. " fionn teetered back, another sip of his near-emptied glass. " you always tend to yawn, even if you insist on being completely well-rested. i'm just wondering if that is due to a rather nasty case of insomnia or self-inflicted. " the fae always had a pension for observation, especially subjects whom they have deemed interesting.

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY SCOFFED . " no one thought ' the good witch ' was a threat , either . if only you saw what happened when she was trusted so blindly , " she grit , molars clicking against one another as she fought the urge to grind porcelain teeth to powder . " they're sneaky things — witches . conniving and silver tongued , , , i wish i had enough houses to drop upon them all . " dorothy's unoccupied hand came to burrow into her hair , nails scraping her scalp , twisting mousey brown around her ring finger and tugging until she felt a sting . upon his visual inspection , she bowed her head and frowned at her drink , adverting her eyes , feeling the lower lash line of her right eye twitch .

" sane , " dorothy grumbled , pushing her other finger deeper into the fruit juice and liquor that swirled into a whirlpool with her pointer's commanding strides . an impending yawn bloomed in her throat once more , painted cheeks puffing as she swallowed it back down .

dorothy couldn't sleep . not now . not when witch blood had been spilt . what if it seeped into her dreams ?? further poisoned the once crystalline streams than ran through oz ?? filled her lungs like fluid ??

what if , what if , what if —

" i don't know what you mean , , , that performance tired me out , is all , " dorothy offered as a pitiful excuse , retracting her hand from her hair to sit up straighter , adjusting the glittery strap that had slid from her shoulder ( rhinestones catching the glow of the lowlight , glittering ignorantly as their shine persisted despite the shadow that hung low over fabletown ) . with a frustrated glance towards the floor that lay beyond the alcove in which they had retreated to , dorothy wrinkled her nose ; " i didn't know you wondered about me so much . " a look to him , head tilting ;

" which do you prefer i be ailed with ?? "

[detr1tus]

      the pair, seated at opposing ends, were truly a sight to behold for any unseemly bystanders. stashed at the back, they inhabited the warmth of a well-concealed booth — one of the worse seats in the house, audience-wise, but preferable to all performers who needed nothing more than a strong drink & an escape to politely fuck off for a much deserved breather.

      fionn's nights with fabletown's very own dorothy gale usually ended up this way, at one point or another, with the two eventually tipsy and allowing their minds to dwindle into a state of ponderance and mild delusion. it wasn't their faults, okay ! these late shifts will do that to you ! and yet, they march on. the exaggerated frown, illustrated in red grease paint, juxtaposed the grin at which he flashed over at the other, completely and utterly amused at the conviction she so possessed. " careful, now. don't go all ' ding, dong, the witch is dead ' on me. " not that he's complaining, nor that he necessarily disagrees. truth be told, mustardseed has no stakes in the game, a blissfully neutral party to an otherwise impending rift in their town. " do you usually confess your innermost thoughts when you're this exhausted ? or is the delirium finally catching up to you ? "

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY CASTS FIONN A LOOK , unmoved by the paint slipping from his marble carved features ( streaked by perspiration and clumsy hands , no doubt ) . her winding fingers take pause , braid half knotted as her manicure ceases its movements in order to stare at him . fully take him in . " why shouldn't i ?? are you not relieved ?? " she retorted , words crisp with irritation , snappy like canines breaking through the skin of a red delicious . her relentless twisting of coffee brown tresses continues , a discontented huff leaving her own painted lips . " i thought you better than one of fabletown's fools , fionn . don't you know the harm witch's are capable of ?? "

dorothy had seen it first hand . witnessed it every night when — and if — she closed her eyes . dorothy had been told of what it had done to her dear wizard once she had left oz . her frown soured further , eyes glossy as she stared down the body of her untouched beverage ; watched the beaded condensation roll down its side and puddle beneath it .

a leveled look is delivered in respond to his question , dark brows coming to a wrinkled pinch as she puckers her lips ( making them look no different than a rosebud painted red ) . " i'm not exhausted , " dorothy dismisses , abandoning her efforts on her hair to instead swirl the contents of her tumbler with the point of her finger . then , a pause . she looks up at him , something indiscernible working its way onto her features . " wait — you think i'm delirious ?? "

[ficklefablcs]

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT EVERYONE IS SO FUSSY ABOUT , " dorothy voiced , but the words were spoken between shallow and bitter breaths , having just teetered off the stage from a particularly grim performance ( the town's happenings had left little room for pallet - soothing whimsy , but perhaps her audience could have done without her celebratory merriment about the witch's fate ) . taking the scarlet fingertip of a stain glove between her teeth , dorothy tugged the costume piece off her tawny limb before discarding it behind her on the bar top .

" ─── anyone in their right state of mind would be relieved . feel , , , safer . " it were almost as if dorothy were self soothing ( as if she were one to talk about what defined a ' right state of mind ' ) , shifting her bite to show her opposing glove the same attentions she had gifted the first . then , swirling on the stool so she was facing bar side , dorothy collected her thick , loose hair and pulled it over her shoulder , beginning to anxiously thread it into a loose plait , only to run her fingers through it and start over .

over . and over . and over again .

her eyes find the occupant of the seat next to her , eyes like that of a sleepy pup's as painted lashes framed droopy lids . she was so tired , their features blurring , a yawn burning her throat that she didn't let surface .

" i think we should give whoever did it a proper thanking . "

a 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set at 𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐩𝐢𝐞 the eve the news broke of the murder . ( @detr1tus , @gravemist , @lcgendaries , @einchants , @daydreambeliiever , @unyearning / @unforsworn )

[fablefallen]

the girl's anxiety is damn-near palpable, and pleasance is relieved to not be the most paranoid person in the room for the first time in a long while. they cannot help but wonder just what, exactly, happened in oz that traumatised her so. they make a mental note to ask diggs the next time they see him, on the off-chance that he knows. the great and powerful wizard should know, shouldn't he?

"hm."  she blinks: one, twice, thrice. she thinks she could have guessed who the other was from the ruby slippers alone, but the blue gingham and puff sleeves helped that assumption along the way.  "i'm— i'm pleasance."  an utterly ironic choice of name, it does not (and never has) escaped her. it's still difficult to shed the mantle of alice liddell after all these years, but the memories attached to that name, that life, are painful.  "you work at the pudding & pie, don't you?"  always has been difficult for her to forget a face, though it isn't for lack of trying. lord knows how much less painful life would be if she could.

[ficklefablcs]

A PLEASANTNESS — OR SOMETHING AKIN TO IT — returned to soured lips and drew their pink petals into an aimecable curve . " pleasance , that's quite a name , " dorothy states , a cock of her head as brown eyes shimmered with curiosity . she had met many a friend with an odd name such as pleasance , and she hated the way the realization made her stomach roll . made her take a subtle , yet no doubt wary , step back .

upon being recognized , the discomfort multiplied , smile growing a bit strained as feather lashes fluttered . " i do , " she mused cautiously , though pride slipped in to lay a more solid foundation beneath her speech as she twisted her fingers into the front of her dress skirt . " — been there a while now . long as i've been here . have you seen one of my shows before ?? " ( dorothy's were notorious for being quite a challenge to forget . delightful whimsy that splintered into horrific fancy before the audience even knew what was happening — distracted by glittering costume pieces removed one by one and ruby slippers . )

[fablewrit]

hand reaches for her brother's to offer a reassuring squeeze with complete disregard for the blood. she particularly hates this habit of his. still, grethe softens, her early perturbance fading at his words. hundreds of years have passed by and yet some days it's like he is still that little boy in the woods, tired and skittish and far too world weary for his age. she speaks in equally measured tones, eyes facing forward so as not to inspire any curious looks. "you know there are things we have to do. this is one of them." a deep breath, sometimes she wasn't sure what she was meant to do with him. full well knowing they can't be glued to one another's hip the entire night, grethe relents. "chin up. you can leave after the signing, if it's so unbearable."

they step forward, and then stop. this is particularly torturous. she tries to add some consolation to the situation, though it may well be too late for that. "i'll stop by after, hm? bring you some party favors?"

[ficklefablcs]

HANSEL DOESN'T FLINCH WHEN GRETHE TAKES HIS HAND , the only touch ever allowed welcomed by the man . there is no squeeze in return , but his fingers twitch in her grasp , an unspoken acknowledgment of the gesture and its meaning . swallowing the stone that had lodged itself behind his larynx , he nods silently at her words . then , after giving a sidelong glance at the line in front of them , he sighs . " i don't want to leave you by yourself . " though he knew grethe would do plenty fine without him , hansel wanted to feel needed .

he shuffles his feet with each inch the line gives , hand still loosely in his sister's grasp , the other replacing where his other thumb had been as he drives his teeth at the skin bordering his nail . he considers her offer , brows coming to a furrow as he silently mulls it over . " i'll try and stay , " he offers , then spares a glance in her direction . a small smile tickles his lips , his voice lowering to an almost playful whisper . " — but , , , can you bring extra party favors anyways ?? "

[fablefallen]

it knocks the air out of them for a moment, the brief collision of bodies, sending her staggering back a few steps. why had they bothered coming here in the first place? [why had she bothered staying might be a more appropriate question.] surely none would have begrudged them if they had simply traipsed over to re-sign the godforsaken compact, useless treaty that it is, and fled the scene as soon as her name had been re-committed to ancient page. and yet, against their better judgement, they stayed; lingering along the sidelines, of course, ready to pounce or swipe at any who look at her funny, but she stayed all the same.

grubby combat boots trudge forward and closer to the refreshment table, weary gaze studiously travelling up and down at the concessions that litter it.  "wouldn't half surprise me if there were something in it."  they sniff, as though the punch bowl and its contents are deeply suspicious and mildly offensive—might as well be, in her eyes.

these days (these decades?) pleasance has staunchly refused to consume anything that they have not themselves prepared. it shall not pass her lips if her hands have not touched it; it's been more difficult to adhere to than they had initially thought, but they're nothing if not bull-headed.  "you can never tell where witches are involved."

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY 'S LIPS FOLD INTO A FROWN . for some reason , having her vision validated feels , , , nauseating . if it weren't for the rouge on her cheeks , she was sure she'd look sickly green ( positively emerald ) , folding her arms around her stomach and taking a tentative step further from the table . " it wouldn't ?? " it was a matter of sanity and whether they both possessed it , or had lost it entirely . dorothy shifts her weight , a small animal on high alert , eyes darting skeptically around the room as she turns on her heel to get a better scan of their surroundings .

" witches are wicked things , " she huffed beneath her breath , brows coming to a pinch . her jaw ached , and dorothy quickly realized she had started grinding her teeth . clearing her throat , brushing brown tresses over her shoulder ( clad in a capped , white sleeve ) , she looked at the woman with a mild affinity —  they shared something in common , after all .

" i don't believe we've met . i'm dorothy gale . "

[unnatvrals]

standing  in  front  of  the  concession's  table,  briar  simply  stands  still  ━━  time  goes  by  slowly  and,  for  a  few  heartbeats,  it  is  as  if  the  people  around  her  walk  slowly,  talk  slowly,  laugh  slowly.  the  clock  ticks  drag  themselves  through  every  second  and  briar  is  sure  that  she  loses  sight  of  the  concept  of  time.  sleepiness  crawls  up  briar's  spine  like  an  old  friend,  hoping  to  find  the  usual  nest  where  it  can  make  itself  comfortable  and  the  sleeping  beauty  is  left  to  simply  exist  for  a  few  moments  (  or  at  least,  that  is  how  long  she  believes  it  has  been  ).

that  land  of  hers  gets  pulled  from  under  her  feet  when  someone  bumps  into  her  and  briar  falls  back  into  reality,  head  first.  "oh,"  briar  exhales,  catching  herself  immediately,  "you're  fine,  you're  fine."  briar  looks  at  the  familiar  figure,  smile  upon  their  pink  tainted  lips.  i  thought  i  saw  something  in  that  bowl.  briar  looks  at  the  bowl,  eyebrows  furrowing  as  confusion  takes  precedence.  "what  did  you  see?"  the  question  escapes  through  their  lips  laced  with  curiosity.

briar  smiles  again,  cleaning  the  furrowed  expression.  "are  you  sure  you  don't  want  anything?  i  can  pour  us  some  of  the  punch.  it  looks  good  enough,  doesn't  it?"

[ficklefablcs]

UPON REALIZING IT WAS A FRIEND she had collided with , dorothy exhales a weighted sigh of relief . briar rose , a woman who seemed to be the other side of her coin . cursed to sleep , whereas dorothy was cursed to keep herself awake ( lest she wished to torment herself ) . they , in many ways , were complimentary .

" briar , " she breathes , pressing a palm to her hummingbird pulse , willing it to soften the beating of its wings . dorothy frowns , looking back towards the table , stepping closer to her companion with a CLICK CLICK of her ruby slippers . " something positively dreadful , " her voice is hushed , as if the bowl had ears and was listening . a look up at briar's face , taking her in ( looking for cracks of oz seeping through ) , batting thick lashes before shaking her head dismissively .

" i'm quite alright , , , thank you , though . " her sandpaper tongue protests the dismissal of a beverage , but her twisting gut demanded she simply deal with it . better thirsty than dead . " you look pretty , " dorothy steers the subject with practiced ease , blinking away the haze from her eyes as she takes a step back to admire her friend's attire . " — as always . "

[fablewrit]

they are all too aware of dorothy's presence at their side, hovering as she is. not to worry though, he is not of the skittish variety. in fact, in a world so rife with peril, puck rather appreciates that he is worthy of the proximity. "hmm? yes." okay, so he made a slight embellishment. but there was a poison tester, and puck did observe the task being performed⸺once or twice. "a king shouldn't taste his food without going through the proper channels. it’s a very important job.”

"no, best not then." a decisive nod, as if she's making a very wise decision. her hands now free, and their own cup drained and abandoned, puck takes her arm in his. the tension in her frame is palpable, he pats her lightly as he guides her away from the source of terror, an attempt at comfort. "surely there must be something that is safe from the witch..." in regards to which witch they are referring to, puck is not entirely sure. he thinks for a moment before an idea crosses his mind. "how about dancing?" puck has met their share of witches and warlocks and everything in between. they can't think of a single one who would object to that, even the poisoning sort.

[ficklefablcs]

DOROTHY , with warm brown eyes and wistful spirit , was desperate to find puck's declarations truthful as she blinked up at him . no , she needed to find him truthful . there was so little in the world dorothy knew to be real , solid like stone , and it were small hopes in people like puck that kept her from entirely losing her mind . if it hadn't already been lost or plagued by glamor . she smiles tenderly as he takes her arm , elbow folding effortlessly around his , humming at his words .

though , , , something strikes her as she does ; the familiarity of such an embrace making the hair on the back of her neck stand up . dorothy then turned her head , squinting slightly at puck ( making sure he were still himself and not stuffed with straw , made of tin , or covered in fur ) , before casting a wary glance over her shoulder .

" i do hope the wizard comes tonight , " she murmurs , more so to herself than her enthusiastic counterpart . dorothy then turns to look at him as she chewed the corner of her lip , a girlish laugh tumbling from her as elation then ornamented her face . as if the past few minutes of conversation had never happened .

" dancing ?! oh — i'd love too !! " dorothy grins , swiftly slipping her arm from his , grabbing hold of his hand instead , tugging eagerly on the poor man's limb in order to guide them towards the area of the floor designated for such an activity . or the one that seemed to be designated for it , at least .