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@goldtippedcane-blog
“Oh, um, sorry Mr. Gold. It’s just that you have something…” Ruby points to his chin, where she noticed a speckle of something.
“Hrm,” he let out as fingertips reached to touch his chin. “Better not be pulling a stunt, miss Lucas.”
A twitter of laughter left Paige, nodding quickly, “Yep, that’d be it. I thought you might have something like that, and.. ties and mugs are kind of overrated?”
Feigning insult, Gold brushed a hand over his striped, black-and-red tie. “That, I will have to disagree with you on,” he quipped, and his smile almost seemed to melt, “but let me see what I have. What does your father like?”
She shook her head. “Sorry I didn’t mean to stare.” She wiped down the counter and looked back up at him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No matter,” was all he said to brush off her apologies, and then nodded in vague appreciation. “Just a beer.”
Nerissa nervously scurried to get her notepad. Mr. Gold was the only person in Storybrooke who truly caused her any alarm. Sure, she didn’t like Travis, but he didn’t scare her. Mr. Gold had a way about him that caused Nerissa to almost fear him.
I’m sorry, Mr. Gold. I must be daydreaming or something, she answered. In all honesty, she was. She was wondering when she would see August again and where they might end up.
It was a moment to stand back and admire Regina’s handiwork. He was fairly sure that this girl was a certain fish, whom the Queen had talked to him about or at least tried to. Taking her voice was... something else, compared to the rest of the lot, and it was honestly impressive. Of course, he was the creator of the Curse and held the responsibility of its power, so perhaps he was just patting his own back here -- and who else was going to do it, if they all had lost their minds?
“Be careful with that. Dreaming is dangerous. Better to focus on the now, rather than... tales.”
“Staring? At you? Never, oh great one.”
“Wrong adjective, dearie.”
It was one of the cooler days, with clouds and the threat of rain ( though it rarely actually rained over the cursed town ). How could it? Yet, with the certain Emma’s arrival, the whole town seemed to be shifting to a new norm, one where the people were slowly beginning to awake. She noticed, alright, because she’s been there for ten years, watching the citizens repeat the same day without a clue. She confided only in Regina for sanity reasons, the only other person she was certain remembered the past. There were suspicions, of course, of a few others, but it was nothing she could confront.
Her greatest relief, however, had been him. Had he known, had he remembered, he would have ruined the entire plan- not just Regina’s, but hers. The plan she would soon set into motion, after Emma believed, and Elsa did to. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she would succeed and get her sisters at long last.
So, when he walked in it was quite the shock. Sarah could not hide the slight tremble in her jaw as she struggled to keep her face as blank and unknowing as possible. She’d tried to with Regina, ten years ago, but that hadn’t gone well. She’d been too innocent, too unknowing, and soon, Regina had found out. She didn’t want a repeat with him, who would no doubt make Regina seem like a tame piece of ice cream cake, so to speak. Sarah straightened out her apron, smiling gently.
“Fisher. Sarah Fisher,” she supplied in her usual, soft tone that made so many trust her right away. But she was not an idiot; she knew it would take so much more than a sweet voice to fool Rumplestiltskin, the most powerful sorcerer in all the land(s). She feigned ignorance, though, keeping her eyes wide and unknowing.
“No. You didn’t do anything, especially nothing that I remember.” She shrugged helplessly, trying to look confused. But the imp’s knowing face was much too advanced, much too clear. He knew. He knew what was up and he was trying to corner her. He would try to strike a deal. But she had nothing he wanted. Did she?
He, however, could have something she wanted.
“Fisher,” he echoed, and felt a little like a parrot. His voice was smooth, but not exactly warm. In fact, it had much in common with the scoops of ice cream she usually served. Another smile quirked his lips. “Yes... that’s right.” Vaguely, he remembered overhearing her name somewhere, maybe just in a passing. It wasn’t her real name, though, of that much he was certain. Rumplestiltskin had a way with names, and this one was fake. Although, that didn’t make it less useful. In a town like this, even a cursed name was valid -- maybe even more-so, while his Savior stumbled blindly around.
This Mrs. Fisher was nervous. Mr. Gold was a feared man, known to make vicious deals and cruelly kicking people to the curb if they could not pay. He practically owned the entire town, including this building. However, the two of them had never had any beef over unpaid rents, and they had not struck up any terrifying deals. She should not be this tense -- nor should she attempt to hide it, an attempt that was... frankly insulting to his intellect.
His smile widened in feigned familiarity. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with you; I quite like ice cream.” And yet he walked closer, now standing as close to her as he could with the broad counter separating them. “What did make you decide to move the long way to here to set up your business? I can’t imagine it was the charm,” his face was pulled into a grimace, “of the town.”
thesnowxqueenx.
It was as if he had been shaken awake from a dream. His mind was clearer now; his eyesight even seemed better. Sharp eyes took in the town and its inhabitants around him, and he saw them for what they had been -- and what they now were. When he met their gazes, their eyes were glazed over. They walked in a constant daze. And though emotions were as strong as they had ever been, they were laced with this... sluggishness. It was clear that the town was sleeping. At least, it was clear to any man, who knew of Curses and what effect they could have on people.
That was why her behavior was suspicious at best. Unlike the rest of the inhabitants, her eyes were as clear as his, and when their heads bopped in their usual “good day” motion, he noticed the hesitation in her motion. It was subtle, but it was there. The two of them had a history, one that wasn’t anywhere in his false memories. He searched his mind, turned every figurative stone and looked in every figurative corner, until finally, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes. Ah, yes. There she was, asking for his help and offering sisterly love in return. Rumplestiltskin remembered every deal he had ever made. It was just a question of time.
And so it was also a simple question of when he would confront her. Surprises were not something he was fond of, especially not when it came to people knowing more than they were supposed to. He had taken it upon himself to uncover any secrets that she might be carrying around in that uncertain smile of hers.
A tiny bell rung above his head as he entered the ice cream shop. The weather was not something to celebrate, and so the shop was mostly empty. His cane clicked loudly against the floor.
Sending a smile -- the strangest mixture of a grin and a polite grimace -- in the woman’s direction ( he had forgotten her name, both her real and cursed one, if she even had the latter ), he said, “Did I do something, Mrs...?” The question of her name hung in the air. In spite of his words, his tone indicated that he was not necessarily sorry, but that he was curious.
“Oh– I was just, the.. Do you, um, happen to have any good.. father’s day gifts in your shop, Mr. Gold?”
“Any object can be a gift; it all depends on what type of object, you are looking for. My guess is something nice, thoughtful but not overly pricey, hm?”
open.
Memories were, as it turned out, overrated in a town filled with amnesiacs. Not only that, but they laced themselves into false stories, which Regina had placed in his mind. Some nights, it was hard to make out which memory was real. Had he torn Milah’s heart out and crushed it on a smug pirate’s ship, or had she spat in his face and died a few hours later in a terrible accident? Some nights, it was hard to decide which one he preferred. No constant battle had been fought in his mind while he was cursed. No angel nor devil perched on his shoulder. Now, he could hardly roll out of bed in the morning without feeling as if he were carrying the world on his back. His crutch soothed and frustrated him, bringing about the opportunity to lean against something, rather than standing on his own. On the other, it was a visible reminder of his weakness. Gold let out a breath. He needed a drink.
Walking as if caught in a daze, he set his course to the Rabbit Hole. The hour was not yet late and it was the middle of the week; perhaps there would be no other customers. How odd to know that the days of the week would change. It would take a certain kind of evil to trap people in a Wednesday, he mused to himself as he descended the stairs. The day that was furthest from the weekend. Cruelty at its finest. He wondered if that was the day Regina had chosen. See, he couldn’t tell for sure; the days during the Curse were fuzzy. In fact, it felt less than twenty-eight years and more like... well, a really long day.
The drink was the fastest he had ever ordered, and that did say a lot. All he needed was to return to that hazy state of mind again. Just for the rest of the evening. He would return to painful clarity in the morning. And so he kept his eyes down and drummed impatiently with his fingers on the bar.
Unfortunately, just as the drink arrived and he picked it up from the table, someone collided with his elbow. Acting without thinking, Gold all but slammed the glass back on the table ( no drops had been spilled; it was whiskey, and not a lot of it at once ), and turned to chide the rude interruption. “How ridiculously graceless can one person really be?”
“Wait! Wait! I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t have time for waiting, dearie; I’ll have to fix this! Just hope -- for your own sake -- that you haven’t screwed this deal up for me.”
“Sorry about that. I hope he didn’t cause you any trouble?..”
The boy had caused a stir. Brown hair, big eyes... just like his boy. “He didn’t break anything,” he replied curtly, chasing the nostalgia away with a cool facade.
"If it weren't for my good looks, I'd say something was wrong. What're you staring at me for?"
