Alcohol, Blood, and Cuffs

26. Lieutenant Officer. Badass. That's about all you need to know.

[officer-sinclair]

Date: 1914

Location: Atlantis

Prompt: Fortuitous

Part: One (of ?)

I burn Til you can see my ghost From the ashes grow Dark sun lights a silhouette Cradling the flame til the fire beds Phoenix gunna rise from the ash again Phoenix gunna rise from the ash

Anger unfolds towering inferno Resting on the bones of bitterness of sorrow

Navi felt a tangible relief upon leaving the populated area of Atlantis behind. Living within the protected dome for as long as she could remember, the native Atlantean was part of Princess Kidagakash’s royal guard. She had been a companion, a sparring partner, to the royal woman for as long as she could remember – thousands upon thousands of years.

Things were changing in Atlantis since that awful day, when the Heart of Atlantis was almost destroyed, and with it, every resident. Navi remembers the day with a sense of helplessness, her skills and training had not helped at all. In the aftermath, many Atlanteans chose academia as their new path. Researching what happened, researching the crystals, researching the machines that no longer worked. Some made new discoveries into such simple things as the air they breathed or other aspects of nature around them. Navi remained close to the new Queen and mourned the loss of her king. She grew close to Kida’s beloved Milo Thatch and learned his language, even though all of his people had left a few days earlier.

Out here, outside of the city, it was simple like it was before the outsiders brought horror upon her home. Navi carefully readjusts her bag so that it will lay flat across her back, along with her spear. She smirks down at the monstrous guise of the mask side of her shield as she quickly picks it up; a comforting familiar weight, and she supports it easily with one arm.

Navi moves with a familiar rhythm: utterly silent, (for sound echoes loudly and travels far in the cave), moving from shadow to shadow, alert to any oddities. The warrior revels in this, in the feeling of wind rushing through her hair, the burn in her muscles as she runs and leaps in the pattern burned into her from some much practice, the way her whole being seems more alive as she keeps all her senses alert. And she must be alert because this is not a normal patrol. Things are different now. The melted rocks, lava, changed the planes, leaving paths oddly untouched and changed. Navi is mentally mapping new ways even as she keeps track of the old ones that remain undamaged.

Her eye catches a cave, and a river that flows into it. Above it is the rubble of one of the great machines that the outsiders brought with them. Navi is entranced by the colorful cloth, most of which that is singed and scorched. The warrior is most of the way into the cave before she realizes that she is not alone.

Navi freezes, holding her breath for a moment as she attempts to hear the noise again, urging her vision to adjust to the darkness. Her surroundings are silent long enough for the woman to assume it was nothing. But, as part of Queen Kida’s guard, Navi is not content to dismiss it. Her body remains tense, feeling any moment that she may be attacked. It is through scanning the area steadily, that she notices something in the back corner.

But, then it moves. And it is not a thing, but a person. A sharp pained breath comes from the being when it rolls towards the cave entrance. The flash of both golden hair and pale skin, even in the darkness, tells Navi that they are not Atlantean. And Navi curls her fingers sharply, readying her spear.

The body shifts again – the shirt riding up in back to reveal lacerations and bruising to an extent that Navi has never seen before, the colors standing out starkly on their skin. The person on the cave floor does not cry out, but instead breathes raggedly, but Navi nearly does cry out. Having the crystals so long, which aide them in healing and longevity, pain is something to avoid. And when a person develops a sickness of disease in which the crystals cannot help, there the pain is unavoidable, it is acknowledged as a terrible thing. For if Atlanteans have a weakness – it is pain, for both feeling it themselves and seeing others experience.

She makes herself move then, not to the person on the floor, but the exit of the cave. Once there, Navi breaks the silence and gives a low trilling whistle, knowing it will carry back to the city, and calls her team.

Navi waits, feeling each minute in agony, her eyes keep pulling pack inside where she knows someone is curled up and in pain. She hates the thought, hates not doing anything immediately, but she knows little basics when it comes to healing and she can tell, even at a glance, that this person is injured badly. She does not wish to accidently do more harm, to be the one to cause them pain.

Once two other Atlanteans arrive, a pair of scouting warriors, she hurriedly gestures for them to take off their bulky shields, making hand motions for the injured, and points towards the back of the cave so they understand. They move silently, but hastily. Navi brings them to where she first saw the person and simply points again. The injured being has curled up more, into themselves, seeking a reprieve from the pain and torment of their body. The shirt is bunched up more, barely covering any skin, and the bruises are showing to an even greater extent. Navi is worried that she will find there is not one inch of unmarred skin. There is also a nasty gash on the hip and back that she had not seen before – the blood dark and oozing, infection surely present.

One guard, Yaxley, a shorter and slighter figure than her own but trained in medicine, rushes forward. Navi shadows him carefully, kneeling to assist. It is then that Navi must swallow another gasp when she sees the face of the person. Pale and now tight with pain, the woman’s features are still striking and it is very obvious, even at first glance that it is the female fighter named, Helga. 

[irisannwcst-deactivated20161021]

Welcome • Marian & Sinclair

There’s yet another long night of work ahead at The Merry Men, but Marian finds she doesn’t mind quite so much these days. In fact, she doesn’t mind at all, if she’s being honest — there’s a particular brand of camaraderie that comes specially with slowly but surely emptying the bar patrons’ pockets, one that only strengthens with time as they each lend a hand in helping the task along. Marian typically opts to provide her assistance in other ways — a pretty smile here, a friendly touch there — but she’s in such good spirits tonight she thinks she ought to show the boys how it’s really done. An amused hint of a smile plays at the corners of her lips at the thought, while she continues to wipe down the tables nearest to the door of the bar, almost on autopilot — almost.

" — Oh," Marian startles when she knocks into whoever’s just let themselves in to the establishment. She quickly rights herself, turning apologetic eyes on the customer. "Sorry about that — what can I get you?"

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair bristled as she entered the bar, trying to rid herself of the chill that permanently invaded her bones. Her shift was finally over and she was going to end the night with a warm room and a cold drink. But not in her usual haunt. She came to the Merry Men, rather than the Rabbit Hole, due to the fact that she knew Leroy would be loud and obnoxious. And Sinclair was not on call tonight. Graham could handle the town drunk for a night as far as Sinclair was concerned. The officer stomped her mud caked boots on the mat while shaking out her jacket, tiny melting spheres of ice rolling off of her and onto the bar floor.

Looking up at the bar, Sinclair was not surprised to find the room mostly empty. The whole town seemed to be empty. The sleet, freezing rain, and snow that Storybrooke was experiencing to welcome them into the New Year dampened the number of people out and about. Everyone that could afford to opted to remain the warmth and safety of their home. This meant that Sinclair had a relatively quiet day of solitude, only having a handful of calls: one to assist an elderly woman who could not leave her home to get medicine from the pharmacy and another with a car that skid off the road and got stuck in a bank of snow.

"Good evening, Ms. Knighton" Sinclair muttered, assuming a seat at the bar. "Can I get the a vodka tonic with lime? And do you have any food? Something hot?” The request for food was an odd one for the regular, but Sinclair needed something substantial to warm her insides.

[officer-sinclair]

The Fall || Aisa and Sinclair

[whatisyettocome]

Aisa had mounds of paperwork, almost rivaling what Emma, Graham and Scarlet Sinclair had to deal with in the wake of the town’s catastrophe. Almost.

It was daunting, though, and since sitting at home and grousing with her siblings, trying to figure out why the Earthquake had happened wasn’t yielding any fruit, the oldest Fayte had just given up and driven across town to her office, figuring that they could brainstorm just as well apart. This way she could at least do something useful.

Sinclair came in at some point after, but Aisa saw no reason to strike up a conversation. Two ragingly pissed off women with headaches did not a productive night make. Aisa would check on her in the morning.

But then, like a nail striking her skull, she felt Sinclair. Not in the way that she would imagine that Clotho does, that impossible connection with every living thing, but in the way that she could see her own future be affected by something painful.

Then the officer screamed.

In exactly 5.7 seconds, Aisa was out of her desk, through the hall and by Sinclair’s side. Something was wrong. She was whimpering in a tone of absolute despair, and it sent daggers into the heart of the Fate next to her.

"Scarlet, Scarlet!” she called, not daring to touch the soldier mid-nightmare, but aching to stop that sound.

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair reached behind her back for her pistol tucked in her waistband.

“Scarlet, Scarlet!”

There was a voice calling out to her, reaching and pulling her free from her nightmare. The voice was like a bucket of ice water saturating her body, chasing away the fever. Sinclair almost reached out to grasp at the hand extended to her, except her mind flashed, reminding her that her name was not Scarlet. It was the wrong name.

Dark green eyes, lambent with the residual images from her nightmare, focused on the woman before her. Muscle memory took over in the face of a threat, tightening rigid like a rubber band stretched too thin. Sinclair aimed her gun at the woman standing too close for comfort. The backdrop of the Sheriff’s Office flickered to a scene of fire and brimstone, of an overwhelming desire to shoot the zeppelin out of the sky. The tendons in her neck strained against her, pulse visible in the pallid complexion of her skin. Her hands were clammy as her finger trembled on the trigger. Sinclair was staring straight at Aisa but not quite seeing her. 

[whatisyettocome]

Manipulating the Manipulator || Sinclair and Fayte

[whatisyettocome]

Like candy cooked too long and cooled to quick, the tension snapped. Exploded, really, sending slivers of hope and disappointment and fear and affection flying in every direction. It wasn’t a clean break. It hurt.

Sinclair returned with incredible swiftness back to the snarky, sarcastic, flirty woman that she’d always been, and their nightmares retreated back to where they belonged: in the shadows.

And in their wake, Aisa could see the future once more. Fuzzy, as it always was, but no longer completely impenetrable. One thing stood out to the Fate as clear as day: nothing more would be gleaned from this conversation. Scarlett Sinclair had shut herself off.

A couple quips, and they were back on solid ground, both smirking. “Certainly not.” Aisa retorted. “I appear exactly how I intend to.”

[officer-sinclair]

There was the fire. The spark in Aisa’s eyes and words that kept Sinclair coming back to the Judge’s quarters, day after day, week after week. Not what just transpired between the two of them, whatever that personal, intimate, exchange was. And even though Sinclair was thoroughly exhausted by her admissions to Aisa, by the uncanny vulnerability, she found she did not regret a single word that was said. She observed where the two of them were in their regular chess game, surprised to find that rather than the usual stalemate, both of them had laid all of their pieces down in surrender. It was an odd turnout and Sinclair wanted to escape the room before she did end up with regrets.

“I have no doubts about that,” Sinclair remarked, taking a long step backwards. Unlike most of Storybrooke Judge Aisa Fayte seemed to think about every action, every possibility, every inference that could be made of her appearance, of her behavior. She was an expert tactician and Sinclair enjoyed playing the game with her.

“That was certainly a riveting lunch break, though, I am still a bit hungry.” Sinclair voiced, a bold smile on her face. She moved towards the door and disappeared out of it without as much as a goodbye. A moment later, the blonde’s head appeared back in the doorway, figuring she did not have much more to lose at this point. Her face was serious, her voice soft, “Aisa,” she spoke to regain the judge’s attention, “It’s not easy finding people you can trust in this life.”

And once the words were out, Sinclair’s voice returned to it’s haughty, confident level, “Lata, Judge!” Sinclair disappeared for real this time. 

[officer-sinclair]

An Uninvited Guest || Floyd and Sinclair

[floydotis]

"Sweet, thanks," he mumbled when she handed him half of what he’d asked for, immediately setting out to try and get as much of the stains out with the detergent while he waited for the peroxide. He pulled a cushion off the couch, plopping down on the ground so he didn’t have to needlessly stand, absentmindedly clicking his tongue in assorted rhythms as he cleaned. Hydrogen peroxide worked better, and faster, but the sooner he got to work, the sooner he could go home and try to prank Vannie.

"Hm?" he glanced up when she asked the question, nodding slightly with a shrug, "Yeah, I make messes, but it’s not cool to make people clean up after me. I do stuff for shits and giggles, not to actually bug anyone too bad. Just enough to get a rise outta ‘em, then there’s no harm if I help pick up." Floyd was a good kid, despite what most people believed, just had an odd sense of humor which he liked to sate. And cleaning up wasn’t that bad, earbuds and some work out music made it go by fast enough. "Just make sure you give everything time to dry after this," he warned her suddenly, though he was still cleaning, "or you’ll end up with a soggy butt."

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair was barely listening to his explanation, her question rhetorical, and more snarky than anything else. But, his last comment drew her attention. Green eyes drained of warmth, Sinclair’s gaze darted over to the door of her bedroom. The bedroom air was pregnant with failed attempts at sleep and the following frustration, the blankets tangled, drenched in sweat, and the walls marred and stained with the backdrop of her nightmares. Her bedroom was the one place that Sinclair truly dreaded at the end of each day. And more often than not, any genuine rest that the woman had was on the couch, passed out from pure exhaustion.

“Guess my evening plans are ruined,” the blonde chuckled sardonically, at her own expense. 

[sweetsandsongs]

Quiet Night || Sinclair and Sophie

She was working at the Rabbit Hole tonight, her brother was somewhere out back. She’d left her job at the Music Store in favor of DJing and didn’t even really need the job here, but she enjoyed it a few nights a week. It was bitter cold out tonight, and no one seemed to want to leave their houses so, she was wiping down tables and humming along with the music from the jukebox when the door swung open. “Hello, Welcome to the Rabbit Hole, feel free to sit anywhere…” She waved her hand with a little laugh. There was only one table taken by a pair of friend quietly talking to themselves, and one person at the bar. Sometimes, even native mainers didn’t want to brave the cold.

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair bristled as she entered the bar, trying to rid herself of the chill that permanently invaded her bones. Her shift was finally over and she was going to end the night with a warm room and a cold drink. The officer stomped her mud caked boots on the mat while shaking out her jacket, tiny melting spheres of ice rolling off of her and onto the bar floor.

Looking up at the bar, Sinclair was not surprised to find that the Rabbit Hole was mostly empty. The whole town seemed to be empty. The sleet, freezing rain, and snow that Storybrooke was experiencing to welcome them into the New Year dampened the number of people out and about. Everyone that could afford to opted to remain the warmth and safety of their home. This meant that Sinclair had a relatively quiet day of solitude, only having a handful of calls: one to assist an elderly woman who could not leave her home to get medicine from the pharmacy and another with a car that skid off the road and got stuck in a bank of snow.

“Good evening, Ms. Weiss,” Sinclair greeted the sometimes bartender, sometimes waitress, while assuming her regular seat at the bar. “Can I get the usual,” a vodka tonic with lime, “and do you have any food? Something hot?” The request for food was an odd one for the regular, but Sinclair needed something substantial to warm her insides.

[sanfordmann]

[officer-sinclair]

↳Helga Sinclair: Atlantis 

Scarlet Sinclair Played by Rachel Skarsten

“Thousand armies couldn’t keep me out”

You Secret Santa has sent you a gift (part 1 of 2)

[officer-sinclair]

Woman of the Academy || Sinclair & Chase

[chessthomas-blog]

Chase had this problem in the winter. It was as followed: it was too cold to be outside. When it was too cold to be outside, he got cooped up. Stir crazy. There weren’t enough places in town to visit, and he could only stay in the library for so long before he got thrown out for disturbing people. He liked Belle, so though tormenting people was a great game, bothering her brought him less joy. He enjoyed driving people he didn’t like out of their minds, the ones he did were already usually at his brand of insanity.

So on days when the library wasn’t an option, his muse dragged him allover town. Mischief, inspiration, amusement, it didn’t matter to him. He just needed a place that was both warm and interesting. Chase usually avoided restaurants, though cafes, especially CuriosiTea, were places he’d frequent. But that day he wasn’t in the mood for any of them, and so had gone through all of his usual list, and walked in and out of some stores. Nothing caught his eye.

But then he passed the police station, and that prompted his interest, somehow. He’d never found himself curious about this building before, but now that it was, he figured he might as well explore. It was indoors and new. Maybe there’d be something fun to do. So the boy wandered in, eyes wide and searching as he looked around, taking everything in as he walked in. Then his eyes landed on a blonde woman, sitting behind a desk, looking as frustrated as could be. Her expression prompted a grin to spread over his features, and Chase pranced over, sitting on the far edge of the desk before speaking, “Such fun.”

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair had noticed the man who entered the police station without a word and was waiting for him to speak up about what he needed, as people generally did upon a visit to the Sheriff’s Office. However, her ire blossomed to an extraordinary level when he sat, not in the chair provided for guests, but upon her desk.

“Excuse me?” she barked, her voice firm. “There is a chair on the other side of the desk. Your ass does not belong on my desk, sir.” The last word was spat into the air as she restrained herself from jumping out of her chair and replacing his ass with his face. She was already on edge and this stranger was testing what little patience that remained. 

[clapforfairies]

Are We Out of the Woods? || Post Quake || Prilla and Sinclair

[clapforfairies]

Prilla gasped as the splint was finished, her other hand cradling her arm. “Ow.” she whispered. It hurt. Just that final movement. But then she smiled at her savior, putting on a brave face like the officer had. “Thank you.”

Her brow crinkled a moment later. “You’ve been in war? I’m sorry, that must have been really hard.” then the smile widened, though her eyes were intently focused on Sinclair’s posture, worried that she would fall or something. “But I’m glad I have someone like you with me. I can’t be scared.”

[officer-sinclair]

“It is. I mean, it was. I mean—“ Sinclair clamped her mouth shut, her teeth snapping together with an audible snap. She had no idea what she meant. She had never been a part of any war, much less World War I as her nightmares so often depicted. But, the more that she repeated that fact in her head, the less it sounded, the less it felt, like a fact.

If the girl could find comfort in the fact that Sinclair an imaginary veteran, she was not going to correct her. Sinclair was just struggling to figure out if she was demented enough to lie to an injured young woman without causation or if she was seriously sick enough to actually believe that her nightmares were memories, flashbacks. The mere suggestion brought a wave of dizziness to the woman, as if some invisible force was struggling against her discovery.

“Come on, let’s go find your friends. Your shoulder pain should ease up in a moment,” Sinclair knew that splinting was almost as relieving as actual relocation of the joint. She spoke as she rounded the back of the wheelchair and pulled it closer to the brunette. “You think you can make it to the wheelchair?”

[perfectlymarvelouspiper]

Claim Your Prize || Sinclair & Piper

[perfectlymarvelouspiper]

Piper was good, a bit of a ‘health nut’ in a lesser degree than some. But she preferred the taste of organic and didn’t put much worth of mind altering substances in her body. She did however, enjoy a drink now and again and many would call her job darker than the average. Though, many also didn’t see the beauty in such things as her dancing.

Smiling as she took a sip of her own.wine, she hoped she’d picked well and that Sinclair enjoyed it. She wasn’t entirely sure, but that was what she read (she tried to impress, when on a date that involved more than just a drive home from the club and a night spent tangled in the sheets.) She enjoyed the one she’d chosen, But she couldn’t be sure about her date, though she was pleased that Sinclair took a second sip. “I have other choices if that doesn’t suit your fancy.” She said with a gentle chuckle.

"Oh, you’re far too intriguing to have that be all there is to know about you… was it just the promotion that made you move? Do you enjoy the quieter side of Maine?" She couldn’t believe that Sinclair had as little going for her as she seemed to think. "Either way, Storybrooke appreciates your presence… I know I do."

[officer-sinclair]

“No, this is just fine,” Sinclair assured her date, smoothing out the napkin on her lap before reaching for the fork on the table. A home cooked meal. It was the very thing that Sinclair was against as a rule. A home cooked meal represented everything that was domestic, everything that the officer had escaped when she packed a bag and fled. For the last four years, Sinclair worked to ensure she was never seated at someone’s dinner table with their meal placed before her; forever turning down invitations for dinner or even lunch. She lived off of protein bars, MREs, fresh fruits and vegetables, and the occasional bar meal. This – this fettuccini alfredo was more than a treat, it was an indulgence.

Sinclair took a bite, hoping that her hesitation was not noted by the ever-observant dancer, “But this, this is amazing.”  She could taste the butter, the freshness of the pasta, the tenderness of the fresh chicken. Piper might not know, but this was the best meal that Sinclair had in many years of stubbornness.

“I had not even known of this little town before the promotion. But, I was already looking for ways out of Portland. However,” Sinclair paused to take a sip of her wine, finding that it did pair really well with the meal. “If I’m honest, I hate working here. Storybrooke does not appreciate my presence because it is largely unneeded. At least half of my job consists of me answering the phone,” Sinclair held up her hand in the shape of a phone to the side of her face, “Uh, no ma’am. We are not going to come write up a report about how Granny verbally abused you with your pie.”  She made an annoyed face, her eyebrows pinching together and mouth open in a silent seriously?

“It’s so dreary. The case of the missing underwear was the most action Storybrooke’s Sheriff’s Office has ever seen.”

[officer-sinclair]

Stealing Intimacies || Piper and Sinclair

[perfectlymarvelouspiper]

"I’m quite certain of it. A beautiful officer like you must be sought after by many. It distresses me to see you go." She teased back, ah but watching her leave on the other hand… She smiled when Sinclair assured her she’d be back sometime. "Hopefully." She nodded. "I’m here almost every night, I do hope you stop by… Perhaps even enjoy the show…" Piper winked and stepped forward and offered her hand. Taking a moment to look a bit more official than she had before.

[officer-sinclair]

“I’m sure it is very distressing. Just do me a favor and don’t call in your distress as soon as I’m gone,” Sinclair pursed her lips together pointedly, easily imagining Ms. Rivers calling the police station as soon as she walked back into the Sheriff’s Office with some vital piece of information that the dancer conveniently forgot. Or was that Sinclair’s unconscious fantasy?

Sinclair took the hand offered to her and shook it. The skin to skin contact did nothing for her traitorous libido that chose the worse moments to let itself be known. “I’ll keep that in mind. But, I am a busy woman.” While Piper had seemed to corral in her oozing sex appeal for a moment, Sinclair had other plans to take advantage of the woman who had tripped her up tonight. She took a step forward, her hand still holding the other woman's, and nearly pressed their bodies together, "Perhaps I'll make time to enjoy the show." 

[graygisbourne]

Throwing Down the Gauntlet || Scarlet and Gray

[graygisbourne]

Gray offered the barkeep a terse smile when he came over, ordering a beer for both himself and his companion. On most nights, he would order a scotch or something of the sort, when he drank. But today he’d follow her lead. It was safer that way.

"Nothing interesting," he shrugged, brushing some hair of his forehead, "I work at a Realtors." Much to his dismay. "Any you, Miss?"

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair sipped at her beer, savoring the taste. It was moments such this where she pondered on how it was that a tiny town such as Storybrooke had better beer on tap than most of Portland.

“I’m a lieutenant police officer in my spare time,” Sinclair pursed her lips together. She did her damned hardest to ensure that she had no free time to sit around. “And really, Mr. Gray? You’re going to go back to formalities after our spar?” 

[officer-sinclair]

An Uninvited Guest || Floyd and Sinclair

[floydotis]

"Hey, you kept talking to me," Floyd shrugged, falling silent as he went back to cleaning. Luckily, he hadn’t build too big an orange soda bomb, "Do you have hydrogen peroxide? Or any basic laundry detergent, really? Hydrogen peroxide just works best." It’d keep the stain from setting, "And white vinegar. I’ll need that, too, if you really want this clean. A spray bottle too, if you got one, it’ll get me out of your hair faster." Luckily, a good amount of it was just on the floor, and that was easy to clean. Fabrics just took a bit more effort and some cleaning chemicals.

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair closed her eyes, grinding her teeth together, and exhaling a sigh of defeat through her nose. The woman was beginning to doubt her ability to refrain from beating the child that had broken into her house and defaced her furniture. She was weighing the chances that Graham would forgive her for knocking him out before calling it in when young Mr. Otis spoke up again.

Hydrogen peroxide? Laundry detergent? White vinegar? Sinclair repeated his request in her head, somehow sure that he was going to make his mess even worse. She grunted before disappearing into the kitchen to pull open the laundry closet; she gathered the laundry detergent and white vinegar from there and handed them over. “Peroxide is in my truck.” And with that, she went to fetch the item that remained in the first aid kit kept in her truck. “You seem to have experience with clean up, have these type of mess ups often?” 

[whatisyettocome]

Manipulating the Manipulator || Sinclair and Fayte

[whatisyettocome]

Aisa barely kept her expression under control as flashes of white pain twisted her chest in quick succession at Sinclair’s words. How right, how horribly, disgustingly, heart-breakingly right Scarlet Sinclair was. 

The farther that their cursed lives deviated from small-town boredom, the more the inhabitants of Storybrooke seemed to grasp that things were not what they seemed. But what this meant for a person who thought that their lives had been nothing to mention was that their nights were often wrought with dreams. Nightmares. Heart-breaking pain that they didn’t understand.

For the love of every god, they were all going insane. And it was Regina’s fault. All. her. fault. 

"Then you are stronger than I," Aisa told her. She could not imagine a life that didn’t involve her sisters. Couldn’t even… picture living without them. And if she had somehow known of their past, but they had not… how would she have lived? Would she even want to?

Atropos knew the answer to that question, and she didn’t like it.

The tension was thick, but that only made their connection more fragile. How did an innocent chat, their regularly scheduled sparring, turn so wrong?

And why didn’t Aisa mind?

[officer-sinclair]

“Well, of course I am stronger than you,” Sinclair stated, using the fact that she was back on her feet to her advantage, looking up and down the judge’s body. It was not so much a predatory gaze as it was one of appraisal. Any hint of vulnerability disappeared from the blonde’s tone as she grappled for control of the conversation, of the atmosphere. “I trained for many years to get this physique, while you spent your time with your head in a law book.” Sinclair brought her hands down each side of her body in emphasis. 

It was a deflection, both of them could easily see through Sinclair’s snarky comment, but she had a long way to go to rebuilt that wall around herself that Aisa Fayte took an axe to in the last few minutes. “Not that you have anything to be ashamed of.” There. Flirting. That was how she regain the footing that Judge Fayte had knocked from beneath her. 

[officer-sinclair]

Earthquake Entrapment || Vanessa and Sinclair

[genuinesourpatch]

Vanessa tried to put enough focus in holding the cloth to the woman’s forehead, not wanting her shaking limbs to, in some way, affect Sinclair’s recovery. If she were to wake up. The girl bit her lip as the soft sounds of pebbles and tiny rumble clattered to the floor near them. Silence. She sucked in a breath between her teeth and closed her eyes for a brief moment. While closed, she heard an attempted witty remark and opened her eyes wide to see Sinclair awake. A grin grew on her face as hope returned. No one needed to know how dependent she was on others. All she knew was vehicle mechanics. Those functions didn’t apply to much in life threatening situations when there’s no available power sources.

"Sinclair!" her voice cracked in a higher octave. She sniffled, then forced herself not to show emotion as she handed the damp cloth to the police woman. "It sure seemed like a small rock got to you," she quietly commented. "You were out. For at least a minute." Though it felt longer than an hour when Vanessa was desperate to get Sinclair conscience again. 

"Hey… are you okay? Look a little…funny-" Short after mumbling her concern, Vanessa realized Sinclair was rolling back out of consciousness. She looked around them, wondering if she searched hard enough, if she’d find something soft to make into a pillow of sorts to support the blonde’s head. 

She looked back to Sinclair and tapped her shoulder, “Sinclair?” Her voice fell barely above a whisper. “You should lay back down. You could’ve gotten a concussion. If you didn’t get one from the rock, you sure hit your head hard on the way down. I’ll look around- but you gotta stay down. Sitting up clearly isn’t gonna help.”

This was such a stupid idea. She actually thought that she could go to a ball and pretend to be like everyone else in this town, normal. She dressed the part, shoes exempt. Even got herself a date. Well, Zane wasn’t a date. Not that he couldn’t have been date material. He was Vanessa’s best guy friend. But they both were each other’s rock in this as they tried to better themselves in the eyes’ of the town. And now? She kneeled beside another friend who saved her from being crushed, only to get a concussion from another rock. 

I hate my luck.

[officer-sinclair]

It was like walking through fog. Sinclair could not see much beyond her own person, everything else was shrouded in a murky miasma. “Don’t be daft, Van.” Sinclair ordered, weakly. Her voice felt miles away and foreign, as if she was listening to herself speak from the next room and not from within her own skull. Sinclair made another feeble attempt to shake away the fog, and her flashba--memories. “I’m fine,” she urged, mouth full of cotton and eyes still unfocused, seemingly gray in the room dark room.

Sinclair focused on the things she knew to be true. Vanessa VonSchweetz was seated aside her, tapping on her shoulder, and looking supremely concerned. They were trapped in a foyer after an earthquake. While attempting to dig them out, there was an aftershock that sent a rock into her head, and concussing her. The last conclusion was drawn by the officer with a quick analysis: her head felt like someone was attacking it with a sledgehammer, worse than any handover, she was dizzy and nauseated.

By focusing on the things that were real, Sinclair worked to establish and banish the things that could not be. The groaning and yowling echoes of men as the battlefield became slimy, oily with ichor. The numbness in her fingers, reminiscent of what it felt to hold the cold metal of a knife with cold fingers in the extension of attack. The clanging and clamorous noises of a zeppelin exploding above her in the seething, spite-filled cave.

“I’m not going to lay back down, just give me a moment.” Sinclair held her hand out, unsteadily, towards Vanessa. “I have a concussion, but this isn’t the first time, or by far the worst.” Her thoughts return to the vision she had moments earlier – her fall backwards at the lurching submarine upon impact portside. “I need to get back to work freeing us from this deathtrap.” Sinclair was not sure that she would be able to stay sane for much longer in this place, the lines between her nightmares and reality blurring more and more with the passage of each minute. "Just-- help me up?" Sinclair took a deep breath, reaching deep inside herself for the strength to compose herself and get the two of them out of this mess. 

[clapforfairies]

Are We Out of the Woods? || Post Quake || Prilla and Sinclair

[clapforfairies]

Prilla frowned, even in her dazed state finding something wrong with that answer. “But you can be a poh-lice and still have a headache, I think. And um… you have a head… thing.” the brunette pointed to the obvious injury on Sinclair’s brow.

"But, um… okay." Prilla frowned, for all the world looking like a pouting child as they continued their work. The sling was almost finished, which meant that theoretically the pain would abate soon. "I still think your head hurts." she informed her companion.

But then she remembered why they were doing this in the first place, horrible images from her imagination taunting her with her friends… no, her family’s broken bodies. They needed to find them. But Prilla was wobbly and useless, and the Officer was hurt too. That bothered her.

Tears sprang to her eyes. She didn’t care to figure out whether the pain that caused them was emotional or physical.

[officer-sinclair]

“You think correctly,” Sinclair admits without pause, a bit unnerved by the tears that were springing up in the girl’s eyes. The officer searches her brain for the girl’s name, sure that she asked, but unsure if she ever received an answer. Everything about the last couple hours was fuzzy and the hospital’s fluorescent lighting was doing nothing for her stubborn headache.

Sinclair caught a glance of her reflection in the glass separating the waiting room from the hospital entrance. There were dark circles around her eyes and she looked pale, sickly pale. There was dried blood on the side of her temple; a layer of dust from the ballroom rubble on her clothing and in her hair. No wonder Graham sent her to the hospital. No wonder this girl was worried about her. Sinclair was sure that she would probably benefit more from a warm shower than waiting around for help that was bound to never come.

Finishing up the sling splint, Sinclair stood back up, ignoring the way everything in the room was overwhelmingly bright for a few moments as her body adjusted to the position change. “Don’t worry though, I’m tough. An earthquake has nothing on war.” The words came out of her freely, and immediately Sinclair was astounded as to why she said it aloud. She had never been in a war. 

[perfectlymarvelouspiper]

Claim Your Prize || Sinclair & Piper

[perfectlymarvelouspiper]

"I can’t disagree with you there." She smirked. And Piper was fairly innocent when it came to ‘darker’ things. She didn’t drink a whole lot, and drugs were out of the question. But, she was careful with what she put into her body. It was, after all, what her career was based around. "Either way, I like the sound of it." 

"Well… I’ve heard white goes best with alfredo, so, let’s see if I remember my wine facts…" She laughed softly, pouring two glasses and setting one next to Sinclair’s plate, and one next to her own. Setting the bottle on the table, but out of the way she finally took her seat with the grace of a dancer.

Looking over at Sinclair she smirked at her words. “I’d like to know all of your preference.” She didn’t need to clarify on that, but for just a moment her tone dropped to a normal speaking tone, all flirting aside for a brief comment. “Really, though. I’d love to know more about you.”

[officer-sinclair]

Sinclair quirked a smirk at Piper’s voiced agreement, wondering exactly what the dancer had in mind at the mention of ‘darker’ things. She had briefly looked into the woman’s history on paper and found nothing interesting, at least nothing interesting to her as a police officer. As a date, the interest was of a slightly different variety.

As the wine was handed to her, Sinclair slowly took a sip of the pale colored alcohol. It was a bit acidic, but she had ruined her taste for wine with cheap beer and even cheaper liquor. It had been ages, years, since she had sat down with a beautiful woman, a homemade meal, and a glass of wine. And while Sinclair’s subconscious had had been extremely worried that the date would stir up nothing but memories of her time with her once-fiancée Kaitlyn Rodes, she found that the brunette seated across from her did not share a single quality with the woman she loathed so much. Sinclair took another sip of her wine, this time able to discern flavors of apple and citrus.

There was an honest request hidden in Piper’s flirty statement. Sinclair set her glass down and made motions to put the napkin on her lap. “There is really nothing much to know. I grew up in Portland, went to police academy there, and moved here for a Lieutenant promotion.”