#bellestarter

[bonniexadair-blog]

Delicate fingers wrapped around the newspaper, Oz Weekly standing out against the pale paper in proud, demanding black letters-- The headline, The King Is Dead, Long Live the King! had caught her attention as it was undoubtedly the intention of the writer and Bonnie pulled the newspaper from the stand, absentmindedly dropping a dollar for it on the counter. She didn’t really hear the Thank you, Ma’am the elderly man at the newspaper told her in response, she merely nodded and walked forward, eyes glued to the front page. It wasn’t a particularly compelling piece, not the kind of writing that would demand her attention usually, but still-- Yoo’s death, as much as she didn’t care for him, was a tragedy. Bonnie didn’t mourn the Mayor, of course not-- she has little regard for men who thought themselves above everyone else, especially if their minds were rotten with madness --but she found the circumstances of his murder most fascinating. And disturbing, of course. With a soft huff, she turned around the corner and walked towards of her pharmacy, one hand full with two large cups of coffee in a cupholder. Jamming the newspaper into the crease of her elbow, Bonnie opened the door with one hand and a push of her hip, walking inside without really seeing who was around. Snow had to be in the back of the room, Bonnie suspected, so she left her friend’s coffee on a table in the back and returned to the front with her own cup in one hand, the godforsaken newspaper still in the other. “Now what is it I can do for you today?,” she asked without looking up, her lips curled disapprovingly as her eyes skimmed the news again and again, getting stuck on sentences like The murder weapon hasn’t been found yet and No arrests have been made. 

[gabriel-grim-marks-blog]

Gabriel was where he usually is at 12:43 pm on a Friday -- reading in Emerald Park.

The book was fascinating (captivating, actually!), but it didn’t stop him from glancing up occasionally at the homeless man sitting cross legged on the other side of the trail. The man held out a small tin cup and shook it gently at anybody passing by, the few coins inside creating a jingling sound.

Gabriel occasionally watched people either shake their heads, give the poor man a few coins or just flat out ignore him as they walked by. He almost missed a final patron giving the man a hotdog from a vendor. The man was incredibly thankful. But as he turned to put the food in his bag, another man came by, swiped the tin cup from the ground and left in a hurry.

Gabriel very obviously watched this happen and did nothing.

"What's with the face? I didn't steal anything." He blandly commented, seeing the look on another passerby's face.

[peternevelan-blog]

The sun had long since set, darkness only broken up by small patches of light coming from inside the shadee warehouse. From where Peter was sat, on the lowest point of the roof with his legs hanging against the brick wall, there was very little light to be seen. That was how he liked it best. The darkness made it easier to think. 

And there was plenty to think about. Sure, Peter didn’t care about the death of the mayor, but everybody else seemed to. As far as Peter was concerned, it wasn’t the man’s death that mattered, but everybody else’s reaction to it. And their reaction wasn’t good. Belle Donna was changing, and Peter wasn’t sure if it would ever return to normal.

Footsteps pulled him out of his thoughts, and his keen eyes spotted someone walking past the warehouse. He wasn’t sure if they were going in or just taking a shortcut, but he was bored, so he was going to find out. Peter pulled a little box of bang snaps out of his pocket. So many shops refused to sell them to him anymore, to the point that his current supply was all stolen, or bought for him by one of the Lost Boys. 

He pulled a couple out and threw them hard, watching as they landed right behind the person with a little explosion and an ear ringing sound. Peter laughed to himself and jumped down from the roof. “Whatcha doing out here so late?”

[ariellenix-blog]

       ‘Did you hear? The king is dead!’ 

Arielle fought hard not to turn around and give the two gossipers an earful, specifically on the correct etiquette when chatting about the dead so lightly so soon after his death. No, it wasn’t that she was upset that Ulmar had died. Frankly, she didn’t give a damn what his current state was so long as he wasn’t near her. He was never her king. What she did give a damn about, however, was that she couldn’t enjoy her spare time freely in town without hearing his name in every conversation. 

'I heard he was beaten to a pulp’

         ‘No! He was poisoned!’ 

                 ‘That’s silly, his head was obviously removed. You two should know better’

With a huff, she closed her purse after laying a few bills on the table and stood up. Of course the rumors ran rampant, much like they always would in cases like these, it didn’t matter how much information had already been released. Not that cases like these happened to often though. At least not here. 

Standing up, she pushed her hair back and managed not to glare at the busybodies for their loud mouths inside what was supposed to be a quiet place. On her way out, she slipped past a group of people, only to bump shoulders with someone as soon as she made her way through the door. 

   “Oh!” The redhead let out a breathe, tensing as soon as she felt the contact. Maybe it wasn’t a bump per say, a brush of the shoulders, really. But it was more than enough than she was accustomed to. At least, out and about that is. “Apologies, that was my fault entirely.” Of course she was the first to apologize. It was the smart, safe thing to do.

[belledistractedbeauty-blog]

A Day in the Park - Open

Belle ambled along one of the many paths in the park, but she wasn’t taking in the various shades of green or the myriad colors of flowers scattered along her way.  Her eyes remained glued to the pages in front of her as she read a history of Narnia, specifically one that focused on the bringers of Peace.  Given some of the tensions these days, she kind of wondered what those Kings and Queens might have made of their kingdom now.   Her steps took her around people as she used her peripheral vision to keep from running into anyone.  The ability to do that, to read and walk at the same time without knocking people over right and left, might have surprised anyone who didn’t know her, but she’d had way too much practice at this.  She didn’t like sitting still if she could avoid it – too many people thought that meant she wanted someone to talk to, no matter how she tried to ignore them.  Really, she hated to seem rude, but if her nose was buried in a book, what made them think that was a sign – “Hey people! I want to talk!” Seriously. Of course - because the universe actually did have a quirky sense of humor - that would be the exact moment she bumped into someone. “Oh!” She came to an abrupt halt, her wide eyes swinging up from her book to blink at them.  “I am so sorry about that!”

[bonniexadair-blog]

The newspaper was staring back at her almost tauntingly, as though Bonnie needed the goddamn reminder of what had happened-- Why Oz thought it necessary to joke about the recent events she would never understand, but the truth seemed to be that even such tragedy never failed to make people in Belle Dona humble. They had seen too much, lived through too much-- it was on days like these that Bonnie felt old, the sweat dribbling down her back cooling down as she stared at the newspaper stand, frozen in place. Even the morning run had done little to calm her-- usually a little exercise never failed to get rid of excess energy, but now Bonnie was both tired and awake at the same time. She hadn’t slept much last night, unsurprisingly. Hell, if things continued that way, she might as well have to take a sleeping potion herself. The thought of the missing potion had her frowning and she went on, hands tucked into the short jacket she wore over her tank top and running leggings. All of this is going to bite me in the ass eventually, I just know it. As it was the American Way, Bonnie turned to the universally loved solution of all problems-- over-priced caffeinated drinks. Stepping into Nauticafé, she looked up at the board to pick her drink today, lips moving as she read--had she not been so tired, she’d have noticed the familiar face walking in.

[bonniexadair-blog]

“I’m never letting Snow talk me into using Tinder ever again. It’s all the rage right now, Bon. This is the only way to find someone these days. Yeah, right. If I get another dick pic, I’m going to find a way to hex people via the internet, I swear to God.”

[peternevelan-blog]

Peter had always known this would happen eventually. He was an idiot who stuck his nose in places it didn’t belong, without any care for the repercussions. Of course, it would end like this eventually. But when he’d stepped foot in dead man’s row that evening, he hadn’t anticipated this result. 

A few jokes gone wrong had resulted in Peter stumbling to the floor, body slumping against a brick wall. Everything was spinning. Waves of dissociation were crashing against him, drowning him, and he was struggling to stay afloat. Peter wanted to escape this body, but he couldn’t manage it. It took more energy than he had in him. 

There was blood in more places than Peter could keep track of, dripping onto the floor beneath him. The searing pain in his arm mimicked the time he’d broken it as a teenager. He felt like he was about to pass out when a familiar face passed by. Or, at least, he thought they looked familiar. Peter wasn’t in the state to tell.

He tried to call out, his voice too weak to travel far. His pride kept him from wanting to accept any help, but Peter wasn’t an idiot. Not at his core. If he could avoid having to find a new body and deal with the death of this one, he’d do it, even if it meant asking for help from someone he had no right to ask that of.