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It was an awkward walk into town. Alice kept muttering quietly to herself incoherently, deflecting any attempt Berry made at conversation with a bitter snort or a scowl. Berry knew better than to take Alice's behavior personally, but that didn't make it any easier. Especially after years of knowing each other, Alice's inconsistent personality made her volatility that much more difficult for Berry to handle. Berry could never abandon Alice, no matter how bad it got between them, but she couldn't help but feel that sticking around so much only made things worse.

With a restrained sigh, Berry made another attempt at reaching out to Alice. "We're passing by Madame Fae's now, do you want to stop inside and grab something to eat or drink?"

The question fell flat, as Alice once again refused to respond. Berry stopped walking, pressing her insistence that they go inside Madame Fae's. Berry saw more than enough familiar faces and hoped bringing Alice inside would help bring her out of her mental rut.

"Alice-"

"Berry, just... just shut the hell up and leave me alone, alright? I'll see you later." With that, Alice stormed off, leaving Berry alone in front of Madame Fae's. It wasn't the first time Alice had snapped at Berry like that, nor would it be the last, but it was just as hard on Berry every time.

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She opened the door slowly and quietly, trying not to be a bother and stay under the radar. Berry didn't really want anything from Madame Fae's, but it was somewhere she knew she could go when she was having a rough day. With a small wave to nobody in particular, Berry took a seat away from the crowd, leaning back against the seat and resisting the urge to groan loudly. She spent several moments debating whether she should get up and ask for a coffee, or stay seated and hope her problems would just go away. The right choice was obvious, of course, but Berry found real value in waiting for her problems to be whisked away while she sat there motionless.

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Fucking Berry, always on her nerves. Alice did her best not to swear out loud, but sometimes the lines between her mind and her mouth were blurred a little too much. She was fairly confident she had held her tongue well enough with Berry, though Alice could never really be sure what actually happened or what she projected onto her memories.

Hadn't she been on this street already? No, she had only ever been walking straight, only turning right once where she had abandoned Berry. Where was that? It was unimportant. Alice was near her own apartment now, and being home was all that mattered.

Wait - why was that all that mattered? Alice stopped walking, struggling to remember exactly why she wanted to go home in the first place. She bounced thoughts back and forth in her mind, all of them losing touch with reality with every mental step she took. And as Alice realized that she was making less and less sense, even by her standards, she became angrier and angrier at her inability to help herself. Tears began to fall from her face, as she spiraled further and further down.

Suddenly, Alice took a step back, both mentally and literally, unable to properly differentiate between the two. Berry always told her to find something familiar when she felt like she was losing herself. She spun around several times, regaining her bearings once more. Recognizing Lucy's apartment building, Alice bolted inside, desperately hoping she would find the something familiar she was looking for.

As she frantically knocked on the door, Alice wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve. "It's Alice," the girl called out, her desperation audible in her voice. "I think I need help." With that, Alice slumped down to the floor. She pushed herself back against the wall opposing the door, curled up her legs and buried her face in her arms as she began to cry again.

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"Shielding them from information is illogical," Sherlock replied, taking a sip from the sugared liquid without even laying eyes on the Fairy Godmother. "It certainly won't save them from the same death as the others, I'm afraid. You know quite well Lancelot would call me if there was something different this time, Madam Fae."

Sherlock hardly batted an eye as Beauty and her Beast entered the dinner. Any fool could have figured out what was going on between the two, and she certainly didn't feel any sort of civic duty towards making this truth more abundantly obvious to the rest in Mystvale. If they chose to ignore what was in front of them, so be it. She couldn't baby them forever, they were going to have to learn what precious little brain cells they still had. On more than one occasion, Sherlock had examined the possibility that the Cataclysm caused severe brain trauma to most in Mystvale, causing in a large drop of the collective I.Q. She hadn't found any conclusive results yet.

"I see no reason to help anyone," Sherlock observed coolly, in response to Philip. "Let natural selection take its course, the human race could benefit from the imbeciles being removed from the gene pool." Sherlock smirked softly, taking in the creature of habit before her. Philip ordered the same thing on each visit to the diner, enough that if Sherlock so desired, she could've poisoned the man. Not that she would, mind you.

Seeing more people pile inside of the diner, Sherlock grimaced slightly. She pulled on the cash to pay for the coffee, setting it down on the diner. The moment she finished off her drink, she'd be out the door. She had plans to head into Tacoma, prior to the required meeting. In approximately forty eight hours, a prominent politician would be calling her in destress, Sherlock had concluded. It was time to breathe in the fumes and crime of that desolate place, to get its horrors and tragedies in her lungs.

"Watson, hurry along. You'll gain half a pound from this morning's breakfast, by my calculations," Sherlock snapped, taking another sip of her coffee.

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Harlianne knew that the Hatter, and most of Mystvale, treated her as another deranged resident of the Never. Her story had originated there, she had been the bitter foe of Peter Pan. Or at least, that was what she told her. The Seven Seas was her home, the chaotic roar of the water in the midst of a storm her natural element. Dry land felt foreign to her, even years after leaving the sea behind. "Aye, I'll take care of meself," Harlianne agreed, mostly for the Hatter's benefit. As impaired as she was, she knew it had to bother the Hatter, Dorothy's disappearance.

"Hatter, do ye think the lass used her slippers?" Harlianne inquired. She had stolen a bootlegged copy of the Wizard of Oz a while back, watching the far too happy child run around with the little dog on her similarly stolen television set. She remembered that the heels, when clapped together, could transport the wearer anywhere. A mischievous look came over her, one the Hatter would perhaps know well.

"I've got meself a job to do," Harlianne informed the Hatter. "I'll be paying me respects to Miss Dorothy."

Of course, she was aware of what Merlin had said. Magic didn't exist in Mystvale. Frankly, Harlianne found that to be codswallop. The disappearances weren't normal by any means, and if she held the old wizard up, she figured he had enough juice in him left to make the shoes work. The thing was, Harlianne hated that she had been rescued. Without the open waters of the sea and the adventure her home realm provided, life was bland. Here was her way out. Here was a possible path to freedom.

She'd just need to borrow without returning some slippers.

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Aravis smiled quietly, hearing Hansel's explanation. She knew that he was a man, a tested warrior, but she couldn't help but see him as a boy. The situation they were in, of course, was terrible beyond all compare. At least Hansel had been able to find some normalcy, despite how briefly it lasted. Those positive thoughts vanished when Lucy revealed the shoes, filled with a tar like substance. Something had produced it, and Aravis held her fingers out, prepared to touch it. She withdrew her hand, reconsidering the action.

"Hansel, you dedicated your life to hunting the supernatural," Aravis began, formulating a plan. "Have you ever seen something quite like this before?"

Of course, she could think of two other individuals to consult in the town. Well, three, if she was being truthful. The Fairy Godmother would likely know something about the magic involved, and then there was Tinker Bell and Peter Pan. The pair of them had tormented that dreadful pirate for years, but perhaps their childish antics would've lead them to encounter Dorothy's likely killer. "And I do insist you move in with me," Aravis added, a slight blush covering her cheeks. "We'll have a proper Narnian meal."

She turned, prepared to draw her sword once Alice began to pound on the door. She approached it slowly, before opening it upon hearing the child's panicked cries. "Alice? Come inside," Aravis instructed, glancing towards the mess of an apartment nearby, filled with the remnants of Dorothy's life. Alice didn't need to be exposed to that. Her sanity was fragile as it was.

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In the dark, Loup methodically spread butter over a slab of bread. Back, forth, back, forth, back and forth the knife went, slathering the stuff across the surface of the bread. The man, if such he could be called, at the table took a strange comfort from the mechanical repetition. When all else was in flux, you could rely on a carefully made sandwich to reassure you. Butter sufficiently spread, he placed strips of raw pork onto the bread one at a time. They dripped gently, juice and blood staining the hard wood of the table or, rather, taking their place beside myriad other stains. The uncovered, grimy table was another small comfort, a reminder of a time when he wouldn't have thought twice about personally tearing the throat of a pig out and devouring it whole, rather than calmly preparing to eat it with processed wheat and milk.

With a mix of glee and grumble, Loup bit into his meal and reflected upon his situation. The lights were all out but then, they always were. He'd heard the low hum of the power cease and largely ignored it without worrying about why. That had been an hour so ago and he was only now thinking he might need to look into it further. While he rarely used the lights, he rather liked the heating and television was yet another strange pleasure. Both he could survive without of course, he reassured himself, but why do so when it wasn't necessary? There was some part of him that objected to going to the fuse box and poking around, that saw it as yet another instance of giving in and letting the dull blanket of civilisation fall over him. Most of him, however, was wondering what was on right now.


There was something wrong though, something putting him on edge. It had been there all day, all week even, something under the skin that was slowly driving his hackles up, such as they were. Loup could've sworn his teeth weren't quite so long last week, nor his nose so sharp and his eyes so smart. All the progress he had made towards human and normal seemed to be slipping away, but he had more than enough left to feel properly conflicted about that. His wolfen, animal pride wouldn't let him see it as anything other than good but as he thought, he traced one finger across a red welt along his guts. Acting like an animal had cost him once already, cost him dearly.

With a crackle and a ping, the power came back on. Not much changed, apart from the phone. Loup could count on one hand the number of times he's used it but now the little light was flashing. If memory served him (memory of films, he'd never been left a message in person) that meant that someone had left him a message. He rose, brushing crumbs carelessly across the table and strode over to the machine. The message turned out to be a summons to the regular meeting that was now the state of an emergency. People were disappearing, vanishing into the night with no trace at all, apparently. Loup highly doubted that, knowing himself how hard it was to enter a home, devour someone and then leave no trace at all.

Still, a meeting. Were his identity widely known, he doubted there'd be any need for a meeting. They'd probably just march upon his home with pitchforks and flaming torches first and ask questions later. As it was, it would do him no harm to find out what the others thought was going on, no harm at all. They might know what was in the air, in the blood.

He licked his lips and ran his tongue over his incisors.

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"I'm just saying that it's weird, that's all. Not judging or attacking or anything, I'm just saying that it's a little strange to spend half an hour rearranging the ornaments in a house we were supposed to be robbing."

Despite his affected chiding, Robin had a visible and almost audible grin.He was unable to truly disapprove of anything Marian did even when he was in a bad mood and right now, he was on top of the world. He always was, right after a light spot of larceny.

It was the bright spot in an otherwise boring week, a moment of heart thumping excitement between days and days of pulse slowing boredom. Of the many heroes, fables and myths in Mystvale, Robin had perhaps adjusted the least to their new home. Not a day went by that he didn't look out of the window and longingly dream of Anglia. Not just the land or the people, though he missed and worried about his Merry Men terribly, but that constant sense of excitement and vitality that came with being a fugitive, that haunted him as he sat behind his desk.

He'd tried different things to recapture that feeling. Lucy had suggested taking up Archery again and, for a time, that had worked. Standing at the local course, he peppered the furthest target with shot after shot, often with his eyes closed. And with them closed, he could almost picture himself in Sherwood forest, knocking weapons out of the hands of his opponents with a well placed arrow and a smug grin. The feeling of nostalgia had worn off quickly, however, and been replaced with an intensified homesickness.

Video-games had been the next port of call for escapism, but had been even less effective. The sense of disconnect an old fashioned man like Robin had to the actions of his avatar was doubled by his jealousy of the character's adventures. While Robin might be guiding the little man through battlefields and dungeons, it wasn't him who felt the bite of adrenaline or weighted the arrow against the wind as he drew. It was like being taunted, seeing someone else having all the fun and being consoled by telling them how to do it.

It was, of course, Marian who had suggested a solution. They might not be in Sherwood anymore but there were still rich and still poor. She proposed they begin taking weekly excursions into the homes of the wealthy and let their natural instincts take over from there. The were obstacles, of course. Burglar alarms, toughened glass and safes were all new to the pair but they were experienced enough in overcoming problems to breeze past them after a few mistakes.

They would stroll into some expensive looking and presumably well guarded home, disable whatever security features they could find and then snatch up anything valuable looking laying around. They tried to avoid objects of sentimental value, as even the rich in this world seemed to be respectable human beings, more or less. But almost anything else was fair game and they reasoned that things lying around the house were generally easily replaceable by those with the resources to have them in the first place. Then they'd sell them to a fence and donate the takings. Moral? Perhaps not. Fun? Most certainly.

And now they had settled into a comfortable routine. Once a week they'd select a target and repeat the process, picking more and more ambitious targets as time went on, and then they'd retire home with the warm glow that comes from doing good by doing bad. They both took extra joys were they could in the process; Robin liked to try to disable security precautions with his bow wherever possible, while Marian mischievously left different parts of the house subtly rearranged.

Whatever else it was, it was a life. Not the one they'd had before and probably not the one they wanted but certainly a life.

"What's this then, someone's left us a message? I hope it's not Merlin, passive aggressively noting that we weren't at the last town meeting and remarking how nice it would be to see us at the next one."

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"I'm here!"

The door swung outward and crashed against the banister with a startling crash as Rapunzel's slender form tumbled through the doorway, tripping up the steps and leaving puddles in her wake as she scooted toward the counter, dragging strands of wet hair out of her eyes.
It was normal for her to come breezing into the diner before the beginning of each shift, announcing her presence with those two words and a beaming smile. Today was no exception, except it was a bit more dramatic than usual, what with her general appearance somewhat resembling a bedraggled, half drowned waif with a long plaid scarf trailing in her wake.

"So sorry I'm late! I overslept because my alarm didn't go off and I didn't know why until my landlady told me there had been a power outage due to some storm this morning, she was going on a bit about this and that and the tree through the front window so I didn't quite catch everything, and then it was raining and I waited for the bus for a half hour before I figured they weren't coming and I decided to walk - do you need a refill?"
Without breaking her train of thought, or her breath, Rapunzel pivoted around the end of the counter, snatched up a full coffee pot, and briskly began trotting around to say good morning to everyone, while refilling anything that looked like it might need a bit of a warm-up.

Half way around the diner she realized she was still bundled in her coat and dripping rainwater all over the floor.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry Jess. I'll clean it up." Draining the last of the pot the young woman returned it to the brewer for another cycle, dashed into the back and reappeared a moment later sporting an apron instead of her damp coat, tying wet hair back into a reasonably tidy ponytail, then snatching up a towel and proceeding to mop up the puddles on the floor.
In retrospect she perhaps wasn't terribly late, but, not knowing the correct time and having been thrown off slightly by the events of the morning, Rapunzel had spotted the larger than normal crowd through the window as she'd arrived and took it to mean she was far later than she'd first thought.
By the time the last speck of water had been wiped from the floor she felt calmer and not quite so frantic. No one was clamoring for their breakfast, which meant Jess wasn't terribly backed up. If anything everyone seemed rather subdued, but then they weren't the cheeriest lot normally anyway.

Jess and Charlotte seemed to be handling the breakfast orders just fine, so Rapunzel set her attention on the few people at the counter that didn't have coffee yet.
Peter and Tink were whispering together about something that seemed to delight them both, so Rapunzel figured she'd check on them later, instead topping up a couple other customers before turning her attention to the last two people at the counter: Ariel and Adam.

"Coffee this morning?" Setting down a couple empty mugs Rapunzel reached for another pot of the strong liquid, still puzzled why anyone even liked the bitter stuff. Still, she wasn't about to deny them a good hot drink, and goodness knew they could all use it on this chilly morning.
Fragrant steam curled into the air as a steady stream of black coffee pooled into the cups, bubbling and frothing slightly around the edges. As she pushed the two cups toward Adam she had to admit it certainly smelled enticing enough, even if it had an acidic edge to the rich aroma.

"Coffee or hot chocolate this morning Ariel? Oh!," Attention swung between the two as Rapunzel remembered she'd forgotten the cream. "Did you or your wife need cream or sugar? I can bring it out for you in just a minute if you'd like."

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Adam started at the sound of the crash and quickly looked over towards the door in time to see a familiar face hurrying in. He quickly straightened his posture and cleared his throat at her sopping appearance. His eyes followed her and he gave a sideways grin at her rambling. The woman always managed to put a smile on his face, whether she meant to or not. He couldn't deny that Rapunzel was one of the many reasons he favored the diner so often. She was a nice refreshing breath of air.

As she continued to stumble about, she finally turned her attention to him. He glanced down at the mugs that were placed in front of him and kept his eyes averted when she turned away. Adam kept the thoughts to himself of what her wet clothing was doing. Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his long locks to push them away from his face. And then she was back to pour the addicting liquid into the empty mugs before him. He went to speak to her, as he did all mornings, when she turned from him to speak to Ariel. Blowing out a breath, he grabbed the cups and turned to leave when she once more addressed him.

He tried to hide a cringe at the word 'wife', but failed. Looking over his shoulder at Beauty, who was still making glances towards Phillip, he rolled his eyes before glancing back at Rapunzel. "None for me, but I'm sure Beauty could use some sweetener. Thanks."

---

Rapunzel's entrance did not get past Beauty. She rolled her eyes at the scene before glancing back at her menu. "Could she be any more dramatic?" Shaking her head, she set the menu down and huffed out a breath in annoyance. It was taking way too long for service around here. Sure, everyone was up early and concerned about the weakling's disappearance, but that didn't mean Beauty had to starve because of it. Resting her arms on the table, she glanced around the diner at everyone who had shown. Her eyes went to Sherlock and she rose a brow as she studied it. She wasn't quite sure what to make of the person, but they were definitely the type who could qualify as clinical insane.

With another shake of her head, her attention turned towards the rest of the bar. Tinker and Peter, their little coyish flirts. Ariel, her all innocent naivety. She finally noticed the way her Beast was acting. Something was different, and it was a display she was all too familiar with; he was trying to look impressive. More princely, if you would. His back was straightened, his hair pushed away from his face, his shoulders pushed back. And his attention completely on Rapunzel. Interesting. With a smirk, she leaned back against her seat and raised her voice at the question that was posed. "Yes, his wife would love some cream and sugar, thank you. What a dear of you to ask."

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Jumping slightly at Rapunzel's entrance, she couldn't help but be concerned. Usually her friend was more put together and less chaotic, yet this morning proved to be getting under everyone's nerves. She quickly moved out of her seat and grabbed some napkins to clean up the small drippings of water on the bar. Anything she could do to help, she was the girl for the job. Once she was satisfied that all was well again, she returned to her seat and smiled at Adam. He was a burly man, but she did feel sorry for him. He always seemed rather sad when Ariel thought he should be happy. There really weren't many people who had been able to bring their loved ones with them to this new world. At least he still was able to have his wife with him.

And yet...he was showing more attention to her friend, then he ever had to his wife. Quirking a brow at the interaction between Rapunzel and Adam, she tilted her head in observation. She still wasn't able to fully understand the social cues from the opposite sex, nor her own for that matter. As she worked with underwater life all day, her skills hadn't fully involved. The one man whom she had ever loved turned out to not love her, even though she thought he had. So...She really couldn't trust what she was sensing from Adam.

The sound of her name returned her focus to one of her best friends. With a large grin, she was about to answer when once again Rapunzel turned to Adam. Ariel looked like a gaping fish. Closing her mouth, she looked over her shoulder at Beauty when the woman spoke. She couldn't help a grin; the woman was such a kind-hearted soul. With a nod of her head, she looked back at Rapunzel and cleared her throat. ]"I'll take a hot chocolate whenever you get the chance. I don't have to be at the aquarium for another hour or so and I really don't need the added caffeine. Although it smells absolutely heavenly."

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Even as Adam turned back toward the counter to answer her question Rapunzel realized her mistake, catching the look on Ariel's face as she froze mid-word.
There she'd gone and done it again, she really needed to keep reminding herself to stop starting multiple conversations at the same time, they only got confusing and tangled after awhile, with everyone forgetting who they were talking to or what they were talking about.

Rapunzel couldn't help it though, she just wanted to talk to everyone!

At this point she had probably already begun half a dozen conversations that had to be abandoned in order to catch up on work, and she'd felt horrible having to whisk by some of her favorite regulars with hardly more than a 'Good Morning'.
Adam was one such regular, but she didn't feel quite as guilty rushing through his coffee order today. On a normal morning he'd have lingered a bit at the counter to chat, much like many of her regulars. When Beauty accompanied him, however, he never lingered long, which was entirely to be expected. Rapunzel would never expect anyone to hang around and share daily chitchat when they were out on a breakfast date with their loved ones.

Rapunzel's gaze shifted slightly, gazing over Adam's shoulder toward where Beauty was sitting and acknowledging the woman's request with a nod of her head.
"My pleasure ma'am!"
Cream and sugar swirled into the dark liquid as she contemplated the pair. Frazzled as she might appear Rapunzel hadn't missed the odd expression that flashed across Adam's face promptly after she'd asked about Beauty's coffee. Then, when Beauty spoke her tone was honeyed and smooth, so sweet it could make a person's teeth ache. It was a tone Mother Gothel used to adopt in order to talk Rapunzel into a submissive state and convince the girl that she knew best and shouldn't be questioned.
Something wasn't quite right, but Rapunzel wasn't sure what it could be.

Pushing the coffee across the counter she almost asked what was wrong, her gaze shifting between the two as she tried to figure out what it could be. Perhaps an argument that was making things tense? She'd heard that happened between couples now and again. Perhaps some distressing news?
The effort to restrain from giving in to curiosity caused a small sigh to escape her lips before she remembered her fingers were still wrapped around the handles of the mugs. Releasing her claim on the coffee she straightened up and offered another bright smile.

"There you go, all sweetened. Have a nice day!"

---

Finally able to focus on a single conversation Rapunzel swiveled around to Ariel, a beaming grin stretching across her face as she lifted a finger to indicate she'd be back in a second.
Normal diner sounds and scents filled the place as she disappeared into the kitchen; clatter of pans in the kitchen, quiet murmuring of customers conversing over their breakfast; cloying sweetness of maple syrup mingling with spicy sausage; the clink of silverware against plates; the sound of chilly wind whistling faintly outside.

"Here you go!"

Reappearing once more Rapunzel carefully set down a piping hot mug of creamy hot chocolate, topped with a billowing cloud of soft whipped cream and a sprinkle of chocolate chips.
"Not a speck of coffee in there at all, though if you wanted I could accidentally spill some into your cup." A mischievous grin followed the statement.

"So," Leaning against the counter and dropping her voice, Rapunzel's gaze swept the diner before focusing on her friend. "What went on this morning? My landlady said there had been a storm, but that doesn't usually bring everyone out this early. Was it really bad?"
Rapunzel was probably the only person that had slept through the entire events of the morning, and hadn't slowed down long enough to properly figure out what had happened during the early hours of the morning. Now that she felt she'd caught up a little bit it was time to try piece together bits of information that she knew she was missing.

"Did something happen?" Not only had she slept through the storm, but the electricity shorting out had also effectively fried her battered little cellphone.

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Muscle memory is a fascinating thing. Maximum physical output for minimum mental effort. Actions before thought. Indeed this behavioural phenomenon is of great benefit for people of all occupations, from musicians to athletes. But for Hua Mulan, this was not the case. When someone is woken up by the sound of their own body falling off the bed at 3 in the morning, they usually don’t want to open their eyes to the sight of a sword, the one that was always kept sheathed on the bedside table, unsheathed and held pointedly in their own hands. They certainly don’t want to find themselves in a battle stance, one that had been beaten and embedded into their muscles from years of hard training in the army, and pointing aforementioned sword at their wardrobe. They don’t want to have to groan and force their tired eyes open due to the continued tremors and sounds of tableware getting thrown off their perches. Sadly, Hua Mulan woke up to all these occurrences. Whatever. It wasn’t like she was getting any decent sleep these last few years.

She blearily wiped her eyes with her non-sword hand before sheathing her weapon. Aside from a mug she never liked anyway, nothing in her house was shaken up too badly. The tremors shook her straight to the core. She put a hand to her chest, hoping that this action would hide her anticipation. No doubt about it, a Second Cataclysm was coming. And that geezer, Merlin, has said almost nothing substantial about it. Mulan scowled at the thought of that senile hack.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to get much sleep anyway, Mulan scooped herself a generous bowl of cold rice from the rice cooker (one of the rare things she actually liked in this world. So convenient!) and picked at it absentmindedly as she watched whatever subpar television programs that aired at 3 in the morning. After her simple breakfast came her morning exercises. 200 pushups, 100 situps, 100 leg lifts, and 200 squats. A few hours earlier than usual, but it wasn’t a fuss, not even when the power went out halfway through. She waited patiently for the lights to return. Couldn’t leave the house without a nice hot shower, after all.

Then the phone call came in. Another disappearance, most likely related to the Cataclysm. Mulan rushed about, showering quickly and dressing quickly. Lancelot would be making her way to Dorothy’s place too. If the Chinese soldier was doing her own investigating when she was meant to be on call, the “sheriff” might get pissy. Mulan briefly considered just heading to the station as usual before dismissing the thought completely. The mundanes would be fine with yet another tardy detective. They dealt with Holmes’ slacking well enough. Lancelot would just have to deal with it. Plus, this was important. She hadn’t spoken with Merlin in a while. He would probably show up at the site too. Mulan grabbed her essentials; phone, baton, badge, and police jacket; and walked out the door.

@Hunter of Dreams

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Adam gave another inward cringe at the sound of Beauty's response. It took everything in him not to roll his eyes and turn his attention away from Rapunzel. With a clear of his throat, he watched as she poured the requested items into one of the mugs. He could only imagine what it would have been like for someone like Rapunzel to have been the one banished to his castle. Maybe things would have turned out completely different for him, and his kingdom. Adam could tell that Rapunzel was completely pure of heart and not a fake like his supposed wife.

The sigh from her lips brought his attention back to focus. He cleared his throat once more and nodded slightly. "Thanks, Rapunzel...Hope your day gets better." Giving another short nod, he grabbed the mugs and carried them back over to his booth. He set the sweetened cup in front of Beauty before reclaiming his seat across from her. Leaning back against the seat, he silently sipped at his own mug.

She couldn't help watching Adam as he sat at the bar. He was definitely harboring something for the wench. Beauty kept her eyes on him and barely was able to hold back a scrunch of her nose in disgust at the 'ma'm' comment from Rapunzel. She was definitely not old enough to be a ma'm. It wasn't long before the beast of a man made his way back to their table. Wrapping her cold hands around the warm mug, she studied his face and smirked. "I believe you and I have a lot to talk about once we get back to the apartment."

Looking up at her, he raised a brow in mock innocence. She was absolutely up to something. Never anything good when it came to Beauty. "Oh, this should be fun. Whatever could the topic of this conversation be?"

A scoff escaped her throat and she leaned across the table, her hold on her mug tightening every so slightly to rein in temper. Her voice lowered. "I think you know exactly what the topic is, dear." Beauty sat back and sipped at her cup. It was not at all as sweet as she wanted it to be, but she was not about to go complain. Had to keep in character, after all. As she sipped, her attention once more went back to Phillip, studying him.

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Her attention remained on Adam. The man intrigued her. There was without a doubt something lingering that she couldn't quite place her finger on. She watched as he returned to his wife and their interaction raised even further suspicion in her mind. They didn't at all seem like a happily married couple. Again, not something Ariel would be too familiar with seeing, anyhow. She should really stop trying to assume things. That turned out horribly wrong in nearly every situation she had previously put herself into.

She could smell the cocoa even before she could see Rapunzel. As the mug was placed down in front of her, a loud groan escaped her throat and she quickly wrapped her hands around the cup. It looked sensational and yummy and delicious and everything combined into one. Ariel shot a quick grin to her friend before taking a sip of the drink. Her eyes rolled back and she couldn't help another groan at the taste. The smooth, velvety texture of the chocolate spread across her tongue slipped down her throat, warming her from the inside out. She was so completely enthralled in the mixture that she didn't notice some whipped cream had clung to her nose.

Seeing her friend lean in, Ariel raised a brow and slowly lowered the mug back to the counter. It didn't surprise her at all to hear that Rapunzel had slept through everything. She was very heavily known as being such a dead weight when it came to her slumbering habits. Licking her lips, she shrugged slightly and lowered her voice as well. "Another one of those earthquake things happened. My hot water and everything went out, which was a completely shock since I was in the shower. You know, it was a good thing I was already done with the brick and bubble cleaner stuff before it went out. It wouldn't have been a very good look with bubbles in my hair. Though, now as I think about it, there were these bubbles in the ocean and-"

She stopped with a giggle when she realized when she was rambling. Clearing her throat, she nodded slightly. "It's a good thing this cup doesn't have any coffee in it. I would be a hoot at the aquarium. Anywho, power and all went out. And then I got a call on the weird looking shell saying that Dorothy had gone missing. You know, the girl with the red shoes? They were something to look at. I always loved those things. I was going to ask her one of these days if I could borrow them, but I'm sure they weren't my size, she looked like she had smaller feet than I do."

With a small shrug, she took another sip of her liquid chocolate, adding more whipped cream to her nose.

The implications behind his association with Jessamine would certainly imply Phillip's lack of concern over his past dealings with the fae. Like any course of life, Jess proved an exception to his rule. Though the tone of voice she often used when directly conversing with him denoted pity, Phillip disregarded it for her usefulness. That and her general kindness; it was rude to disrespect someone had the wherewithal not to take any shit, if she saw fit.

"I'm a man of routine," Phillip lied, waving a dismissive hand, "I take comfort in what I know. Yeah, the usual." He mulled over the last bit, let it chew in his head. Would this simply be another false alarm? Something that tripped up the paranoid goers in their little refuge. Maybe Lucy, the only lucid one, had succumbed to the fear that gnawed at their minds. But, Phillip pondered, the chill that sunk its claws into his bones and dragged along his spine certainly felt real. The atmosphere changed substantially throughout the small part of town he crawled through. A fog not only hung over himself and the others around him, but also clung to the grimy streets of Mystvale.

Phillip grumbled, pushing himself forward and applying pressure on his arms. "I don't know what to make of it," he said, finally, avoiding Jess' gaze, "With no power, I likely am unable to attend work - if I had the intention of doing so, anyways. It wouldn't hurt to find time for the meeting; we'll see how it goes. I'm still not convinced."

After a moment, he looked toward the window he'd seated himself by. "With surety, at least: Dorothy's dead and gone."

---

---

^{prior last evening...}

Nights consisted of scribbling notes under moonlight; a simple collection of words in a journal as he stared at the moon and the stars surrounding. It ached him as it did coming forth, back into this world they'd fled from, not to see the sky that Narnia painted for him. Broad strokes and whisks of light that dotting the oily backdrop of a celestial nether they'd no idea of. Here, they had a semblance of what it entailed: a vast nothingness, in which their insignificance somehow stumbled upon the luck of life.

It gnawed at Peter, drove wedges into the joints of his bones and forced him to lie on the grass in a petulance reserved for children. Still, this night, he sit cross legged upon a hill overlooking their sleepy town. A sleepy town, by any name - just a nowhere that people hardly saw on a dotted map, filled with pines and old, splintering buildings with enough light to scorn the stars hanging above him.

His hands found page again, scrawling words that he pieced together into stanzas and stanzas that he bled the white pages with. It never intrigued him to journal, nor write any form of words in an English unlike the dull tedium of boarding school essays. Not like Lucy did, in her fancy penmanship and proper English. Yet, pen still found paper and words flowed together, neither proofread and altogether haphazard. Much like the pieces of his heart that he bled out in blackish ink.

Like the stars he so missed, Peter dove off into the already dew soaked grass, letting the quiet musings of grasshoppers lull him to sleep.

---

<sup>the stars carried a heavy weight -
their burden cannot be unshared and the weight of worlds rest on a simple set of shoulders.
they fall from their perch in drops of silvery twine.
cast down, unraveling a universe string by string.
they settle in globs of black snow that layer the grass in soot and tar.
peter's heart thuds against his rib cage - rhythm carrying timber in the blackening curtain befalling his home.
what he worked for coming to shambles in mottled shadows that dance and race against the covered pines.

his crown breaks
and his throne cracks
and those barely lucid cast their blame
Peter Pevensie - long live the magnificent

buzzing trills in his ears</sup>

---

^{around 5:00 AM that morning...}

Electric shoved through Peter's veins, vibrating his skin and crawling through his bones. "Shit," his hissed, jolting up from the grass, wet and soaked through. His phone continued its long trill of constant beeps, vibrating a beat into his leg. Claws ran through his chest with every breath he sucked in, heavy breathing dissolving into fits of coughing. The phone went silent for a moment, then another, until Peter was certain it'd stopped completely.

A frown creased his lips, stringing down the lines of his jowls, his eyes squinting through the crust and the light of a dawning, curtained sun. Another deep breath burned his lungs before Peter finally shoved himself up. The phone found its way into his hands, along with the pen and journal. A few pats and he'd found the keys to the beat down vehicle he called a truck. The frown never left and his eyes eventually found themselves along the fog clouding Mystvale, a shroud not even mottled with the dim glow of morning lights. His brows furrowed as he made his way to his car.

The thud of his car door felt eerily final - accepting his fate. Peter dug the heel of his palm into his eye, listening to the morning bumble and buzz around him. The soft pattering of rain caught him, and a sudden realization that he'd slept through it. A sigh left his lips, and his eyes trailed the wetness of his clothes beading onto the leather seats. He'd worry later, not necessarily worried at the moment with sleep still clouding his vision.

With the backdrop of pattering rain, Peter pressed the phone to his ear, cursing the first few, ruined pages of his journal as the messaged chimed. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. "I don't want this," he whispered. Lucy knew just what a damnable deadbeat he'd become; it made no sense that she begged he attend for the sake of Mystvale's future.

And that word she'd used. The one that hissed in his ears. Contemptible.

Cataclysm.

The truck's engine roared to life, peeling out of the gravel pavement and onto black asphalt.

---

^{approaching 4:00 PM...}

Wiling the day away had been the hardest to do; nearly twelve hours of absolutely nothing to pass the time. Peter doodled in the margins of his notebook, sitting pressed against the wall in the library. He'd taken ten or so cat naps prior to driving here, around noon then, and took a number more in his fortress in the corner. Scheherazade didn't seem to mind, last he checked. Of course, all of that would pile up the assumptions Peter made on a daily basis, but he could care less. Lucy needed him here and to get him to arrive on time, four hours early seemed appropriate. At least, appropriate to the ever gnawing need to get up and go - the simple waiting didn't do any good and the anticipation rose with every moment spent idle. Peter didn't need the action, but the inevitability had its way of driving needles into his back until he finally went.

After another moment of scribbling, Peter tossed his journal to the wayside and stepped into the foray of the library's lobby. He had yet to spot Scheherazade since his entrance hours earlier, bringing a crease to his lips and brows. Peter had no notion to complain, and simply shoved what chairs, tables, and whatever else lay in his path to the side, leaving the space near the library's main desk free of clutter - she could scold him later. He adjusted everything to fit correctly, chairs and tables facing the middle, where Lucy would likely sit, Merlin and Lancelot sturdy presences beside her. Maybe she'd drag him in the mix. Peter scowled at the idea.

Now he simply wait the allotted measure for everyone to pile in. He'd likely get the high energy, paranoid, schizophrenic citizens first (he used schizophrenic only mildly lightly; he wasn't a doctor, so he could prescribe, but he was fairly certain a few denizens fit the bill) and then the lethargic, slightly skeptical individuals afterwards. Peter merely sighed and pushed himself onto the desk, balking at having left his journal and pen, then making due with the yellow notepad and (dollar store) pen beside him as he jotted down notes, drew doodles, and simply awaited Lucy.

---

---

"I didn't have time for a shower this morning, though goodness knows I practically got one on the way here. But I think the bubbles would have looked pretty in your hair, especially if they were those color changing ones that are-wait, did you say Dorothy is missing?"  The momentary distraction of bubbles adorning Ariel's fiery hair were forgotten the second the rest of her news registered. Rapunzel's eyes widened as she glanced around the diner, taking careful stock of just how many fellow fairy-tale people had come in this morning.  
To see them regularly was not unusual, to have so many of them at the diner at the same time, however, was another matter. 
So that was why everyone was up and about so early this morning. No doubt the earthquake had a hand in such an early day, but a disappearance was unsettling news, and the best place to compare theories and speculations was over a cup of coffee at Jess's diner. 

Picking at a slight indent in the counter, Rapunzel bit her lip as she digested the news, a chill of foreboding rippling up her spine at the unnerving thought of Dorothy disappearing into thin air. 
"She was just in here the other day . . . " Truthfully they weren't what Rapunzel would term as ‘friends’, even if her understanding of the words was extremely broad, but even so she felt a tickle of worry in the pit of her stomach. 
"I don't suppose she just decided to take a last minute trip out of town. . . no, she wouldn't have done that in the middle of a storm." 

Glancing up half of a grin replaced the worried expression as Rapunzel reached out and flicked a bit of fluffy whipped cream off Ariel’s nose.
“Ah well, it will be heavily discussed at a meeting, for no doubt we’ll have one what with a disappearance and all. But for now, you better scramble for work,” She nodded at the ever moving hands of the clock on the wall, “I’ll save you a seat at the meeting if I get there first!” Which she probably wouldn’t, but then again Jess might close the diner early, what with the disappearance of one of their own and an important meeting no doubt already being arranged.

- 4:06 pm -

Of course she wasn’t on time, she never seemed to manage that, but there was the small comfort that she wasn’t terribly late, and as Rapunzel slid into the circle of chairs and took a seat she noticed even Lucy herself wasn’t even here yet.

When she did arrive, in a flurry of jumbled words and apologize, Rapunzel scooted to the edge of the seat, leaning forward slightly in order to catch every single important detail Lucy was about to share. . . . which turned out to be nothing more than Rapunzel herself had managed to glean from the conversation of everyone else today.

“Wait . . . but . . . we already knew that!” The words were out of her mouth before she considered the fact that they wouldn’t help the matter at hand at all. But she was quite certain she couldn’t be the only thinking them, and therefore should be voiced accordingly.

---

---

All libraries seemed to have the same basic feeling at their core, a quieting atmosphere that offered temporary escape if one were willing to quiet their minds and let themselves be distracted.
Never having been much of a leisure reader Sebastian had not, in times past, spent much time in the midst of such places.  When the need arose he preferred instead the musty, damp vaults of ancient maps and records of aged and nearly forgotten deeds. Which made them a library, of sorts, but there tended to be an air of serenity in a library, lacking the intensity and thrill of discovery that was wont to go hand-in-hand among the mazes of vaults of old.
It did not mean, however, that he did not recognize their value. He respected such places, acutely aware of the time and effort that went into the creation and upkeep, not to mention the time spent on the creation of the books themselves. 

Since coming to this place he had become intimately familiar with the library, having spent endless afternoons scouring the shelves for answers that were not to be found. Despite the calming effect the establishment had on his ragged nerves, it was also a source of never ending irritation and frustration. 
He understood records implicitly. He knew how to track down the source of even vaguest references. And he was well versed in deciphering old ciphers and encrypted messages.  But in this case none of his talents had helped bring anything new to light.

Today would most likely be no different, but he had come as he always did, leaning lightly against the corner of a bookshelf and waiting for the others to arrive, flipping through an old book simply to look as though he were doing something instead of letting his mind wander. 

Even though they had all been here for five years now, no one had been able to figure out exactly how the man found out about important updates or meetings.   He did not carry a cellphone, nor did he live within the town limits, instead preferring a quite spot in the woods.
Very few could recall a single time that they had actually directly contacted him. Yet whenever something of importance was happening, even if it was no more than the regular meetings that often failed to be of any help, there he would be, tucked somewhere on the edge of the gathering, not as far away as to be completely isolated, yet rarely close enough to be in the middle of everyone else.

Today he had arrived before everyone else.
Well, almost everyone else.
Keen eyes slid over the array of chairs to where Peter was, scribbling on a normal piece of gaudily colored paper instead of the bound booklet he usually carried.
Sebastian hadn’t engaged in conversation with the other man, choosing instead to find his own spot and wait until the meeting came to order. He fidgeted for a few minutes, making certain he had not tracked any mud or wood shavings into the building, an offense he had already committed once or twice during the past few years. He did not want to be at odds with Scheherazade this evening, a feeling in the pit of his stomach making him wonder if this gathering was going to be different than so many others. If so there would be no need for other distractions to muddle the proceedings.
Long minutes ticked by as he absently picked at the sliver that had wedged itself in the toughened skin of his palm, the feeling in his gut spreading until he could hear it throbbing in his ears. Finally, in a sudden movement of exasperation he had grabbed a book off the shelf and begun to leaf through it, giving himself something to do while he reigned his impatience into check.

---

There had been times in the past that he puzzled over how Lucy had ended up being one of the few everyone else turned to for answers. Truth be told he still questioned the decision to put her in the position she held among them.
The oddity of the choice made itself even more apparent when she finally showed up, a tangle of scattered thoughts and absolutely no new information.
Her excuse of waiting was simply a delay tactic. If there was any new information it should be shared immediately, late comers should have to catch up later if they didn’t deem it important enough to show up on time.

"Is there any sign of this disappearance being any different than the others?" He finally inquired, book still casually resting in one hand. To anyone else in the library he would have appeared laid back and relaxed, giving the impression that their gathering was hardly of any great importance. But the steel grey of his eyes remained intense and keen, fixed solidly upon Lucy, analyzing every movement and expression.
"Any signs that she was taken alive or dead?" Perhaps not the most subtle way to put the question, but this was hardly the time or place for subtlety.

@Hunter of Dreams

---

---

---

---

She was listening very intently to the conversation being held between Philip and Jessamine. Sipping away at her poorly sweetened cup of tar, Beauty continued to steal glances towards the fallen prince and the diner wench. It was at his last comment that really got her attention. Dorothy, dead and gone? Just like that? She eased the cold mug back onto the table and took a shaky breath. Maybe somebody was truly after them. They would learn more in the meeting. This wasn't the first time one of their own had disappeared; surely the leaders of this forsaken place knew something by now?

Adam watched her and leaned back against his seat. He swore he could see the wheels turning in her head, the frown lines developing in the corners of her mouth. Was Beauty actually worried? It wasn't an emotion he was used to seeing on his bride. Clearing his throat to drag her attention back to him, he forced a small grin of sympathy. He had also heard Phillip's comment. "She isn't dead, Beauty. Just taken. Lancelot or Merlin will find her. Maybe we're all just disappearing back to our homes?"

Blinking, she rose a brow and looked over at him. She tilted her head and scrunched her nose, looking him over. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Of course she's dead. They're all dead. And you're probably next. Pity." She shook her head and quickly rose to her feet. "Cover the bill, dear? I have to go grab some papers from work. See you at the meeting." With a quick grin, she leaned over and gave him a slight kiss on the cheek as she hurried off, taking the car with her.

He narrowed his eyes at his mug, his chest starting to heave as he felt his temper rise. Damn woman. Shaking his head, he grabbed some bills from his back pocket and tossed them on the table before hurrying out.

---

At four sharp, Beauty sauntered into the library. Didn't take long for her to realize she was one of the very few people who were actually on time to this thing. People seriously lacked discipline in this town. She found a seat towards the front and dutifully saved a seat for her husband. After all, what type of wife would she be to make her husband stand in the back? She didn't have long to find out when Adam came walking through the door a few moments later.

He knew he was filthy. Working in the construction business did that to you. However, he hardly had time to stop by the apartment and change. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if he were to show up late. Would embarrass his punctual wife. Sliding into the seat next to her with muddy boots and a mud-caked shirt, he folded his arms across his chest and waited. Soon Lucy arrived to the meeting and quickly got to the point at hand. He hid an eye roll at the sound of Beauty hissing beside him.

"See? They aren't returning home," she muttered under her breath. Straightening in her chair, she took a breath and was about to offer a suggestion when two voices broke the silence. She raised a brow and looked over her shoulder at the girl. How rude of her to question a person in power. But it was the man who intrigued her. Beauty looked him over, earning a shoulder nudge from Adam.

"Staring is rude, you know." Beauty quickly plastered on a small smile and faced the front once more. She cleared her throat and smoothed out her dress, trying to keep the annoyance from showing in her voice as she spoke out. "Of course she isn't dead. Who would want to kill sweet, innocent Dorothy?"

---

---

---

---

---

---

Ariel was about to respond to the bubbles comment when her friend's expression quickly saddened. The realization of Dorothy having gone missing finally hit her. With a small nod of her head, her hands tightened slightly on the mug of hot cocoa. She scrunched her nose as she continued to watch the girl. She didn't like it when her friends were upset. Her left hand released the cup and she was about to reach out to comfort the girl when a grin replaced the frown. Raising a brow, she gave a small grin of her own. "Everything will work out, Rapunzel. I'm sure she just went on that trip. I mean, she could have just left the shoes behind. They really didn't look that comfortable. Maybe she went someplace without all this weather? That would make sense. I'm sure that's it."

She blinked as the girl reached for her nose, her hand coming away with the whipped cream hiding atop it. Ariel couldn't help a laugh as she quickly finished the remainder of her warm beverage. Her next words reminded her of the earlier conversation she had had with Lucy. Her eyes widened. "Oh, that! Right, right. Yes. There's a meeting today in the library at four. Sorry, totally forgot about that." The young redhead pulled out a bank note and placed it on the counter, her grin brightening. "You, get there first? Did you hit your head outside too?" With a small giggle and a wave, she headed off for a day at the aquarium.

---

Sure enough, she was late to the meeting. She just ended up having too much fun hanging out with her dolphin friends. It made her miss home so badly. There once was a time that she was able to communicate with the creatures; would sure make her job a heck of a lot easier now. But, this place was a temporary home and she was confident her father and sisters, not to mention all her friends, would be waiting for her when she finally returned home.

Hurrying inside the lobby, she almost bumped into the man standing in the back. Her eyes widened slightly and she grinned, a blush quickly spreading across her cheeks. "Sorry! So sorry. Um. Hi. I'm-". Noticing Rapunzel, she gave another small laugh in embarrassment before heading over to the empty chair next to her. Ariel had obviously missed something. The tension in the room was thick. Raising a brow, she shifted in her chair and raised her hand. "Uh, hello. Um. Can't we just get that Merlin fellow to help us out? Isn't he like a wizard of some sort? He could help find Dorothy and the others."