She grows Madeira. She has pirate silver. She's from Jewish Jamaica, 1652. She's a witch, but she's a good witch who saved her version of Snow. Show her something new, like a fair.
Maybe they meet on a train in Italy. Maybe she tells his fortune. Maybe she introduces him to her Roma friends. Maybe there's whiskey involved. Choose, rearrange, give me a scenario, pick something entirely different. Maybe this is just a mood. She paints, plays piano, reads, lays ghosts to rest, solves murders.
He's not sure how, or why, but Graham wakes up on the limits of Storybrooke. The minute Regina crushed his heart, he should have been dead, but he didn't. All magic comes with a price and even Regina had limits. No, she couldn't have her happiness at the expense of someone else's life. Not this time.
When he realizes where he is, he runs. Being a huntsman first, having both sets of memories in his mind are very confusing to him. He's constantly staring around, looking paranoid, wondering when, not if, Regina was going to show up. He hated himself for doing it, but survival had to come first. A wallet picked, the cash stolen and the wallet put where it would be found. He did this a couple times, till he had enough money to be on the move.
A bus to New York. A ship across the ocean. Graham moves stealthily, stealing just enough to get him to the next town, the next port or to buy a change of clothes. He doesn't speak to anyone. He is trying to get back to the forest, but this is not his realm. The forest doesn't exist, does it? Europe. Italy. That's where he decides he will go. At least there, he should find some witches of old.
That's how he finds himself on the train. The man looks like he had not slept in days and his clothes were rumpled to him. He had one small bag beside him and that was it. He looks tired. He looks lonely. He looks like he could use a friend.
As ever, the sound of the train passing over the tracks sent Sabine into a light trance within minutes of their departure. Her train compartment is empty but for a man haunted and a grandmotherly woman hatching a pile of knitting, but even were it more full, she'd be no more attentive. If the man is figuratively haunted, she is literally so--at all times accompanied by her friendly ghosts, who serve as eyes and ears and companions and protection.
She hasn't been dozing long when Tsura 'climbs' into her lap and murmurs a note of concern for the man. It's unusual enough that the Romani girl would notice him, let alone express concern, that it brings Sabine to full wakefulness in a mere moment.
He's handsome, but rumpled with an air of grievous wounds about him, breathes with such caution not to disturb the space around him that she needs no fortunetelling skills to know he's on the run. And, because of it, it takes little reflection for her to rise and bring the knapsack that contains her essentials to a seat nearer him.
She opens the pack without speaking, folds down the table between them, and sets it with almond biscotti, a thermos of espresso roast coffee, cheese, and one neatly sliced pear. "Ciao, bello," she offers in a gentle Italian accent. "You look hungry and a meal is always more pleasant shared."
Graham blinked. He watched her, listening to her as she spoke and looking at the food. "You don't even know me. Why would you be so kind?" His head tilted to the side. It wasn't that he doubted the kindness, he was just not used to it. Being where he was, he had been unsure who to trust.
He gazed around the compartment, glancing between her and the older woman.
"I don't know you and you look hungry, so why wouldn't I?" Sabine countered, not the least cowed by his wariness or the potential for violence between a man of his size and a woman of hers.
Her voice held a note of something not quite merry, but like to it. A touch of mischief kissed with joy coating the substance of deep compassion--it was the nature of a psychopomp to be kind, she might have told him, but that would only frighten him. He already looked scared half to death and he didn't need to be thinking Death had come for him just because she and death were on intimate terms.
"I'm...the daughter of a jazz pianist and an investment broker, a painter, occasionally a detective, and often a traveler for all that tells you. My name, even if you didn't ask for it, is Sabine."
She's been thoroughly fucked over by Xavier. Turned into an enticement for Cable's evil clone. Become a villainness named Malice. But she's reverting to herself, a sweet, lost girl with memory problems. She can be anything or anyone, just be kind. Maybe she finds him lost, maybe he finds her lost. Maybe they're walking in the rain. Make up whatever you like.
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timeasmymeasure
Regina
Date: 2018-08-10 10:00 pm (UTC)Pick one or more. Give me a setting or a start. Something a little shippy maybe.
Malica - 1652 - alt-evil queen
Date: 2018-08-10 10:09 pm (UTC)She grows Madeira. She has pirate silver. She's from Jewish Jamaica, 1652. She's a witch, but she's a good witch who saved her version of Snow. Show her something new, like a fair.
Sabine Manon Liu | Marvel Mutants AU | Medium/Psychopom
Date: 2018-08-10 10:14 pm (UTC)Maybe they meet on a train in Italy. Maybe she tells his fortune. Maybe she introduces him to her Roma friends. Maybe there's whiskey involved. Choose, rearrange, give me a scenario, pick something entirely different. Maybe this is just a mood. She paints, plays piano, reads, lays ghosts to rest, solves murders.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-13 07:05 pm (UTC)When he realizes where he is, he runs. Being a huntsman first, having both sets of memories in his mind are very confusing to him. He's constantly staring around, looking paranoid, wondering when, not if, Regina was going to show up. He hated himself for doing it, but survival had to come first. A wallet picked, the cash stolen and the wallet put where it would be found. He did this a couple times, till he had enough money to be on the move.
A bus to New York. A ship across the ocean. Graham moves stealthily, stealing just enough to get him to the next town, the next port or to buy a change of clothes. He doesn't speak to anyone. He is trying to get back to the forest, but this is not his realm. The forest doesn't exist, does it? Europe. Italy. That's where he decides he will go. At least there, he should find some witches of old.
That's how he finds himself on the train. The man looks like he had not slept in days and his clothes were rumpled to him. He had one small bag beside him and that was it. He looks tired. He looks lonely. He looks like he could use a friend.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-13 08:15 pm (UTC)She hasn't been dozing long when Tsura 'climbs' into her lap and murmurs a note of concern for the man. It's unusual enough that the Romani girl would notice him, let alone express concern, that it brings Sabine to full wakefulness in a mere moment.
He's handsome, but rumpled with an air of grievous wounds about him, breathes with such caution not to disturb the space around him that she needs no fortunetelling skills to know he's on the run. And, because of it, it takes little reflection for her to rise and bring the knapsack that contains her essentials to a seat nearer him.
She opens the pack without speaking, folds down the table between them, and sets it with almond biscotti, a thermos of espresso roast coffee, cheese, and one neatly sliced pear. "Ciao, bello," she offers in a gentle Italian accent. "You look hungry and a meal is always more pleasant shared."
no subject
Date: 2018-08-14 05:48 am (UTC)He gazed around the compartment, glancing between her and the older woman.
"Who are you," he asked warily.
no subject
Date: 2018-08-14 06:35 am (UTC)Her voice held a note of something not quite merry, but like to it. A touch of mischief kissed with joy coating the substance of deep compassion--it was the nature of a psychopomp to be kind, she might have told him, but that would only frighten him. He already looked scared half to death and he didn't need to be thinking Death had come for him just because she and death were on intimate terms.
"I'm...the daughter of a jazz pianist and an investment broker, a painter, occasionally a detective, and often a traveler for all that tells you. My name, even if you didn't ask for it, is Sabine."
Vanessa Carlysle | Copycat | Marvel Mutants AU
Date: 2018-08-10 10:23 pm (UTC)She's been thoroughly fucked over by Xavier. Turned into an enticement for Cable's evil clone. Become a villainness named Malice. But she's reverting to herself, a sweet, lost girl with memory problems. She can be anything or anyone, just be kind. Maybe she finds him lost, maybe he finds her lost. Maybe they're walking in the rain. Make up whatever you like.