The one conceit of this meme: humans (or human-expies, whatever beings they may be) mate for life. With this comes the typical trappings of "mating for life" - indescribable closeness, contentment around your "destined," and, of course, in your all-too-familiar worst case, jealousy and rage should the bond be threatened.
Oh, and there's also the little caveat that, should your mate die, you die as well. But that's not too much to swallow, is it? The whole thing is only a small conceit, you know.
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PROMPTS
romanticism | You approach the potential of mating with a dreamy hope. It will be just like a romance novel! distaste | Ugh, mating? You're going to put it off...or maybe even try not to do it at all. imprint | That's them. That's the one. You both know it, and you can't keep away. first | The first time you come together sets the bond in stone, not to mention sets the stage for the rest of your lives. share | Some mates are able to communicate and share their secrets through a mental link; others have to do it the old fashioned way and just speak up. calm | When one partner goes berserk, there's only one person in this world who can get them to settle down. comfort | Merely being in the presence of your mate can turn your stormy day around. heal | Scars, mental or physical, can be mended with the right love from a mate. need | Your body is going through actual physical withdrawal due to being away from your one and only. protect | Whether the threat be real or jealously perceived, you have to keep what's yours from harm. obsessed | You're beyond jealous. You've taken it too far mistake | Mating with them was not the right decision, but you can't take it back. cheat | Despite your being mated, you've chosen to break a sacred trust and go outside the home. death | There's not much will left to live in you after your mate has passed. Even if there was, it's not like you have much of a choice not to die. old mated couple | You've lasted a long time. This may be your "happy ending."
Maybe being king of it means more than just ruling. [Bigby can only speculate aloud, drawing from his own knowledge of how fae work, both from experience and from what he's learned from others.] Maybe the Labyrinth is part of him. Just as much as he's a part of it, I mean.
[Or something.
Bigby raises an eyebrow when Sarah actually slips her ring off — and a very pretty one at that, purple stones set in gold filigree — and drops it in the Wise Man's box. Guess advice isn't free here, borderline useless as it may be. The goblin's words aren't anything special; it's the kind of the saccharine stuff you hear on TV, the kind the mundies who've rewrote their stories like to pepper in their own. But— everything they learned, it had to come from somewhere, right?
"No matter how different two paths seem, they will always come together in the end." He's heard it all before. Still waiting for it to be true.
Sarah, though... she takes it. She seems to retreat inward for a very long time, and is the look that falls over her face one of reflection? Or understanding? Either way, Bigby watches her closely, not just trying to figure out what she's thinking but also how it all came to this.
("Even if you and I do share ownership here, I can't freely cross to you unless you want me to.")
("When I was a teenager, I wished away my brother.")
("She's the Champion of the Labyrinth, you know. Only one to beat it too!")
Flowers and ink and paper. Just who are you?
Bigby snaps back to attention when she finally speaks. Even the bird looks a little interested.]
You sure about that? [Though it's phrased as a question, his tone isn't very doubtful or even judgemental. He just looks curious, considering the path she points out like he's trying to assess it for himself, see what she sees. Eventually, he just exhales.] ... Okay.
[Just like that. He... feels like he can trust her judgment. She's not a little kid or helpless; she's certainly proved the latter. And besides, if push comes to shove, that's why he's here. They've got their bases covered pretty evenly, he'd say. And honestly, he's out of good ideas for where to start anyway.]
Lead th-
[And before he can take so much as a single step forward let alone finish his sentence, something shoots out at him and jiggles itself under his nose.
A splintery wooden box, Sarah's ring still rattling around in it. Shaking incessantly even as Bigby gives it a glare so incredulous it should be offensive.]
What. [His eyes shoot up to the Wise Man.] Are you serious? [Waitaminute—] Are you sleeping?
[She gestures a shrug with that, turning to look back at Bigby.
And that was the primary thing she had learned about the Labyrinth and about dealing with fae Kings and pixies and dwarfs and whatever Ludo or Sir Didymus were. It was what Moppet had learned in her years of living among the denizens of the Labyrinth too and with her being a part of Sarah again, one could say they were things she had learned as well. In a way.
It's turning around to see the Wise Man jingle his box insistently at Bigby and the man himself incredulously asking if he's asleep that undoes her finally. She snorts inadvertently, brings a hand up to cover over her mouth to try and hold her laugh back and none of it does anything to help the way the corners of her eyes crinkle up.
She's amused. She actually has the audacity to stand here after getting thrown off course from her original plan, after Cleaners and Jareth's creeping and the dangers of lingering in oubliettes, and be amused by Bigby's incredulity.
In the end she swallows down a laugh and crosses back to him and the Wise Man. She slips off another ring, this one just as gaudy (to her at least) as the first. It's a setting of brilliantly blue stones in white gold this time around, intricately placed and obviously worth a little money at one point or another. She plunks it in the box too before the man can say another word and then actually pats the old man's shoulder gently, just so she doesn't wake him.]
Thanks again. I'll come visit some time.
[Empty promise? Maybe. She hadn't wanted to see the Labyrinth broken apart to begin with but Moppet had given her something of a soft fondness for the place. It was childhood memories and dreams all wrapped in the nostalgia of a time before she had been engaged to someone who could give her a ring of blue that "matched her eyes".
Maybe that was why she couldn't completely hate Jareth. She had wanted someone to save her at one point or at the very least give her something beyond a mundane life of being ignored. And he had filled that role admirably until she had discarded him like she did.
... Alright, now she was actually starting to feel sorry for the asshole. She gestures to Huggle Hoggle, her smile dimmed to something more wistful as she shakes off her thoughts.]
Are you coming too this time?
Course I am! Last time you wandered off on yer own, you met some right weird ones in the woods round about now.
[With the way that box is shaking, Bigby has a pretty good argument to make that the Wise Man is just faking. Or maybe he's a puppet controlled by the bird, the real mastermind. Wouldn't that be a plot twist? He has half a mind to chew him out, and he's just about to before he's interrupted by the soft chuckling behind him. He shares a glance with Sarah, annoyance dropping into a thin, embarrassed frown, then looks back at the box.
Hell, he doesn't even think he has anything to donate, unless the Wise Man smokes. The only other thing that comes to mind is the iron sigil ring at the bottom of his pocket. Unlike Sarah's, it isn't pretty or golden. It's comparatively ancient and well oxidized from the passage of time. He never wears it, but it goes everywhere with him; it has for thirteen years.
He gets the feeling Faith would find it silly, him hanging onto what he can imagine her writing off as junk. Hand dropping down to his pocket, Bigby's fingers linger against the fabric and feel for the ring's outline.
He sighs. Fucking fine— But, as Sarah walks back and begins pulling off an even nicer ring from one of her slender fingers, he realizes the choice has already been made for him.]
Wait—
[Too late. The little stab of guilt Bigby feels when he watches the beautiful ring disappear into the box's slot persists even after it's drawn back with a satisfied chirp from the bird. He's slow to walk back with Sarah as the Wise Man's hat calls after them.]
Thank you, come again! [And a little lower, and most certainly directed at Bigby's back,] Cheapskate.
[And without missing a beat:] Prick.
[Well, that was A Thing. It looks like they're actually going to do this now, huh. He can't say he likes the sound of that remark though. Weird things.]
Weird's kind of my specialty, but thanks for the heads-up, uh— Boggle, was it?
[Nailed it. But then Bigby turns his attention over to Sarah.]
Listen. This door business runs... pretty deep, beyond either of us, I'd say. I don't think I made it very clear before, but there are a lot of people depending on me where I'm from, waiting to hear back about all of this. I'm going to get back home one way or another, and I'm going to make sure you do too. No matter what.
[Now he feels like he's on the clock. The tone he's using is what he's heard people (read: talking pigs making unsolicited remarks even though they're living in his apartment rent free Colin) describe as his "sheriff's voice." Solemn and intense, but with enough sincerity that he hopes it doesn't make him seem like a complete dick.]
I'm gonna trust you, but I need you to trust me too. Especially if things go to shit and we can't get by on hunches alone.
Edited (hey maybe i should proofread better huh) 2019-05-23 20:22 (UTC)
[A long, world-weary sigh flows from the dwarf. It's the sigh of a man who's answered this question millions of times, correction after correction. And where he once used to lose his temper he just now bears it as his lot in life.]
Hoggle. It's Hoggle.
[Bigby. Bigby, please. Jareth is bad enough. No one expected Jareth to remember their names. He helped pull you out of an oubliette though!
Once the man's attention turns to Sarah though, her expression goes from a faintly amused neutrality of sorts to light surprise. His sheriff's voice makes her think of the principal's tone when he's trying to convey a point. The sincerity in his tone though, that's what really seems to do the trick.
The firm line of her shoulders set in an easy determination slacken just slightly. She doesn't look sad so much as she looks solemn at his words.
She wants to apologize now. For the door, for Jareth's scheming ways causing unknown people problems yet again. And this time not only those just trying to live their odd lives within the Labyrinth and it's grounds but around this guy too. Though... that brings up a point she's a little confused on now.
Sarah draws the facts she knows together in quick succession. One, this guy had just walked into the Labyrinth through Jareth's hidden entrance in some theater in the Bronx. Two, he wasn't human, that much the Wise Man and Jareth himself had both given away. Three, he had people depending on him and this door business was a very realm problem for them.
She pauses in her steps then, expression thoughtful. Alright, so he needed her trust and he was going to trust her too? Maybe now was the time for a little exposition. So she levels a look on him that's all seriousness. She's not exactly treating him like a student but she's leveling with him in the same way she would with any of them.]
Alright then, trust for trust. Right here, right now before we go any further into this. [Particularly if that door is such a big deal. Which she doesn't doubt it is in the least.] I'm going to be totally honest with you here and you're going to do the same. That's all I ask for, okay?
[She's more serious and stern now than she's probably been this whole time. She has never laid any of her story out for anyone else beyond Toby and only to Toby because it involved him so deeply. What had become a simple get the person out and then maybe explain a little bit about the Labyrinth to them has now evolved into "I'm about to share a significant portion of my life with you here."]
Edited (i am vry gud typeer) 2019-05-23 20:48 (UTC)
[It's fascinating, watching her thoughts play across her face as she processes what he's said. It puts a weight on everything, not necessarily oppressive but enough to make the quiet around them feel heavy. The trickle of the fountain, the wind through the hedges and even the Wise Man's snoring all sound much louder in his ears than they should be when Sarah finishes and they're left standing there in one long pause of silence while Bigby figures out what to do.
Four hundred years. A drop in the bucket in the overall scheme of things, but a long time to be spent hiding. Everything he's lived for and has done since coming to New York City has been for the protection of Fabletown. Everything. Being human, living in that shitbox of an apartment in the Woodlands, having to smoke himself silly just to avoid a sensory overload with all the smells he's inhaling from the city, because if he's going to breathe in literal poison he'd like to at least settle for the one that tastes a little better, the long stretches of night that never seem to end—
It's all part and parcel to his job: protect this town from the outside world — all of them — and from each other. That's life he gained once he gave up his old one. And now he needs to bend one of his rules, because if he doesn't someone might get hurt, and that could lead to a lot more people, and maybe something bigger.
Bigby sighs.]
That's... fair. I can live with that.
[Not like he has a choice. He scratches his hand along his face, a tic he's always unconsciously done when he's uncomfortable and knows he doesn't have any choice but to roll with the punches.]
There's some things I can't say just yet, given where we are, and we don't know who's listening. [His eyes drift over in the direction of the Wise Man, but more pointedly, to where the castle sits on the horizon.] But what I can't tell you now, I'll show you later when we get out. I promise.
[Ah, that confirmed another thing for her then. Jareth really didn't know everything about this guy. She had the hunch that things went quite a bit deeper here and there's some softness in her expression when she finally nods after chewing over his words.]
I'm not going to ask you to share anything you don't feel comfortable sharing. Just... if we're going to trust each other here, I need to know why you're here. Not just the need to shut a door but why you need to. And if there's something about that you can't tell me now, I'll understand, but at least give me the gist of it.
[Then her lips quirk in a faint smirk.]
Trust me, I'm a highschool teacher. And I've lived near New York my whole life. Whatever you can tell me isn't going to shock me.
[Alright, so. What can she tell him now that will show her trust? She rolls the question around in her mind for a silent moment as she too listens to the snoring Wise Man and the running water. And thinks briefly back on the last time she listened to the same things.
Her arms cross around her as her fingers pick at the elbow of one long sleeve. She had never even told Toby some of this.]
When I was a teenager I was really into fairy tales and stories of magic. Far off lands, dramatic tales, it was all a way of escaping life. That sort of thing.
[She doesn't go into the whys of escape because that entailed delving into her mother's race to chase fame and leaving her family behind and a strict stepmother. It wasn't an uncommon story.]
I ended up finding a book that I grew really attached to. I don't remember where or how but it was the story of a girl who had to go through a magical labyrinth to rescue a child spirited away by goblins. One night when I was left to babysit I got a little dramatic. I told him a story about a girl granted powers by a Goblin King and how one night she finally wished her spoiled baby brother away. And when I recited her wish... well, you can guess who heard me, right?
[She tips her head in the castle's direction.]
So I ran. We've gone over a lot of the path I took already but that leads to the castle in the center. When I got there I confronted Jareth and I told him that my will was as strong as his, my kingdom was as great and that he had no power over me.
[That right there was enough to explain a lot of the situation. Fae were bound by words after all and with Sarah proclaiming Jareth had no power over her and her kingdom, the Above, was just as great... well
"I can't freely cross to you unless you want me to."
He had had to find ways around that. He had only been able to come to her once he was no longer bound to his powers and bound to her word. And now that he was bound to it yet again, he couldn't get close to her unless she wanted him to.]
I got my brother back so that should have been the end but...
[Well, this was the roughest part. Should she even mention it? Sarah casts a slight glance over to Hoggle and the dwarf actually gives her a sympathetic look.
She huffs out a sardonically amused laugh, one that's bitter and probably just a little angry at herself.]
Well, there's a lot more than that but if I start in on all of that we'll be here for hours. Let's just say after I beat Jareth, his will wasn't quite as strong as it needed to be. And it's the King's will that sustains this place. It wasn't until I gave him some of my own will that this place stabilized so... I guess I'm a part of it now?
[It's so nonchalantly said, that bit. Like she's not particularly disturbed by being a part of this place, connected to it's walls and fountains and people.]
[The realization in his voice sounds flat and unsurprised when he finishes her train of thought for her but that doesn't mean Bigby is unsympathetic if his deepening frown is any indication of how he's processing this. Her story is fantastic only if you're going by the rules of the mundane world. In the Homelands, it's a different matter. Stories of fae stealing away children to replace with changelings on a whim or because they need a new decoration for their court, or slave labor, or simply just because they can are as common hearing about car accidents and muggings. It's a tragedy, but not one people are unused to, and life goes on.
That something like this was leaking into the mundane world — the Above, he supposes — without Fabletown knowing, perpetuated by someone with no apparent ties to them or the Adversary but with a knowledge of how to travel between realms, is more important. Bigby's never really bothered himself with the intricacies of mundy life, never really thought about how much their world could be affected by his because he sure as shit tries to keep them as far apart as possible, and sometimes that translates to a certain kind of callousness. For as far removed as Fables and mundies are, he might as well be on a different planet. (He sort of is, actually.)
But when he hears something like this and sees the end result in the person it's affected, it's sobering. And of course, it couldn't have happened to a worse target. A kid who almost ripped her family apart and caught the attention of a crazy faerie king and is now something halfway between being human and a Fable herself, all because she believed in fairy tales. Damn.]
You don't sound too upset about it. But I'm guessing you've had a lot of time to think about it, or this is still a pretty recent development. Sounds like you haven't been back here for a long time.
[Just based on how everyone's been treating her so far.]
[At that Sarah can't help the slight shrug she gives, still fussing with the elbow of her sleeve a moment.]
I can't be too upset over a choice I willingly made. Not that I would have if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. It's... sort of a long story.
[To say the least. The whole first experience was a long story too, of course, but this part... this part. She still didn't know just how she felt about this part and it shows in the nervous energy that vibrates off of her.]
I haven't been in the rest of the Labyrinth since I was fifteen. Or, well, I haven't but a part of me has been here this whole time.
[Nails once again fussing at his cheek, Bigby's hand stills and he just. Blinks.]
A "part of you"? What, do you mean like a clone, or a changeling, or—
[Or something. You can't say this story isn't filled with twists and turns. And with the way Bigby's eyes are moving away from her, it's like he's wondering if he should expect another new face to drop in any minute now.]
... Something like a clone, in a way. I think he called them ablations. See... I made a lot of stupid mistakes as a teenager. That's what teenagers do, sure, but I really took the cake in them.
[Now she sighs out in remembrance of her past self. With her memories restored and full once more, she can recall the events leading up to it all.]
I wanted to be an actress back then. I was so into plays and drama classes, writing my own things and just --
[She pauses there, brows raised a little as she glances over to him for the first time in several minutes.]
No. [Underscoring how taciturn that reply sounds is the barely fazed way Bigby regards her, like she might as well be talking about the weather on Venus. But to his credit, he makes an effort to try to think about it seriously, because the name sounds a little familiar.] Let me guess. It has something to do with acting.
[Snow's sister Rose might have been hung up on it during another one of her phases, the last time she blew into town which must have been... thirty, forty years ago? Something like that. She's due for another visit one of these days.]
[Sarah actually does pause there though, thinking on the question only a second or two.]
Maybe? I enjoyed it anyhow and I would get complimented by my teachers. I used to act out the bedtime stories I told my brother and everything. He really loved that apparently.
[So at least she had one fan?]
Well I didn't get into Juilliard and it just really did something to me. I was young and idealistic and I thought if I couldn't go there and hone my acting skills, I might as well just forget about it all entirely. So I quit my drama classes, I quit outside plays and telling stories and everything else. And then he made me an offer. He couldn't approach me, not physically, but he sure could still talk.
[Now she blows out a breath once more, brows pinching together and expression clearly displeased.]
I let him take all of those dreams. My interest in acting, my interest in writing... pretty much anything creative. I guess my memories of here were tied up in all those fantasies and hopes because those went too. And he made an ablation out of them.
[Her gaze is distant now, settled on some random bit of greenery while her mind is tripping over the memories that were hers. Hers and Moppet's own, the ones that had gone with her ablation. Hoggle shuffles uncomfortably for the first time in all of this, hands behind his back.]
We didn't know nothin' about any of it. Kept her up in that tower all that time then just threw her away when he got tired of her.
Mm. I threw her away first though.
[There's a distinctly sad, wistful ring to her voice.]
[» It's not your fault. » Why would you let him do that? » That's horrible. » ...]
He's right. Whatever that slimy prick promised you, he twisted the deal around. That's what Fables like him do.
[The word slips out before he's had a chance to censor himself. Should he even bother, though? It's what Jareth and the rest of his kingdom are at the end of the day, and what Sarah is probably half way to becoming herself. Might as well start crossing that bridge sooner than later.]
What happened to her? [His eyes stop roving enough to focus back on Sarah. She's still around, isn't she?]
[That part is the easiest question to answer thankfully. She doesn't even question the Fables part for now because she knows this is such a doozy of a tale.]
We reunited. When the Labyrinth itself was falling apart, she found me and demanded I help her save it. [She leaves out the part about being caught in yet another dream world because that part really did still piss her off.] And in order to give him the will needed to keep all of this together, she had to become part of me again.
[She rubs a hand against her cheek.]
That's why I remember any of it. Believe it or not, I didn't remember a thing about this place for nearly thirteen years. And beyond Toby I've never told anyone else any of this because...
[And now all she does is just gesture around her as if to say, "You're seeing all this too, right?"]
[This is the point where a cigarette would be reeeeeally nice. Luckily, he still has his pack and lighter. When he agreed to take this... god, should he really call it a mission, that sounds so sci-fi, he knew he'd need to stock up on rations — a "break in case of bullshit" emergency reserve, so-to-speak. Good thing those instincts can still be relied upon.
Bigby reaches into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and then into his other for his lighter. He puts the pack to his mouth, tapping the bottom with a finger to edge a cigarette out enough so he can pull the rest of it up with his teeth. Then he lights up one-handed. It's a quick and dirty but surprisingly fluid motion that can only come from a lifelong smoker.
When he's had time to take one long draw, he turns his head back to Sarah with a measured look and replies, exhaling smoke.]
You're not though. And they're wrong. You're just not hanging around the right people.
[There's a slight moment of hesitance before he offers her the pack, like he's not sure if she'll accept.]
[And there stands Sarah, a hand against her cheek after laying out much of this twisted mass of a story her life has become. The one she's been culling over and hacking apart for months to form into some semblance of a good fantasy story. Oh the first part works fine but the second part...
Anyhow here she stands in this courtyard with the sound of the Wise Man snoring, his hat snoring, Hoggle grumbling something about leaving cigarette butts on the ground and the most normal thing in her life right now is Bigby just standing over there lighting up a cigarette like he's a hard-boiled detective at a murder scene.
How's the line go again? Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.
Then he offers out the cigarettes to her and she just...
...]
Oh what the hell.
[Give her one of those, she doesn't want to think about Raymond Chandler right now after all of that exposition.]
[He almost looks relieved as he lights her cigarette for her, actually rather pleased, like he wasn't actually sure that she'd accept the gesture. These days, you can never tell. It's not 1986 anymore. Smoking the way he's used to isn't the type of thing you do so openly in public anymore.
Though, he's not entirely sure if this is a brand Sarah would agree with even if she is a smoker. It's a running joke that Huff 'n Puffs are king on the mountain of crappy brands, but it's all slander as far as Bigby's concerned. They're cheap and they get the job done. What more do you need?
He turns to Hogwa—Hoggle when he's done and offers him the same pack, to which the dwarf turns on his heel and folds his arms with a gruff hmph! Well, you can't say he didn't try. Bigby stands in the closest thing that's come to contended silence since he got here, mulling everything over as he smokes.
Finally,] Honestly, the craziest thing I'm taking from all of this is that I'm probably talking to two different people sharing one body right now. [Although he doesn't seem weirded out by that at all, just thoughtful, like he's not sure how he should feel. Regardless, none of the options are bad ones.] That would be a first for me.
[Congratulations, is what his eyes say.]
Jareth said you keep coming back to those dungeons. Is that why? Because you still want to help everyone?
[Not "she", "you." Sarah, other-Sarah, the both of them together. Take your pick.]
[It's been years since Sarah last smoked. Socially with her friends, sure, that's what you did in college. Cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol because who could afford better? And one took up smoking back then so you could sit outside at some horrible house party you didn't want to be at to shoot the breeze with your friends because the Internet was still too young to socialize on.
One drag in and tears spring up in her eyes, reminding her of why she had never taken it up as a habit. It sure does bring back memories though. After a brief moment of covering her mouth and trying to remember just how this sort of thing goes again, she sighs out a plume of smoke.]
Toby -- my brother -- got caught up in all of this that happened recently and ended up in one of the oubliettes. And when he talked about what happened there...
[She glances over at Bigby, her expression indignant. Apparently getting messed with herself doesn't bother her half as much as watching it happen to someone else but that's not that surprising of a revelation.]
That's beyond cruel. And I've told him before I'm not going to stop letting people out of those things or pulling them out of the Bog of Eternal Stench either but he just starts in on all of that --
[And here she affects a British accent that sounds honestly pretty damn good for how posh it is.]
"It wouldn't need to be this way if you joined me, precious. You could make whatever changes you like to this place. Just fear me, love me, blah blah blah."
[With Moppet's return Sarah had gotten some of her attitude back. Not that she'd entirely lost it but with Moppet being a sum of her most passionate parts, her snark had been limited and her wit much drier. And in these last few months she's fit back into her old stubbornness and sharp tongue with ease.]
[...Huh, guess she's not used to it after all. But to her credit, she's still taking it like a champ. Bigby's lips wince around his cigarette as he listens to her coughing, then they purse as he takes another drag listening to her explanation, and then finally they lift in a half-smile with a look in his eyes to match.]
You know, with enough eyeliner and hairspray, you could pass for him. [This is a grade-A, deadpan, one hundred percent authentic Bigby Wolf joke you won't get anywhere else.] Need to stress your r's a little harder, though.
[But then he gets serious again, drat.]
They're magic, aren't they? The oubliettes. I think you said back there that, when you're thrown in one, you start to forget. About yourself, everyone. Everything. [Another drag, a little more sudden this time compared to the languid motions he's been making.] And then what happens after that is even worse, right?
[He can only imagine and the pictures he's playing in his head are not pleasant at all. What would happen if he forgot about Fabletown, about the Woodlands, about Snow? What if he forgot he was even human? Would he become himself from the bad old days or something else entirely?]
[Hey now, a bit into it and she's sort of adjusted. She would never make smoking a habit but she has to admit, it's nice after exposition dumping. If she were a book she would have just closed her up and put her away around the point of "let me tell you the next stupid teenage thing I did", if not before.
She rolls her eyes on the comment.]
No thanks. I did my time with big hair and colored mascara, thanks.
[She was a teenager in the eighties. Her mind drifts to the topic of the oubliettes once more, a frown tugging on her lips.]
Everything here is magic. The oubliettes are where you put people to forget them. I was trapped in one too the first time I came here.
[Now she points what's left of her cigarette at him, brows raised.]
The hands dumped you in, right? After you got the door wrong?
[She hmphs out a breath.]
I still think that has to be rigged.
[Aside from that though, the frown on her lips slips into a smile.]
You're here on your own helping mission. I'm pretty sure it would have been bad luck for me if I just left you in there.
[As to what happens in the oubliettes, well...]
Toby said the creatures he saw in the oubliette were just shapes and shadows by the end. If you have someone who remembers you or loves you outside of the oubliette, you last longer but even then...
[She shakes her head gently as she looks away again, dark hair swaying as she does so.]
No one deserves to just forget everything until they forget what they even are, no matter who they are to begin with. And the people who care about them don't deserve to wonder where they are without any chance of helping them.
Well I did hit one of them, that probably didn't help. [A looong beat, and when he realizes how that sounds he elaborates just a tiiiiny bit sheepishly,] It was making faces. [Oh god, that sounds even worse. MOVING ON—]
That's about the kind of answer I'd expect from someone who loves fairy tales.
[He doesn't mean to sound dismissive, he really doesn't. But this isn't him being flippant or sarcastic — this is him deflecting. What he can't himself from sounding like is tired. Emotionally more than physically, now especially after hearing all of that. She doesn't need to know that he probably wouldn't have lasted long down there. Maybe a little long, but depending and actually caring are two very different things. One doesn't necessarily beget or obligate the other. And the fact is, if he were to disappear? He can only count a few people on one hand who would care enough to wonder what happened. Like car accidents and muggings and fae abductions and near-death experiences from an out of control machine pedaled by a pair of goblins, life would just go on.
His cigarette's just about out. He takes one final puff, finishing it up.]
If I don't come back, it'd be bad for more than just my people. It's everyone.
[Finally done, he drops the butt on the ground and grinds it under his heel. He can hear Hobble make another disgusted noise behind him, but what's he supposed to do? Swallow it?
He's silent for nearly a minute before he begins for real this time, slowly and uneasily. Fuck, maybe he should taken it slower with that cigarette.]
... At first, we were just worried the door was hiding something small. A secret chamber. A tiny self-contained little world at worst. Nothing like [his tilts his head at the hedge closest to him, but his eyes are roving again at the path, the courtyard, everything.] this.
[To say it's a gutpunch would be a pretty big understatement.]
It was glamoured pretty well too. The only reason we found it was because one of us cared enough to read the paper. [That would be Snow.] Turns out, people have been disappearing in that area for a while now, around six months, maybe longer. They don't leave anything behind and the bodies are never found, if they ever were killed.
But the one thing they have in common is that they had all been in or around that theater.
[It sounds like the plot of a bad horror movie, doesn't it? Bigby sure thinks it does. It was his initial reaction when he heard all of it himself.]
[He punched one of the faces. He punched it. Sarah gives him this look like that was the last thing she expected him to confess to and she's right there on the edge of going, "but why?" when he makes his quip about fairy tales.]
Sorry, I'm not completely jaded yet. Ask me when I hit thirty.
[Oh she's jaded, she honest to goodness is. She spent thirteen years as a nose to the grindstone hardass of a person without passions, without creativity and almost without humor. She was rediscovering all of it now and those years with their strings of broken relationships had jaded her.
She was still Sarah though. She had bound herself to a world she didn't really want to inhabit and an immortal fae she had no intention of ever accepting as a husband or master or anything close to those two just so the creatures in this world wouldn't suffer. She would probably stay that much of a fairy tale forever.
Once he mentions the disappearing people, Sarah doesn't even try to hide how it shocks her. Her own ciagrette has made it to the filter and she crushes the end unthinkingly between her forefinger and thumb, tucking the butt in one of the pockets of her jeans.]
Six months?
[There's a thread of disbelief. Not that she doubts him but... six months.]
I never realized he had everything planned that long in advance... he came to me one night. I didn't know who he was of course and I didn't know he was powerless or had abdicated his throne. And later it never really occurred to me...
None of this ever occurred to me either. I didn't know. None of us did.
[Maybe if they had something would have been done, but the nauseous ball at the bottom of his stomach twists and whispers, No it wouldn't. And he knows it. Doesn't want to admit it because against all rational logic, he likes this girl. He can tell she's a good person. But ask him if he would have cared six months ago and he honestly doesn't have an answer, and that's bothering him just as bad if not worse than anything else that's happened.
Fabletown's only concern is Fabletown. Not mundies. What they do to themselves is their business. As long as they don't start poking their noses around and remain blissfully ignorant, they can do whatever they want. Shoot up their drugs, murder each other for whatever petty shit their lives are entangled in, live their lives however they damn well please. That's how it's always been.
If he didn't know Sarah and didn't know a thing about what was going on and had just passed by her on the street (which all feels like it could have very well happened if he thinks back to "Julliard") as one stranger to another — would he have picked up on the hollow, joyless look in her eyes? Would he have picked up her scent the way he did back in the oubliette and would it have stuck with him long after he returned back to his crummy apartment, passing the time until night came and the phone calls start coming in — domestic disturbances, black market activity, mundy drug peddling near the Trip Trap again — and all he'd be able to think about is the smell of fucking flowers and paper?
Would he have cared then?
He doesn't know, and it makes him sick.]
Word got around. My... I guess you could call her my boss, she asked me to check it out. There's been a problem with drugs going around in our town lately. I think she was worried that this scumbag of a petty criminal we knew would try to use the place to sell shit out of. That or some of the kids in town would dare themselves to go in and end up running into a serial killer. I don't know.
[If it was the former, he can't say he'd really mourn the aforementioned scumbag too much, or even worry about him for that matter. Jack has the most uncanny ability to get out of the strangest problems no matter how life threatening they are, even if he really should get his shit kicked in anyway nine out of ten times.]
So when I went to check it out hoping to run into someone I knew, I heard... something. And then I went inside. And then I found the door. Kind of fading in and out of reality, like whatever was holding it in place was starting to weaken.
[He pauses to run over the rest of the ensuing chain of events, trying to streamline it for relevancy.]
And then I went back, told my boss, and we all had a meeting to figure out what to do with it. We eventually decided that, whatever it was, it couldn't stay out in the open. Mundies were already going missing because of it. It was bad news for everyone.
[Sarah takes a few moments to let that all soak in, a pinched look on her face and a hand back to briefly rubbing at her cheek. Everything that happened between them had been at most three months ago, maybe four?
And she knew just when his plans begin. And she knew just what part she had played in all of it, what part Moppet and Jareth's inability to bend even her shade to his will has played in it. All those people...]
I'm so sorry.
[There's sincerity there and her sorrow absolutely dampens down her scent.]
I mean he did a majority of it but...
[How was she going to be able to look at him again? His callousness to those in the Labyrinth was enough to anger her of course but this... where had all of those people gone to?! She's suddenly seized by the urge to hunt each and every one of them down after she leaves here, once she can get her hands on a list of them all. They had to still be somewhere in the Labyrinth, even if this place had changed them, even if maybe they fell in those oubliettes or the Bog or--
She takes in a breath. Once this was all done, maybe she could get a list from this guy or his boss somehow. Then she would track each and every one of them down.]
We'll close that door. If he tries to open any others, I'll close those too.
[Sarah's sadness smells like her anger, just not as sharp. It's just as overpowering though. And she does a better job of holding in her emotions than he does, but just how absolutely worn her face looks does a pretty good job of telling Bigby how she's feeling anyway. He half regrets telling her for this reason. Of course she'd blame herself. He would too if he was in her situation.]
Yeah. He did. [His voice is soft.] None of this is your fault, Sarah.
[She might not believe it, but it's something that she should hear anyway, and enough times. Behind his own quieter feelings, any vestigial anger he has left over for Jareth from their meeting simmers into potent hate. Left alone and dwelt upon for too long and he knows it's going to take the leap and turn into rage.
And the guy's still on his bullshit, even after whatever happened with him and Sarah's other self. He's not going to quit. That they might have to make him is—
Well. It dampens the anger, just a little.]
I know people who can help. They're good at what they do. If there are any other doors, they can find them. [Maybe they already have. The people on the Thirteenth Floor are strange like that; just because they work directly for Fabletown doesn't mean they don't keep secrets. A troubling idea, but when you've dealt with this job for as long as he has, you get used to those.] And they can figure out how your magic works. They can help you.
[He looks directly at her when he speaks, and at first he thinks it would be best to leave the implication unspoken, but again — there are some things you need to hear sometimes.]
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bakerstreet2019-05-20 09:28 am
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[Or something.
Bigby raises an eyebrow when Sarah actually slips her ring off — and a very pretty one at that, purple stones set in gold filigree — and drops it in the Wise Man's box. Guess advice isn't free here, borderline useless as it may be. The goblin's words aren't anything special; it's the kind of the saccharine stuff you hear on TV, the kind the mundies who've rewrote their stories like to pepper in their own. But— everything they learned, it had to come from somewhere, right?
"No matter how different two paths seem, they will always come together in the end." He's heard it all before. Still waiting for it to be true.
Sarah, though... she takes it. She seems to retreat inward for a very long time, and is the look that falls over her face one of reflection? Or understanding? Either way, Bigby watches her closely, not just trying to figure out what she's thinking but also how it all came to this.
("Even if you and I do share ownership here, I can't freely cross to you unless you want me to.")
("When I was a teenager, I wished away my brother.")
("She's the Champion of the Labyrinth, you know. Only one to beat it too!")
Flowers and ink and paper. Just who are you?
Bigby snaps back to attention when she finally speaks. Even the bird looks a little interested.]
You sure about that? [Though it's phrased as a question, his tone isn't very doubtful or even judgemental. He just looks curious, considering the path she points out like he's trying to assess it for himself, see what she sees. Eventually, he just exhales.] ... Okay.
[Just like that. He... feels like he can trust her judgment. She's not a little kid or helpless; she's certainly proved the latter. And besides, if push comes to shove, that's why he's here. They've got their bases covered pretty evenly, he'd say. And honestly, he's out of good ideas for where to start anyway.]
Lead th-
[And before he can take so much as a single step forward let alone finish his sentence, something shoots out at him and jiggles itself under his nose.
A splintery wooden box, Sarah's ring still rattling around in it. Shaking incessantly even as Bigby gives it a glare so incredulous it should be offensive.]
What. [His eyes shoot up to the Wise Man.] Are you serious? [Waitaminute—] Are you sleeping?
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[She gestures a shrug with that, turning to look back at Bigby.
And that was the primary thing she had learned about the Labyrinth and about dealing with fae Kings and pixies and dwarfs and whatever Ludo or Sir Didymus were. It was what Moppet had learned in her years of living among the denizens of the Labyrinth too and with her being a part of Sarah again, one could say they were things she had learned as well. In a way.
It's turning around to see the Wise Man jingle his box insistently at Bigby and the man himself incredulously asking if he's asleep that undoes her finally. She snorts inadvertently, brings a hand up to cover over her mouth to try and hold her laugh back and none of it does anything to help the way the corners of her eyes crinkle up.
She's amused. She actually has the audacity to stand here after getting thrown off course from her original plan, after Cleaners and Jareth's creeping and the dangers of lingering in oubliettes, and be amused by Bigby's incredulity.
In the end she swallows down a laugh and crosses back to him and the Wise Man. She slips off another ring, this one just as gaudy (to her at least) as the first. It's a setting of brilliantly blue stones in white gold this time around, intricately placed and obviously worth a little money at one point or another. She plunks it in the box too before the man can say another word and then actually pats the old man's shoulder gently, just so she doesn't wake him.]
Thanks again. I'll come visit some time.
[Empty promise? Maybe. She hadn't wanted to see the Labyrinth broken apart to begin with but Moppet had given her something of a soft fondness for the place. It was childhood memories and dreams all wrapped in the nostalgia of a time before she had been engaged to someone who could give her a ring of blue that "matched her eyes".
Maybe that was why she couldn't completely hate Jareth. She had wanted someone to save her at one point or at the very least give her something beyond a mundane life of being ignored. And he had filled that role admirably until she had discarded him like she did.
... Alright, now she was actually starting to feel sorry for the asshole. She gestures to
HuggleHoggle, her smile dimmed to something more wistful as she shakes off her thoughts.]Are you coming too this time?
Course I am! Last time you wandered off on yer own, you met some right weird ones in the woods round about now.
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Hell, he doesn't even think he has anything to donate, unless the Wise Man smokes. The only other thing that comes to mind is the iron sigil ring at the bottom of his pocket. Unlike Sarah's, it isn't pretty or golden. It's comparatively ancient and well oxidized from the passage of time. He never wears it, but it goes everywhere with him; it has for thirteen years.
He gets the feeling Faith would find it silly, him hanging onto what he can imagine her writing off as junk. Hand dropping down to his pocket, Bigby's fingers linger against the fabric and feel for the ring's outline.
He sighs. Fucking fine— But, as Sarah walks back and begins pulling off an even nicer ring from one of her slender fingers, he realizes the choice has already been made for him.]
Wait—
[Too late. The little stab of guilt Bigby feels when he watches the beautiful ring disappear into the box's slot persists even after it's drawn back with a satisfied chirp from the bird. He's slow to walk back with Sarah as the Wise Man's hat calls after them.]
Thank you, come again! [And a little lower, and most certainly directed at Bigby's back,] Cheapskate.
[And without missing a beat:] Prick.
[Well, that was A Thing. It looks like they're actually going to do this now, huh. He can't say he likes the sound of that remark though. Weird things.]
Weird's kind of my specialty, but thanks for the heads-up, uh— Boggle, was it?
[Nailed it. But then Bigby turns his attention over to Sarah.]
Listen. This door business runs... pretty deep, beyond either of us, I'd say. I don't think I made it very clear before, but there are a lot of people depending on me where I'm from, waiting to hear back about all of this. I'm going to get back home one way or another, and I'm going to make sure you do too. No matter what.
[Now he feels like he's on the clock. The tone he's using is what he's heard people (read: talking pigs making unsolicited remarks even though they're living in his apartment rent free Colin) describe as his "sheriff's voice." Solemn and intense, but with enough sincerity that he hopes it doesn't make him seem like a complete dick.]
I'm gonna trust you, but I need you to trust me too. Especially if things go to shit and we can't get by on hunches alone.
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Hoggle. It's Hoggle.
[Bigby. Bigby, please. Jareth is bad enough. No one expected Jareth to remember their names. He helped pull you out of an oubliette though!
Once the man's attention turns to Sarah though, her expression goes from a faintly amused neutrality of sorts to light surprise. His sheriff's voice makes her think of the principal's tone when he's trying to convey a point. The sincerity in his tone though, that's what really seems to do the trick.
The firm line of her shoulders set in an easy determination slacken just slightly. She doesn't look sad so much as she looks solemn at his words.
She wants to apologize now. For the door, for Jareth's scheming ways causing unknown people problems yet again. And this time not only those just trying to live their odd lives within the Labyrinth and it's grounds but around this guy too. Though... that brings up a point she's a little confused on now.
Sarah draws the facts she knows together in quick succession. One, this guy had just walked into the Labyrinth through Jareth's hidden entrance in some theater in the Bronx. Two, he wasn't human, that much the Wise Man and Jareth himself had both given away. Three, he had people depending on him and this door business was a very realm problem for them.
She pauses in her steps then, expression thoughtful. Alright, so he needed her trust and he was going to trust her too? Maybe now was the time for a little exposition. So she levels a look on him that's all seriousness. She's not exactly treating him like a student but she's leveling with him in the same way she would with any of them.]
Alright then, trust for trust. Right here, right now before we go any further into this. [Particularly if that door is such a big deal. Which she doesn't doubt it is in the least.] I'm going to be totally honest with you here and you're going to do the same. That's all I ask for, okay?
[She's more serious and stern now than she's probably been this whole time. She has never laid any of her story out for anyone else beyond Toby and only to Toby because it involved him so deeply. What had become a simple get the person out and then maybe explain a little bit about the Labyrinth to them has now evolved into "I'm about to share a significant portion of my life with you here."]
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Four hundred years. A drop in the bucket in the overall scheme of things, but a long time to be spent hiding. Everything he's lived for and has done since coming to New York City has been for the protection of Fabletown. Everything. Being human, living in that shitbox of an apartment in the Woodlands, having to smoke himself silly just to avoid a sensory overload with all the smells he's inhaling from the city, because if he's going to breathe in literal poison he'd like to at least settle for the one that tastes a little better, the long stretches of night that never seem to end—
It's all part and parcel to his job: protect this town from the outside world — all of them — and from each other. That's life he gained once he gave up his old one. And now he needs to bend one of his rules, because if he doesn't someone might get hurt, and that could lead to a lot more people, and maybe something bigger.
Bigby sighs.]
That's... fair. I can live with that.
[Not like he has a choice. He scratches his hand along his face, a tic he's always unconsciously done when he's uncomfortable and knows he doesn't have any choice but to roll with the punches.]
There's some things I can't say just yet, given where we are, and we don't know who's listening. [His eyes drift over in the direction of the Wise Man, but more pointedly, to where the castle sits on the horizon.] But what I can't tell you now, I'll show you later when we get out. I promise.
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I'm not going to ask you to share anything you don't feel comfortable sharing. Just... if we're going to trust each other here, I need to know why you're here. Not just the need to shut a door but why you need to. And if there's something about that you can't tell me now, I'll understand, but at least give me the gist of it.
[Then her lips quirk in a faint smirk.]
Trust me, I'm a highschool teacher. And I've lived near New York my whole life. Whatever you can tell me isn't going to shock me.
[Alright, so. What can she tell him now that will show her trust? She rolls the question around in her mind for a silent moment as she too listens to the snoring Wise Man and the running water. And thinks briefly back on the last time she listened to the same things.
Her arms cross around her as her fingers pick at the elbow of one long sleeve. She had never even told Toby some of this.]
When I was a teenager I was really into fairy tales and stories of magic. Far off lands, dramatic tales, it was all a way of escaping life. That sort of thing.
[She doesn't go into the whys of escape because that entailed delving into her mother's race to chase fame and leaving her family behind and a strict stepmother. It wasn't an uncommon story.]
I ended up finding a book that I grew really attached to. I don't remember where or how but it was the story of a girl who had to go through a magical labyrinth to rescue a child spirited away by goblins. One night when I was left to babysit I got a little dramatic. I told him a story about a girl granted powers by a Goblin King and how one night she finally wished her spoiled baby brother away. And when I recited her wish... well, you can guess who heard me, right?
[She tips her head in the castle's direction.]
So I ran. We've gone over a lot of the path I took already but that leads to the castle in the center. When I got there I confronted Jareth and I told him that my will was as strong as his, my kingdom was as great and that he had no power over me.
[That right there was enough to explain a lot of the situation. Fae were bound by words after all and with Sarah proclaiming Jareth had no power over her and her kingdom, the Above, was just as great... well
"I can't freely cross to you unless you want me to."
He had had to find ways around that. He had only been able to come to her once he was no longer bound to his powers and bound to her word. And now that he was bound to it yet again, he couldn't get close to her unless she wanted him to.]
I got my brother back so that should have been the end but...
[Well, this was the roughest part. Should she even mention it? Sarah casts a slight glance over to Hoggle and the dwarf actually gives her a sympathetic look.
She huffs out a sardonically amused laugh, one that's bitter and probably just a little angry at herself.]
Well, there's a lot more than that but if I start in on all of that we'll be here for hours. Let's just say after I beat Jareth, his will wasn't quite as strong as it needed to be. And it's the King's will that sustains this place. It wasn't until I gave him some of my own will that this place stabilized so... I guess I'm a part of it now?
[It's so nonchalantly said, that bit. Like she's not particularly disturbed by being a part of this place, connected to it's walls and fountains and people.]
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[The realization in his voice sounds flat and unsurprised when he finishes her train of thought for her but that doesn't mean Bigby is unsympathetic if his deepening frown is any indication of how he's processing this. Her story is fantastic only if you're going by the rules of the mundane world. In the Homelands, it's a different matter. Stories of fae stealing away children to replace with changelings on a whim or because they need a new decoration for their court, or slave labor, or simply just because they can are as common hearing about car accidents and muggings. It's a tragedy, but not one people are unused to, and life goes on.
That something like this was leaking into the mundane world — the Above, he supposes — without Fabletown knowing, perpetuated by someone with no apparent ties to them or the Adversary but with a knowledge of how to travel between realms, is more important. Bigby's never really bothered himself with the intricacies of mundy life, never really thought about how much their world could be affected by his because he sure as shit tries to keep them as far apart as possible, and sometimes that translates to a certain kind of callousness. For as far removed as Fables and mundies are, he might as well be on a different planet. (He sort of is, actually.)
But when he hears something like this and sees the end result in the person it's affected, it's sobering. And of course, it couldn't have happened to a worse target. A kid who almost ripped her family apart and caught the attention of a crazy faerie king and is now something halfway between being human and a Fable herself, all because she believed in fairy tales. Damn.]
You don't sound too upset about it. But I'm guessing you've had a lot of time to think about it, or this is still a pretty recent development. Sounds like you haven't been back here for a long time.
[Just based on how everyone's been treating her so far.]
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I can't be too upset over a choice I willingly made. Not that I would have if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. It's... sort of a long story.
[To say the least. The whole first experience was a long story too, of course, but this part... this part. She still didn't know just how she felt about this part and it shows in the nervous energy that vibrates off of her.]
I haven't been in the rest of the Labyrinth since I was fifteen. Or, well, I haven't but a part of me has been here this whole time.
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A "part of you"? What, do you mean like a clone, or a changeling, or—
[Or something. You can't say this story isn't filled with twists and turns. And with the way Bigby's eyes are moving away from her, it's like he's wondering if he should expect another new face to drop in any minute now.]
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... Something like a clone, in a way. I think he called them ablations. See... I made a lot of stupid mistakes as a teenager. That's what teenagers do, sure, but I really took the cake in them.
[Now she sighs out in remembrance of her past self. With her memories restored and full once more, she can recall the events leading up to it all.]
I wanted to be an actress back then. I was so into plays and drama classes, writing my own things and just --
[She pauses there, brows raised a little as she glances over to him for the first time in several minutes.]
Have you ever heard of Juilliard?
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[Snow's sister Rose might have been hung up on it during another one of her phases, the last time she blew into town which must have been... thirty, forty years ago? Something like that. She's due for another visit one of these days.]
Were you that good? [Idle question, idle glance.]
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Lucky guess.
[Sarah actually does pause there though, thinking on the question only a second or two.]
Maybe? I enjoyed it anyhow and I would get complimented by my teachers. I used to act out the bedtime stories I told my brother and everything. He really loved that apparently.
[So at least she had one fan?]
Well I didn't get into Juilliard and it just really did something to me. I was young and idealistic and I thought if I couldn't go there and hone my acting skills, I might as well just forget about it all entirely. So I quit my drama classes, I quit outside plays and telling stories and everything else. And then he made me an offer. He couldn't approach me, not physically, but he sure could still talk.
[Now she blows out a breath once more, brows pinching together and expression clearly displeased.]
I let him take all of those dreams. My interest in acting, my interest in writing... pretty much anything creative. I guess my memories of here were tied up in all those fantasies and hopes because those went too. And he made an ablation out of them.
[Her gaze is distant now, settled on some random bit of greenery while her mind is tripping over the memories that were hers. Hers and Moppet's own, the ones that had gone with her ablation. Hoggle shuffles uncomfortably for the first time in all of this, hands behind his back.]
We didn't know nothin' about any of it. Kept her up in that tower all that time then just threw her away when he got tired of her.
Mm. I threw her away first though.
[There's a distinctly sad, wistful ring to her voice.]
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» Why would you let him do that?
» That's horrible.
» ...]
He's right. Whatever that slimy prick promised you, he twisted the deal around. That's what Fables like him do.
[The word slips out before he's had a chance to censor himself. Should he even bother, though? It's what Jareth and the rest of his kingdom are at the end of the day, and what Sarah is probably half way to becoming herself. Might as well start crossing that bridge sooner than later.]
What happened to her? [His eyes stop roving enough to focus back on Sarah. She's still around, isn't she?]
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We reunited. When the Labyrinth itself was falling apart, she found me and demanded I help her save it. [She leaves out the part about being caught in yet another dream world because that part really did still piss her off.] And in order to give him the will needed to keep all of this together, she had to become part of me again.
[She rubs a hand against her cheek.]
That's why I remember any of it. Believe it or not, I didn't remember a thing about this place for nearly thirteen years. And beyond Toby I've never told anyone else any of this because...
[And now all she does is just gesture around her as if to say, "You're seeing all this too, right?"]
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[This is the point where a cigarette would be reeeeeally nice. Luckily, he still has his pack and lighter. When he agreed to take this... god, should he really call it a mission, that sounds so sci-fi, he knew he'd need to stock up on rations — a "break in case of bullshit" emergency reserve, so-to-speak. Good thing those instincts can still be relied upon.
Bigby reaches into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and then into his other for his lighter. He puts the pack to his mouth, tapping the bottom with a finger to edge a cigarette out enough so he can pull the rest of it up with his teeth. Then he lights up one-handed. It's a quick and dirty but surprisingly fluid motion that can only come from a lifelong smoker.
When he's had time to take one long draw, he turns his head back to Sarah with a measured look and replies, exhaling smoke.]
You're not though. And they're wrong. You're just not hanging around the right people.
[There's a slight moment of hesitance before he offers her the pack, like he's not sure if she'll accept.]
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Anyhow here she stands in this courtyard with the sound of the Wise Man snoring, his hat snoring, Hoggle grumbling something about leaving cigarette butts on the ground and the most normal thing in her life right now is Bigby just standing over there lighting up a cigarette like he's a hard-boiled detective at a murder scene.
How's the line go again? Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.
Then he offers out the cigarettes to her and she just...
...]
Oh what the hell.
[Give her one of those, she doesn't want to think about Raymond Chandler right now after all of that exposition.]
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Though, he's not entirely sure if this is a brand Sarah would agree with even if she is a smoker. It's a running joke that Huff 'n Puffs are king on the mountain of crappy brands, but it's all slander as far as Bigby's concerned. They're cheap and they get the job done. What more do you need?
He turns to Hogwa—Hoggle when he's done and offers him the same pack, to which the dwarf turns on his heel and folds his arms with a gruff hmph! Well, you can't say he didn't try. Bigby stands in the closest thing that's come to contended silence since he got here, mulling everything over as he smokes.
Finally,] Honestly, the craziest thing I'm taking from all of this is that I'm probably talking to two different people sharing one body right now. [Although he doesn't seem weirded out by that at all, just thoughtful, like he's not sure how he should feel. Regardless, none of the options are bad ones.] That would be a first for me.
[Congratulations, is what his eyes say.]
Jareth said you keep coming back to those dungeons. Is that why? Because you still want to help everyone?
[Not "she", "you." Sarah, other-Sarah, the both of them together. Take your pick.]
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One drag in and tears spring up in her eyes, reminding her of why she had never taken it up as a habit. It sure does bring back memories though. After a brief moment of covering her mouth and trying to remember just how this sort of thing goes again, she sighs out a plume of smoke.]
Toby -- my brother -- got caught up in all of this that happened recently and ended up in one of the oubliettes. And when he talked about what happened there...
[She glances over at Bigby, her expression indignant. Apparently getting messed with herself doesn't bother her half as much as watching it happen to someone else but that's not that surprising of a revelation.]
That's beyond cruel. And I've told him before I'm not going to stop letting people out of those things or pulling them out of the Bog of Eternal Stench either but he just starts in on all of that --
[And here she affects a British accent that sounds honestly pretty damn good for how posh it is.]
"It wouldn't need to be this way if you joined me, precious. You could make whatever changes you like to this place. Just fear me, love me, blah blah blah."
[With Moppet's return Sarah had gotten some of her attitude back. Not that she'd entirely lost it but with Moppet being a sum of her most passionate parts, her snark had been limited and her wit much drier. And in these last few months she's fit back into her old stubbornness and sharp tongue with ease.]
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You know, with enough eyeliner and hairspray, you could pass for him. [This is a grade-A, deadpan, one hundred percent authentic Bigby Wolf joke you won't get anywhere else.] Need to stress your r's a little harder, though.
[But then he gets serious again, drat.]
They're magic, aren't they? The oubliettes. I think you said back there that, when you're thrown in one, you start to forget. About yourself, everyone. Everything. [Another drag, a little more sudden this time compared to the languid motions he's been making.] And then what happens after that is even worse, right?
[He can only imagine and the pictures he's playing in his head are not pleasant at all. What would happen if he forgot about Fabletown, about the Woodlands, about Snow? What if he forgot he was even human? Would he become himself from the bad old days or something else entirely?]
... I never did thank you, by the way.
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She rolls her eyes on the comment.]
No thanks. I did my time with big hair and colored mascara, thanks.
[She was a teenager in the eighties. Her mind drifts to the topic of the oubliettes once more, a frown tugging on her lips.]
Everything here is magic. The oubliettes are where you put people to forget them. I was trapped in one too the first time I came here.
[Now she points what's left of her cigarette at him, brows raised.]
The hands dumped you in, right? After you got the door wrong?
[She hmphs out a breath.]
I still think that has to be rigged.
[Aside from that though, the frown on her lips slips into a smile.]
You're here on your own helping mission. I'm pretty sure it would have been bad luck for me if I just left you in there.
[As to what happens in the oubliettes, well...]
Toby said the creatures he saw in the oubliette were just shapes and shadows by the end. If you have someone who remembers you or loves you outside of the oubliette, you last longer but even then...
[She shakes her head gently as she looks away again, dark hair swaying as she does so.]
No one deserves to just forget everything until they forget what they even are, no matter who they are to begin with. And the people who care about them don't deserve to wonder where they are without any chance of helping them.
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Well I did hit one of them, that probably didn't help. [A looong beat, and when he realizes how that sounds he elaborates just a tiiiiny bit sheepishly,] It was making faces. [Oh god, that sounds even worse. MOVING ON—]
That's about the kind of answer I'd expect from someone who loves fairy tales.
[He doesn't mean to sound dismissive, he really doesn't. But this isn't him being flippant or sarcastic — this is him deflecting. What he can't himself from sounding like is tired. Emotionally more than physically, now especially after hearing all of that. She doesn't need to know that he probably wouldn't have lasted long down there. Maybe a little long, but depending and actually caring are two very different things. One doesn't necessarily beget or obligate the other. And the fact is, if he were to disappear? He can only count a few people on one hand who would care enough to wonder what happened. Like car accidents and muggings and fae abductions and near-death experiences from an out of control machine pedaled by a pair of goblins, life would just go on.
His cigarette's just about out. He takes one final puff, finishing it up.]
If I don't come back, it'd be bad for more than just my people. It's everyone.
[Finally done, he drops the butt on the ground and grinds it under his heel. He can hear Hobble make another disgusted noise behind him, but what's he supposed to do? Swallow it?
He's silent for nearly a minute before he begins for real this time, slowly and uneasily. Fuck, maybe he should taken it slower with that cigarette.]
... At first, we were just worried the door was hiding something small. A secret chamber. A tiny self-contained little world at worst. Nothing like [his tilts his head at the hedge closest to him, but his eyes are roving again at the path, the courtyard, everything.] this.
[To say it's a gutpunch would be a pretty big understatement.]
It was glamoured pretty well too. The only reason we found it was because one of us cared enough to read the paper. [That would be Snow.] Turns out, people have been disappearing in that area for a while now, around six months, maybe longer. They don't leave anything behind and the bodies are never found, if they ever were killed.
But the one thing they have in common is that they had all been in or around that theater.
[It sounds like the plot of a bad horror movie, doesn't it? Bigby sure thinks it does. It was his initial reaction when he heard all of it himself.]
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Sorry, I'm not completely jaded yet. Ask me when I hit thirty.
[Oh she's jaded, she honest to goodness is. She spent thirteen years as a nose to the grindstone hardass of a person without passions, without creativity and almost without humor. She was rediscovering all of it now and those years with their strings of broken relationships had jaded her.
She was still Sarah though. She had bound herself to a world she didn't really want to inhabit and an immortal fae she had no intention of ever accepting as a husband or master or anything close to those two just so the creatures in this world wouldn't suffer. She would probably stay that much of a fairy tale forever.
Once he mentions the disappearing people, Sarah doesn't even try to hide how it shocks her. Her own ciagrette has made it to the filter and she crushes the end unthinkingly between her forefinger and thumb, tucking the butt in one of the pockets of her jeans.]
Six months?
[There's a thread of disbelief. Not that she doubts him but... six months.]
I never realized he had everything planned that long in advance... he came to me one night. I didn't know who he was of course and I didn't know he was powerless or had abdicated his throne. And later it never really occurred to me...
[She almost feels sick at the thought.]
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[Maybe if they had something would have been done, but the nauseous ball at the bottom of his stomach twists and whispers, No it wouldn't. And he knows it. Doesn't want to admit it because against all rational logic, he likes this girl. He can tell she's a good person. But ask him if he would have cared six months ago and he honestly doesn't have an answer, and that's bothering him just as bad if not worse than anything else that's happened.
Fabletown's only concern is Fabletown. Not mundies. What they do to themselves is their business. As long as they don't start poking their noses around and remain blissfully ignorant, they can do whatever they want. Shoot up their drugs, murder each other for whatever petty shit their lives are entangled in, live their lives however they damn well please. That's how it's always been.
If he didn't know Sarah and didn't know a thing about what was going on and had just passed by her on the street (which all feels like it could have very well happened if he thinks back to "Julliard") as one stranger to another — would he have picked up on the hollow, joyless look in her eyes? Would he have picked up her scent the way he did back in the oubliette and would it have stuck with him long after he returned back to his crummy apartment, passing the time until night came and the phone calls start coming in — domestic disturbances, black market activity, mundy drug peddling near the Trip Trap again — and all he'd be able to think about is the smell of fucking flowers and paper?
Would he have cared then?
He doesn't know, and it makes him sick.]
Word got around. My... I guess you could call her my boss, she asked me to check it out. There's been a problem with drugs going around in our town lately. I think she was worried that this scumbag of a petty criminal we knew would try to use the place to sell shit out of. That or some of the kids in town would dare themselves to go in and end up running into a serial killer. I don't know.
[If it was the former, he can't say he'd really mourn the aforementioned scumbag too much, or even worry about him for that matter. Jack has the most uncanny ability to get out of the strangest problems no matter how life threatening they are, even if he really should get his shit kicked in anyway nine out of ten times.]
So when I went to check it out hoping to run into someone I knew, I heard... something. And then I went inside. And then I found the door. Kind of fading in and out of reality, like whatever was holding it in place was starting to weaken.
[He pauses to run over the rest of the ensuing chain of events, trying to streamline it for relevancy.]
And then I went back, told my boss, and we all had a meeting to figure out what to do with it. We eventually decided that, whatever it was, it couldn't stay out in the open. Mundies were already going missing because of it. It was bad news for everyone.
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And she knew just when his plans begin. And she knew just what part she had played in all of it, what part Moppet and Jareth's inability to bend even her shade to his will has played in it. All those people...]
I'm so sorry.
[There's sincerity there and her sorrow absolutely dampens down her scent.]
I mean he did a majority of it but...
[How was she going to be able to look at him again? His callousness to those in the Labyrinth was enough to anger her of course but this... where had all of those people gone to?! She's suddenly seized by the urge to hunt each and every one of them down after she leaves here, once she can get her hands on a list of them all. They had to still be somewhere in the Labyrinth, even if this place had changed them, even if maybe they fell in those oubliettes or the Bog or--
She takes in a breath. Once this was all done, maybe she could get a list from this guy or his boss somehow. Then she would track each and every one of them down.]
We'll close that door. If he tries to open any others, I'll close those too.
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Yeah. He did. [His voice is soft.] None of this is your fault, Sarah.
[She might not believe it, but it's something that she should hear anyway, and enough times. Behind his own quieter feelings, any vestigial anger he has left over for Jareth from their meeting simmers into potent hate. Left alone and dwelt upon for too long and he knows it's going to take the leap and turn into rage.
And the guy's still on his bullshit, even after whatever happened with him and Sarah's other self. He's not going to quit. That they might have to make him is—
Well. It dampens the anger, just a little.]
I know people who can help. They're good at what they do. If there are any other doors, they can find them. [Maybe they already have. The people on the Thirteenth Floor are strange like that; just because they work directly for Fabletown doesn't mean they don't keep secrets. A troubling idea, but when you've dealt with this job for as long as he has, you get used to those.] And they can figure out how your magic works. They can help you.
[He looks directly at her when he speaks, and at first he thinks it would be best to leave the implication unspoken, but again — there are some things you need to hear sometimes.]
You don't have to be alone anymore.
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ow the edge 2019
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#lethogglesayfuck