dear_mun | (no subject)

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canon: once upon a time

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Ah. Mundane. You are entirely too eager.

Don't misunderstand. Your enthusiasm is quite charming. But it seems to me that this application remains, ah, a tad incomplete.

I don't think they're quite done yet telling my tale, dear. If doing this properly is truly your aim, you would do well to show a little patience. There will be opportunities in the meanwhile to explore what we two can achieve together. Museboxes, and the like. In the meantime...

You'll forgive me, but I don't think I'll be signing off on the end of that application just yet.

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What is it in particular that you hope to achieve with your mundane, sir?

[ Oh interesting. What have we here? ]

Well it just seems a shame to cripple a good tale with a handful of chapters missing.

[ His hand shifts on his cane as thought in emphasis. ]

It seems early to put anything forward in an official capacity...though I do appreciate my new-found freedom, all the same.

[ Just a fair little girl, see? Except for the eyes; they're brighter than a child should own with all the subtlety of a sheet of paper shielding a forest fire. ]

You could go forth and carve your own path, would that be so difficult?

Wise words from so young a face.

I try to make my fathers proud, sir.

Oh, I'm certain.

[ Something seems to amuse him about her, from the slight quirk at the corner of his lips. ]

But to answer your question, dearie, my concern lies with the quality of home I will choose for myself. If the application to such a home does not properly represent my story, then there's no deal. And what a pity that would be, to be limited to these...quaint outings.

[ Don't mind as Claudia sits herself down on a chair, hands folding properly. It's just to be more comfortable as she watches him move, assess the way he shifts in minute detail. She's not sure why, but the way he stapled her youth was more than just passing fancy. It felt like a dig and she's curious as to how he arrived at wanting to throw one.

It could also be that he's interesting to talk to. ]

I suppose that depends on what you'd consider 'quality'. If it differs from what your mundane feels fitting, you'll never be reconciled with peace.

[ There are times when Claudia screws up. Assuming anyone would want the opinion of what appears to mere child is not something that crosses her mind; she offers it with perfect confidence that it would be as valid as anyone elses. ]

Should you deign to tell me your story, I could offer some suggestions that might help.

I trust my mundane to know what happens if the result is...less than promising. My deals are always honored.

[ Well, if they're going to settle in, he may as well. It'd be rude, otherwise...and it's obvious from the way he leans on that cane as he moves to sit that his leg bothers him.

Yet just as Claudia does not speak with the demeanor of a child, Gold does not compose himself like a cripple. He's far too calm, too assured. No fear or doubt at all. ]

I may have to disappoint you there. I'm afraid my story doesn't make for very pleasant conversation fodder.

[ And those are memories he'd rather not dredge up. There's no point bemoaning the past. What's done is done. ]

[ The leg is a funny thing, she's not used to being around injured people. Polite to a fault however, the little miss doesn't draw attention to it. ]

I don't scare very easily.

[ And now he entices her to want to know it even more. Still, he seems reluctant - ah. ]

I honour my deals, too. If you tell me your story, I'll tell you mine.

[ And damn it, but this is his weakness. Always has been. He can't help striking a bargain when offered the chance.

A thin smile works across his face as he leans back into the chair, steepling his fingers. ]

It's of that great an interest to you?

[ It's of interest to many, but she doesn't know that. Fair to say, however, that her story is likely just as interesting. ]

Why shouldn't it be?

[ Round blue eyes stare at him over a small sweet smile. Patient and innocent, a picture of anticipation. ]

...very well. Deal.

[ And he cocks his head, lips twitching in amusement. ]

How much stock do you put in fairy tales?

A lot of people like to write about things that aren't real, I like to know the truth of the matter. Is what you're about to tell me going to sound like silliness? I don't mind.

[ Settling back in her chair, her legs stick out with the froth of her dress. ]

I like fantastical tales.

I'm talking about the classics. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood...

What if I told you all those fairy tales, so beloved by the world, were real?

I would believe you.

Yes, I imagine that's not the most fantastic story you've heard in your life.

The truth of the matter is all these figures of legend and myth existed together within one realm. One world. And then that world fell prey to a terrible curse.

What happened?

[ Listening raptly. Yes, she likes the idea of storybook characters living together like that, it's a nice neat way of organising them. ]

Who was it that cursed them?

[ It's actually quite entertaining, having such a rapt audience for his storytelling. He might be smiling. Not always a good thing. ]

The Wicked Queen, who could stand for no one's happiness but her own. To that end she enacted the curse by sacrificing the thing she loved most, so that every soul in the realm would be trapped in a timeless cage, somewhere horrible, where the only happy ending would be her own.

Where was that?

Maine.

Maine?

[ Wrinkles her nose. ]

[ Her scandalized tone earns a chuckle. ]

Indeed. Now all are trapped, unaware of who they once were. Time has stopped. And all have been torn from that which they love and hold dear.

Save, of course, for the Queen herself.

Well, then, you should all kill the queen somehow.

[ It seems like a good idea, in theory. ]

And break the magic spell.

As I have said, no one remembers who they once were. And the Queen is feared by many even now for the power she wields over the townspeople's lives.

[ He shifts forward slightly in his seat. ]

Besides which, little one, the deed is done and out of her hands now. Simply seeing her dead would not be enough to free the realm's subjects from the grasp of the curse.

[ Frowning (she doesn't like feeling out of options) Claudia rubs one hand over another and tries to relive all the tomes she dredged up before leaving for Europe with Louis. Ghost stories, fiction heaped upon myth and legend. How did they go again? ]

You need a hero. There's always someone who can save the day in those sorts of stories.