Emma Swan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cursebreaking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2017-12-04 03:10 pm
cursebreaking) wrote in entranceway2017-12-04 03:10 pm
Entry tags:
- blindspot: sarah weller,
- dc comics: jason todd,
- dragon age: cullen rutherford,
- gravity falls: dipper pines,
- gravity falls: mabel pines,
- legends of tomorrow: rip hunter,
- lucifer: lucifer morningstar,
- marvel: wanda maximoff,
- newsflesh: georgia mason,
- once upon a time: emma swan,
- once upon a time: henry mills,
- outlander: claire fraser,
- persona 3: arisato minato,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the adventure zone: lup,
- undertale: sans
( one; voice )
[Emma has read what information has been made available, she’s walked the grounds and the corridors of some of the mansion’s ground floor, and she’s combed through what public postings she could find to look through on the device she’d found in the pocket opposite of where she kept her own phone. She’s been digging for evidence since she got here, but what she’s found?
She’s not buying it. The message that comes through is voice only, not wanting to reveal her face or her exact location right away-- though she’s pretty damn sure that whoever’s responsible for this is watching her and has a good idea of where she is, if not who.]
Look. I know someone is out there listening.
[She doesn’t know exactly who, but someone.]
This game of yours? I’m not interested. I don’t know how you got me here, or how you set all this up. Maybe it’s some messed-up alternate reality game, but I didn’t opt in for any of this. I don’t care how elaborate it is, or how much work went into it-- my kid is at home waiting for me, and I am not screwing around.
[Her tone is hard, angry rather than anxious, determination winning out over uncertainty.]
‘Wonderland.’ Cute, but I’m not impressed. All I want is for you to point me towards the exit. You can do me a solid and we can do this the easy way-- or we can do it the hard way. Trust me, whatever weird stuff you might be into, I can promise you won’t be happy if we go that route.
[She stays on the line, just to wait for any kind of possible response-- but she doesn’t really know what to expect. This entire thing has her out of her depth, even if she’s not willing to admit it.]
She’s not buying it. The message that comes through is voice only, not wanting to reveal her face or her exact location right away-- though she’s pretty damn sure that whoever’s responsible for this is watching her and has a good idea of where she is, if not who.]
Look. I know someone is out there listening.
[She doesn’t know exactly who, but someone.]
This game of yours? I’m not interested. I don’t know how you got me here, or how you set all this up. Maybe it’s some messed-up alternate reality game, but I didn’t opt in for any of this. I don’t care how elaborate it is, or how much work went into it-- my kid is at home waiting for me, and I am not screwing around.
[Her tone is hard, angry rather than anxious, determination winning out over uncertainty.]
‘Wonderland.’ Cute, but I’m not impressed. All I want is for you to point me towards the exit. You can do me a solid and we can do this the easy way-- or we can do it the hard way. Trust me, whatever weird stuff you might be into, I can promise you won’t be happy if we go that route.
[She stays on the line, just to wait for any kind of possible response-- but she doesn’t really know what to expect. This entire thing has her out of her depth, even if she’s not willing to admit it.]
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[They're on the same side here, definitely.]
Right, walk down the 'infinite' murder hallway.
[Because this is some weirdly colorful murder house, right? That's the theory she's running with right now.]
Do we know where this place is actually located? How far we might be from New York? I'm guessing the phone system is limited to the immediate area, or else someone would have called the cops ages ago.
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[ Henry lets out a breath and runs a hand over the top of his head. ]
It's been better to just...go with it? Not accept it, two different things. But going with it while still actively looking for a way out seems to be what a lot of people do. Because no, there's no way out of here that anyone's been able to tell me, no calling out. No internet, even.
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[She'd already suspected that much, but she doesn't love having it confirmed. She sighs heavily, some of that anger subsiding to become weariness instead. She's running out of options way more quickly than she's prepared to deal with.]
... how do we feel about this being some kind of drug-induced coma? Or maybe everyone's been brainwashed.
[No, okay, that sounds stupid. Forget she said that.]
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My name's Henry, by the way. At the very least, who knows, maybe we find out we're from the same place or something.
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[Two heads are better than one, after all. Wait--]
Henry?
[Her tone softens just a little, and she can't help smiling to herself, a bit wistful.]
That's my son's name, too. I'm Emma.
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Maybe we're supposed to meet. And I say that not to be extra weird, but because back home I wrote a novel. Main character's name is Emma. Pretty cool coincidence.
Meet at the coffee place in ten?
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[Definitely a funny coincidence, but hardly the weirdest thing she's heard to day. She almost sounds amused, or she might if it weren't overshadowed by worry at the moment.]
I'll be there. Coffee can only help right now.
[She needs to make sure her head is on straight after all this.]
action; HERE WE GO
[ Henry hangs up and tosses on a hoodie over a gray t-shirt. Slipping his device into his pocket he heads down to the first floor, ordering a coffee with cream before going to sit at a table by the door. He has a notebook too, so it's kind of obvious here's there to work on something. And he meant to pay attention to the door so he'd see people walking in, maybe intercept Emma, but like every great millennial he gets sucked into reading comments on a different conversation. ]
THE TIME HAS COME
She quickly surveys the immediate area; there aren't many people there, and it isn't hard to spot who it is that she's here to meet. The notebook stands out, and he looks about the right age to match the voice she'd heard over the device.]
Henry?
[She leans down just a little to get a better look at him as she approaches the table. She's not wearing her signature red leather jacket, sporting a black winter coat instead, but otherwise, she's the spitting image of the illustrations he's so familiar with.]
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He's hallucinating.
Dreaming?
Drugged.
Something.
Her name is Emma. This is insane. This is too much. This is a character from his book and he looks way too dumbstruck for too long to explain it away. He doesn't want to, and instead, he stands, staring intently at her. ]
You...you said your name is Emma, right?
[ He sounds confused, unsure, maybe a little afraid?
Maybe like he's seeing a ghost or something else completely unreal. ]
...Swan? Is your last name Swan?
[ It can't be. It better not be. Please, Wonderland, let him have his sanity. ]
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It doesn't sit well. Nothing about this place does, but there's something especially strange about this.]
How did you know that?
[She'd never mentioned it.]
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What is this? You can't just...this isn't...
[ WORDS, HENRY. ]
I know that because I wrote it. I wrote you. A book, called Once Upon a Time. It was my daughter's idea, kind of, fairy tales in the real world. One woman who grows up in the system and feels unwanted her entire life until she finds out she has a destiny to break a curse and free her family from an Evil Queen to ultimately save her son -
[ He's talking so fast, just saying this with no filter because he doesn't know what else to say and he sinks back down into the chair heavily. ]
You're not real. You can't be. Emma Swan, bounced around, adopted one time but given back. Your kid's dad.
[ Oh shit, well, this might make things better or worse. ]
His name is Neal, right? Neal Cassidy.
[ What the hell is happening? Why is this happening? ]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOy6hqzfsAs
At first she stares, her brows knit together as her gaze hardens, but it's when Neal's name leaves his mouth that she finally leans forward and slams one hand hard against the table's surface, teeth grit.]
Not even my kid knows that.
[He's never needed to know about the father that abandoned him. Emma was parent enough for the both of them.]
Who the hell are you and what the hell are you playing at?! All of that-- it's nonsense, and the parts that are true you could only know if you'd been following me. You're the one who brought me here, aren't you? Calling yourself 'Henry' because you thought I'd go soft and let my guard down. Guess again. I already said it earlier: I am not messing around.
s h i t
[ He pulls out his phone and pulls up his own network post from only a few weeks ago and puts it on the table between them so she can look at it. ]
My name is Henry. And I wrote a book with you as the main character because I grew up in the system, too. No one wanted me, and I just wanted a mom who -
[ Fuck. He can't tell all of this to a stranger. He also refuses to get emotional and takes a deep breath, equal parts frustrated, angry (at who knows what) and confused. ]
I wrote Emma Swan to be the mother I never had. To explain away a life of shitty things happening to me, okay? I don't know what this is. Or why you're here. Or why I'm here.
[ A thought occurs to him and now he's talking more to himself than to Emma. ]
Maybe after my family died I just...lost it. For all I know I'm actually in a psych ward right now.
[ His focus turns back to Emma. There is something so familiar about her that it makes his chest ache, but he chalks it up to the fact that he wrote her. He created her. ]
Look. I didn't bring you here. I don't know who or what did. But I'm guessing your mom isn't Snow White. Your dad's not Prince Charming. And that right there means this is all insane. You lived a real life, right? No fairy tales, no magic. My book is fiction. And yet somehow you're...real.
[ Don't you have some lie detector superpower Emma, get with it. ]
RETURNS FROM FINALS AND SLAMS BACK INTO YOU
[She listens to it all, her expression growing harder, tighter with each passing word, but that's the part that sticks, the part that she can't help but repeat.]
If this is your idea of a joke, then I'd say that's where you belong--
[But. That superpower of hers kicks in all on its own, and either he's a phenomenal actor, or he honestly believes what he's saying.
She exhales slowly, pulling back just enough to put another inch or so of space between them. Not much, but maybe she'll come off as less immediately threatening.]
You lost your family?
[Before she says anything more, she wants to know if that part is true.]
GET READY TO CRY
He doesn't owe her this, but she was on his side, and maybe he desperately, selfishly, needs that connection back. ]
I had a wife. Lauren. And a little girl, Abby. There was a fire. I thought they were right behind me when I ran out of the house. They weren't.
[ Henry's throat feels like it might shut, he feels like he might collapse into himself, and in this moment, he can easily see how he could have simply lost his mind. He couldn't save the family he'd built for himself after years of nothingness, and he'd gone right back to emptiness with one faulty electrical wire. ]
So, yeah. Maybe I'm insane. But I guess if I am, you are too.
I'M NOT READY
[Her voice is low and even, having swallowed some of her anger back as he shared his story. She intends to stand firm on that point-- but if he's telling the truth about his family, she doesn't have it in her to threaten him. She's never known much of family-- until she'd had Henry, she'd never had one of her own, but it's because she's never had one that she understands exactly how important it is.
Losing the people you love most could make you desperate enough to believe anything.]
... I'm sorry for your loss.
[But she's not crazy.]
no subject
[ He could keep telling Emma facts about her own life, but he knows that wouldn't go over well, she'd just think he was manipulating her. Sitting down in defeat, he puts his head in his hands for a minute and lets out a heavy breath. ]
So. Now what? With what people are telling us and what we just found out, what do we even call this?
no subject
[She grimaces. She knows she's of sound mind, and despite the things Henry is saying, he's not acting crazy-- but he definitely knows too much. Not all of the information he had was wrong, after all.]
What I do know is that everyone here is being played.
[They have to be.]
If you're not trying to manipulate me, there are other options. Conditioning, brainwashing-- someone's orchestrating all of this.
[Maybe it's him, but maybe not.]
no subject
[ That was a hell of a ride. But not the weirdest thing that happened. ]
Then she used this thing, it looked like a dream catcher? But it started playing home movies or something. It was me as a kid. Me with her in some town, growing up going to school, eating dinner with her. And I literally have no explanation for that at all. I can't deny it was me, but I know that wasn't my life. I was tossed in the system when I was born and never adopted.
no subject
[She's going to have to take that with about three hundred grains of salt, thanks, but at least she's listening to him.]
However she made that work, it's not real. It can't be-- but it sure as hell does move her up the list of suspects.
[She was already pretty high up, as is.]
She reached out to me, too. She knew my name, said she was from my future.
[This face, right now.]
no subject
[ Henry finally goes back to his coffee, sitting and flipping open his notebook. ]
So, list of thing this could be outside of being mentally unstable include one of us, probably me because I was here first, being in a coma or fever dream and I thought you up as a way to cope with how unreal it all is. Or vice versa. Something in the air or in the water altering our state of mind, which...I'm from the west coast and depending on where you're from that's probably not likely.
no subject
Your mom.
[From what little she's seen of Regina, she's nowhere near old enough for that-- but yeah, Henry's right, he definitely wins on the weird exchanges there, if it can be called winning.]
The problem with all those theories is that they insinuate that I'm not real, which I definitely am.
[She's no figment of anyone's imagination, fever dream or otherwise.]
What about hypnotism? Mental conditioning?
[Someone could have forcibly done this to them.]
no subject
[ He runs his hands through his hair, resting his head in his hands before letting out a breath. ]
There's one possibility we're ignoring, here. That this is all exactly like literally everyone I've talked to says it is. A huge group with the same consistent lies and no variations? You tell me, is that common?
no subject
No, but it's even more impossible than it is rare, isn't it?
[How could that possibly be the case?]
How can we be expected to believe any of this?
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