We're glad you've stopped by - whether it's to advertise or peek around! We've got a really great group of friendly writers, eager to plot with you! Along with the OUAT canons we have available, we accept characters from major Disney animated films, fairy tales, and folk tales.
“There just wasn’t much else to do,” she said softly. No need to go into how she counted those same miserable bricks again and again. Why? That really was madness now wasn't it? It wasn’t as though the number of bricks would change. Even if somehow she managed to pry one loose everything would be reset. All she’d accomplish for her trouble was more time in the straight jacket and an extra healthy dose of sedatives.
“Just sing to myself and talk to myself...” Talking to herself could be a real problem when people already assumed she had more than a few screws loose. People got it into their heads that only crazy people talked to themselves. She didn’t expect anyone to answer back...Usually...And when she did she knew the oracle was confined to her head.
She was for all intensive purposes in solitary confinement the majority of the time. Even those who brought her meals were not supposed to breathe so much as a single word to her. So...Who else was supposed to speak to her?
There were three exceptions. Nurse Ratched. Dr. Hopper. Dr. Whale. Nurse Ratched ran the hell hole known as the General Hospital’s psyche ward, a.k.a. basement level. And she thrived off patients’ pain. She basked in the seer’s misery. Their little chats were worse than any sorrows her cell could conjure for her. And yet...The seer was incapable of demanding she leave. She couldn’t even ignore her, so starved was the seer for any sort of human interaction.
Her time with Dr. Whale was a little better because he wasn’t sadism incarnate. But not by much. He only came to check up on her after incidents...And there were many, none of which were remotely pleasant. And then it was more tests and drugs she knew she couldn't take. More slipping pills down her shirt, pretending to swallow. It really wasn’t easy when they watched her so closely.
And Dr. Whale just grew more and more frustrated as nothing worked. He wasn’t the sort to mask his displeasure either. So yes...Lots and lots of fun to be had there.
Her sessions with Dr. Hopper sadly enough were the highlights of her time in the psyche ward. He thought her delusional, the visions nothing more than side effects from seizures. But he did talk to her like a person at least. And he wasn’t unsympathetic as much as he could never accept what she felt and as much as she could knew to be true. But 28 years in a mental institution...That would take its toll on anyone. Seers couldn’t help but be at least slightly mad to begin with. And there...How the strands frayed. Even when the curse would shatter, she didn’t expect she could patch them up properly. And well...the torture with her witches hadn’t done her any favors either.
The seer was grateful that Jefferson didn’t seem to think she’d done anything wrong. He wasn’t giving her that ‘you’re nuts’ or ‘you have no idea how to behave in social settings’ look. But of course...Someone like him wouldn’t.
“We’re both cursed by knowledge.” It was said more to herself than him. “Holding conflicting realities in our heads..” She didn’t hold memories exactly. But the knowledge...She had that. And it made her miserably cursed in a way most couldn’t comprehend.
And there was a stronger attachment to the knowledge of her other self. The seer did understand...That was her even if she couldn’t recall it personally. So that pain..It struck a higher note, a sharper cord.
He blinked at her confession of being a seer which meant she’d startled him. But of course she had. There was a difference between knowing someone was not quite right and hearing the future was theirs to see. Most everyone knew that much about seers. And Jefferson..He had more magical knowledge than most. She hated to think about what stories he’d heard over the years. Almost none of them depicted seers in a favorable light. At best..You could hope for a neutral portrayal. And even those tended to be slanted towards the negative spectrum, cold and indifferent to other’s plights even if they were fairly forthcoming.
Jefferson had a strange look in his eyes that grew the more she spoke, fascination mingled with horror. At least he wouldn’t be one to make that dreadful mistake, find her blessed rather than cursed.
His response was surprisingly considerate. Jefferson more than dealt with the Dark One. He viewed him as a father figure. So the seer didn’t expect to just be shunned for her nature with him even if Rumplestiltskin loathed seers himself. But all the same..She was startled with how he kept himself in check, not asking the countless questions that no doubt were bubbling up in his brain given his nature. “That’s the gist of it,” she answered. It was a little more complicated but then most things were.“And...” She sucked in her breath. “It’s okay if you want to ask questions. I’ll do my best to answer them.” He was being very kind to her. And she had nothing to offer him but answers.
Post by Jefferson Hatter on Sept 3, 2016 3:22:20 GMT
"I get that much..." Jefferson told her "I used to sing, make rhymes and talk to myself. It is a way to deal with time." Some of it was just simply how he learned knowledge. Oral knowledge, music, had been very important for someone who only learned how to read from the dark one in his teens. The other part of it was just that rhymes and singing were child-like. A part of something that might be a little more sweet... Or at least the nostalgia of the idea, a childhood that was not tempered by sorrow, was something to sink into the role of giving someone else.
The Storyteller, the Hatter and the messenger all had their parts as intermediaries for the story. He would practice rhymes, songs and even the full stories to himself to be able to tell them properly to help himself. Tell them as a way to also dissociate, be able to be something other than the hatter boy, and in the end it was a very gratifying skill. Someone with a story was the center of the stage, the most important person in the world, for the time they were on it until they stepped off. Once they stepped off they faded unless they made a big enough impression.
He had practiced there. Until he could tell a good story. Must be why his improv is so good. He couldn't really make up a story on his own, none of his stories had been something new, but he could revamp it into something new sometimes. And he could say something that wasn't exactly what was the truth with an edge that made it seem like the truth. Not really lying, can't tell something false, following a script or obscuring the truth for something a bit better for him.
Jefferson winced when Shea mentioned how they both were cursed by knowledge. The phrasing itself the sort of thing he would use for the torment that had been years of being both Eric Jefferson and Jefferson Hatter. The businessman of a modern world with knowledge of all kinds of little things to better help bring money to the town while also getting a profit and a family he had lost in an accident... Then the Hatter who had always used other people for his own survival, who had lost his own family because he couldn't keep his idea of not abandoning family, who wouldn't want to interact with people anyways... The contrast of their varying motivations... Of how much he wished he could kick Shea out as he was happy to have her here to get rid of his loneliness...
There were no words for the hatred he had of his state. Two different people at once. Two different pains. Conflicting, even where they overlapped, making it confusing what was him and what was not him. Being the sort of person he thought he always wished to be while also being the exact person he hated having ended up as. A powerful in between who had everything and at the same time nothing. Her words made him think of everything and also need to take a breath. He reminded himself he was in the middle of cooking and unfroze himself. He was used to getting stuck in his pain. He was[/i] the Hatter.
It was fortunate he had the best distraction in listening to a seer. Not cursed words... Honest words that were a glimpse into something he would not have known. Something he could not have known. What he would like to ask about since she gave him permission but was surprised to find himself shaking his head, leaning against the counter as he continued to watch the food. "Don't tell me because I'd like to know..." He told her "Give me your story, when your ready or when needed, something like this I would rather learn naturally then have to think up the questions now." As much as he wanted to let her tell her story... What little he got already, combined with just the shock of her being a seer, was enough for him to deal with right now. He was a pathetic knowledge seeker but he needed a bit of time with it.
“Seers are the true keepers of songs and stories.” Perhaps it was an arrogant to think let alone say; but, the seer felt it to be honest. No one knew more stories or songs than her. There were so many piled up inside her head. And phrasing it like that...For once it put a bit of a positive spin on being a seer. It wasn't always a bad thing, to know what no one else could. It mostly was...But because of it, there were some things only she could do, some things only she could share.
When it was a particularly bad day and she was doubting her sanity more than normal, she'd sit back and think of all she 'knew'. Could her mind genuinely conjure so much fictional data? Memories of varying people and different worlds, all those melodies that wouldn't leave her head. Creativity had limits. Imagination had to come from somewhere, didn't it?
Still, that was little comfort. Know the sun and you could imagine one that burned forever without going supernova. That didn't mean it actually existed anywhere. You just needed a nugget of truth of inspiration to spawn fantastical stories. And really...Weren't some of the things she 'knew' just a trifle too astonishing to believe?
Fairy tales were real; and, the characters from those stories although different from their interpretations were ripped from their worlds and given a false set of memories, new identities and functioned in a land without magic, miserable even as they were unable to comprehend the curse that ensnared them. Almost everyone had not one self but two. (There were a few exceptions like Henry and Emma who'd never been cursed.)
There was magic and as sure as people could be of the past, whatever name the seer went by could be certain of the future. Never had her predictions been wrong.
“I smuggled in a spoon, a metal one. It took some effort but if you were determined enough you could use it to carve into the wall or floor.” Desperate was the better word there; but, no need to go into just how frantic she'd been. The seer was sure Jefferson could guess anyways.
“I know it was stupid...Time ticked but never stuck. Each day it was reset so any marks to keep track of it would just vanish.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.
“And I don't need that anyways. So long as I'm conscious I keep perfect track of time in all worlds. I can tell you to the fraction of a second how much time has passed here.” Because she'd been conscious when this little bubble of a world was birthed and had remained so throughout its relatively short life.
Unfortunately her 'gift' didn't help date herself. She could only tell that she'd been active for so long and how time correspondingly flowed in all the worlds. Specific dates she didn't get. Perhaps because in the stream of time, they were meaningless, flawed conjectures made by frightened mortals, a pitiful attempt to tame and control the chaotic realms.
It could be more than a little dizzying, housing all that in her head. Time didn't flow equally anywhere.
“But..I suppose it was something to do. And I did know that one day the mark would stick.” She'd done it under the bed for just that reason, to avoid detection. She'd be in huge trouble if they realized she'd stolen a metal spoon. Something like that was still considered a weapon in the psyche ward.
Jefferson winced at her words, as accurate as they were; and, the seer for the billionth time in her existence wondered if she wouldn't have been better off keeping her mouth shut. For seers..It never seemed like there was the right thing to say, just a thousand wrong ones.
She'd known the pain of dual identities long before Storybrooke had cursed her. The seer had been inside countless heads, simultaneously betrayer and those betrayed, slayer and those slain. How many people could honestly say they knew what death felt like? No, the seer had yet to die herself; but, being burned alive at the stake, freezing to death in the dead of winter, drowning in the Arctic Sea, decapitation, stake through the heart, bullet in the brain, sharp bear claws in the gut, torture, famine...And so many, many others.
Any kind of death a deranged mind could conjure, she'd experienced as if it were her own. Hers...And not hers. Lines blurred to the point she couldn't tell what was her; and, what was a compilation of presences that wouldn't leave her. Just what was the seer? The question only grew more difficult with a cursed self. Now she couldn't simply ask the question what was Shea. For there too Elizabeth (Liza for short) waited. That's why she was the seer, the one thing she could mostly know although the psyche ward had shaken her confidence more than a little.
There was one definitive constant though, even now. Her pain. No matter what world she resided in, what names people called her, she was reviled and mostly thought mad. She was hurt because she was never something anyone could understand or accept. Even those that acknowledged her 'gifts' whether in the Enchanted Forest or in Storybrooke, cared nothing for the whole picture. They merely wished to use her for prophecies. They didn't try to comprehend. They didn't want to. The girl...anything beyond or beneath the sorcery was insignificant. Divinations, a powerful magical artifact. That was all she was to them, a tool, a means to some end.
The seer gave a wry smile at his sweet words. “My story is not good table conversation.” Torture had not been confined to her mind. That had been her existence since the tender age of two. It only grew worse when she traded in soldier captives for witch ones.
Sorry I disappeared for a while! Anastasia is officially done and I am back, had some IRL mishaps but hope to write with all of you guys soon <3.
Aug 20, 2016 21:00:20 GMT
Apologies to all members, for once again going off the grid. The admins here are still very much invested in keeping this site alive, but sometimes our real lives serve as speed bumps on the road toward that goal. Thank you all for being patient with us.
Jul 26, 2016 15:52:20 GMT
...is this even happening?
Jul 2, 2016 19:56:24 GMT
I'm so excited to see this alive! Hoping my app will be reviewed and, fingers crossed, accepted now! ( Though it has been archived. )
Jun 18, 2016 16:15:05 GMT
Hey guys Ariel here, Thursday night a bad storm knocked my power out and as I Saturday, today, I still don't have any!! I'm not ignoring the site, I just don't have a computer to use yet. As soon as I get power, I will be back!
Jun 17, 2016 19:39:26 GMT
Apologies to all for being so MIA, had a lot going on work wise and with real life this month, the biggest being having my wisdom teeth removed earlier this week. BUT I AM BACK <3
Jun 14, 2016 18:03:21 GMT
All done with my app Lovelies <3
Jun 7, 2016 1:46:17 GMT
hey guys! we're slowly but surely still working on updates. thanks for your patience! we love you!
Jun 2, 2016 1:36:18 GMT
Open thread to anyone that would show up at the snow's residence here
May 19, 2016 20:14:35 GMT
Just a note to all members: Snow will be out of town from Tomorrow morning until Monday afternoon. If anyone has any questions, or needs any help during that time, please direct your concerns to myself and the other staff members! Thank you <3
May 16, 2016 23:23:41 GMT
If you are ready and want to begin writing - the RP boards are open!
May 16, 2016 20:05:07 GMT
Today is Monday guys!!! Please remember it is the last day to reclaim any characters that you are planning on keeping!! Thank you all <3
May 13, 2016 14:35:07 GMT
as you guys are retooling your apps - know that we are canon seasons 1-3, and everything after that can be up to you. you can stick to canon, or go off script - but remember to work with the folks who have connections to your characters! <3
May 13, 2016 13:45:26 GMT
all apps have been archived. please repost the apps of characters you are keeping. pm me with any questions. <3
May 13, 2016 13:16:38 GMT
I just wanna say how very excited I am to see so many of you guys staying and sticking with us <3
May 13, 2016 12:39:46 GMT
don't worry - your plot pages are not deleted, they have been archived, and you will be able to access them once the RP boards are opened back up. I promise nothing has been removed completely - you will have access to all of your posts and plot pages. <3
May 12, 2016 20:37:28 GMT
Hey everybody, I am the admin formerly known as Belle, just so you all know <3
May 12, 2016 20:08:51 GMT
you guys can reply at this link, to let us know which characters & accounts you're keeping! <3
May 12, 2016 18:26:29 GMT
Is there a place to say "yes, I want to keep my character?
May 8, 2016 3:42:44 GMT
don't panic - the rp boards are hidden to staff only for now, as we move everything to the archives and work to restart the game. you will not loose any old work, but we will be wiping the slate clean.