❀ 01

[truffulacide]

A. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]

[before the Once-ler even opens his eyes, the first thing that immediately occurs to him is how fresh the air is.

even when he's straddling the border between the waking world and his dream world, it's immediately apparent. sleeping, such as it is, isn't easy to accomplish anymore. it's always fitful and restless and not really sleep at all; light napping would be more accurate. once, all he had to do was bury himself under his quilt and concentrate on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat to lull himself into unconsciousness. it's a little more difficult now. his breathing isn't so steady anymore; it's hoarse and when he coughs it feels like his throat's splitting apart. the air's too sour and smoggy to inhale without launching into a fit of hacking and spitting, but like most things these days, he's gotten used to it. you didn't even need willpower to force yourself to accept things anymore - all you had to do was give up.

he's lived in the valley long enough for his body to grow accustomed to the air, so naturally it senses that something is very wrong here before his mind even registers the fact. buried under his blanket with his legs sticking out in uncomfortable directions (and wow, did he outgrow his bed or did it somehow shrink?), he yawns and smacks his lips together noisily, a little trickle of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth. he really must've been exhausted because, gosh, he can't remember sleeping this well since - well, since -

since the trees were still -

...wait. waitwaitwaaaait - was it sunny?

the Once-ler's eyes flutter a little before wrenching themselves open completely and he confirms within the rough span of five seconds that, yes, it is sunny and no, he isn't in his room. and this DEFINITELY isn't his bed, it's smells like fresh soap and cotton and it's way too cramped like... like...

what. the. heck.

he slowly turns over on his side and all it takes is the sight of the woman's blond head for him to bolt upright in bed and shriek at the top of his lungs.]


B. [ACTION: 917 BILKO BOULEVARD]

[lovely day, ain't it? maybe you're on your way to work. maybe you're a girl scout making your rounds. maybe you're just out for a walk, looking to stretch your legs and take in Mayfield properly before the powers-that-be go nuts and end up putting a damper on what could otherwise be a very nice week.

if you're expecting a relaxing morning, you definitely shouldn't pass 917. really, you shouldn't.]

- Hey!

[this is why.

even if you don't hear it the first time, that single word is repeated with a little more urgency (and a little more whining) until you give in and follow it to the source, which just happens to be the mail slot of this particular house.

the slot is open and a pair of blue eyes are peering out, looking straight at you.]

Yeah, you! Get over here!

Comments

[hairflyingheartpounding]

[Well, not exactly, but... Heh.]

I live... In the woods. Near the kingdom.

[truffulacide]

[he stops to glance over his shoulder, giving her the oddest look.]

Kingdom?

[hairflyingheartpounding]

...Yes?

[truffulacide]

[his blank look should tell you all you need to know about how much he understands what she's saying.]

[hairflyingheartpounding]

You... Don't know the kingdom?

[Gosh, how far from home is she?]

[truffulacide]

[he shakes his head slowly.]

I've been all over the place and I've never heard of any kingdom. Those don't really exist anymore.

[hairflyingheartpounding]

...What's it like where you're from?

[truffulacide]

...Oh. Well...

[it's interesting how such a simple question can make him tense up. he remains perfectly still, though he doesn't look that upset or even nervous. his expression is flat - almost carefully so - and instead of replying he just takes a deep breath.

he's quiet like that for a painful minute and a half before his eyes skitter back to the closet and widen.]

- Hey! Look here, I found something.

[he points to another box, too big to be a simple shoebox. he smiles and it doesn't take a genius to realize that it's phony and this is his way of changing the subject.]

[hairflyingheartpounding]

[She looks at the box, then him... Back and forth a few times before confusion takes over for what feels like the millionith time already that day.]

....Alright. Why aren't you answering me?

[truffulacide]

Answering you about what? My home? [he kneels back down and grabs the box all too hastily.] I don't see what that has to do with anything. I'd rather be back there than here; that's all that matters right now.

[actually, that's something of a lie. but she doesn't have to know that.

he opens the box and - wow, he really did find something. it's full of papers; old but important looking documents and snapshots. one of them looks like a marriage certificate. the other, the one he's holding right now, looks like a deed to the house.

his eyes narrow at the real estate insignia branded at the bottom.]

..."Mayfield"?

[hairflyingheartpounding]

But it matters if we're from--

[...Two entirely different places, but then he opens the box and she comes over beside him.]

...What are all those?

[She doesn't know what the documents mean. She can read them, of course, but their significance is lost on her. So instead, she opts for shuffling through the box for photos... And promptly gasps.]

[truffulacide]

[murmuring:] Mayfield... Is that where we are?

[he looks up and scootches over to hover over her shoulder.]

Whatcha got?

[hairflyingheartpounding]

Um... Wellll...

[She will just show him the picture of the two of them standing in front of a house she just found. Nevermind the fact that she doesn't remember seeing him before...]

That house looks... Strange. [The differences over the centuries is large, but hard for her to explain.] And... This doesn't look like a painting.

[truffulacide]

[oh dear.]

- Lemme see that! [and whether you like it or not, he's gonna snatch that picture out of your hand. he stares at it and turns it over, inspecting every last inch of it.]

...That's the first thing you think of when you look at this? That the house looks "strange"?

[he hands it back to her, disgusted.]

And it's not a painting. It's a snapshot. Don't they have those in your kingdom?

[hairflyingheartpounding]

Yes, it is! Stop being so rude!

[She huffs and snatches the photo out of his hand, even though he offered it freely.]

And they don't. I've never heard of a snapshot before.

[truffulacide]

It's probably the house we're in right now. And I'm NOT being rude!

[that hysteria's coming back again in full force, but after looking at that marriage certificate, who can blame him? it's harder to get out of something when you've got a legally binding contract holding you to it. believe him, he knows.]

It's from a camera. If anything, I bet whoever took this is the one who put us here. He probably doctored this up. [a pause.] ...That means he altered it to make us look like this. That's the only explanation.

[hairflyingheartpounding]

Yes, you are, and what is a camera?!

1/2

[truffulacide]

[this is getting too much to take. he throws his hands up.]

It's what you take pictures with! It's what makes these! [he picks up a handful of the snapshots, each depicting a different scene (Rapunzel in a yellow sun dress, two kids he's never seen before sitting on a picnic blanket eating watermelon slices, Once-ler with his arm around Rapunzel's waist and a big, gooney smile on his face, etc.), and drops them haphazardly onto the floor.]

And I sure as heck don't remember being in any of -

2/2

[truffulacide]

[from outside the door, he hears something that sounds like giggling, followed by footsteps. immediately, he goes rigid and freezes, his mouth still hanging open.

he exchanges a look with Rapunzel.]

[hairflyingheartpounding]

[She would have started telling him off, but... Oh, God, nonono. This can't be happening. She can't be a--]

Oh God...

[truffulacide]

[Once-ler raises a finger to his lips. shhhhh.

they sound like little kids, sure, but it could just as easily be some sort of trick. maybe they aren't kids at all. the very idea makes his blood run cold and in no time at all he grabs the nearest thing that can be used as a weapon - in his case, the lamp on their nightstand - and gestures for Rapunzel to do the same.

then he starts creeping over to the door. gotta have the element of surprise, after all.]

[hairflyingheartpounding]

[Rapunzel stays behind for a moment, staring in horror. Kids! He's going to beat the kids with a weird... Sculpture-thing!

Then she finds control of her body again and scrambles -- rather noisily -- to get between him and the door.]

[truffulacide]

[who said anything about beating? the lamp's just insurance in case one of them tries to go for his throat.]

What are you doing? [he hisses it out in a tiny whisper.]

[hairflyingheartpounding]

[She hisses right back,] Put that down! They're just children!

[truffulacide]

How do you know? They might not even be kids! Just listen -

[there's more giggling and laughing. to be fair, they do sound pretty creepy. a little too perfect.]

Are you really going to trust that?