closed. | if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall

[sheriffing]

WHO: Emma Swan + Jefferson
WHAT: The savior and the mad hatter team up to get information. What could possibly go wrong?
WHEN: Current-ish
WHERE: Traveling through the Hinterlands
NOTES:I'll throw in a warning if I need to.

As much as she hates to admit it, Jefferson has finally started making sense.

It's a little risky, venturing off on their own. They might have been better off asking someone else to take them, compensating them for their trouble, and hoping they didn't pick the wrong guy. It doesn't take much for Emma to realize that they're both out of their element, but that's a constant in this world, and they won't get home waiting for someone else to discover the way back to Storybrooke.

Information is hard to come by in Skyhold, and most of the people Emma has talked to are either rifters themselves, or too polite to tell her what's really going on here. There's a division that she's felt since the first day; curiosity that sets in when people find out she's not of this world. She doesn't blame them for it, but it's clear that their knowledge highlights her lack of it. They know the land, the magic, and the politics, and she'll always be catching up. In their world, she's the unknown.

Which means the sooner they get out of it, the better - and the only way they're going to learn more about this world is to start asking the right questions.

She might stop short of using the words unholy alliance as a descriptor of her partnership with Jefferson, but it's close enough that she's hoping his tip is a good one. It hasn't led them especially far, but Emma has already been warned about the Hinterlands and the threats she might find here. If it gets them what they need, it's worth coming out this way - yet she's tense as she leads the way, ready for a fight that feels inevitable this time.

"Sometimes this place reminds me of the Enchanted Forest." Mostly because of the trees, which can be found in most places. Put her in any a forest with magic and unknown creatures, and the comparison has to be made.

It's mostly a crappy attempt at conversation, but this time she doesn't even deserve points for intent.

Comments

[sheriffing]

Fight-or-flight implies a choice. His is flight, hers is fight. He steps back, but Emma isn't going to try to outrun a bow and arrows. Three against two says they're outnumbered and overpowered. They could run, but they wouldn't get far. If anything they do is a risk, there's a little more clarity here than they'd like.

They're screwed. It's a thought that strikes her pretty soundly at this moment, posture still and rigid. The templars aren't talking to them, hell, they're almost staring through them, and if anyone wants to run in that moment, it's Emma.

But she holds firm in her determination not to show it - whatever that counts for now. "We were just passing through."

[hattergonnahat]

"Likely story." The one in the heaviest armor seems to be the de facto leader of this little group. He bears the same sickly, mottled-red skin as the others, eyes luminous and hateful as they move from Emma to Jefferson and back again. "What do you think? They look like Inquisition agents to you?"

"What's it matter? Sends a message either way, doesn't it?" The archer spits, lifting his bow.

When Emma doesn't promptly retreat with him, Jefferson curses under his breath and edges towards her back, one hand taking firm hold of her arm. Now's not the time to stand and chat!

[sheriffing]

"I know how to send a message, too." It's bitter, less fearful than it ought to be. She could take off but anger's getting the better of her, all that pent-up rage from being trapped in this world finally starting to catch up to her. Maybe the savior would snap, if not for Jefferson and how quickly he steps in to yank her back, pulling her away from the templars in a way that leaves her no choice but to rush after him.

She's not sure when he became the level-headed one out of the two of them, but this time, she might be grateful for it.