faderift | ( CLOSED )

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WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Emma and Jefferson in the library.
WHEN: Sometime this month.
WHERE: Library
NOTES: N/A

When all else fails, the only thing Emma can think to do is slide back into old research habits. Technology won't help her here; there's no internet to use, no Google to search. They can't have anything be too easy, and that means burying herself in a pile of books for the day. It's an option - maybe not a great one, but picking up a solid magic routine is proving to be more difficult than anticipated, and progress only seems to happen at a snails pace.

She needs more help than she's admitted to anyone, but it's hard to know who to trust and who to ask. At least a day spent searching through books might point in her in the right direction, whether it's opening a portal or creating one. She's blinking her way through one of the heavier tomes (the words run together if you stare too long, and too long hit her a few hours ago) when she hears footsteps behind her.

They can have this one if they want it. Everything she's read so far says nothing about what they need it to. They're not especially fond of rifters here, so maybe she was expecting something. If they want people to leave, they need to make it easier to get home.

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"Hard at work?"

Jefferson's been spending a fair bit of time in here as well, but the more practical way of getting information seems to be from people. There's a lot of chatter around the keep, a lot of gossip. It's only pieces, but something that can be put together with enough patience.

Still, sometimes hitting the books is a good way to find the way these things connect. The mages, the templars, the Chantry, the Qunari and Tal-Vashoth. He knows a thing or two about finding his way in a new world.

Emma, he expects, has slightly less experience.

Emma has some experience, though maybe not enough to get her through this without her wanting to hit something. She keeps thinking her chances would be better if Ruby was still here, if her parents were here, if this world wasn't so foreign to her that (even now) she's still learning the ropes. Jefferson seems to prefer to get all of his intel from the people around him, and for her it's too much of a gamble to rely on gossip alone.

It's frustrating, feeling like she's no closer to getting home than she was when she first arrived here. Every effort she's made has resulted in failure, and that's a lot for one savior to take. It's a burden that's still resting on her shoulders when she tears her gaze away from the page to glance up at Jefferson, a sigh falling from her lips at the question. "You could say that."

Hard at work was a few hours ago, for as slow as she's going now, she might qualify as hardly working.

Eyebrows arch as he creeps closer, leaning in to peer over her shoulder at the impressive tome she's combing through. "Well, then you're doing better than I could," he replies dryly. "Picking anything useful out of those is about as likely as pulling a straight flush on your first hand."

His fingers curl and uncurl around the shard in his hand.

"Not that I haven't tried.

"So what, I'm wasting my time?" It's likely not how he means it, just how she takes it when she knows he's right. What are the odds she'll find the right book, the right chapter, the right page to get them anywhere with this? There's a reason why he defaults to turning to people. Asking and answering questions moves more quickly than driving herself insane in the library.

Emma leans forward, folding her arms against the page and rubbing a hand over her face. "Why is it this difficult to get any answers around here?"

His mouth twists into a faint grimace. "Not exactly...I get repetitive tasks seeming pointless, though. Believe me."

Swinging around the back of her chair, he drops into an empty one beside her, his hand dropping onto the cover of a nearby book to drum idly. "But we've learned some things, haven't we?" His brows lift. "You've got the big threat, up top, the reason the rifts exist to begin with. And then you've got everyone squabbling between that threat. That part seems pretty standard. Just a matter of separating everyone into race, religion, and country of origin, after that. Ferelden humans don't like Orlesian humans, Orelesian humans don't like Orlesian elves, and so on and so on..."

"Alright, what in all of that gets us home?" Because he's right, they're learning this world. They're trapped in this world, and with every day that they stay here they become more a part of it. She doesn't know what to make of that, doesn't know how to stretch her understanding of where they are to how to get out. Being here feels like she's just grasping for anything; and that makes perfect sense to her because she is.

She sighs, leaning back to look at a page of text that's just as useless as the last one. "What do we know that's useful, Jefferson?"

"We know that the Rifts are magical. That they lead to someplace called the Fade, which is part of this world but not. And somehow, something got crossed over there that wound up with us coming here."

Jefferson huffs, his nostrils flaring.

"And the people who know the most about the Rifts, in general, are mages. Who nobody who isn't a mage trusts. So. There's also that."

"We've both worked with people we don't trust before." They're doing it right now, aren't they? Nevermind that she's not planning on trying to work out whether or not she actually trusts Jefferson. That's another headache - and she already has one from going through all of this.

"It's something to consider." A little desperate, but they've been that for a while now.

"Well, we're officially mages too, as far as anyone's concerned." He lifts his hand briefly to display his glowing palm, before letting it drop down to the book's cover. "Another reason to suspect magic's going to be the cure, here, because these little shards are definitely connected to the rifts. And last I knew, I couldn't do magic."

His free hand lifts to nervously scratch at the edge of his jaw, his eyes flickering across the library around them.

"So, it's a matter of finding a mage that knows anything at all about how the rifts work. How they opened in the first place. Unfortunately, our prime suspect appears to be the big bad everyone's so eager to raise an army against."

Why not, right? Jefferson's mouth tightens, eyebrows lifting as he shrugs and huffs again.

"Technically, you've used magic before." The hat. He might not have had magic of his own to access, but he has an understanding of how magic works at home. If there's a connection, though, she hasn't found it yet. "And I'm... learning." That's what she tells herself, and she's just defeated enough to demand that he's not going to argue with her this time.

"There has to be something else. We've gotten around going to the source before." They never needed to know where their portals came from in the Enchanted Forest, it seemed like anyone with the right tools could make one appear. "Besides, what about my magic? I'm supposed to be powerful, I'm the savior." Even her tone says that hasn't amounted to much, but it's hard to separate her anger from the disappointment that's been creeping in. "How do we use that to get home?"

"It's not that simple."

No matter how he wishes it was. Every day spent away from Grace is one too many, and the reminder needles at him something terrible. Doubtless Emma feels the same, being separated from her family, but that's no reason to go hoping for miracles.

They have what they have. Nothing more or less than that.

"Back home, you're the savior. You've got your threads of destiny entangled with everyone else's. Here? Those rules don't apply." He shifts forward, straightening his back. "That's the thing. Every land, every world? Comes with its own set of rules. You can't play by the ones you had back in Storybrooke. They might not even equate to the ones from the Enchanted Forest. This brand of magic? This is like nothing I've ever seen before. The way it forms, the people who control it?"

His brow furrows as he shakes his head. "It's like...all the magic in the world was concentrated into its own plane of existence. And mages are the only ones who ever get to touch it or pull it through. That's...nothing like what we have back home. Not even close to the same principles."

"I know." She's not disagreeing with him. It doesn't work the same way here, it's not as open, not as available. Gold sent her to slay a dragon and brought the magic of the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke, but they both know it'd never work that way in this realm. It's not that simple, it's so far from simple that she almost feels like they're missing something. There has to be more to it than this.

"But while we're here reading books..." Their kids are back in Storybrooke without them, and this world is no closer to getting them home than it was when they first arrived. It's an alarming lack of progress for someone who's never been this far away from Henry without having something to work toward.

She just needs to feel like it's possible again, needs to feel she's going to see her son again. The longer this goes on, the harder it is to imagine saying or doing the right thing to get the information they need.

"It just feels like nothing helps." She spares a glance at the hatter beside her. "Nothing ever helps."

To that, Jefferson says nothing. He swallows tightly, gaze flicking away.

It's not quite Wonderland. He's not a prisoner, necessarily. They all want to see them get home as much as they want to go home, or so it appears. But it's that same sense of creeping hopelessness, the reminder that nothing they do seems to bring them any closer.

"Maybe."

And he glances down at his hand again. That tense look hardens into something sharp, something a little more determined.

"...but I have the feeling there's something that might."

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