( CLOSED )

[sheriffing]

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.

Comments

[sheriffing]

"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."

[hattergonnahat]

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."