winnie and faust are in a (boredpursuit) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-02-07 21:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | door: tales, faust, quasimodo, snow white |
Who: Faust, Snow and Quasimodo
Where: Fabletown office
When: Recently!
What: Moving to Fabletown
Warnings: None
Snow White was not, absolutely not, nervous. Not one bit. The impending arrival of new inhabitants to Fabletown wasn’t something to be nervous about. Granted, it had been several centuries since they welcomed new people to their door, but she knew the protocol like the back of her hand. Now that she was in her current position as deputy Mayor, it would be all the easier. This was like riding a bicycle, surely. This would go smoothly.
And yet, Snow found herself having to reread the papers in front of her twice, her mind too unfocused to pay attention. So much that when she heard the knock at her office door she started slightly, pen lightly dropping down to her desk.
“B—” She had barely gotten to the first syllable when she was looking to the desk behind hers, Boy Blue’s, and finding it empty. She looked around the office - a cavernous room filled with dusty tomes, enchanted statues, and various other remnants of former fairytale glory that would be normally impossible to behold there in a supposedly boring office (if the simple Business Office etched onto her door was anything to go by) if not for the enchantments - and found herself all alone. Not even the Buffkin, the flying monkey assistant, was around to save her from her nerves or the expectant knock.
Leaving her paperwork aside, she strode toward the door with purposeful steps. Taking a deep, calming breath, she smoothed down any wrinkles her navy blouse or her slate colored pencil skirt. She checked her appearance in the dim reflection of a nearby window to make sure she was still the picture of professionalism, and offered a simple, “Yes?” as she opened her door, wondering who would be waiting for her there.
Faust, for the first time since he arrived through this door, was having doubts. He had no affection for the modern era that Peter lived in and worried what he’d have to change to fit in. The ban on magic was a big enough blow and juggling partial responsibility for Quasimodo worried him. Maybe this would be all too much for the recluse, especially if it was a little too much for the tall, charming wizard in a top hat. The hat. Before approaching the door, Faust turned to Quasimodo. “We ought to look presentable.” He said with a serious look that was quickly corrected into something easy and light. The tall man who usually dressed in fine silks and fabrics that belonged on dignitaries and politicians touched his own chest and suddenly he was wearing a white button down shirt, a worn leather bomber jacket and jeans. No top hat. He frowned a little, missing the silly thing already and then touched Quasimodo’s arm, giving him a t-shirt, blazer, jeans and a scarf to burrow his face in if he was feeling shy.
“Good.” Faust perked up a little, turning to knock on the door before either of them could have any more second doubts. When Snow appeared, he watched her expression and then smirked. “Last time I’ll use magic.” He swore, gesturing to the modern outfit with a small move of his hand that was neither dramatic or sweeping. Faust had impersonated many different social circles before, but this took a large amount of subtly that he wasn’t accustomed to. If Rose was here it’d be different, he thought, looking at her exact opposite with a certain amount of trepidation.
One of these days, Quasimodo would get used to Faust’s casual displays of magic. Today was not that day. No, he was too busy looking around at the office, trying not to allow how nervous he was to show on his face. He had never been much of a traveler, after all. Most of his life had been spent in Notre Dame, and the furthest he had been from there was the castle he had just left. This place was beyond the pale of his experience. Outside the building lay a modern world, he knew, like the one that his foul-mouthed, rakish alter lived in. He didn’t know if such places were for him. Even the castle had been like Notre Dame in its way; quiet, out of the way, a crumbling edifice of an older time.
Quasimodo was so distracted with taking in the office that he didn’t anticipate a change of clothes. He didn’t jump, at least, when the scent of magic hit the air, something he was also only just starting to become familiar with. He looked down at himself and felt, as he had when Faust had dressed him in the rich cloak of a gentleman, that these clothes made him look a bit like a joke, bunched and wrapped as they were on his twisted form. The scarf was welcome, at least, offering a hint of psychological protection. The shirt was very smooth and soft, a little like silk, but thin, and flexible. The jacket seemed decorative, since he doubted it would keep him warm outside, like part of a nobleman’s suit. So simple, though. If it was meant to show wealth, where didit show it?
Quasimodo had never met Snow White. His first impression of her was that she was lovely, and then that she was the person in charge in this place, the one who would usher them in. A woman? That was interesting. It was a very different place, this other world. “Mademoiselle.” He greeted her quietly, face still partially obscured by the scarf. He knew better by now than to immediately expect her to recoil or openly stare at him, but it was still a surreal thing for it not to happen. One day, he would get used to the magic.The complete shift in how people treated him, though - that he did not know how to be at ease with.
Snow met Faust’s smirk with a cool raise of her brow before darting a quick glance around to make sure no one saw. They were new visitors, and this was still a safe Fabletown building, but it was a habit that she preferred keeping. Once clear of anyone noticing such blatant displays of power, her blue eyes gave Faust a once over, bordering on appreciative perhaps, but more approving that he was appropriately attired. She then cast her gaze to Quasimodo, nodding in greeting as she took in his clothing and thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have to go shopping again with a new Fable. She hadn’t quite recovered from her last time with Rose.
“Come in,” she offered, throwing open her door before walking back to her desk, gesturing to the two seats in front as she passed them. “Let’s get you two situated so you can be on your way.” How reassuring it would be to be cast back out into the modern world was not her problem, or so Snow kept reminding herself. She still had a town to run, and a somewhat icy reputation to keep, and everyone had to start somewhere.
“Has Rose told you anything about us or our community here?” That might be the best place to start and she steepled her fingers as she sat her desk, looking at the two men expectantly. She hadn’t been overly informative with her twin the last time she was here but she had thought she’d go more in detail when she arrived. Snow hadn’t expected her sister to be bringing… friends. “Fabletown or the Farm? Or any of our rules? Secrecy and safety is one our biggest concerns. We fled here to escape the Adversary centuries ago so we do our best to maintain this sanctuary. Notifying him, or the Mundane world around us and our true nature puts us all at risk. It’s the primary reason why I… frown upon,” to put it nicely, “magic using here. This world is not unlike the city beyond the door and our counterparts. The people around us don’t believe magic exists, or that we exist, and it’s important that we keep it that way. I can’t police what you do behind closed doors but I can’t let any chance for exposure. If you’re going to be living among us you need to keep that in mind. Always.” She paused in her lecture, checking their faces to see if they were still with her.
Faust seemed amused by her icy demeanor, as he was when they first met at the castle. Very few women he knew in his past life were so serious and hard nosed, so he found it fascinating if not a little unnerving. Still, he had to be the stronger one out of their newly modern duo and he took in a deep breath and followed her back to the desk to take a seat across from her. An almost humorously tall man, Faust seemed uncomfortable in most chairs, crossing his ankle over his knee awkwardly as he situated himself and listened to her explanation for no magic. Refugees. Well, of course they’d want to take every precaution, even if it limited their own abilities. “And, you’re certain the Adversary,” he said the word with surprise that someone was actually called that, “Is still in this door? Even though it’s strange mix of all different sorts?”
He wasn’t trying to be challenging, but there was more than just curiosity in his tone. Nothing frightened him anymore and even though he was sympathetic to these poor people who obviously lived in fear, he wondered just how necessary that all was. And, would these people move back if the threat was gone? He thought, at least in Snow’s case, that answer was a hard no. “I understand wanting to fit in with the Mundanes, of course. I thought that was the main reason for a lack of magic. And, truly, there’s little reason to live in the old world as it’s so barren and dead.” They had fixed the garden, but the rest of the world was still suffering in black, ghostly lands.
Snow shook her head, feeling a bit of her authority slip in the authority slip in the process. The threat of the Adversary was a good way to keep everyone in line, but still it wasn’t the only way. “I’ve been here for… six months or so? No sign of him or his wooden armies. However, considering how quickly and easily we all appeared,” she gestured to the two men with open palms, “as well as how a few residents have disappeared, I’m not willing to throw caution away in hopes he never does show. We’ve lived here for several hundred years in peace. I’m not going to undo that overnight. But you’re right about the Mundane people – the Mundys. They won’t take our existence well and blending in is important to us. When they’re confronted with the unknown, they tend to react badly and they outnumber us. One can be reasoned or dealt with. A mob can’t be. If the city doesn’t appeal there’s always the option to live up at the Farm, where the residents who can’t blend in live. Talking animals. Giants. Mermaids. Anyone who can’t pass off as human and is without a secure enchantment of their own lives there and, because of it’s seclusion, it can at times feel a little more lax.”
She shrugged before settling her arms to fold across her chest. “But the issue about this new way to go back to the Homeland we’ve kept quiet, for now. The path Home has always been there but for safety reasons we have barred it. This area, I admit,” and how unhappy she looked to admit it, “is more of a grey area. Those who have a counterpart,” she tapped her temple gently with one slim finger, “know and they, as are you two, are free to return there when you wish. But by calling Fabletown as your own, you’re bound by our laws and charter and they extend, as much as they actually can, to any of your excursions to the Homelands. Things like magic using is at your own discretion and peril,” and she couldn’t help but toss Faust a Look, “as the worry of the non-magic folk there doesn’t exactly concern us here. However, I absolutely won’t tolerate bringing any dangers back to us due to any trips back there.” The Beast came easily to mind.
Being bound by laws and charter wasn’t something Faust was naturally good at or particularly enjoyed, but what option did he have? Surely Hook had his ship, but sailing across the ocean for eternity was more boring than it sounded. “Fine, fine.” He said with dismissive acceptance as if he had read up on all the rules she set out for him. Faust hadn’t, but most societies and neighborhoods tended to act exactly like this. No matter what time they were from. “Nevermind the farm.” Faust gave a look to Quasimodo. If the man hadn’t been changed, a place for awkwardly shaped, magical creatures might have been ideal, but the time for that had passed. Quasimodo would have to be thrown into the deep end.
“Quasimodo, think of an occupation you’d like to have. Ideally. Nothing too spectacular. Maybe one you’d get to speak to people on occasion.” Faust turned in his chair to look at his new friend, a thinking lift to his brow. If they were to live in the city, they needed something to do with their time and honest money to make. Work was a good place to start.
What jumped out to Quasimodo most in the conversation between Faust and Snow was the mention of the Farm. He wondered if he would be sent to such a place, were the curse on him not still present. What might that mean? What might such a life be like? He was, of course, human. His deformities were as human as human nature could be, though they often made him feel more a beast than a man. But if all who were not easily accepted were sent to this 'Farm', it was all too likely he would have been sent there. Perhaps it might even have been easier, to be amongst other outcasts in a world of normality. Or perhaps it only would have stung, to again be cordoned off from the world for what he was, and what he was not.
Faust's address to him shook him from his reverie, and he turned his gaze to him sharply. "...Occupation?" Quasimodo said. It was the second word he'd spoken since they arrived, his thick, dark voice measured, speech careful. "I have no trade. I was never apprenticed at any skill but ringing the bells of Our Lady." He had imagined other occupations, of course, and what it would be like to work at different trades, but they had always paled in the isolated safety and ecstatic joy of ringing the bells. At least at that, Paris might love him, for bringing her music.
"What sort of trades are useful here?" Quasimodo asked the woman behind the desk. He had no idea what this new world might require. It had no apparent need of smiths, all the manufactured goods coming from massive workshops, the 'factories'. He could build, perhaps. "If someone would be willing to teach me, I would be willing to learn," he assured her. Even if the learning curve was bound to be steep, and the idea of interacting with the people outside still made him cold with fear at all that could go wrong.
Snow opened her mouth to answer and promptly shut it, mulling it over once more. In truth she had no idea what would be useful, not for someone with no skills whatsoever. And this wasn’t her job. Keeping everything in order, yes. Personally helping? Not at all, at least not for strangers. But she supposed these were special circumstances and the blue pen in her hand spun circles between her fingers as she set an appraising glance to Quasimodo. The spinning soon stopped as she rest her pen atop the paper on her desk, the legal charter with the rules of Fabletown and its line for signature, and slid it towards Faust.
“Bell ringing isn’t very big here, unfortunately. I’ll have to see who’s hiring. Offhand I think there’s a shoe shop that could use someone – anyone, really, to keep it up these days.” Cinderella’s abrupt departure had Snow turning over the closed sign personally. Re-opening it would mean the man was on his own, but really, since Cindy had never been particularly good with her shop, Snow didn’t see much difference in the lack of profits.
“The neighboring stores: the Muffet market, Nod’s books, and the rest. They might be in need of an extra hand. You’ll have to check with them. Basically staying here near Bullfinch street you can find us Fables. Any beyond is also an option for employment, and the Mundies have work programs to help with that, but you’d be working with them so a low profile is important. We don’t have much in the way of manual labor. Janitorial services maybe but that’s—well, I haven’t seen Flycatcher in a while. And that was mostly working off his public service. The budget would only allow minimum wage, at best. My assistant, Boy Blue, might have some better leads. I’ll see if he knows something and I’ll also ask Weyland up at the Farm to see if he needs any extra hands.” Sure Faust dismissed the notion of the place, but he wasn’t the one looking for a job. “Once the charter is signed we can get the ball rolling.” And stop her end her involvement in things that weren’t her business, but such things she liked to keep quiet.
Faust was secretly circling around the idea of taking up the cloth so to speak. He’d make a great priest and every neighborhood needed a church. He wondered distantly if conning his way into becoming a priest was as easy as it was in his hometown, which received a sort of murmuring affirmation from Peter. “The bookstore might be good for Quasimodo.” Faust said after a little while, snapping back from his own plans and smiling faintly at the both of them. He outright ignored any more mention of the farm, refusing to let his poor friend end up in a place like that. Surrounded by creatures that he automatically felt some sort of misguided comfort with even though no one gawked at him any longer.
He signed the dotted line with his large, singular name and looked at Snow who seemed more than happy to be rid of them already. “We can find a place to fit in, I’m sure of it.” Confidence that was perhaps a little misguided, but that was part of his charm.
The bookseller appealed to Quasimodo most. Somewhere quiet, as he imagined it, somewhere he could work around books. That appealed immensely. Thus far, the thing he missed most about the castle, aside from the room he had come to feel so comfortable in, was the library. It would never be a complete substitute, but at least he might still have books.
"Agreed," he said. He paused, then leaned forward, scanning the document briefly before signing. As always, his motions seemed a little graceless, leaning forward and extending his arm to sign with care, accommodating for a body that no one else could see. He glanced to Faust, something in his eyes clearly unsure about that confident assertion. He would try, though. He would see what the world had to offer him, now that he no longer offended its sight.
Snow didn’t look nearly convinced that they would find a spot so easily, no matter how confident Faust was. But that was Snow, toeing that thin line between practicality and pessimism for so long that she saw no other true options. “I’ll send word to Nod’s that you’re coming,” she said, voice sliding into distracted as she watched him review the document. Social graces had been instilled during her long years at court but she had humble beginnings and wouldn’t begrudge someone who lacked a little polish. It wasn’t until that moment she truly recalled Rose calling him a hermit that she relaxed a bit more. The quiet bookshop would suit him better, and she’d nudge a bit for it to work itself out. But neither of them needed to know of that little thought.
“And you, Faust?” She turned a curious gaze to him even as she reached toward Quasimodo and the fully signed charter, raising one brow before turning her eyes down to the paper. “I’m guessing you’re interested in something less unassuming?” A quick scan to make sure they signed everything and soon Snow was picking up her pen and writing with an elegant flourish. Setting it down she gave them a faint smile, cool and polite, the warmest the deputy mayor could ever muster. “Gentlemen, welcome to Fabletown.”