Who: Snow White and Bigby Wolf What: Dreamwalking, and an attempt to break the curse (read: KISSING) When: Dream plot Where: Snow's dreamscape: the woods, then her office. Warnings: None.
Faster and faster, Snow ran. The trees flew by her and animals scampered in her wake but still she couldn’t stop. She heard a bellow behind her and it sounded so loud, man or beast, she couldn’t discern and she didn’t dare look back.
The forest around her loomed far above her head, light pouring from above but it didn’t help her navigate these unknown woods. She didn’t know where she was going, or where to go. But behind her was a castle, and a queen, and empty, lonely days. And there was death itself at her heels, stalking toward her with swift steps. She had to get away, anyhow, anywhere.
The hill she ran upon abruptly sloped down and she stumbled, falling forward with a shriek. Her court dress caught on a fallen log but she didn’t have time to untangle herself, letting it fray her dark blue hem as she pushed herself up. The footsteps were louder, her pursuer closer, and she pushed herself up with skinned hands and wiped the sweat and stray hairs from her face as she launched forward once more, looking to escape.
The dream wasn't Bigby's, that much was obvious. There was a certain sheen to dreams that were your own, a kind of comfort even in the unknown that was missing here. He was in a forest, but one unlike those he had ever seen either in sleep or waking. Light filtered through the trees above, but the shadows were long and off, making his sight entirely untrustworthy to navigate with.
He heard the footsteps through the trees and started tracking them by sound. He was too far upwind to get a whiff of who it was, but he could hear the belabored breathing, and the fumbling footwork that could only be a result of fear. Whatever was running was being hunted. As sure as he was about the fact that this was a dream, Bigby knew that the beast doing the hunting couldn't possibly be any good. Not on my watch.
His feet picked up the pace at the sound of the shriek, his worst fears confirmed. He knew that voice. He could have picked it out at a thousand paces in the middle of a crowd. Snow was stuck here, and she was afraid. He broke into an all-out sprint through the trees, aiming for where he knew their paths would intersect. He came to a stop just as blue dress came into view, along with its haggard, terrified owner. "Snow, it's me. What's going on?"
She screamed as she collided with the man, her body ricocheting off him even as her hands gripped his arms instinctively. He spoke to her like she knew him and it took several moments for her to get her breath under control and to search his face. “…Bigby?” That was the name that sprung to mind though it felt so unfamiliar at the same time. Her blue eyes clouded with confusion, her face just as she was in New York but younger all at once, the lines of her face gone and with the stress that came with them. There was something new to stress about.
“…Hunted,” she breathed, sparing a glance to the way behind her, the sounds of something coming near. With one hand she tugged at his arm, trying to get him to run with her, as her other picked up her long gown so she could start to run once more. “The huntsman’s coming for me. W—We have to go.” She pulled at him as she started through the woods. “He’ll take my heart. We need to get away.”
Bigby considered for a split second whether to run with Snow or to stop and tell her what was going on. He had experienced his fair share of persecution dreams to know that these things didn't end until someone woke up. Given the weird vision that Logan had seen when she crossed, he doubted that was happening anytime soon. "Snow, wait. It's a dream. We're in a dream." He took a deep breath, digging in his heels to force her to a stop. "He can't hurt you, I promise. I won't let him." Bigby had no idea just how strong the hunstman of Snow's nightmare was, or if his wolf would be enough to overpower him, but was hoping he wouldn't have to find out.
"This is your dream, Snow. You can control it. Make him leave." Bigby had no guarantee that this would work, but figured it was as good a place as any to start. "Or else take us somewhere else."
“A dream?” That felt right, somehow, and something clicked back into place, and between that and his stop she stilled her fleeting steps. “It can’t be this is...” Her eyes darted back from the way they came, the sounds of pursuit still coming, and then to the way they had been going, spying a cottage in the distance. Dread circled her stomach and her fingers tightened on his sleeve.
“You can’t protect me,” she said simply, and the words felt right, a solitary truth amidst all this confusion. That didn’t mean that she wanted to wait for this Huntsman, close at their heels, or go to that cottage that seemed frightening despite shining in the distance like a beacon.
“Take us somewhere else?” The thought sounded foreign and felt impossible and her mind reached for places, only to find them flicker when they were nearing her grasp. Where was she to go? Where else was there? “I can’t. I don’t know anywhere else. I can’t go back to that castle. I simply can’t.”
Bigby let Snow have a moment to regain her bearings now that she knew the truth. He could only guess how disconcerting it must be to be told that you were having a nightmare by someone who wasn't also a figment of your imagination. He trusted she could cope. Nightmare or not, she was still Snow White.
"You can, Snow. And you will." He tried in vain to figure out how old her dream self was. The problem with being a Fable in situations like these was that most of them had looked the same for several centuries. Even if she were young enough to not know anything else, the Snow who was having this dream very much did. And if she was right that he couldn't protect her, then the sooner they got out of there, the better. "Take us to Fabletown, Snow. To your office. Or take us somewhere else." He reached forward on a whim and grasped her hands in his. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and picture it."
Fabletown. That was the name, and just like the memory bloomed in her mind, hazy at first but steadily forming with each word he spoke. When he held her hands she didn’t wonder on the flutter of her stomach, only listening and doing as he said, closing her eyes, even as instinct screamed at her not to, not with the Huntsman at her heels. The steps thundered closer and she squeezed Bigby’s hands tighter, holding onto him and the memories of her office until the air changed around them.
When she opened her eyes, it was as he said, her office in Fabletown. Letting him go she stepped around her desk, one hand picking up her the skirt of her long gown, the other fingering the tall stack of papers sitting on the table. “I would dream up this crap,” she sighed, picking up the top most paper before tossing to back down with the rest. The woods of her youth, her office, and everywhere else in between. Some people dreamt fun things but of course, not Snow White.
She turned to look at Bigby, a slight but thoughtful frown on her face. That and her surroundings started to melt away the youth that had begun in the forest, harkening back to the more serious woman of later years. “But how did you get there?”
Bigby knew when he felt her grip tighten on his hands that he had gotten through. He watched their surroundings as the dark trees and long shadows blurred out of focus before sharpening again, this time into the twisted, misshapen shadows of the cavern of artifacts in Snow's office. It was an exact replica of the room in the waking world, but of course, anything based off of Snow's memory would be.
He felt the warmth of her smaller hands slip out of his palms and dropped them into his pockets. "The dress is a good look on you," he said with grin, casting an appreciative once over on something that wasn't all professional-deputy-mayor. Bigby deliberately avoided mentioning the dirt or the scratches; he didn't want her to get her tetchy just yet. Not when he finally had a chance to get in her head.
"You didn't see the medieval broad with the dream talk?" Bigby had assumed everyone else had gotten the same speech that Logan had. "She cursed everyone walking in through the door to fall asleep. It's not like with Briar, but it's close. Someone" he paused, shaking his head at the fact that he was about to say the words, "who is attracted to you has to kiss you awake. The poor kid's stuck for a while. Look's like we all are."
His compliment garnered an eyeroll, both because of the dress and because of the compliment itself. The dirt and tears, she had noticed, and was trying her hardest to not get up in arms about it, instead sliding into her chair as if nothing was amiss.
“I remember,” she said slowly, which meant she barely remembered. What she could recall were mere disjointed fragments, and the more pressing issues of the dream, like the Hunter, took precedence over strange thoughts of fairies. Now that she was safe, somewhat, things were coming back, and it didn’t hurt that he was particularly clear on things.
Kissing, though, brought another eyeroll. “Tired tactics. I’m not surprised it was a fairy, then.” Resting her chin on her hand, she idly ran her thumb over her lower lip as she contemplated their options. “There’s no other way? I’ve done my time waiting for someone to kiss me. I’m over it.” Though it wasn’t the most difficult of things to accomplish, and her eyes slid back to Bigby thoughtfully. “Attraction? That’s it?”
Bigby's grin deepened at the eyeroll he had grown so familiar with over the last few centuries. He moved towards the desk until he was standing directly across from Snow, in their usual way.
"Classics are classics," he shrugged. "I don't think they're romantics as much as sadists." Whatever her motivation had been, the woman had found a surefire method to cause chaos in town. His town. Under his watch. "We need to get her out of town, fast." Of course, they'd need to wake up first.
Bigby had perfected the art of studying Snow without seeming to over the years, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she thumbed her lip. "That's what it sounded like to me. Walk in and out of dreams until someone who's attracted to you kisses you. I don't know what you did the last time you were asleep, but I'm about to run out of things to do."
“Is it just our town though?” Thoughts of Rose and her friends flitted through her mind and she wondered if they had fallen prey too. Bothering them, or anyone that didn’t need to be bothered, with this issue wasn’t ideal. Then again they wouldn’t know until they woke up.
"Our town, world, door." Bigby still didn't know exactly how it all fit in together, just that it did. "With the way our connection with other side works, I'm guessing it's all of us. Can't know for sure until we stop dreamwalking."
She let his words hang a moment before she stood, walking around once, calmly and quietly, before stopping right beside him. “Well then,” she started, shoulders squaring back slightly and her eyes darting quickly to his mouth and back to meet his gaze, “shall we?”
Bigby's expression remained neutral as she walked around the desk, but his brows rose an inch when she came to a stop next to him. "You think it'll work? This?" He didn't know what she was basing her assumption on; he'd always worn his own feelings close to the chest. Not that he wasn't perfectly willing, of course. He just had some questions first.
Blue eyes blinked in momentary confusion. “Of course. You said--” Suddenly she felt ridiculous, taking his words about kissing at face value but as the memories of the fairy came back to her, so did her promise, and it only echoed him. Still, it was hard to say aloud, if she didn’t have to, and she instead went defensive. “You did say I looked nice in this dress,” she sputtered.
The sputtering was so unlike the well-composed Snow he was used to, that Bigby couldn't help but smile down at her. "You do look good in that dress. Really good." He should have stopped talking then and just kissed her, but some of Logan's curiosity and inability to shut up must have passed over to him, because he kept going. "You think that'll be enough? Fairies used to want true love, or lust."
Her brow furrowed at that. He did have a good point. “What fairies used to do is not really something to consider. I don’t even know this fairy, do you?” She shot him a look before continuing. “And it’s not like walking through dreams with others was common. I might have heard about it once or twice but I didn’t put much stock into it. I never dreamed of anyone when I was under.” She pursed her lips at the thought, but refused to let her thoughts stray farther down that path. “At any rate, we’re not exactly in a position for true love or lust but attraction’s about as much as we have so we can make do or we can hope someone’s awake and can slay her.”
It was hard for him to look away from her mouth or think about anything that wasn't the anticipation of the feel of her lips against his. "So we do have attraction, huh?" His voice was dropping down to the lowest end of his register, as though he wasn't aware he was talking at all. She was so close. "You make a compelling case, Snow."
"Well," she started, pointedly ignoring the flutter in her stomach as his voice dropped to a low rumble, "as you said, you think I look good." Suddenly she was much more aware of the scant distance between them, seemingly even smaller than when she stepped to him. Her eyes scanned his face a moment and as they settled on his mouth, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Another woman might have blushed. "And you're not bad looking yourself."
There was a time for words and there was a time for action, and Bigby had had enough of the first. He reached forward with one arm to pull Snow against him and cupped her cheek in his other hand. He looked at her for a second longer, making sure that this was actually something she wanted and not just one of his dreams they had walked into, and then he kissed her.
Several centuries of a quiet torch-bearing had led to this point, to Snow in his reach. Whether or not it woke anyone up from charmed sleep, it was one hell of a kiss.
It had been a while since Snow had been kissed. Well, kissed someone, really. Centuries of hurt over her past had turned her away from suitors for centuries and she had preferred it that way. Lonely, yes, but it was better than the alternative - a chance that any happiness could be swept away. So her mouth stilled under his the moment they touched, almost having forgotten what it felt like to be kissed after she had invited one.
But it was a fleeting moment, the next having her flutter her eyes closed and slant her mouth against his, surprised at the fervor of his kiss and returning it in kind, with her hands sliding around his waist. When she finally pulled away, breathless and warm and just a little light headed, their noses still touching as she opened her eyes to take a quick glance around her. “...So it didn’t work.” The words brushed against his mouth, though she didn’t pull away just yet.
Bigby had had considerable more experience kissing over the last several centuries, but nothing close to this. His usual entailed late night encounters in alleys behind bars, or in the bedrooms of flighty young women who were more than happy to spend a few hours with him after a couple of drinks. Those kisses had all been a required step towards something more, leaving little impact on his memory.
But this, this was different. This kiss was a question and an answer and an exploration he had only dreamed of (often). This kiss came with the feel of her chest against his, her arm around his back, his hand running through the dark strands of her hair. He could have gone on touching, tasting, feeling in that way forever, had she not pulled away. A low rumble rose from the base of his throat unbidden and uncontrolled, his wolf's appetites announcing themselves for the world to hear. "We must not have tried hard enough," he mumbled, lightly catching her lips between his teeth before she could pull too far away. "It might take longer in dreams." Anything he could say to keep her in his arms just a few seconds longer.
Caught by the wolf’s teeth, Snow stilled, though the shiver that ran through her had little to do with fear. His words had some logic to them, though his suggestions didn’t sound like they were completely and only about freeing them from the spell.
It was, however, something to consider and that was why - and only why, she would say – she pressed in closer for another kiss. Maybe he was right. Maybe another longer kiss would be necessary. They had to try. To break the spell, of course.
He tasted like smoke, she decided, just faint hints on her tongue from those cigarettes that made her wonder if they’d be more pronounced if this wasn’t a dream. And yet, for all her distaste, she also decided that it was nice, something familiar and very distinctly him that made her sigh against his mouth as she pulled him closer to him, arms tightening their hold.
The intensity of her shiver reverberated through his hands, and it took all the many centuries of practice Bigby had to keep his touch light against her back. Every inch of him screamed to feel more, to consume more, but Bigby knew now wasn't the time. It couldn't happen in a dream, not like this.
Dream or not, Bigby could certainly allow himself to enjoy what Snow did allow to him, including the rare warm welcome of her lips. She tasted the way she smelled - like a fresh mountain spring on a warm, sunny day - a concoction that seemed specially brewed to haunt him consistently over the centuries. Bigby had stopped being able to keep Snow's scent out of mind centuries ago, and after this it seemed the same might go for the way she tasted as well.
In the end, it was that sigh that brought him back, the small exhalation of breath that was so quiet, so vulnerable, and so much the Snow she tried not to let the world see. It was the Snow he wanted to keep close under his protection, and the Snow he couldn't use a ruse to keep kissing, no matter how much he wanted to. "Looks like one of has to be awake for this to work." At least no one could say they hadn't tried to get themselves out of this mess. "Is there anyone on the other side you can ask for help?"
The things they did to get free from a spell. She pulled away as he did, pale fingers touching her kiss swollen lips thoughtfully, maybe even a little distractedly. It took her a moment to remember where they were – a dream, yes, but her office, with someone she worked with – and she leaned back against the side of her desk to get her bearings. “No. No one. He’s something of a hermit.” The slight raise of her brows let him know what she thought of that, though she was no social butterfly herself. “What about yours, Logan? Doesn’t she have anyone?”
Bigby chuckled. "Girl's cute but awkward as hell. Until she admits she's not actually twelve years old, she's not going to have men chasing her anytime soon." He took a deep breath and pushed loose strands of his hair back, just to have something to do. "So what now?"
Snow frowned and then merely gave him a half shrug before her shoulders squared back, all business once more. “We try to find her the old fashioned way. Maybe she’ll appear in a dream, or maybe we’ll find someone else. But we can’t sit around hoping to be kissed.” If there was something Snow loathed, it was precisely that. She looked up at Bigby, the surroundings around them starting to flicker and fade and her own body feeling strangely light. “We’ll touch base then,” she said, her voice the last part of her to go before she disappeared completely.
Bigby started to say something, but found everything fading before the words had a chance to leave his mouth. Trust Snow to hit and run. This was going to make for an interesting morning after, provided they ever woke up.