Who: Robin Hood and Lydia Bennet What: Dealing with feels When: After the dragon takedown, probably forward dated to tomorrow since Robin DID just kill a dragon Where: Lydia's apartment Warnings: IDK, TBD
She'd screwed up before. Oh, anyone and everyone who'd ever met her knew that Lydia Bennet was a screw up. But this? This was up there on the scale of epic. All she'd wanted to do was to help. She knew this woman, her background. And, oddly, Maleficent had taken to her. If she could be nice to her, warm her up, she could get on her good side. Maybe she could get inside information, pry her for things. It had so much potential and in anyone else's hands, maybe it would have been fine.
But it wasn't anyone else's hands. It was Lydia's. And why did she always fail? She just wanted to help and no matter what, it backfired. Saving Peter, standing by him, what had that done? He'd been badly injured and she'd, well, died. And this time, though she'd tried so desperately to play it smooth, to write it off as needing to play both sides, the sorceress had the final say. And she'd been turned into a raven of all things. Diablo's little replacement. Treated like pet royalty, certainly, but still a pet. And forced to sit in a cage and watch as her friends were all taken apart one by one.
Much had been a welcome surprise and she'd fluttered about excitedly to see him, occasionally issuing warnings. Unfortunately, none of that was all that noticeable given she was, well, a bird. But the second she was in her big sister's arms, she made her intentions perfectly clear and nuzzled under her chin. Then as she felt the spell over her breaking and the extending of legs and arms and long ginger hair, she finally broke. Jane held her while she cried and then Lydia had pulled away, running desperately to her apartment on the sixth floor. And she'd locked herself in and cried more. Because she was and always would be a screw up. Never anything more. No matter what she did or who she tried to help.