Gretel (_gretel) wrote in witchinghour, @ 2014-06-11 15:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: clint barton, character: gretel, character: hansel |
Better leave this dream alone.
Who: Gretel and Clint, then later Hansel
What: Gretel meets her brother's Doppleganger. Awkward conversations ensue.
Where: on a Marrowood street between the Sleepy Hollow and the Station
When: Wednesday afternoon
Warnings: Language, confusion, and eventually snark.
Status: Ongoing
Gretel was already out the door of her and her brother's room before she'd managed to stow away the communicator, still alight with a message sent from Emma Swan saying she'd finally practiced enough; target acquired. Another month of Hansel's medicine was safely waiting for her to pick up at the station house, away from that hospital and that demon in a white coat that haunted the place. What she wouldn't do to put an ax through that thing's face. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Gretel assured herself that before they found the way out of here, she'd do just that. Somehow. The thought sat like a cancer in her skull, getting worse day by day until now, when it was relieved only slightly by the knowledge that she wouldn't have to go back.
Squinting in the dull sunlight of late afternoon, she trotted down the Sleepy Hollow steps, shouldering her crossbow so it sat at an angle across her back and kept her hands free. Her pace was quick, not quite running because that liked to draw the attention of the thing that followed past the second alley, but she wanted to get the vials back to the room before dark. Adjusting the cuff of her right gauntlet (they were constantly sitting wrong here for some reason), she distractedly veered around the hunched shape of a man, stooped on the sidewalk while apparently tying his boot. Habitual awareness of her surroundings sent him a quick glance as she began to pass. That's all it would've been, if she hadn't been struck by his face.
Because it was Hansel's.
"...I thought you were going to the square. What--" She stopped next to him, head tilted and brows raised high. Her eyes darted from the unfamiliar boots to the flimsy shirt under a very strange looking riding coat. And a bow? "What the hell are you wearing? Where did you get this?" She reached out to examine the curved end of the weapon.