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June 11th, 2017:
It's been over half a year in Darrow, now, and she's trying not to think of her current, relative comfort as settling. She has a job that still feels too good to be true, and both her wardrobe and her social circle are more expansive than what she had back home. It's not enough to make up for the absence of her family, of course. But she has to admit, if only to herself, that it's a relief to no longer be aching for them all the time, or even most of the time. It's a relief to have other things on her mind, to have business to attend to.
Not that this is business, per se. She's just exploring the boardwalk. Now that the shops are all officially unshuttered, she's trying to get a sense of what's there -- easier done without Saoirse or Jordan or anyone else in tow, though it's ultimately as much for their benefit as hers. She'd like to have some ideas of what might appeal to them ahead of time, instead of just wandering the length of the place with a child in tow and hoping something might catch their eye.
It's a pleasant afternoon, and there's a decent crowd. It's easy to let herself get carried along at an ambling pace; she's in no hurry, and it's not so packed she can't step around people if she needs to. And when she does find herself held up, it's behind a young man who has a rather adorable baby, peering wide-eyed at her from over his shoulder.
Another silver lining for all the time she's spent here is that the sight of other people's babies doesn't pain her anymore. She gives the child a smile and a little wave, and after a moment of nonplussed consideration, the baby rewards her with a broad grin and a shriek. Greta chuckles a bit ruefully. "That's on me, I'm afraid," she tells the child's father when he glances back at her. "I didn't mean to wind her up."
It's been over half a year in Darrow, now, and she's trying not to think of her current, relative comfort as settling. She has a job that still feels too good to be true, and both her wardrobe and her social circle are more expansive than what she had back home. It's not enough to make up for the absence of her family, of course. But she has to admit, if only to herself, that it's a relief to no longer be aching for them all the time, or even most of the time. It's a relief to have other things on her mind, to have business to attend to.
Not that this is business, per se. She's just exploring the boardwalk. Now that the shops are all officially unshuttered, she's trying to get a sense of what's there -- easier done without Saoirse or Jordan or anyone else in tow, though it's ultimately as much for their benefit as hers. She'd like to have some ideas of what might appeal to them ahead of time, instead of just wandering the length of the place with a child in tow and hoping something might catch their eye.
It's a pleasant afternoon, and there's a decent crowd. It's easy to let herself get carried along at an ambling pace; she's in no hurry, and it's not so packed she can't step around people if she needs to. And when she does find herself held up, it's behind a young man who has a rather adorable baby, peering wide-eyed at her from over his shoulder.
Another silver lining for all the time she's spent here is that the sight of other people's babies doesn't pain her anymore. She gives the child a smile and a little wave, and after a moment of nonplussed consideration, the baby rewards her with a broad grin and a shriek. Greta chuckles a bit ruefully. "That's on me, I'm afraid," she tells the child's father when he glances back at her. "I didn't mean to wind her up."
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Date: 2017-06-14 04:40 pm (UTC)From:"Your husband worries about being a good dad, the witch lost her powers, you and the Prince, uh... disappear into the forest," Jesse said, taking another drink of his beer and definitely NOT looking at Greta while he said that. "Cinderella isn't exactly happy with the Prince's wandering eye... and the second giant comes down. That's when people start to die."
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Date: 2017-06-15 03:05 am (UTC)From:The news that the Princess found out is enough to have Greta burying her face in her hands, utterly mortified. But any thoughts of how she might ever face the woman are quickly brushed aside when Jesse starts speaking of deaths -- of multiple deaths. Her hands drop, and the color drains from her face.
"Besides Jack's mother?" She leans forward, knowing she shouldn't ask this, but not letting that stop her. "Who else? Is--my husband, my son, do they...?"
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Date: 2017-06-16 05:30 am (UTC)From:Jesse would have completely glossed over what happened between Greta and the Prince only he wouldn't be doing her any favors with other people who might know the story. It would be ten times worse if she thought no one knew when in fact people did. At least that's what Jesse figured.
"Your husband and son were fine," Jesse reassured her. He could at least give her that much even though it what he had to say next was going to crush her. But he knew that if he was dead he'd at least want to know that Ripley was safe. "Jack, the Princess, and Red all move in with your husband after they kill the second giant. After... after Jack's mother, Red's mother, Rapunzel, the Witch, and... and you all die. I'm sorry, Greta."
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Date: 2017-06-16 03:38 pm (UTC)From:At least he starts with the reassurance that her husband and son are all right. Even the thought of Jack and Red moving in with them afterwards is easy to accept. They'd promised to look after the boy, and if the girl's mother hadn't turned up, of course they would have taken her in, too. Her husband might have needed some persuading, but she wouldn't have thought twice.
But the Princess... how does she fit into it? Greta's given just enough time to wonder how that could work without it being unbearably awkward. Then Jesse tells her, book-ended by clear reluctance and an apology, that she's among the dead.
She stares at him, as if trying to catch him in a lie. He has no reason to lie about such a thing, but she can't just accept it. She's survived the Woods before. Why shouldn't she make it through a second time?
"What?" Her brow furrows, and she gives her head a brisk little shake, as if a gnat had flown into it. "I don't--that can't be right."
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Date: 2017-06-16 05:46 pm (UTC)From:"You were in the forest and the giant... she stepped on you. Jack found your body in the woods."
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Date: 2017-06-16 07:02 pm (UTC)From:"No," she insists. "That's--I'd remember if..." if the last thing she saw was an ominous shadow, or the shape of an enormous shoe descending towards her. No amount of pride or denial could erase an image that bizarre.
And she doesn't remember that. She remembers... the earth rumbling. The groan and snap of branches being bent and broken. The rush of displaced air. A ledge, and a long drop, and reaching for a handhold and missing, and you know what, she doesn't want to remember anymore.
Greta stands, her chair scuffing across the floor. "I think I ought to go," she says, the strain of remaining calm and polite evident in her tone. She can't listen to any more of this, she needs to get somewhere else.
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Date: 2017-06-18 09:04 pm (UTC)From:"But yeah. I- yeah if you need to go you should go," he said, hanging his head. This was definitely his fault. Well, not the murder part, that was the giant, but her finding all of this out was definitely his fault.
no subject
Date: 2017-06-20 04:59 pm (UTC)From:But how can she? The thought of trying to comfort him is as absurd as it is appealing. She might try, but neither of them would be able to stand the attempt.
Better to just leave, quickly, now, before she falls apart.
She steps back, pulling in a breath as if she intends to say something. But no words present themselves, so she turns on her heel and heads for the door, resisting the urge to bolt until she's shut the door quietly behind her.