First Person: [One green eye is narrowed suspiciously at the watch in extreme close-up, nothing short of dubious. Waking up on a train she didn't remember boarding, finding herself in a city that she'd never seen before? She wished she could say that stranger things hadn't happened, but the fact of the matter was that they really had.
So what was this? More portal-jumping?
She sighs, setting her jaw as she sits down heavily on one of the benches outside the train station.]
What is this thing, anyway? Some wizard's idea of a cell-phone?
[She doesn't seem terribly impressed, though her fiddling with the buttons causes the feed to switch from video to audio for a brief moment, then right back to video.
At least operating it seemed to be pretty simple.]
Whoever's responsible for this, thanks for the ride in, but no thanks. I've had quite enough of being pulled from place to place. I need to get back.
[She hadn't just spent all that time finding a way back to Storybrooke, back to Henry, to just throw her hands up and call it a day because of what appeared to be someone else's idea of a good time. Restless and frustrated, she gets back to her feet and begins pacing in front of the station, irate. Her voice is strained, if only slightly, as she fights to keep panic at bay, swallowing it down instead of letting it act against her.]
I need to get back to my son, and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. Whoever's responsible for this, either you speak up, or I'll find my way to you. I've had a hell of a bad week, and here's a tip for you -- this isn't making it any better. I want answers, and I want them now.
[She'd read the information provided at the station. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't satisfactory.]
Send. Me. Back.
Third Person: ‘Courage’ was a strange sort of ideal, she thought. It meant something different to everyone. To so many of the people in Storybrooke, it meant being brave enough to do something extreme, like take on ogres or brave a pack of trolls or brandish a sword and charge your way towards a dragon. Incidentally, she had actually done that last one. If someone had asked her when she was younger what it meant to be brave, she might have given an answer along those lines. Something out of a storybook, something that had no bearing on what she considered to be ‘real life’ and all it took to make your way through it sometimes.
Yet now, having done so many things and been so many places she never could have imagined, she couldn’t think of any of those deeds as being particularly courageous at all. None of them seemed anywhere near as scary as what she was about to do. She exhaled slowly, slumping against the counter in the kitchen of the apartment she now shared with far more people than it was meant for, and reached for the phone, dialing and holding it to her ear.
It rang three times before someone answered. Grimacing, Emma sat up again, restless, and ran her fingers through her hair as she cleared her throat.
“Regina? It’s me.”
“Miss Swan.”
Emma paused, unsure, just for a moment, of exactly how to word the invitation before barreling onward. “We’re having a party at Granny’s tomorrow night. To celebrate our making it back safely. Henry – and I. We’d really like you to come.”
{ [CANON] Emma Swan || Once Upon a Time || Reserved || 3 of 3 }
So what was this? More portal-jumping?
She sighs, setting her jaw as she sits down heavily on one of the benches outside the train station.]
What is this thing, anyway? Some wizard's idea of a cell-phone?
[She doesn't seem terribly impressed, though her fiddling with the buttons causes the feed to switch from video to audio for a brief moment, then right back to video.
At least operating it seemed to be pretty simple.]
Whoever's responsible for this, thanks for the ride in, but no thanks. I've had quite enough of being pulled from place to place. I need to get back.
[She hadn't just spent all that time finding a way back to Storybrooke, back to Henry, to just throw her hands up and call it a day because of what appeared to be someone else's idea of a good time. Restless and frustrated, she gets back to her feet and begins pacing in front of the station, irate. Her voice is strained, if only slightly, as she fights to keep panic at bay, swallowing it down instead of letting it act against her.]
I need to get back to my son, and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. Whoever's responsible for this, either you speak up, or I'll find my way to you. I've had a hell of a bad week, and here's a tip for you -- this isn't making it any better. I want answers, and I want them now.
[She'd read the information provided at the station. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't satisfactory.]
Send. Me. Back.
Third Person: ‘Courage’ was a strange sort of ideal, she thought. It meant something different to everyone. To so many of the people in Storybrooke, it meant being brave enough to do something extreme, like take on ogres or brave a pack of trolls or brandish a sword and charge your way towards a dragon. Incidentally, she had actually done that last one. If someone had asked her when she was younger what it meant to be brave, she might have given an answer along those lines. Something out of a storybook, something that had no bearing on what she considered to be ‘real life’ and all it took to make your way through it sometimes.
Yet now, having done so many things and been so many places she never could have imagined, she couldn’t think of any of those deeds as being particularly courageous at all. None of them seemed anywhere near as scary as what she was about to do. She exhaled slowly, slumping against the counter in the kitchen of the apartment she now shared with far more people than it was meant for, and reached for the phone, dialing and holding it to her ear.
It rang three times before someone answered. Grimacing, Emma sat up again, restless, and ran her fingers through her hair as she cleared her throat.
“Regina? It’s me.”
“Miss Swan.”
Emma paused, unsure, just for a moment, of exactly how to word the invitation before barreling onward. “We’re having a party at Granny’s tomorrow night. To celebrate our making it back safely. Henry – and I. We’d really like you to come.”