#❛ 𝙰 𝚂𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝙿𝙻𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳 ⸺ script .

[spindlcs]

FEATURING ,  JEMIMA ( @muddyreverie​​​​ ) ​

            one thing to be said about the curse, it left rosamond with newfound feelings, sometimes ill feelings towards certain individuals — one such individual she’d been certain to turn away from. pivoted on the park bench seat, the blonde had kept a sullen expression, an unspoken warning for the tall brunette ( from the opposite side of the tracks ) to not dare venture too close, less rose wanted to be on the other end of a monologue again. sometimes kindness hadn’t been the answer, not in grimsby. tolerance for things had long been left in the enchanted forest where the whimsical notion of a ‘ happily ever after ’ danced around her thoughts much like the fairies and creatures of the forest. in a word, princess aurora was in the midst of an internal war with rosmand irons, both one in the same, but one was a fairytale, a fleeting notion that felt like a past self at times in such a world that was considered punishment just to endure. 

her hands, cold to the touch, folded on her lap before rosamond had committed the grave sin of eye contact with the thespian. if she could have gotten up to walk away at that moment it wouldn’t take a second thought to do, but here rose found herself at the mercy of her own dizziness and thus the participant of an unwilling audience of one. “ i don’t want to listen to whatever monologue or see whatever magic trick you have, ” she warned before the other could come too close. 

[spindlcs]

            she had the sort of eyes that were large and round and could never appear menacing even if her face turned pink and metaphorical steam came out her ears. it was to be said, there was something very of the doll about rosamond and when she looked to the brunette with eyes narrow and full of incessant, protracted blinks that rendered her suspicious in nature to the words offered, it remained. to have such an imposing and intimidating presence might not have been a gift bestowed upon her as a child once upon a time, but as such, the ability to readily distinguish sheepish words true motive also remained an unnurtured aptitude. 

 “ my outfit? ” she asked mildly. rosamond’s hands slipped over the warmed fabric of her skirt and she sat up a bit straighter. ‘ much more lady-like ’ the tune rung in her ear much like the jingle of a commercial that had become something of a torture to unwillingly commit to memory. “ it’s from one of the shops. ” ‘ in town ’ were thought to be two words of little importance as every resident had about as much travel experience in this world as the story of that one princess trapped in a tower and saved by long locks and a dashing man. “ so thank you. ” in the tense pause that followed, rosamond considered a compliment — something about her attire, but succumbed to another. “ you have a very dramatic face, expressive. ”

𝙹𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙼𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽⤐ @spindlcs ( 𝚁𝙾𝚂𝙰𝙼𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙸𝚁𝙾𝙽𝚂)

✧ . 𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙺  𝙳𝙸𝙳  𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙿  𝙹𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙼𝙰  𝙸𝙽  𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙺𝚂,  𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃  𝙼𝚄𝙲𝙷  𝚆𝙰𝚂  𝚃𝚁𝚄𝙴.  but  while  most  would  have  been  offended,  frozen  by  the  sudden  and  ICY  rejection,  jemima  was  instead  flattered.  “my  reputation  preceeds  me,  apparently,”  she  mused,  unable  to  suppress  a  grin.  “i  DON’T  do  magic  tricks,  though.” smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a look of utter disgust. “gross."  no,  that  was  someone  else's  job.  she'd  never  touch  the  hobby  now.  magic  and  juggling  made  her  skin  crawl.  circuses  and  children's  birthday  parties  could  be  HELL.  if  only  she’d had the good sense to be born  someone  more  interesting,  maybe  she  could  have  undergone  exposure  therapy  as  a  party  princess.  probably  for  the  best,  all  things  considered. "i just  wanted  to  say  that  i  really  like  your  outfit.”  smile  quirked  up  her  lips once more as  she  inclined  in  a  partial  bow,  edging  away  from  rosamond  with  hands  raised  in  dramatic  surrender.  “that's  all.”

[spindlcs]

FEATURING ,  JONATHAN ( @vaerdante​ )

            business dinners, as it seemed to rosamond, were nothing more than a way to tastefully display procured wealth in such a manner that everyone who sat at the large bocote wood table should do nothing but smile and nod when appropriate. sitting across from her father’s peculiar company gave her the sensation of wearing a corset that was pulled tight by the cream colored ribbons until breathing became a chore — uncomfortable. she made little eye contact and took to fiddle the silver spoon around a bowl of soup in front of her while the man at the head of the table with a lawyer’s grin and a nice navy blue dinner suit told the tale of his origin story. both he thought to be rather impressive, both memories, despite how many times the former had been shared to present company alike. under her breath rosamond would recite the words along with him, the same tedious pauses to build up to the climax of a story which everyone sat in the outcome of. a grand house. 

‘ don’t play with your food, ’ reached rosamond’s ear in a whisper-shout, the sort that all mothers specialized in through gritted teeth and a smile. 

her mother, a rather friendly woman, held much of the same physical display of wealth that her husband, mr. irons, did. she was the sort who ran off to powder her nose in the bathroom by the hour and come back with something about the physical perfected that otherwise would have gone unnoticed throughout the evening. mrs. irons was also the sort to move perfectly polished silver just an inch to the right, less it be imperfectly aligned with the rest of the cutlery. 

“ how does a theatre director end up living in such an expensive neighborhood? ” the wide eyes of her parents and the live-in chef looked to rose, mouths ajar. the fair-haired girl held herself the way one might expect, with a sense of defiance and a shrug as nonchalant as the way she reached for the lead crystal glass filled with a red liquid in front of her. “ since we are on the subject, ” rosamond pried innocently enough. she touched her lips to the edge of the glass and took a small sip of raspberry cordial. she glanced to her mother, her father and to the guest. “ i’d imagine a theatre in this town wouldn’t be sold out nightly. ”

[spindlcs]

FEATURING ,  CHARIYA ( @appleblsm​​​​ )

            “ do you want to do something fun tonight? ” the fair-haired young woman pried her gaze from the man the two had claimed as the subject of conversation. who was he before grimsby? rose had placed bets on a prince, but that was simply because she found his appearance favorable. the hopeless romantic trait hadn’t been lost to her, even in grimsby — maybe it was even worse in this world. “ or maybe a knight. ” the two conversations ran parallel, much like the lives both had come to endure, the one in the enchanted forest and this one. “ either way, i bet he’s one of the good ones. ” another glance had been stolen in the direction the stranger had disappeared to before undivided attention had been placed on the princess. “ i know the tiecoon bar is sort of disgusting really, ” where her high standards were concerned, “ but i heard they have a new drink. an appl — ” rosamond’s words fell as quickly as the fanciful expression held. sometimes it was so easy to forget one of her dearest friends had more in common than just a job occupation, but a shared history of sleeping curse victims. “ just drinks. ”

[spindlcs]

FEATURING ,  IRENE ( @threadlled​​ ) 

            a creak in the floorboards petrified rose, unable to move even the slightest with the silence that followed. an eternity enveloped by the darkness, to hide daring escapades that never would have been attempted in the light of day. dare she had disturbed her parents asleep upstairs the entire rouse would have been exposed. another step gingerly taken had made the blonde far more mindful of the path taken until the window was reached, creaked open and confronted with a rush of the cold night air. her pale hands pressed against the window’s ledge with an attempted balance act on her tiptoes to glance below to the ginger haired girl. “ irene, ” a whisper shout beckoned the other closer, her hand outstretched to reach for the other, a helping hand down once the blonde had reached the first floor. 

she’d never been explicitly told why, but rose’s father, once upon a time called king stefan, never cared for irene’s antics, the stories of goblins and monsters that lurked about to the very place the two planned to explore that night. sort of. “ i’m not missing another party. ” despite how juvenile the whole thing felt, to sneak out at night for a party in the woods. maybe it was just an excuse to do something that wasn’t inherently honest, but defiant. “ just be careful, ” rosamond warned. too close to the estate’s walls and a prick from a thorn bush could be expected, namely the space under her bedroom window and the cast iron wall trellis beside it. “ we should have made a bed of pillows. ” the perfectly cut grass below suddenly became likened to a bed rocks, a daring jump rosamond had become wary of. 

had the front doors security system not been activated the use of it would have been far easier than the only window with a broken sensor. 

[spindlcs]

FEATURING ,  ELIJAH ( @thehoutman​​​ )

            the irony that the luxury of a downgrade should never be afforded to rosamond in grimsby hadn’t been lost on her. there, hidden amongst the dense woods, stood a cottage abandoned. ivy and roses encased the home with thorn steams that would twist and turn around every appendage much like a cocoon, unable to see past the exterior’s lacked charms afforded to some long ago, or perhaps this was a trick by the curse. a reminder to the once princess aurora of adolescence long passed. a simpler time when being a princess was a laughable absurdity and childish escapades were all that awaited her. she’d returned to that in some ways, no longer ranked by a princess status but the daughter of a lawyer, an untrustworthy one at that. 

golden hour was especially favorable to the cottage, the way the sunlight cast upon it just right, like something out of a fairytale. so she would come again, the same time, sometimes earlier when the sun was at its highest, but always often enough that rose would take notice of anything that seemed out of place. nothing could be more obvious just then. rosamond’s footsteps slowed, the path beneath her layered with twigs that would snap at the slightest pressure left her to take to the unmarked terrain where branches and plants guised the blonde’s prying eyes from the stranger she watched. appearances alone might have led rosamond to believe he was a villain, but grimsby had a tendency to punish the good and favor the bad and her very black and white view of good and bad placed him into one category and one alone. but how quickly all had been forgotten the moment a wrong step sounded a crack! and a breath held, would he notice? would she have an explanation?