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wyntereyez · 8 months ago

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Wool of bat and tongue of dog

Thanks to @jrob64 for the banner! It's perfect.

Here's the first part of my @cssns contribution. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but thanks to me being a terminal procrastinator combined with a very busy two weeks at work, my brain can't word very well at the moment.

Part One

The door to the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center was unlocked.

Emma immediately went on the alert. Mary Margaret had left over an hour ago, and she’d never have forgotten to lock the door behind her. After Walsh and the events of the previous month, Emma had taken to bringing her gun with her. She could see Mary Maragaret’s frown whenever she spotted it, but Emma refused to be alone without it.

Not when she was a potential target for the supernatural.

And now, it looked like her fears were well-founded, because there was something inside the building that definitely wasn’t a bat. Emma had inched the door open, holding her breath so she could listen. She could hear something moving in the lobby, by the reception desk.

A deep, resonating growl that made a primal part of Emma want to scream and flee. Her grip tightened on the gun, and she started to raise it.

Then an annoyed chittering followed, which was interrupted by a yip of indignation. Supernatural, all right, but familiar.

Emma holstered the pistol and stepped inside.

A massive wolf was crouched next to the desk, eyes locked on the large fruit bat perched on the edge. The bat raised his head and made delighted squeaks, and the wolf offered a wag of the tail before turning her snarling muzzle back to the bat.

“No supernatural turf wars before I’ve had my coffee,” Emma grumbled. She picked Killian up and plopped him down atop the startled Ruby’s back, then headed towards the breakroom. Ruby padded along after, Killian clinging to her shoulders for dear life.

They both waited patiently as Emma brewed a pot of coffee. While she waited, she grabbed the fruit bowl from the fridge and offered it to Killian, who daintily grabbed a slice of banana and half a strawberry. Ruby’s tongue flicked out, snatching two melon cubes and getting saliva all over the fruit, making Killian shriek in indignation. Emma sighed. “Can we use human words now, please?”

The fruit bat clumsily pulled himself to Ruby’s side, then released his grip on her fur. If he’d been a normal crippled bat, Emma would have dove to rescue him. But the bat never hit the ground; instead, a leather-clad man crouched next to the massive wolf.

Ruby licked his face, smearing melon and saliva on his cheek. Killian sputtered, and she trotted off, making a noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“How’d you piss her off this time?” Emma asked as she added cream and sugar to her coffee.

“What makes you think I’m responsible, Swan?” Killian pouted as he straightened. His hook gleamed in the fluorescent light.

“You turned into something small, helpless, and cute to argue with her,” Emma pointed out.

“Which wasn’t enough to prevent me from being angry with you,” Ruby said as she re-entered the break room on two legs.

Now that Emma was in on her secret, Ruby had taken to leaving spare clothes at the Belfry in case of unexpected transformations. She returned shortly in human form, wearing a red T-shirt and black leggings. Her feet were bare, toes caked with dirt from her run. She made a beeline for the coffee pot.

“You’re late tonight,” Ruby commented. “Did something happen?”

“I spent all day at the Town Hall.” Emma couldn’t hold back her groan. “You wouldn’t think it would be so difficult to select an interim mayor. They just need someone to hold the position until an election can be held.”

The mayor had been found dead of a heart attack in his office two days previous, throwing the city council into an uproar. It was a headache that Emma really didn’t need. Especially since there was one member of the council famous for disagreeing with everything, and he’d loudly shot down every candidate. Several of the city council members were friends of his, and tended to follow his lead, which led to deadlocked votes. “He’s going to drive me insane,” Emma sighed.

“Leroy?” Ruby hazarded.

“Yep. Had an argument for everything. By the time the meeting was called, the council still hadn’t chosen anyone, and I almost went to the Rabbit Hole instead of coming here.”

“Sounds worse than vampire politics,” Killian snorted. “Though I imagine there’s less blood.”

“You’d be surprised,” Emma slumped into a chair, her exhaustion finally getting to her. “So what were you two fighting about?”

Killian and Ruby exchanged glances. “A deer,” they said in unison.

Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose, already sorry she asked. This was going to add to her headache. “And why was this particular deer so important? We’re surrounded by woods, there are hundreds of them around.

“I was hunting it, of course. A vampire can’t live on strawberries alone. And deer’s blood can sustain me for more than a week.”

“You didn’t have to choose my prey!” Ruby’s voice had developed a snarl not unlike her wolf’s vocalizations. “I’d been stalking that deer for more than an hour!”

“It was the only deer I’d scented for miles,” Killian defended. “And unlike you, I need live prey.”

Emma tensed, suddenly reminded that she was dealing with two supernatural predators. She reminded herself she’d seen Killian in bat form with his face buried up to his eyes in fruit, and that she’d once half-carried a drunken Ruby home. They were predators, but they had softer sides. Hell, she’d known Ruby since high school.

Ruby scowled and turned the other chair backwards, so she could sit on it with her chin resting on the headrest. She continued to glare at Killian.

“This isn’t your usual night for hunting.” Killian usually chose the nights where no one stayed overnight to go out.

“True; but that storm that’s brewing is going to hang around for a few days. I don’t fancy hunting in the rain.”

“Same reason I was out,” Ruby nodded. “I needed to get a good run in before being cooped up the next few nights. And deer are one of my favorite meals.”

Emma abruptly burst out laughing. At Killian and Ruby’s matching looks of bewilderment, she explained, “Sorry, I just thought about how it must look, seeing Killian stalk a deer when he’s dressed like a pirate.”

“He hunts as a wolf,” Ruby growled. “Which makes him a trespasser on my territory.”

“You can turn into a wolf?!” Emma asked incredulously, then wondered why she was so shocked. She’d been dealing with the existence of the supernatural for nearly a month now; she should be used to this, right?

“Aye,” Killian said, “vampires can become any creature of the night. Though we’re far more impressive than weres.”

Emma wondered what was considered a ‘creature of the night’, especially since she knew wolves were frequently active during the day. Could he become an opossum? A raccoon? Maybe a cricket?

Vampire crickets, now there was a thought.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Vampiric wolves look like how wolves were traditionally depicted: all snaggly teeth and glowing eyes. Werewolves, on the other hand, are perfect specimens of wolf: lithe and muscular, swift as the wind.”

“So… you’re like the goths and jocks of the wolf community?” Emma took a sip of her coffee to hide her amusement as she watched Ruby sputter indignantly. Killian simply smirked, flashing that chipped fang.

“Perhaps we should continue our tale, lass, before we end up at each other’s throats, aye?” Killian said softly, and Ruby calmed.

“Yeah.” Ruby shook her head as though to dispel the last vestiges of wolf.

The change in tone put Emma on immediate alert. “What happened out there?”

“Something spooked the deer badly enough that it turned around and fled past us,” Killian said.

Oh. That didn’t sound good. Emma set her coffee aside, suddenly too nauseous to finish it. “Did you investigate?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “We followed the deer’s path, and soon we could smell what had frightened it. It was…wrong. It made my hackles rise, and I was growling without even knowing at what. Killian and I crept forward, and that’s when we found it.”

“An altar,” they said in unison.

Ah. Emma doubted they meant the kind you’d find in a church. “Oh?” Her coffee was getting cold, she noted as she took a lingering sip.

“A witch’s ritual altar,” Killian clarified, staring at her intensely.

“A witch? Of course they’re real, too,” Emma sighed. “How worried about this should we be?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need a better look at the altar and the sigils around it to get an idea of what sort of ritual was performed.”

“So you’re an expert in witches now?” Ruby arched a brow.

“No, but I can ask people who are, and for that, I need photos. We need to get back out there immediately and photograph the site.”

Neither would have had access to their phones’ cameras, of course. Ruby would have been a wolf, and while Killian could transform clothes along with his body, it only seemed to be the archaic black leather outfit he favored when he wasn’t pretending to be human. Objects like his phone or wallet didn’t survive the transformation.

“Swan, I’d like you to come along as well; I want to see how you react to the magic.”

When Walsh had tried to compel Emma, he’d discovered that she was immune to his vampiric powers. This intrigued Killian, because it was a very rare gift not found in pure humans. He was determined to figure out just what was in her bloodline.

Emma was less enthused about this. She didn’t have any interest in parents that had abandoned her as a baby. She only cared about David and his mother Ruth, who had taken her in when she was a feral street child and given her a home and love.

Plus, she really didn’t want to walk around the woods after dark. There might be ticks or something.

“Now? It’s almost midnight!” And the moon was only a crescent, meaning it would be dark as pitch outside.

“Aye, but there’s a storm rolling in. All the evidence will be washed away by morning. Likely by design,” Killian said.

Reluctantly, Emma grabbed her coat from the closet while Ruby went off to change back into a wolf. Despite the protection of a large wolf and a vampire, Emma felt a thrill of fear as they stepped away from The Belfry’s exterior lights and to the edge of the forest beyond.

Her flashlight did little to help.

“So… tell me about witches,” Emma said. “Just how dangerous are they?”

“Most witches are benign,” Killian corrected, surprising her. “Just women gifted with knowledge and a bit of magic. Many of them end up in positions where they can use their gifts to help others: doctors and nurses, veterinarians, financial advisors, that sort of thing. Some are hide amongst charlatans, using real magic and divination to tell futures or speak with the dead, though those are rare. Mostly, they just live among humans, leading normal - though perhaps luckier - lives.

“True practitioners of the black arts are rare. They’re hunted by their own kind, in much the same way I take care of out of control vampires. This one… the scent of her magic is rotten.”

“What can someone with that kind of magic do?”

Killian scratched his cheek with the tip of his hook as he thought. “They can create curses, give others ill luck, or even kill without touching their victim. We won’t know much more until my expert has had a look.”

There was silence for a while after that, as Emma tried to fit this into her already shaken worldview. Finally, she decided it was just too much for one night, and turned her thoughts to something else.

“Henry really enjoyed visiting your ship the other day. It’s all he’s been talking about ever since.” Henry’s class had taken a day to tour the ‘real’ pirate ship (which was, in fact, a very real pirate ship, captained by a very real pirate), and he’d come home asking for sailing lessons. Not possible so late into the season, but she’d promised him that if he was still interested next year, she’d look into it.

“He’s a fine lad,” Killian told her. “Smart, and curious about everything. I’d be delighted to teach him some sailing basics, if…”

If you give me a reason to stick around, Emma knew he was thinking. Because Emma knew it was more than the threat of a rogue vampire that kept Killian living as a bat in Storybrooke. And three nights ago, Killian had finally made his move to see if there could be anything between them.

“So, Swan, are you looking forward to tomorrow night?”

Ahead, Ruby slowed, canting back one ear. Emma thought at first something had put her on alert; then she realized her friend was eavesdropping.

Right. Tomorrow. When she and Killian had dinner reservations for Bella Notte. Their first date.

She’d never been so nervous.

She wanted to date Killian. But her violent introduction to the world of vampires had left her cautious. Even Ruby’s reassurance that vampire society worked as Killian had described, with strict laws and enforcers that carried out ruthless punishments for lawbreakers, she’d still been wary.

Walsh had been terrifying, but he’d been newly-turned. Weak. Killian was centuries old and powerful.

He also squeaked at her petulantly if she gave him banana slices when he wanted strawberries.

The rumbles of thunder that had begun when night fell were growing louder, and Emma was beginning to worry they wouldn’t make it to the altar in time. But after forty-five minutes of what felt to Emma like random stumbling around in the dark, Ruby let out a sharp bark.

“We’re here,” Killian said unnecessarily. Because Emma could feel the change in the air, something that made her hair stand on end.

“The hell?” she asked.

“So you do feel it,” Killian sounded as if she’d just confirmed something for him.

How could anyone not feel that? It was a miasma that pressed against her, threatening to smother her.

She fought down the urge to claw at her skin, and forced herself to examine the altar.

If Emma had been walking through the woods alone, she never would have seen it - or at least not realized it wasn’t a natural formation. She ran the flashlight beam over a tree that had been split in half, probably by a lightning strike. One half had fallen to the side, the other was still attached to the stump, but bent at a ninety degree angle to form a natural table just over knee height.

The split trunk was spotted with dark stains. A fragment of bone was caught in a furrow in wood.

“I’ll hold the torch if you’ll take the photos,” Killian offered. Emma handed the flashlight over, and he directed her to photograph the altar, as well as the sigils she’d missed at first look. The were carved into the ground, or painted onto the trunks of surrounding trees with the same fluid that had stained the altar.

Killian was thorough. Emma wondered if he was like this with all investigations, because she could use someone like him in the Sheriff’s Department.

Thunder boomed, and Emma and Ruby jumped. “Storm’s almost here,” Killian observed. “We’d better leave now, before we’re caught out in it.”

They only just managed to make it back to The Belfry before the sky opened up. Emma was soaked through by the time she managed to unlock the door, and Ruby reeked of wet dog. Killian, she noted, managed to look ridiculously good even when wet.

The rain pounded away into the night, and Emma shivered. She hoped it would be enough to wash away the taint of evil in the forest.

~oOo~

The stranger stank of dark magic.

Emma had been in the back office of the sheriff’s station, taking care of paperwork, when David had called her up front.

Grateful to escape her papery hell, she’d hurried up front - only to be brought up short by the elegant woman in the immaculate business suit who was ignoring David’s attempts to be friendly. Emma, however, immediately drew her interest.

Dark eyes ran up and down Emma, and perfect lips turned down into a frown, as if she’d found Emma lacking. “Can I help you?” she asked stiffly.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Regina Mills,” the woman said haughtily. “I’m the new mayor of Storybrooke.”

~tbc~

#cssns #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #regina mills #zelena #ouat #fandom: once upon a time #series: bats in the belfry #author: wyntereyez #vampires #werewolves #witches

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sombaf · 10 days ago

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The Shape Of Home (Somewhere Soft To Land)

Check out Chapter 1 of my new SwanQueen story here🤩:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64208830

The sheriff station had taken on a strange stillness after dark—a kind of unnatural quiet, like a hospital hallway just after visiting hours. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, sterile and cold, one of them flickering with a rhythm that made Emma want to break it just to end the cycle.

She sat at her desk, back hunched, fingers stained faintly with ink and god knows what from a rushed fast food dinner she hadn’t finished. The fries had gone cold. The burger sat, untouched, in its greasy wrapper. Her stomach had given up protesting a few hours ago. Or maybe longer. Time had started bending.

Her head throbbed—low and deep, like a bruise forming behind her eyes. Her throat scratched every time she swallowed, but she chalked it up to the dry air or stress or the fact that she hadn’t slept more than four hours in the past three nights. Maybe five. Maybe two.

Everything blurred at the edges.

But she was fine. Fine enough. That’s all anyone needed from her, right?

She kept scribbling on the incident report in front of her. The lines weren’t straight anymore. The letters looked foreign. Her fingers were a little numb, but that was probably from leaning on her elbow too long.

Or caffeine withdrawal. Or the chill in the air.

She didn’t have time to feel like shit. There was too much to do.

The door creaked open.

“Miss Swan,” Regina said, stepping inside like the goddamn Queen of Everything. Her coat was pristine, her lipstick sharp. Even the click of her heels sounded judgmental.

Of course. Because the night wasn’t finished taking bites out of her yet.

Emma didn’t bother looking up. “Evening, Madam Mayor.”

Regina exhaled like she’d been holding her breath just to keep from launching into a lecture.

“I’ve received no fewer than three complaints about tonight’s patrol coverage. Would you care to explain why the northern quadrant is apparently unmonitored?”

Emma tossed her pen down, the motion more aggressive than she meant it to be. “Because I had to reshuffle everything last minute when Leroy decided to go full Rambo on a raccoon behind the diner. Do you want me to print you a copy of the lunacy I deal with every day, or should I just start live streaming it?”

Regina didn’t flinch. Of course she didn’t.

“I understand that without David paround, your workload has increased—”

Emma stood abruptly, regretted it immediately when the room tilted slightly, but powered through.

“Oh, do you understand? Please, enlighten me. How many 2 a.m. calls from Granny have you taken this week? How many fender-benders, missing dogs, stolen pies, teenage fireworks incidents, or screaming arguments outside the Rabbit Hole?”

Regina’s brows lifted, but not in surprise. In calculation.

“You could have asked for help.”

Emma barked a dry laugh. “From whom, exactly? The town’s resident pirate? My parents on a beach somewhere pretending trauma doesn’t exist? You?”

Regina didn’t answer that. She didn’t need to.

The silence stretched until Emma realized her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her jaw locked so tightly it ached. Her skin felt hot and cold at the same time—sweaty, shivery. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, like she could trap the fraying edges of herself in there and hold them together.

When Regina finally spoke again, her voice was cooler. But not sharp. Not yet.

“You’re shaking.”

Emma looked up, startled. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m fine.”

Regina’s gaze sharpened, dark eyes raking over her like she could see the exhaustion hanging off her in strips.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Thank you for your constant concern about my appearance. It’s the most consistent thing in my life.”

“Don’t be flippant,” Regina snapped.

Emma blinked slowly. Her lashes felt heavy. “Can you just—get to the part where you criticize me for existing so I can get back to work?”

That landed.

For a moment, Regina didn’t say anything. The silence was different now—less loaded, more… uncertain. Then her arms crossed, her jaw tightened, and she pivoted.

“We’re having family dinner tomorrow,” Regina said. “As usual. Seven sharp.”

Emma didn’t look up. “Yeah. I know.”

“You missed the last two.”

“I said I know.”

A pause. Regina’s voice cooled.

“Henry waited for you.”

Emma’s throat tightened.

“No call. No message. He pretended not to care, but… I know my son.”

Emma’s head snapped up. “Our son.”

Regina stilled.

She looked at Emma for a long beat, then lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow—barely.

The kind of gesture that said Really?

That said You don’t get to say that if you treat him like this.

That said He matters to you? Then act like it.

She didn’t say any of it. She didn’t have to.

Emma looked away first.

“I’ll be there,” she muttered.

Regina lingered in the doorway. Her voice was quiet, but sharp enough to leave a mark.

“See that you are.”

She hesitated. Just a moment.

Then she looked at Emma—really looked. Not with contempt. With something else. Something quieter. Something that almost looked like concern.

“Don’t fall asleep at your desk, Miss Swan,” she said at last, turning for the door. “It’s a bad look. And a worse habit.”

And then she was gone.

The click of her heels faded down the hall, and the station was too quiet again.

Emma stared at the empty space where Regina had been, then slumped back into her chair like something inside her had finally given way. She was cold now. Her pulse thudded too hard in her neck. Her limbs were lead.

She folded her arms on the desk and lowered her head onto them. Just for a second.

Just to breathe.

The light above her flickered once.

Then again.

And again.

A sharp, irregular stutter. Buzz. Flash. Buzz. Like a nerve twitching in her skull.

She lifted her head, stared up at the fixture. Her eye twitched. The flickering kept going, each pulse of light sinking its claws deeper into her frayed nerves.

Buzz. Flash. Flicker.

And then something inside her broke.

With a sharp growl, Emma grabbed her half-empty coffee mug—number seven, or eight, or nine? She couldn’t remember—and hurled it at the light with all the fury she couldn’t aim anywhere else.

It smashed against the ceiling, missed the fixture entirely, and shattered against the far wall. The last of the cold coffee sprayed in a fan across the filing cabinets and floor.

“Goddamn it!” she shouted, breath catching on the edge of it. “Fuck!”

The echo bounced back at her, hollow and small. Her chest heaved.

Glass sparkled on the floor like tiny, mocking stars. The light kept flickering. Taunting her.

Emma slumped forward again, pressing her forehead to the edge of the desk, and this time she didn’t lift it.

God, she was just so exhausted.

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