WORKING TITLE: Rise of the Dreamers
RATING: K+
SUMMARY: "Once upon a time, there was a Magic Kingdom made of hopes and childhood fantasies. A timeless place where every land was filled with wonder. A place where everyone who entered its gates would be given the gift of the young at heart; the power to wish upon a star, and unlock its magic. Are you ready to wish upon a star? Then it's time to open your heart, and remember—Dreams Come True."
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Inspired by all the magic and all the inspiration that has come from that amazing Imagineer, Walter Elias Disney. The following is a combination of some of my all-time favorite things that have snowballed from that fateful train-ride doodle of a mouse. :)
All elements are (c) their respectful owners; the following is nothing more or less than the workings of a fangirl's imagination. I take absolutely no credit for anything within this fanfiction aside from my own character.
Also, please note that while called 'Magic Kingdom' this story technically takes place in Disneyland
STORY START
Everyone that has ever lived has three names.
The name you are born with.
The name you are given.
The name you take.
The name you are born with is the most vulnerable of all; to know someone's true name is to have absolute power over them.
The name you are given can be used to control you…
…Unless you take a name for yourself. This third name hides the other two away, and keeps both protected from harm.
I took the name Grey. It wasn't exactly intentional, actually—as a matter of fact, I quite hated it for some time. But I digress.
Lady of the Grey. I suppose it may sound dreary to you, but by now it's grown on me. By now, I've had it so long it seems part of me. Like how some people have curly hair, and others have straight hair.
I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Let me take you back to the beginning; a sunny afternoon in the middle of a world; a world of wonder and magic…
It was an odd feeling, teleportation. For less than half a second, she had ceased to exist. A warmth spread through from the juncture between her eyebrows, flooding through her veins and out her fingers and toes. Upon examination, that warmth seemed to take shape of softly glowing light—a swirl of blues and greens that felt pliant to the touch not unlike half-melted rubber.
Who was she? How did she come to be here? The answers seemed just out of reach, but the girl didn't panic. The warmth was soothing, familiar even. She could vaguely recall sitting on some kind of greyish bench within a white tram that rattled back-and-fourth along its road. There were others on the bench as well, but she couldn't bring names nor faces to mind.
The warmth quite suddenly solidified into familiarity—the late-morning sun beat down upon platinum hair and freckle-strewn pale flesh. The girl tested her joints, absently recognizing the simple jeans, converse, and brown tee she wore. All were big on her, but she couldn't bring herself to mind.
Eyes of a sharp leaf-green focused on her spacious surroundings; the girl was stood upon what looked like an overlarge compass rose in a wide courtyard. To the North, South, East, and West sat four sets of turnstiles; each opened into the courtyard the girl stood in, yet she was unable to see across the other side of them.
Few people milled about—some sat upon benches, but the rest were lined at the turnstiles, entering one at a time. Lamp posts sprinkled about the cobblestone courtyard had speakers attached as well, all crooning the same soft melodic medley of songs that touched on familiarity, yet—like all other answers—were just beyond the girl's comprehension.
Paint-stained converse shuffled over the dirt-free ground, inspecting the compass in more detail. What the girl had first assumed to be some sort of backwards 'G' was, in fact, a swirling cursive 'D', the only décor to the compass' center. Each of the directional arrows lay just beyond the circle itself, but rather than N, S, E, and W, the arrows held initials—MK, EPCOT, AK, and HS respectively.
The girl faced the North and stared at the minty green turnstiles that she had first laid eyes upon in this strange place. Unlike the others, she could just glimpse the other side of the turnstiles, where more cobblestone and what looked like a well-kempt hillside awaited. Assuming this was the direction she was supposed to travel to, her feet carried her North-bound. A smiling face greeted her at the empty turnstile and requested she place a finger on the small glass scanner to her right; once the computer had read her fingerprint the turnstile unlocked and the smiling man wished her a magical day.
A stand of maps caught the girl's eye; she raced to it and snatched one up immediately. City Hall stood out in white font, just through the tunnel and around to the left, if she understood right. Assuming someone there could assist her, she carefully folded the map up and thrust it in her back pocket.
The hillside was, in fact, off-limits. Flowers were carefully arranged to spell out 'Welcome' with the face of some kind of 'toonish mouse serving as the 'O'—another pull of familiarity to the girl. She didn't realize it, but as she strolled hesitantly towards the archway, she began to whistle along to the music crooning from the overhead speakers as her subconscious mind recalled faces parading around to the march and spelling out ten letters…
The sight that awaited her on the other side of the short tunnel made her stop dead in her tracks. Quaint, freshly-painted buildings lined the softly bustling street, a trolley making its way down the middle. The music overhead had changed ever-so-subtly, and there was a cluster of someones in front of a shop dancing along to the jolly beat off to the right. The street was singular, leading past dozens of houses and ice cream parlors and a hat shop dubbed 'The Mad Hatter's' that, for whatever reason, amused the girl greatly. At the very end of the street stood a castle of blue and white, strong and proud as it towered over the realm.
It was none of these that had rendered the girl paralyzed in her place, however; it was all that and more. The very air of the place had floored her with such a distinct feeling of home that it had bid her jaw slack and eyes misty. It was as though every muscle in her body was washed over in soothing massage, relaxing as though coming home to a clean house after a long and stressful day at work.
Perhaps, had she not been utterly floored by the feeling, she would have noticed that her clothes had changed as well. Gone were the jeans and the t-shirt and the converse, replaced with grays, blacks, and whites. The shirt was white, a high collar and sleeves that poofed out wide before gathering just at the elbow. A black bow tied below the collar served as a 'tie', silver cuffs clasped about either wrist.
Near-ankle in length, the skirt hung loose with a light flare towards the bottom, gray in color. A pristine white apron seemed attached to the skirt at the waistband, the longest point reaching her knees, with a pocket about the same size as the back pocket of a pair of jeans. The only décor the apron held was on the pocket itself; a silver crescent moon and a gold star were stitched on side-by-side.
It was the footwear, however, that caused the girl to actually look down and observe her new attire; infinitely more support than any cloth shoes logically ought to have held, the boots were ankle-high and made almost entirely out of leather. The soles were naught more than cowhide—so acutely molded to the bottom of her feet that it felt more like she were barefoot. The softer, suede-like tops of the shoes were a charcoal-brown in color, lacing up to the ankle with a light fold-over remaining.
Curiouser and curiouser indeed, the girl thought, though were the quote originated she found she had no idea. Pulling her full platinum hair back out of the way, the girl resolved to get her answers from City Hall. She had just made her way over when a low whistle made her turn back towards the entrance.
A train station sat tall and proud between the two tunnels; the whistle had come from the train itself. The overhead music went interrupted as a deep booming voice called out, "Your attention please: the Disneyland LTD., now leaving for a grand circle tour of the Magic Kingdom. BOOOOOAAAAARRRRDDDDD!" Without further delay, the train chugged off to the East, past towering trees and out of sight.
She must have stood there longer than she realized, however, for the girl was shocked out of her thoughts by a rather stern voice, "Do stand up straight, young lady, you are not a gorilla."
The voice belonged to a woman; tall of stature and proper of attire. Her brown hair was back in an impeccable bun, dress covered by a neat black coat and flowery red hat perched atop her head. One gloved hand clutched a parrot-headed umbrella, the other a large carpetbag.
Stupefied by the stranger, the yet-nameless girl stood straight and tall as the yet-nameless woman surveyed her up and down. The brunette nodded sharply once, "You'll do; spit-spot!" The woman made it four powerful strides before realizing the girl was still standing there. A turn over her shoulder, "You are to be my pupil?"
"Am I?" It would certainly make sense, the girl mused—why she had come here at all. Recognition seemed to have dawned on the woman, however, for she returned to the girl's side and looked her over again. "Do you have a name?"
"I—" No. She didn't. It hadn't mattered to her before, as she hadn't been conversing with anyone, nor had she felt the need to think on such trivial matters. But upon thinking, the girl realized the gravity of just what she didn't know—about herself, about this place, about how she had come to be here.
The woman had either realized this beforehand, or was unaware of the girl's current plight. "Very well; I suppose a trip to City Hall is in order. Come along."
City Hall was a proud building, quaintly painted in pastel yellow with red and brown bricks abound. The building itself was three stories, but a small tower sat in the very middle, leading from the third floor up to what may have been a bell tower. The plaque just above the doors was blue in color, displaying in gold 'Main Street City Hall'.
The inside was quaint, simply furnished in a long wooden desk and several oil lamps. Paintings and photos littered the wallpapered walls, the carpet plush and floral in design. There were four people standing on the other side of the desk: two were conversing to each other about something that looked like it might have once been an antique blue-and-white vase, a third was on the phone with someone, and the fourth was beaming at the unnamed pair.
She was an elderly woman, hair that might once have been blonde was now gray and pulled into a fishtail braid. She wore the uniform as the other three; white button-up, red plaid vest, black trousers, white nametag. According to said nametag, the woman was 'EMMA'—no last name was given, however.
Emma smiled kindly at the pair, "Good morning, Mary Poppins. Is this?"
"Indeed. Though there seems to be a bit of a mixup, Emma. Would you be a dear?"
"Naturally. It is my job, as you know."
All this passed straight over the girl's head. She had a name for the other woman at last—Mary Poppins. Like so many other things about this strange place, it radiated familiarity that was too hard to ignore. Before she could truly muse on it, however, she was led away by Emma into a back room.
It looked to be some kind of office; a desk sat along the far wall with a high-backed chair, two smaller chairs faced the desk from the other side. A tall, narrow window sat to the left of the door and looked out onto the street below. Emma took the tall chair and gestured for the girl to sit.
"Do you know why you are here?"
The girl shook her head.
"Do you know who you are?"
Another shake of the head.
"Do you know how you came to be here?"
Finally—something she could answer! "I felt…warm…like the perfect temperature bath. Then suddenly I was out there beyond the turnstiles."
"Teleportation," Emma clarified. "Something triggered your most fundamental powers and you were brought here by those magics."
"So then where am I from?" The girl didn't mean to sound so touchy; she was just trying to understand her situation. Emma didn't seem to mind, standing to pace about the office, "Another place; another time. Where we are from doesn't matter as much as where we are going, in this place. You have a unique gift, young lady, and with Mary Poppins' help, you can do great things with that gift. It is because of that gift that you were chosen."
"Chosen for what?" She felt she really ought to have realized this sooner—ought to have known the whole time. "To be a Sorcerer, my dear. You are our Sorcerer of Imagination; you are the Lady of the Grey.