"A lick and a promise" is an old west term meaning "to do a haphazard job" I'm coming up man-sized
Skinned alive I want to fit
I've got to get Man-sized
I'm heading on Handsome
Got my leather boots on…. – PJ Harvey 'Man-Size'
...
The ground felt rough and rocky under the heavy echoing footballs of heavy hooves repeatedly beating the red clay dirt. He felt his gun pressing against his stomach, heavy and deadly in the holster. One hand commanded the reigns of the bronze beast while the other adjusted the red bandana around his jaw. Thick lensed goggles kept the cloudy dirt out of his eyes as he raced toward the stagecoach.
Heart pounding in anticipation, he cranked the gears on his mechanical horse: valves opened and a fresh cloud of hot steam pushed out, propelling him faster toward the unsuspecting mark. Galloping up to the side, he pulled his gun and held it high and shot off a round in warning. The bullet whizzed into the sky as the coach slowed.
The robbery was dangerous, but was sure to bring a huge haul for the highwayman. It was one of the new ones: shaped like a dragon, the passengers rode between its ribs in the belly of the beast. The coach was drawn by a team of black steam powered machines which were shaped in the form of horses.
"Everyone out, line up and ditch your purses," He hollered, motioning with his head and the gun, voice booming and authoritative. The startled passengers looked to be a group of ladies, which was even better for the bandit. He wouldn't kill, it wasn't worth the stain on his conscience.
"No trouble, no smoke!"
The Maverick, as he was notoriously known throughout the land, swung his leg over his horse and jumped easily to the ground, the gun stayed drawn, eyes sharp behind the goggles. The ladies stayed in a line on the side of the coach, coin purses in the dirt in front of them. He carefully stooped to collect his booty. "Careful, ladies, I'm as crazy as popcorn on a hot stove."
As he gathered up the coin, a shot gun was cocked from the front of the coach. As the Maverick pointed his weapon toward the noise, he caught the motion out of the corner of his eye of one of the women flicking her arm. A smooth metal ball rolled out toward his dusty boots, and a small stem popped from the top of the orb. "Shit, finger apple!"
"Run!" One of the women screamed. He stumbled backwards toward his horse, climbing the saddle and pulled one of the levers protruding from the neck. The horse roared to life, he pushed another lever in a panic to make the machine turn around and carry the Maverick away. No sooner had he traveled a few paces than a huge explosion boomed, and a fiery blast knocked him half off his horse. He patted in a panic at his leather britches trying to quell the heat. The horse faltered and he nearly lost his grip, but held strong as he switched gears and rode as fast as possible off into the cool dark of the surrounding desert.
…
Regina Mills was New York born, but had spent enough time in the west to know the customs and culture. She was the only calm one near the stagecoach when the smoke cleared. She rummaged in her bag for her binoculars and stared through them looking out into the night to hunt for the bandit.
On the ground lay the red bandana the thief had worn and Regina grabbed it, smirking at her turn of fortune.
She picked up the front of her skirts and ran off the road and away from the dragon shaped coach.
"Regina, where are you going?" Her travel companion, Kathryn, yelled after her. The blast had left many of the passengers on board smoke covered and lightly injured, and she was trying to take stock of the damage.
"I'm going to find that robber and finish what I started. Go on without me, I'll meet you at our destination," Regina growled over her shoulder as she hurried off. Regina knew Kathryn would only sigh and shake her head, she wouldn't follow or ask further questions. When Regina made a decision, she would follow it through until the end.
It took hours, in near pitch conditions, tripping over tumbleweeds and listening to the frightening rattle of snakes in the underbrush. She held out the bandana and brought a small glass vial from under her heavy petticoats. "There we go," she murmured to herself as she emptied the clear liquid onto the handkerchief and watched as it floated in the darkness. Being a witch had its advantages, though she never discussed how she came to possess her potions or powers. Not many knew she had magic, and those who did would never turn on her, and the rest were already dead.
The bandana changed course and sprung ahead toward a rocky outcrop. She found it harder to keep up with the pace as she stumbled along the foothills. After what seemed like hours, the temperature had dropped low enough to cause her a great chill, but she finally found who she had been looking for. A small fire burned between two large rocks. It was makeshift shelter, not quite a cave, but a place for a campsite. The bandit had removed his hat, and Regina peeked over a nearby rock, remaining hidden in the night.
Regina watched intently, taking in every detail of the robber. He had long greasy blonde hair, a week's worth of darker stubble on his face, broad shoulders and well defined muscles were evident when he removed his red leather coat. Big hands rooted through the purses he'd managed to take. He brought a tin of beans off the fire, wiped the grime off his forehead and settled onto his bedroll to eat.
She had to approach this delicately. Her raw instinct was to simply toss another of her apples directly into his camp and blow him to kingdom come, but she held back when she saw what happened next. The large and rugged man began to shrink.
The stubble disappeared, the hair grew even longer, and to her bewilderment the straight lines of his hips turned to womanly curves. She heard a decidedly higher pitched and feminine sigh emanate from what used to be a 'him.' Now reclining on the bedroll in his place was a beautiful woman. The looks were the same, but the cheeks were rounder, the eyes shapelier.
Regina breathed out in a rush and bit her bottom lip as the woman in front of her tossed the now empty tin of beans to the side and pulled back her sleeping bag. The large gun she carried was secured to her waist and she adjusted the belt several notches to make it fit her now relatively petite body.
"You have me quite acocked, bandit," Regina sauntered from her hiding place and surprised the woman who had just closed her eyes to sleep. She grabbed her gun and sprung to her feet, pointing it toward Regina as she stepped closer, her face illuminated to the other woman by the dying fire.
"You, I trust you're the one responsible for the hog killin' time back at the coach. How's a lady like you carry finger apples like that?" The woman asked and the slight shake of her hand did not go unnoticed by Regina.
"What do they call you?" Regina asked her voice piqued with curiosity and intrigue.
"No questions, how did you find me? I done double backed three times over, I made sure I was impossible to track," she stepped out, keeping the gun trained on Regina's chest.
Regina looked down the barrel of the obscene thing and then coolly fixed her gaze back on the woman at hand. "Answer me and I'll let you live."
"They call me Maverick," she stated, done playing games.
"An unbranded motherless calf," Regina helpfully defined. Her shoulders rolled with her mocking chuckle. "And you're a witch, I daresay, you have magic."
"Ain't none of your business, ma'am. You turn back and march your tight little ass back across the range and let me be."
Regina circled around her slowly, she reached slowly into the fire and pulled back a handful of flame. She fed off the intense fear that the brazen display of magic sparked in the blonde's eyes. "I want to know your real name, Maverick."
"Easy witch, I'll blast you with my big gun, if you take another step." The gun was obviously getting heavy for her outstretched arm. "Sit right down and put out that flame."
"I thought you wanted me to leave you alone, and now you're asking me to stay?" Regina was growing weary with the game, though she did enjoy a challenging play for power.
"I'm here among the willows[1] and now I have to fight a witch…" the woman muttered more to herself than to Regina. Her shoulders slumped and it was obvious she was tired, but she kept her chin held high, the flame in Regina's hand danced in her dark green eyes.
"Put down that oversized gun and I'll douse my flame…we can have a nice chat and share a cup of Apple Jack," Regina kept staring, her brown eyes fixed on green ones, and when the gun was lowered back into the holster, Regina closed her fist to smother the fire.
"Emma. My name is Emma," she slowly sat down on her knees, her body was coiled tightly ready to strike if Regina made any false move. "I don't think I'm in the mood to chat with you. And as for Apple Jack, well, a drop of that would hit the spot right about now."
"A bandit without liquor? Look in your supply bag," Regina drawled, rolling her neck from side to side. She forced herself to relax in order to appear calm and help Emma relax. She wouldn't be able to test the girl and see if she really was all she hoped for if she couldn't grill her for information.
Emma looked momentarily shocked when she produced a jug of whiskey from her knapsack. She smelled the strong alcohol and then looked up at Regina.
"Magic, really? Take a drink," she insisted, tossing the jug to Regina.
She caught it easily never breaking eye contact. "I usually prefer to toast before I drink."
She never blinked as she shrugged and tossed her head to the side in acquiescence, even as she took a hearty swig, feeling the alcohol burn as her throat worked to swallow. She stood up and brought the jug over to Emma, handing it back to her as she regarded Regina with distrust and uncertainty.
"Don't be scared, little calf, you clearly have magic of your own. What ever will I do if you turn back into that big burly robber man," Regina whispered the last words and her eyes widened in faux worry, as Emma took the jug. Regina dared to run cool fingers down Emma's jaw as she took her drink of liquor.
"Not scared," Emma said sharply, and Regina didn't know if she was referring to herself or the witch in black. "I ain't much for talking though, and I wish I could say thanks for the drink, but it's the least you can do after jangling my nerves."
"Hmm, exactly how can I persuade you to loosen your lips?" Regina slinked down next to her, sharing the cushion of Emma's bedroll as she gawked at Regina's audacity. "Are you for hire?"
Emma took another swallow of whiskey, and turned her head to look Regina over. Regina made note of her eyes as they wandered over her body, taking in the swell of her breasts and resting briefly on her toned thighs before rising to meet hers once more.
"Depends on the job," Emma said flirtatiously.
"It's a little of this, a little of that, nothing you couldn't handle, I'm sure," Regina moved closer, pretending like she was leaning over Emma to get to the fire. "Especially for someone who has magic such as yours..."
Emma's jaw tightened as Regina kept close watch. She was well prepared with a full arsenal of seduction tactics to get what she wanted, and if seduction failed she always had the old fall backs of violence and power to force her will. She preferred to keep things civil as long as she could at least.
"Cut the bullshit and tell me what you need to get done," Emma sounded exasperated and a bit annoyed. She grabbed the jug of liquor and drank it down.
"My starling[2] has a temper," Regina commented drily. "Where did you get that spell? How did you turn into a man?"
"I'm sure a witch of your talent has magic like that," Emma stood up with a grunt and threw another log on the fire. She poked at it with a stick, moving burning embers around as a distraction. It was clear to Regina the discussion was making the other woman uncomfortable.
"A glamour, yes, of course I have magic to make myself or others appear in a different form. That's all it is: appearances, tricks…I would still feel my same old self, only look different to others, but that's not what you used. You were a man. That magic is old and brusque; I don't recognize it," Regina explained as she attempted to get Emma to reveal her secrets.
She never would have guessed that Emma was truly a woman if she hadn't seen the transformation with her own eyes. Both her masculine and feminine forms were quite appealing, and Regina wanted to see more.
"I don't know where it came from, it's 'man candy'. I won it in a bet," she confessed as she stood up and moved to the dark corner under the flat rock that she was using as a shelter. Regina had been so caught up and intrigued by Emma and her magic she now realized she was miles from any sort of civilization and it was the middle of the night in the desert.
She had to make Emma trust her or fear that she'd get a knife to the throat while she slept.
"You live by a code I presume?"
Emma was spit shining an apple, her face half hidden by the dark, the other half flickering in the light of the fire.
Emma took a crisp, wet bite of her apple and spoke as she chewed, "Every cowboy does."
"I have a code too…if you agree to take the job I'm offering, I won't hurt you or rob you while you sleep."
"So generous," Emma barked and let out an indignant huff.
"These are troubled times, Starling. There is enough to fear out there, wouldn't you agree?" Regina stood up, her skirts dirty from the ground. She came to stand in front of Emma and then squatted down, her smile glittery in the firelight. "I could never harm someone in my charge, and I will make it worth your while."
She reached into her skirts and produced a coin purse full of gold. "This is a retainer, and in exchange, your first job is to tell me a story."
Emma snatched at the purse greedily, just as Regina had hoped she would. Dangling it on its chain she moved it back and forth just out of her grasp. She reached out faster, and grabbed Regina's hand stilling the purse and meeting her dark eyes, "All you want is a story?"
"Yes. A story," Regina gave over the purse and watched as Emma ferreted it away beneath her layers of clothing. "In full disclosure, if you accept that coin and offer the story, that means you are my employee, and therefore you are in my debt."
"Calm down. Anyways, I'm not a killer. I might rob ya, but I'm not going to hurt you unless you try to magick me with your devil flames," Emma raised her eyebrows in mischief as if the idea of being magicked by Regina's devil flames seemed like an exciting evening where she was concerned.
Being out in the wide open and looking up at the bright sparkling night sky has an effect. The Stars at once, make one realize how vulnerable and insignificant they are, but also bring about a sense of wonder of existence. The moon hung large, orange and looming casting a dim, hazy glow over the pair of women.
"Then we're in agreement, and now my story," Regina slid eagerly to the ground and pulled Emma's bed roll underneath her, laying down and settling in. She raised her hand to her lips to stifle a yawn from the late hour. Regina was not used to travel and so much excitement as of late.
"What do you want to hear about?" Emma asked looking perturbed about how her new employer had taken over her bedroll.
Regina grew excited, salivating. "Tell me about your family."
"Ain't got none to speak of."
"You really are an orphan…. Never mind, tell me of your robberies and cons," Regina sat up fully, listening intently.
"Too many to tell…" She dismissed Regina's request, looking almost bashful, and not at all the confident outlaw Regina had started to familiarize herself with. "Go on, ask me for the story you wanna hear."
Regina swallowed then, licking her lips. She was impressed that Emma was more insightful and complex than she came off.
"Yes, then…" She lowered her voice to a wonder filled whisper, "…tell me about the first time you changed…into a man."
Emma contemplated the question for a moment, and then laughed deep in her chest. A rolling laugh that shook her whole body and made Regina regard her with suspicion. Perhaps she had been fooled and the woman before her was no woman at all. Perhaps she'd been keeping company with a demonic shapeshifter? Though the blonde was pretty, she was certainly not harmless like most women Regina had met in her travels of the lands west of the Mississippi.
"Imagine the time you got the angriest and then double it," Emma stopped laughing and began to speak rather solemnly. "It's like everything is doubled: I'm bigger, stronger, faster and able to do things I wouldn't normally think I was capable of."
"Intense," Regina hissed in intrigue. "Tomorrow you will take me to the place I was traveling when you rudely attempted to rob the Dragon's coach. When we get to our destination, you will do whatever is necessary to help me find the man I'm looking for, and when you do there will be more gold for you."
"Alright, can we get some shut eye now? Sounds like tomorrow will be a long day," Emma agreed with a sharp nod, seemingly relieved that no more questions were coming for the rest of the night.
"Yes, we can rest, I do need my wits about me to handle much more of your dire company," Regina insulted Emma, equal parts intrigued by the mystery and repulsed by her foreign demeanor. "One more thing: tomorrow you will show me your man magic and I wish to use it on myself."
[1] "Dodging the law"
[2] Starling bird totems teach much about sensitivity to others and working as a unity either in this world or another and will instill a sense of protection and hope, and show one how to balance femininity/masculinity. And Regina calls Emma 'Starling' because it rhymes with 'Darling' and I wanted her to.