Emma cursed under her breath for what could've been the hundredth time in the last hour. A few months after the curse over Storybrooke had broken, and everyone had settled back into their homeland. Even Henry found his place and pretty much picked up this new life as though he'd been born into it. Like riding a bicycle for him...but there were no bicycles here, she thought with a furrowed brow. Or cars or internet or slurpees.
Slamming the heavy door behind her, the disgruntled so-called Savior, White Knight, whatever they wanted to call her, turned princess leaned heavily against the solid wood. It's not that she didn't enjoy some aspects of this new life she had been thrown into. Yea, the royalty gig was cool, for the first month at least. Servants, wealth, but that got old pretty quick with all the, cringing at the word, responsibilities that came attached to the title. Being who she was, people depending on her still didn't sit right in her stomach and she was climbing the walls.
The one thing she was halfway enjoying still was the swordplay she seemed to pick up fairly quickly. She still got the odd look now and again while hefting her sword through the castle. But when she recounted how she'd pretty much taken out a dragon the first time she picked up a sword, David-no, da-nope, James had let out a bark of laughter and clapped her on the shoulder. She'd since then tried to learn this world's preferred weaponry. She still missed her gun, but hey, at least she felt comfortable with one thing in this wacked out land, with its nobility and weird time that bent and twisted depending on who knows what. And the magic. Can't forget that.
Pushing off the door, she placed her practice sword down onto a nearby table. She winced as she lifted her padded chest guard; she made a mental note to check her back later as she felt something funny stretch. With her boots, leathers and tunic still on she made her way to look out the window that overlooked the northern wall. The expanse of the forest inspired both relaxation and restlessness in the blonde. She'd gone out on a few excursions on horseback, but she still wasn't too proficient at it. She liked her transportation without a mind of its own and without the need to stop to do things like eat or poop.
Continuing to look out into the rolling green, Emma rested her hand against the frame of the window. A certain former Mayor had been on her mind lately. The last she'd seen of her was with Henry right after everyone had gotten their memories back. Seeing the truth in tear-filled, brown eyes had made Emma want to run after the brunette but swiftly after the urge overcame her, she found herself and everyone in the town back in their (supposed) rightful place in fairytale land. Since then, no one has really heard from the Mayor or the Evil Queen as many of them call her now.
Turning away, Emma went to clean up for dinner, not noticing the large raven that had landed on the sill she had just been leaning against.
Dinner was frustrating, as usual.
She's grateful, really. She had once said to Mary Margaret that finding people is what she did. Whether it was lost little boys, criminals, or her parents, Emma Swan had always been looking for someone. But when she sits with these people who look the same age as her, who are apparently her parents, well it enters the realm of awkward. At the beginning, yes there was the hugging and the crying and the "Oh my, Henry is-?" Well that sort of emotion really only lasts for a little while until you're forced into the, so how do we deal with the fuckery that is the family?
For someone who had run from anything that resembled a family when it got too rough, this was hard to handle.
I seem to be sighing a lot since that kid came into my life. Emma grinned softly to herself, glad she didn't have to deal with the annoyance of lighting all the candles that gave light to her room in the soft evening. Shrugging out of the annoying dress that was forced upon her when she had to prep earlier, she was grateful she'd convinced someone to make something similar to a bra. She had taken a look at the corsets early on in her stay and shook her head in an adamant no. Not quite Victoria Secret, hell not even Wal-mart, but it beat being strangled to death by a piece of clothing.
Pulling out what passed for pajamas, she collapsed onto her bed. She'd visited Henry and he excitedly told her about his day. Riding, his lessons, everything he could recall in his excited state. One question that puzzled Emma though was whether or not she had experienced odd interactions with any animals. At her answer of no, he gave her an odd look and told her to keep her eyes peeled. Really, she could live without talking squirrels though.
Rolling over she punched her pillow to fluff it. Laying her head down with closed her eyes, her last thoughts of talking wildlife, the flash of a raven wing, and the mystery of the current whereabouts of a certain former Mayor/Queen.
