Disclaimer: obviously, I don't own Once.
Jefferson liked purple.
He liked it a lot.
Okay, he loved purple.
Purple was magic. Magic was unpredictable. Unpredictable was fun. Purple was madness.
It was a sinful colour.
His finger felt around the rim of his hat, dancing expertly along the edges like specks of oil. Lavender oil? Ooh, lavender is purple. He should put lavender oil in his hat. Make it smell purple-ish. Wait, no...bees like lavender. Like the one roosting upon his dresser, clearly admiring it's orange fuzz in his mirror. It buzzed incessantly. Be cool Buzz, you look good. Although, he looked better. Purple obviously beat orange. A smug grin tugged at his lips. He should model purple on a catwalk. Show those damn nymphs how to dress. Show them that purple was – right.
Purple.
His hat was purple.
Get it to work.
Get Emma to get it to work. Emma. The one brimming with magic, like a tea cup at its fullest. Why couldn't she see it? She was the saviour. It was all right before her eyes, like his dear Grace was before his... and yet, he supposed, he couldn't see her either. Not really. Did that mean Grace was like magic? Two entities that could be, but never be seen? Get Emma to see so Emma can get it to work. Slinking back to one of several empty rooms, he glanced at his solitary shattered window, where the moon was unabashedly shining it's light. How rude. Choosing to be insulted, Poked at one of the few shards still attached to it's frame. Broken things were pretty. Like his hat. And him. Unfortunately, his purple velvet top-hat needed fixing. Get it to work.
Although it did work, for a second.
What a tease.
A tease that saved his life during his forced swan dive off the second floor. Would the curse not let him die? Leave him wanting, but forever receiving nothing? Perhaps it didn't save his life then. His body, yes. His life? Of course not. He had no life. He had no Grace. After all, he was cursed. Ah, but weren't they all... The curse let the Huntsman die. Heart crumbled to dust by the petty, bitter Queen. Bitch.
He was Hungry. Dinner. Food.
Would he like tea with that?
Yes.
Always Tea.
Tea was good.
A large one please.
...Could he make it purple?