mythmaking | Once upon a time...

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Once upon a time...

[ For the residents of Märchenstraße, and all the land surrounding it, the eighth of December was a day to look forward to. Looking at it from an outside perspective, strangers and travelers could easily assume it to be a holiday. At the very least, a day for a festival, if a modest one. A day that shopkeeps spent all morning preparing for, that all manner of creatures spent days traveling to the city to witness. They'd heard the talk that passed around, the rumors from those still left. But would it work? No one knew for sure, no matter how confident the stories seemed to be. But hope was very quickly becoming all they had left.

They had decorated the whole town. Streamers, banners, wreathes and garland made of autumn flowers, plus whatever the Fairy Godmother had cooked up. Oh, she was just giddy. No skepticism could be spoken around her, not if you wanted to escape the wrath of her wand! Rumor had it that she had caught wind of a few piglets squealing about the likelihood that their magic would fail, and that they were subsequently transformed into the band of musicians who could be found performing in the park.

Well, at least the music was festive.

Of course, the decorations weren't for the newcomers alone. Autumn was coming to a close in just a few weeks, and Old Man Winter would take the reigns like he did every year, and their weather would turn cold and harsh. The chill was already there, cool and biting when the wind picked up speed. Lady Autumn was much preferred to the citizens of the city with her gentle nature, even if she failed to show up, finishing her work in the orchards instead. That was what they liked about her.

It was mid-morning when Father Time was found outside of his tower, checking one of the numerous pocket watches he kept on his person. "Unnecessary, but comfortable," he called them, and closed the watch again. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and where empty space had been just seconds before, now they were. Sitting on benches, lying in flower patches, scattered about the city and outside of the gates in peaceful slumber. They would awaken to the bells of the clock tower. Some, to many friendly and relieved faces all around them, some to grateful ones carrying gifts of food and clothing and magic, and some to fearful, cautious faces. Regardless of how the town treated them, they would awaken to a celebration of their arrival, and choices to be made, and the books. Each and every one. ]

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[ Dick was alert the moment he opened his eyes to a strange place, and he rolled off the bench he'd showed up on to a crouch behind it, taking in everything he could from behind the black shades. ]

[ It took him a couple of breaths to register what'd been wrong with his body on that motion, and he looked, oh so slowly, over his shoulder. ]

[ The wings were rather large. They moved when he willed them to, and they reflected the autumn light beautifully. He thought they might be able to carry him to the air. ]

[ Dick Grayson wanted to scream in horror. ]

[ Quickly, he reached to take the book that had dropped from his lap, and darted off to the nearest semi-private alleyway. ]

[ He came out with the wings imperfectly, but at least efficiently stuffed inside his jacket, its hood firmly up over his head. He looked hunched, and there might be feathers peeking out from under the hem of the hoodie, but at least they were not... obvious. And he had some information to find. ]

[ When Simon passes by the young man at first, he has to do a double take. Of the few he has met already, this one seems to have the worst luck of the lot. Cupid. Poor sod. ]

If you seek answers, Father Time would know better than anyone else here.

[ He feels somewhat obligated, in a way, to at least nudge some of them in the right direction. At least, the right direction as far as he can figure it. Simon was really not cut out for this. ]

He's also the most likely to understand that this isn't the most wonderful thing to happen either.

[ Well, yes. Simon is not much more pleased than likely anyone else. ]

[ Dick pauses, mid-step, hesitating. Then turns to face the man, arms crossed protectively in front of him. ]

Father Time.

Is he a good guy or a bad one?

[ Despite the boy's body language, and the still-on hood, the question is curious, thoughtful, rather than any kind of rejecting the information. ]

[ Simon shrugs, somewhat noncommittal. ]

That would depend upon your story, to be honest. He's a better man that some.

[ It is a strange question to ask, Simon thinks, but a smart one. Why can't more people be clever enough to ask those sorts of questions. Honestly, he wishes he could give a more straightforward answer. ]

For the moment he will help you. Genuinely help you. But I could not say beyond that. That would depend on you, and Father Time, and what your story holds.

[ Simon's smile is wry. This one looks like he'll do better than most, but this is still a poor world to try and navigate alone. ]

[ Because most people haven't been fighting crime for the last five years? ]

[ Dick nods, relaxing slightly, definitely more attentive, now. ]

Thanks. That's a start.

Though if you can add clues as to what we're supposed to do and what we shouldn't... and if it'd get us home, eventually, I'd appreciate that.

I don't know much more than you. [ This was not his idea and he still thinks it's a bad one. ] Only that bringing you here was intentional, for a purpose. [ ... to fix this world, if whatever plans those wiser and stronger than he are viable. ]

I cannot say what paths your story will force you to take, [ now that you are here and can't get out of it, as far as Simon knows ] but I hope that you would reach your home at the end of it, in any case.

[ He offers out a hand, to shake. ]

Simon. I imagine you would prefer to be called by a name that is not Cupid.

[ Dick's chin drops, for a moment, and then he mouths, silently, Cupid... ]

[ That explains the wings, at least. ]

[ The boy's mouth twists. ]

Right. Like something like this totally happens by chance. Thanks, but I figured the 'on purpose' part on my own. I'm just wondering if it ever occurred to you - not you personally, I mean, the... whole place - to ask people for help? Some might have volunteered. And it could go way smoother and faster.

[ Sorry. Dick's cranky (body mutilation will do that to him), but not exactly trying to be furious with Simon. And he does shake the offered hand, firm and brief and steady. ]

I'm Robin. Sorry, not in the best mood, but I really do appreciate your help.

As for chance? Here, it would not be unheard of. [ This world is weird, and it honestly would have surprised most of them if it just sort of happened because. ] But I agree that asking would, perhaps, have been wiser.

[ Would it have worked? Simon still isn't sure how this is to work, but he also doesn't know of many stories where the becoming a part of one was willing. It simply was. ]

My sentiments are much the same, no need to be sorry for it. [ Well, possibly not the body mutilation thing—he can't speak for that—but the dragging people from their homes to fix this worlds problems in a bid that he still doesn't understand and very possibly won't work thing. Yeah, he has some issues with that. ] I wouldn't wish my story on any one, and I doubt those whose roles you've taken would feel differently.

Edited (wow grammar) 2013-12-09 20:34 (UTC)

With so many people at once? Probably not so much, with chance.

[ Dick tilts his head, then does ask. ]

Would you be willing to tell me what that story is? I mean, you obviously know the story that's supposed to be mine.

[ Simon shrugs; it's not a point worth arguing. The kid will figure out just how strange this world is soon enough.

When he asks about his own story, though, Simon lifts a hand to the back of his neck, a little sheepish. He could hazard a guess, maybe, but none of the stories he's encountered seem like they'd fit quite exactly. ]

I'd really meant it in a more general sense. I think few residents of this world would willingly foist their role on someone else. [ A pause, thinking. ] I'd look for people who feel right, even if you don't know them. Something that feels familiar in a way you don't normally recognize. The more you find in your story, the clearer it becomes.

And the less options you need to sort through. There are creatures enough with multiple stories.

[ Dick considers that. ]

Oh. But you knew a name to call me that's... That sort of makes sense. [ He motions to the bow in his hand. ] Considering. And that's somebody some of whose story is known.

Or is it supposed to be different here?

Though, thanks, I will be looking for such people.

[ Having specific information is helping, making his mind kick up a notch. ]

... oh, man, does that mean that somebody could be here as, um, Venus? That'd be weird.

[Steve wasn't going to say anything, honest. He was just going to assume the kid had an unfortunate condition and carry on with his exploration of this "Märchenstraße" place.

But then he saw a feather, his imagination started trying to fill in the blanks, and really, he just had to speak up.]

What are you trying to do, smuggle a turkey somewhere?

I wish.

[ Good thing that there are shades, because Dick is glaring up at the man. But habits take over. ]

It's early for a goose, anyway, right?

[ Wally was wandering about, having already received his book, and he was not happy; it beamed from his face in a scathing grimace as he shuffled his feet down the city streets. He had no powers (as far as he knew); he didn't have his powers.

Grumpy speedster? Grumpy speedster.

He didn't even notice as he brushed right past Dick. That hood did a good job to disguise the brunet when Wally wasn't paying attention. And might a loose feather have floated down to cling to his suit? ]

[ Just for a moment, Dick's heart beat too hard, and he was tempted to... not show himself. To hide, and only appear under the cover of the night... ]

[ ... and then he shook his head at himself, snorting mildly at the absurd idea. ]

KF.

[ Well, there was a familiar voice and nickname, enough to snap him out of his grumbling. Just enough.

Wally froze a few steps past Dick and then turned to look over his shoulder. In a matter of seconds, his face melted into happy surprise and he threw himself at Dick, and thankfully, it wasn't to the ground. Just arms about in a hug. ]

DUDE. [ Unfortunately, he was as loud as ever. ]

[ Dick. And hugs. Ayup, Wally got an armful of skinny acrobat... ]

[ With a clear bulk on his back. But, for Dick's usual part, he was practically clinging, if only for a moment. ]

Hey. Fancy seeing you here.

[ ... okay, maybe still against Wally's shirt. But. Wings! ]

[ The wings would come, eventually sinking through to Wally's awareness. For right now, though, he was just happy to see his bestie.

The ~~former~~ speedster pulled back some (not letting go) to look Dick in the face. ]

Dude, you're not gonna believe this- but whatever's going on here is messing with my powers.

[ And so Wally could see, very clearly, the surprise, then anger on Dick's face. ]

What?

Not cool. Really, really not cool, dude! I...

A guy back there said that Father Time could answer questions. Maybe we should go try that one.

[ Well, that was a look Wally never liked seeing on his friend. And geeze, he was the one who'd lost his speed. ]

Calm down, birdbrain. We'll figure it out. Maybe I can just recreate the experiment or something. [ Which would probably just result in a whole lot of BOOM and no powers to show for it. ]

... [ He arched a brow and then snorted. ]

Father Time? Yeah right.

[ It was always easier for Dick to get angry for others than for himself. Came with the whole protector-in-Gotham thing. If he let people get under his skin, he'd be toast. But for others? That was different. ]

[ Though Wally calling him to calm do-- ]

[ He arched an eyebrow. ]

Birdbrain?

[ And the tone clearly added, should I be offended? ]

[ Of course, that was even ignoring his new bird appendages. Ugh. ]

And, hey, that's what they said. Who'm I to question what people choose to call themselves? My dad, Batman, and all that.

[ The light turn to his smile that followed that look implied that no, Dick shouldn't have been offended. Wally reached up and rubbed at the back of his head. Well- this was a bit after the whole thing with Doctor Fate, so... It wasn't like he outright disbelieved in magic, but- ]

Let me know when he starts turning into some kind of man-bat and then I'll start believing in some kind of "Father Time."

[ Dick's mouth curved up a bit. Once that little reassurance was out - it really only took that look - he could relax, and be amused, and not dislike the nickname all that much. ]

[ Well. ]

[ Until the turning into a Man-Bat as mentioned. Which got a far different reaction than Wally likely expected. In a moment, Dick's face twisted in horror. ]

Oh, God. No.

[ He looked around, and, just like that, he was dashing for the nearest alleyway where he could at least not be in plain sight. He didn't try to make Wally wait, at least, so ... he could follow, if he was brave enough. ]

[ That was definitely not what Wally expected. The speedster blinked as the look on Dick's face shifted and then he was blinking rapidly as the brunet dashed off. What the heck.

Of course he was going to follow after. For all he knew, his friend was hurt or sick, or whatever. ]

Dude! Hold up- [ He may have lost his speed, but the years of having it and training with it had left his body with some natural training to it. He was still built like a good runner for his age.

Eventually, he caught up to Dick and put a hand to his shoulder, which was when he felt something underneath his clothes. Almost immediately, Wally's hand shot back, a visceral reaction. ]

...Are you okay?

[ Dick was breathing heavily, more hyperventilating than from the hurry to get here. And the recoil didn't help. Dick's lips parted, his eyes wide and round behind the sunglasses, and he. Needed a few moments to figure out what to do. ]

I. They took away your speed. Me, they gave something. I. Don't freak out too bad, okay? Please?

[ And he shrugged off the hoodie, the wings unfurling behind him, slowly, warily. ]

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