A chill had set in on an early winter's eve. The thin child tugged her black motorcycle jacket tighter across her torso. She used her free hand to pull her long, dark waves over her eyes and down past her collar bones to her waist, one side at a time. The wind forced her jade eyes to twinkle with tears as she marched down Main Street against the gale.
She was too tiny, she thought, certain she'd blow away if the gust picked up even a hair. The town was most likely still settling from being created once more earlier in the day. She's never seen a day this windy on land. Perhaps it were another tornado, whisking her away, curtesy of this time's villain.
She shouldn't know I'm here, should she?
Things were quite unclear. No one tells the chum the particulars. Nobody sets up the errand boy with all the information. Errand boys are unpredictable. She was highly unpredictable, so much so, she hadn't the faintest idea what words would come out of her mouth the moment she got to where she was going.
And where was she going?
Over the river and through the woods.
It wasn't until the shivering girl approached corridor, reality flushed through her frostbitten cheeks. She could almost smell them, just above her in their iconic loft. She felt her magic sizzle and spark at her fingertips, unsure if this was excitement or anxiety bubbling below her belly button. Either way, she'd have to make the journey up the staircase to get to the source of her unreadable emotion.
Step by step realization hit her, she was not going to fall upon familiar smiles and warm hugs, she was going to meet untrusting eyes and possibly receive more rejection than love. Still, over the course of her half-mile trek here, she's promised herself she'd do it the honest way. No secrets, there's no valiancy in secrecy. She knows that much. She'd start out with the truth, perhaps half-truths to save her from the fallout, but truths nonetheless. When everything was said and done, she'd reenact the spell she'd practiced time and time again. They'd all remember things the way she'd been told for years and none would be the wiser.
Still, as her trembling fist reached up to tap the door, she wished she had been wiser, caught on to what he was selling. All magic comes with a price, but the question is 'if you don't exist to pay it, who does?'
That's the price moron. Just knock.
The waiting game didn't last very long, still long enough to sizzle, crack, scorch across her tiny fingertips. She held her hands together, telling herself she were just rubbing them for warmth, not to calm the storm that will easily brew uncontrollably until her judgement day.
Then the door opened. It was as if the sun made a surprise visit only hours after sundown. Mary Margaret stood there in all her glory, shimmering with a glow unlike any other. The child's eyes matched the woman's staring back at her. Bright, green and wider than the moon.
The scrutiny she subjected herself to, showing up like this, was quite possibly deserved, yet somehow she didn't think it would occur. Still, she watched the woman's eyes scan over her carefully, every detail being cataloged.
"Hello." the girl spoke hesitantly, willing her knees to stop shaking. She extended her right hand gracefully, forcing a smile to stain her face. "I am Princess Lillian Eva Jones. Do you mind if I come in?"