fandomtownies | The streets of Fandom [Sunday afternoon]

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The streets of Fandom [Sunday afternoon]

Gretel, as per usual, hadn't exactly slept well the first night in a new town. But she was up and patrolling all the same. Her crossbow hung at her side -- no reason to scare the fuck out of some innocent passer-by, after all. (Too many incidents like that, she'd learned, sometimes meant a significantly decreased reward, too.)

It wasn't like she was expecting to just find a witch, either, here in broad daylight. But you could never be too careful.

[and let us commence the celebration of leather pants. :D open for her brother or anyone else who might be wandering around town!]

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Isabelle was patrolling too. And yes, that involved leather pants, although hers had runes on them, the same kind that were burned into her arms as well. She was in full Shadowhunter gear, and while her weapons were concealed, everyone could rest assured there were several of them.

And right now, she was squinting.

"... Celia?"

Gretel paused, cocking her head toward the unfamiliar girl. "The name's Gretel," she corrected, crisply, giving her a once-over. Similar line of work, by the looks of it, but she knew better than to trust appearances. "You don't know anything about the missing children around here, do you?"

She couldn't remember actually hearing anything about missing children, but if they were here, that had to be a thing, right?

"Missing children?" Isabelle asked, frowning. "I ––"

Oh, right. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, fantastic. You're affected too."

"Affected?" Gretel repeated, raising a brow. "Affected by...what, exactly?"

The prospect of there being some sort of curse in place here as well didn't sound exactly great.

"By whatever island thing it is that's happening right now," Isabelle replied, not really feeling like putting too much effort into an explanation. Past experiences suggested it was pointless.

Instead, she reached into her pocket for her phone. "Look, have you seen a guy who looks like this?"

She held the phone out with a picture of Flick on the screen.

"That's an interesting device," Gretel noted, still suspicious as she leaned in a little to look at the picture. "Can't say I've spotted him, no. What's he to you?"

"Boyfriend." This was only the second time she'd actually used that word about him. She'd go back to not using it once this ordeal was over. "Usually. Right now he's a guy I need to find and restrain."

Gretel clucked sympathetically, lifting a brow. "And not in the fun way, by the sounds of it. I'll keep an eye out. Didn't cheat on you, did he?"

He would clearly have to be stupid. And also blind. But mostly stupid.

"No," Isabelle replied dryly, pulling her phone back. "He just turned into a different person. He's dangerous now. I suggest staying away from him."

"What do you mean, he turned into another person? Shapeshifter?" Gretel asked dubiously. "Or is this like, a metaphor, and he's like, just not the man he was when you met him, blah blah blah?"

Isabelle sighed. "I mean he looks the same but he doesn't know me, and burned me with a ball of fire."

And that got her attention a little better. "Ball of fire, you say?" It didn't sound like any of the witches she'd met, but it wasn't like she hadn't been surprised before. "How long's he been acting strangely?"

"Just since yesterday." Which suggested a few obvious things to her. Or at least she hoped it did. "She'll be back to normal my Monday. I just have to find him, in the meantime."

"How can you be sure he'll be fine by Monday?" Gretel asked, frowning. "That sounds like you've dealt with this before."

"Funnily enough, that's because I have," Isabelle replied. Sorry, the snarky tone of voice was compulsive. "It's this island's doing. By Monday, you will also remember that. Gretel, was it?"

"I have no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean," Gretel replied, fairly evenly, "but yeah. Gretel."

Hansel had spent yesterday splitting his time between patrolling this strange place and looking for his sister. When he finally spotted her, he broke into a grin and ran over. "Gretel, there you are," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she sighed, leaning into him gratefully. "This place is weird, though."

Seriously, what was with all the stairs?

"Seriously weird. I haven't seen any sign of witches and the people are disturbingly friendly." Which said a lot about how they were usually greeted.

"No one's threatened me at all," Gretel agreed. "Which just makes me more suspicious. No one's that nice naturally."

"You could stand to have people be a little nicer to you," Hansel insisted, before looking around. "Have you figured out what we're doing here?"

"Missing children?" Gretel said, though she was dubious. "I don't know, really. But it's always missing children."

"I haven't seen any signs for missing children. I don't know if I've even seen any children. Just young adults and grown ones." Hansel shook his head. "I'd say we should move on but it's actually been a little relaxing being here."

"Yeah, but what's going on elsewhere while we're here relaxing?" Gretel asked, lifting her brows. "Besides, people keep saying there's something...odd about this place. Something's up, even if it's not missing kids."

"You'd think people would just be straightforward with us so we can do our job," Hansel said, sighing. "Especially since they're so willing to make small talk."

This place was strange, but even so a young lady in leather pants carrying a crossbow caught Ichabod's attention. It was quite suspicious, after all.

If he stared a little it had nothing to do with the way the leather pants revealed her legs.

"Would you like to draw a picture or something?" Gretel asked, tilting her head at the very pale guy. "It might last you longer."

She was kind of used to being stared at, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be sassy about it when the opportunity arose.

"Oh, no, miss," Ichabod replied hastily. "I just wondered why a young lady such as yourself felt the need to carry a crossbow. Have you been threatened in any way?"

"You never know what might be around the corner," Gretel replied ominously. "If you ask me, more people -- young ladies like myself included -- ought to be armed."

"I am quite aware of the dangers in this world, miss, as my profession involves the solving of murders. However, I hope we still can claim to be civilized enough to not demand such measures of the fairer sex."

Even if they were wearing leather pants.

"I've been killing since I was a child," Gretel replied evenly, eyeing him. "You don't get the luxury of considering whether you're a member of the so-called fairer sex when a witch wants to eat you and your brother."

But that was beside the point, because he'd said something much more interesting. "Murders, huh? Any business lately?"

Witches? People here certainly seemed to be a superstitious lot. "I congratulate you on not being eaten as a child," Ichabod said, then realizing is sounded a little odd. "I mean, I hope you still have your brother. And yes, I am on my way to a murder investigation."

[night!]

"Who got murdered?" Gretel asked, tactfully. "How old was the victim? Our lines of work might be intersecting here, buddy."

"My information so far has only been that there are several victims, all decapitated," he replied, a little suspicious. "What makes you think that has any connection to your work?"

"I hunt witches," she replied, shrugging. "And they're not really all that big on leaving their victims alive. But decapitated -- that's not normal. Might be something different."

Might just be that this place was weird.

Ichabod was about to agree when he recognized a by now familiar urge, and he had time to think: Oh no, not again!

The little town fell into a state of shock
A lot of people were saying things that made little sense
Then the next thing you know the head of Handyman Joe
Was found in the fountain of the Mayor's residence
Foul play can really get a small town going
La la la la La la la lie
Even God's children all have to die

"Well, that was really fucking weird," Gretel said with a surprised lift of her brows, staring at him. "Does that normally happen? Or are you just really into singing?"

Pressing both his hands across his mouth, as if that would stop the singing, Ichabod turned and fled. He had embarrassed himself enough by that today.

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The streets of Fandom [Sunday afternoon]

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