Closed + Open } Dangerous when cornered

[aspecialkindofwoman]

April 2 | The halls

Milady arrives to the hotel and immediately finds the first and last person she's looking for.

No warning | Rated U for unrequited and unresolved | ongoing

~~
April 6 - Open
One of the things that has kept the woman known as Milady de Winter alive in all she's been through: she is resilient and she is tough and she is opportunistic. She has learned what she thinks there is to learn about this place and eyed a few doors, but she hasn't tried any yet. This isn't cowardice; it's canniness. She needs to know what she's doing. So this is how she comes to wander through the shop then making her way to the Smoking room. She's looking at everything and everyone; the clothing some wear here is ... intriguing. She's tempted to take some; it would be easy enough. But in the meantime, she walks, hip swinging, offering a smile at the men that she thinks could benefit her, while sizing up the women. She'll have a drink or maybe more, seeing who might be buying.

no subject

[boldly_going]

"Mr. Sulu, take us out."

Sulu confirms his order and Jim decides that as much as he likes the Captain's chair, he needs to spend some time in the Captain's quarters for a while. It's been a whirlwind over the last year or so - the revelation that a high-ranking Admiral in Starfleet is a traitor and the destruction of a large swath of San Francisco would qualify as eventful in anyone's book, even his. Still, it set the pace for something grander, something with a bit more ambition and Jim had jumped at the chance to take the Enterprise on an extended, five-year mission.

The chance to chart uncharted portions of the galaxy and expand the Federation's presence throughout known and unknown space? The chance to potentially make first contact with species that had recently acquired warp technology? Jim is neither scientist nor diplomat but he thinks the beauty of being captain is that he can be a little of both. He's still a wide-eyed little boy sometimes when it comes to Starfleet and he thinks it's fitting that he was born in space; there's no place else he feels at home. There's no place on Earth that feels like home to him but on a starship with the engine purring beneath him and his boots on the bridge? That's home.

It just feels right to be captain again and he's glad that his demotion was only a temporary one. He's glad to be in the chair again and he thinks this time, he's going to respect it the way he didn't before. Being captain means holding the lives of your crew in your hands and knowing that you have the power to determine their life or death based on your decisions. One wrong move could be detrimental not only to oneself but to everyone else on board. It's weighty and meaningful and something that Jim thinks he never truly understood until just recently. It's one thing to cheat the Kobayashi Maru just to say he beat the test. It's quite another to actually live it and he understands the point of the test now - and the point in it being a no-win scenario.

(He is never, ever going to admit that to Spock.)

He presses the button to enter his quarters and steps through the door once it automatically slides open. It's automatic to start dictating into his captain's log now and while it's not something that he'd ever thought about before, keeping a journal, it's nice to have a few minutes to unwind each day by putting his thoughts down. Maybe that's how captain's logs started out to begin with.

"Captain's log, star...wait a minute." His quarters just...aren't there. In their place is what looks like a hotel or a resort and the plush surroundings are utterly foreign after spending so much time amongst the utilitarian and spartan surroundings of the Enterprise. Federation starships are all sleek and modern, nothing like this. And certainly not in his captain's quarters.

"What...what the hell is this?"

no subject

[havecourageandbekind]

You must return home by the last stroke of midnight because the magic will be gone - and everything will return to what it was.

Cinderella has never run so fast and so far in her life. She knows she has to get out of the palace before Kit (the prince, she corrects herself) finds out that all of this is a farce. She's even less than a simple country girl, she's a servant, and her dress is rags and her servants are animals. Her coach is a pumpkin. There's no way he can see all of that, he'd never understand.

Her mother had told her that there were some who would never understand the magic in the world around them and Cinderella has found that to be true. Her stepmother and stepsisters, for example, would never consider Gus and her other mice friends to be just as individual and precious as they are. Cinderella is certain they see them as vermin; though, really, they have more warmth and kindness in their tiny bodies than her stepfamily has all together.

Still, she cannot fault them. It is their nature and they are not likely to change. All she can do is show them kindness and love and hope that they can recognize it for what it is; they are, after all, everything she has left in the world. Them, and the house, and she promised to love the house for her mother and father. She'll always keep that promise.

Her heart is in her throat as it seems like the prince and his men are going to catch up to her and one of her glass slippers slides off her feet, tumbling down the palace steps. She does not dare go back for it - if she halts even for a moment, she won't have enough time to get home before all of the magic fades away. She doesn't know if it's instant or if it takes a little while and Cinderella is not entirely sure she wants to find out until she's clear and away and can cherish the memory on her own all alone. This is not something she wants to share with family. This is something she wants just for herself, one of the few things she's ever wanted to keep secret and safe.

She makes her way down to the end of the road where her carriage is and tugs open the door, sliding inside just as her footmen start growing tails and turning a peculiar shade of green. It's best if they begin this madcap run now before the carriage loses its wheels.

Except...the coach is gone. Gone are the luxurious seats and they haven't been replaced by pumpkin pulp, as she'd expect. Instead, she's settled on a fairly plump couch upholstered in velvet and surrounded by people coming and going. Their manner of dress is strange and as her beautiful blue confection of a gown melts away into soft and tattered pink, Cinderella isn't sure why this place hasn't faded away too. Why is she not back in her attic, surrounded by mice? Where is the screeching of her stepmother and stepsisters? The ringing of the bells?

She hears only one bell, too high and too tinny to be the servant's bell and Cinderella lifts her head to see that there's a wide desk and someone standing behind it. Perhaps he has answers. She makes her way toward him but stumbles, still only wearing the one shoe, and finds herself sprawled on the carpeted floor.

There's a pair of shoes in front of her and it's the shoes she addresses, rather than the person's face.

"Could I trouble you to help me up? I seem to have lost a shoe and it's made me clumsy."