The Wendy Bird

This blog is now an archive! You can find me by following the link

This blog is now an archive! You can find me by following the link

This blog is now an archive! You can find me by following the link

This blog is now an archive! You can find me by following the link

This blog is now an archive! You can find me by following the link

             “Perhaps the first time you’ve heard it. This is my --  oh never mind, I lost count a long time ago.”

                   “A rarity in this town.” Whether it was a good a bad thing, Wendy supposed depended entirely on the person. Personally she would have found it to be a nice change of pace, if it hadn’t given her far too much time to think. It was little things, that were overlooked in the general rush, that reminded her of home. An overcast sky, the clock tower over the library, the occasional accent that sounded so much like her own. Looking down at her glass, Wendy swirled the liquid before raising it to her lips and allowing a trail to burn down the back of her throat. “Just feeling a little home sick is all.” She gave the other woman a tight smile, that was meant to show appreciation for the inquiry; but it simply did not reach her eyes.

“ Yes, you have.” The answer was immediate, quick to soothe and comfort. But it could not hide the look in his eyes, the one that betrayed how wrong their marriage was from the start. “ But I’m a difficult man and love, well, pet, love is not something that comes organically to me.”

                    Eyes were downcast, the brunette too embarrassed to look him in the eye. Had all this been in her head? All those nights in his arms, that felt more like home than anything about this chateau in which they resided, suddenly seemed tainted. The rose tint with which she had seen this entire marriage felt nothing more than a mirage. “Then this -- affection I feel. It will not be returned?” She scoffed in self deprecation. “I feel so foolish.” Even more so that part of her wish to prove him wrong, that she could somehow worm her way into his heart.

                                        how strange it is — to have someone on her side ( supposedly. ) weeks worth of cold shoulders && stern eyes—— of anxiety lingering like acid in the back of her throat. wariness still shines in light eyes, arms leaning in against the table. was this another TRICK? a way to get information ( which she obviously didn’t have? ) —– a smile will peek along rosy lips, small && shy, shoulders rolling.  ❛ well, you would be the first. you’d think i was the spawn of satan, the way people look at me around here. i – i’m sorry, you don’t have to sit here listening to my pity party. && i’m sure you’re not gaining any brownie points by hanging around me. —– but i really appreciate you doing this. i won’t forget it.  ❜

                Words did not discourage Wendy’s generosity, and she was quick to brush them aside. “Nonsense. I’m engaged to the most hated man in Storybrooke, and I still get on just fine. Talking to one doppelganger couldn’t possibly do more damage to my reputation than that.” A chuckle and a shake of her head followed her words. “Anyway,  I’ve no doubt you’re just as confused by the situation as Snow is. I can’t picture showing up in a new town and finding someone that looks exactly like me. Not to mention -- are you used to all the other stuff or is that new to you as well?” And by other stuff she meant magic; or science, depending on where the woman had come from.

         Not expecting her words, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her unable to think of a reason why she would want to spend more time with him.  Especially having been so close to him moments ago while he taught her to spin.  Though he would think it uncomfortable to have him so near, she appeared to show now aversion to it whatsoever, something he found very curious indeed.           He said none of this, of course, and tried to hide any outward signs of his train of thought, save for the involuntarily inquisitive tilt of his head.  ❛  Hmm…perhaps—perhaps I will…in case you mess up and need my assistance again.  I may actually be able to use that, if you do it well enough.  ❜   And with a wave of his hand, he’d produced another stool from thin air, again on the opposite side of the wheel from her and took a seat.

                Her eyes weren’t on him this time, but oh she could not have looked more pleased. The only thing she would have changed was that he might sit at her side, rather than across from her. Just in case she needed assistance, of course. Delicate fingers worked the wool that lay between them, and there wasn’t even a moment for silence to settle in before she was speaking to him as casually as if they had known one another for ages.  “ And who taught you how to do this? I’m not certain if it’s the same here, but in my own land it isn’t very common for a man to know how to spin. ”

           ❝ who said anything about ridicule? it’s been so long, wendy, i simply want to ask how you are. and john, too, i suppose. still having those silly dreams about pirates, is he? ❞

              Wendy didn’t buy that for a minute, knowing full well what Blue thought of her and her family. As much had been made very clear when the other woman had denied her younger brother a chance at courting her. He was better off in her opinion,especially once Blue’s true colors had shown. “We’re both fairing quite well actually. John in particular. In fact I think he recently received a promotion.” She made no comment on her jibe about pirates, instead taking the opportunity to rub it in the other woman’s face that she had turned down one who was on the rise. “And yourself? I hope you’re doing well, I can’t imagine how you deal with how frigid it stays here.” The only thing frigid there was Blue herself.

Brigitte Bardot & Jane Birkin in ‘Don Juan ou Si Don Juan était une femme…’, 1973.