Time passes much more quickly in Rohandor and many long and happy years have gone by since the characters retired to enjoy their respective 'happily ever afters,' their greatest foes were imprisoned in the Forever Stone, bound in an eternal sleep. Until Now.
Happily Ever Afters takes place in Rohandor, a mystical realm on another plane of existence from our own. Here our favorite Disney heroes and villains live in a world all their own; Alive, but far from well. Heroes and heroines fight to keep peace while newly freed villains seek their revenge. Come join us in an epic adventure as the characters you love clash in a struggle that will determine the fate of Rohandor!
HEA is an AU canon-only animated crossover Disney Play-By-Post Role Play with minimal word count.
HEA Staff
News and Updates
4/24/21: We've been on hiatus for a number of years now. I don't know that I'm entirely ready to return BUT I have been cleaning up the site and working to update everything since a number of movies have released. There is still A LOT of work to do but if you see this update and were an active member of the site prior to the hiatus, please send the Yen Sid account a DM to let me know you're still interested in playing and if you wish to retain your current roster. I hope you've all been doing well and staying safe!
Happily Ever Afters is a play-by-post forum role playing game based on the movies and television series of Disney and Pixar. It was created for recreational and entertainment purposes only and not intended to step on any toes, offend, or infringe. We did not create nor do we own the content from the Disney and Pixar stories and movies. None of the threads and writing on this forum is associated or affiliated with Disney/Pixar in any way. We do not make any money off of this site or its content. The icons used in the Forum Information & Statistics and those like it throughout the board as well as the BBC buttons and smileys were taken from a layout called Absolute Madness made by PookyTart from Userbar Depot. All of the other graphics used on this board were found, created, or otherwise edited by Yen Sid or Te Fiti. Please don't steal or use any graphic from this board without explicit permission. All storylines and plots used in the threads/topics were created by the staff and members of HEA and should not be copied or used on another board without permission.
"I'm sorry, Ambassador, but I think this is as far as we dare to go."
She did not look up to the captain all at once. Her eyes were locked ahead, as most of the crew's were, too. Fifty feet past the bow of the boat, an impenetrable wall of fog stood. Pocahontas watched it warily, but also in worry. She knew with just her own intelligence that this was no natural phenomenon. For one thing, it was too contained. Stray tendrils of the stuff twined about the ship, mingled in the mast and rushed in to fill the hollows of the rippling surf before it was dispelled again. The fog bank ahead was as dense and forbidding as a stronghold's outer wall.
Sunlight strove to pierce the clinging mist about them with rosy fingers, but only succeeded in changing queer and pale by the time it fell flat on the sailors and their passenger. The rays could not penetrate the barrier of vapor ahead. The waters beneath it were dim and dark.
Meeko sat on the railing before Pocahontas, jaw agape. Flit glared at the fog bank, offended by it daring to get in the way.
"Ambassador?"
Pocahontas snatched herself from the queasy spell that beholding the phenomenon put on her. She turned to Captain O'Grady, who was looking down with a furrowed brow at her. "The fog is too thick," the captain said unnecessarily. "And I don't like the look of it. P'raps you should come with us. Our next stop is New York Town's port. You could wait there for this-" he glanced unpleasantly at the mist, "to clear?" Pocahontas tried to smile, and knew that it looked troubled and forced. "Thank you, Captain, but I can't."
Captain O'Grady was more obliging than Pocahontas had anticipated within the next half-hour. Then again, the Powhatan mused, captains of ships knew about the duty of station, and that ones welfare was forfeit to fulfill it. Just as it was Captain O'Grady's responsibility to keep his ship safe and out of the fog, it was Pocahontas' responsibility to brave it. Her people lay beyond. The crew may have had quarrels with what Pocahontas was insisting, but respected O'Grady enough to trust his judgement on the matter.
Thirty-two minutes after the fact, Pocahontas was stepping off the last rung of a rope-ladder and in to a canoe. The small boat was brought on excursions at the Powhatan's behest. Now it lay burdened with the little that she had to boast, bundled and then strapped beneath an oilskin cloth to keep water from reaching it. Pocahontas took a moment to ensure that Meeko was safe at her side, and Flit in her company, then lifted the paddle.
The crew chorused farewell (meaning it very literally) as Pocahontas pushed away from the larger ship. "We'll pass by in two days time around noon!" the captain shouted lastly. She waved to them in the fashion of her people, and the crew and O'Grady (all of which had been very fond of Pocahontas during their time at sea) returned the wide, sweeping gesture. Pocahontas smiled until she turned to face what lay before her. Meeko valiantly hid behind the Powhatan as Flit perched on her shoulder. With solemn caution, Pocahontas began paddling toward the gloom.
She disappeared wholly from view one foot past the edge of the body of mist...
After the initial shock of discovering this strange amalgamated world she was now a part of, Demona knew she needed to learn all she could about the inner and outer workings of Rohandor. There was so much to see and explore and for one who had lived for over a thousand years and seen almost everything there was to see, anything new was a welcome diversion. The Isle of the Statue intrigued Demona solely for the reason that there were many drastically different time periods from the world she had known before represented on just this small plot of land.
The forest located in Jamesville was especially interesting to Demona. She'd read the many legends surrounding the Powhatan tribe and the supposed spirits they 'listened' to for guidance. She had no need for their 'guidance.' Demona already knew her path was the same as it had been for over a thousand years. Obliterate all the humans. What she did have a potential need for however, was an oracle of sorts and if these spirits could help her in knowing the events to come, perhaps she could avert future interference from her former mate and clan so she could carry out her plans uninhibited.
It was still daylight hours which mean Demona was in her human form of Dominique Destine though she'd left her business attire at home. She'd spent two evenings searching the woods for the talking willow tree she'd heard about in hopes that she could explain the 'spirits' to her. Unfortunately the fool natives of the area had taken her for some sort of evil spirit or demon and had attacked her. It only went to further prove that humans couldn't control their innate violent nature. This way Demona hoped to finally make some headway in her search without the nuisance of having to defend herself the whole time.
But now it was just herself quietly and skillfully maneuvering through the edge of the woods. It was different today than it had been the past two evenings. Even just to get to the forest she'd had to cross through a veritable wall of fog and mist. Even once she had made her way inside it had only let up a little bit. Demona had only debated turning back for a moment. When nothing could kill you, fear of the unknown was minimal. If anything the fog offered better cover while she continued her search.
The port of the colony village Jamestown was what Pocahontas came upon first.
Meeko peeked from his place, jaw agape, shivering slightly. She went paddling on faith, trying to judge from memory where the settlement was. The village appeared suddenly enough to start Pocahontas. The fog had been so dense. Fractionally better than the probably fifty-foot thick edge of the bank, but still so dreadful that Pocahontas had been only able to see several meters in any direction. Then, it was as though some unknown force drew away the curtains of mist, and laying before Pocahontas' canoe was the settlement.
Log houses cluttered the shoreline amid fresh docks that sported several trading boats who likely had become stranded by the fog. She could see one mighty vessel like the one she'd just been on, but alongside it several smaller crafts from several other cultures that were found throughout Rohandor. Pocahontas could see lights through the windows, turned ghostly as they shone through the vapor. Quietly, she rowed up to the shore. The Powhatan set her paddle aside and pulled the canoe onto the bank.
Meeko insisted on being carried by Pocahontas while Flit buzzed in the air about her head. With the raccoon curled fearfully against her chest, she walked through the houses of the settlement. Pocahontas tried knocking on a door, but no one would answer. Finally, near the middle of the colony's village, she found an old man drinking spirits on a crate. "Th'won't open up, Prns'ss," he slurred between drinks. Pocahontas eyed him warily. "What has happened?" she asked gently.
The old man cackled behind his bottle. "Th'fog. Came up. All'va sudden like. N'n in. N'n out. 'Cept by foot. Through the f'rsts," he gestured whimsically. "Sup'rstition!" he exclaimed grandly after a pause. Unexpected enough to make Meeko flinch. The man nodded to the houses around. "S'wat has'm holed up n'their houses. Some fool said the town's cursed. Well... The idear caught, someth'n fierce. N'n wants ta' come out til it's lifted, see."
Pocahontas forced herself to not feel despair. Slowly, she proceeded. "And my tribe? Has any word come from them since this began?"
The drunkard looked slightly sobered by that question. He lowered his bottle before taking another sip. "'Fraid not, Prns'ss," he said softly. "'Fraid not."
Pocahontas nodded. "Thank you," and she was already running back to the water.
Dominique eyed the ground with irritation as she continued to move. Tendrils of fog continued to twist and writhe around on the surrounding ground. They didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary aside from the blatant fact that this fog in general was out of the ordinary. She shot a look over her shoulder and noted the wall of fog behind her as she moved further into the wooded area.
Her mind was turning over and over with thoughts about this strange mist. What were its origins? Was it sorcery? Certainly if it was Demona would be able to use a spell like this to her advantage in the future. She increased her speed, still feeling refreshed from her rest before she had set out. Though she would always prefer her gargoyle form to her human one, she had to admit that she did enjoy sleeping between the silk sheets of her elegant bed.
She paused when she heard a sound and wished she had her gargoyle ears for when she turned to see what was behind her, there was nothing. Dominique frowned, the lines marring her delicate features. What had it been? It has almost sounded like a wail of some kind. Like that of a Banshee? She stood perfectly still, more still than any normal human might hope to, and listened. But there was nothing more. She glanced around again before continuing her move forward.
After a time, the forest opened up. Before her stretched what appeared to be a settlement from the early colonization of the Americas. Of course. James...ville. Yes. Demona hadn't managed to get to this place yet due to the attacks she'd been under during her last visits. Perhaps this time she would be able to get some answers about this mysterious willow tree. Of course humans were rather worthless as it was and it was possible these settlers wouldn't necessarily have any knowledge of the more mystical happenings in the area. But there was unfortunately only one way to find out.
(OOC: I am certain that our characters will run into each other at some point during this thread LOL)
Meeko was glad to be in the boat. This time he opted to dive beneath the oilskins with nothing but the tip of his tail (standing on end comically like a frazzled cat's) sticking out. Flit perched on the very tip of the canoe and leaned perilously forward, staring as sentry into the mists. Pocahontas did not speak, and did not react to either of her companion's acts. She was busy forcing calm over herself. A part of Pocahontas told her to stop. To master her anxiety, and focus. To let the spirits come to her. Guide her, soothe her, or spur her onward.
That kind of rational thinking was lost to Pocahontas in those moments. They could come later. At that time, the only thing, filling every corner of her mind was getting there. Pulling up at the shore to the tribe's village. Seeing her brothers and sisters, her father well, if unsettled by the misty conditions was all she could hope for. Pocahontas refused to think of any other possibility. They would be there. They had to be. She didn't realize how quickly she was paddling until, several minutes later, she registered belatedly the pain pulsing through her arms.
Pocahontas came to a narrow pass in the river. The mouth of a wide, calm oval that the river had carved out over the years. Once she turned through it, she would see her home on the bank to the right.
Two more strokes of the paddle. One more stroke.
The wide birth of the river showed nothing but further fog, teasing the subtle currents. Here, as before, with the settlement, the density of the phenomenon was lesser, allowing Pocahontas to see more clearly. More specifically, the smudges that were longhouses and huts rising from the haze that was her village. No shapes, though. Pocahontas paddled harder. That wasn't condemning. They could be indoors, like the settlers. She paddled harder still.
Pocahontas had forced her canoe into such a speed that she needn't pull it aground. She leaped from the craft as it kissed the shore, and its momentum carried it onto the bank. Pocahontas sprinted, pouring fervent power through her legs rather than her arms now. She came upon the nearest housing and burst through the deer hide door flap. It was empty. Pocahontas went to the next. Then the next. Not only was each vacant, but things were disturbed. Furnishings turned over, signs of a struggle obvious.
Pocahontas saved the longhouse for last. She stepped into it, Meeko and Flit at her heels, and her eyes locked with the empty seat of her father, which was on its side. Tears filled her eyes. She dragged her feet to the cold, disused hearth in the center of the room, beneath hole for smoke in the ceiling. Meeko reached out a black hand to console Pocahontas, but Flit intervened and shook his head. The two animals waited at the door while she knelt down slowly.
After several long seconds where Pocahontas tried to sort through her swirling emotions for something to do, the young woman remembered something. Or, rather, someone. "Grandmother Willow."
Pocahontas rose and turned to the door of the longhouse. She stopped halfway through the motion of beginning to run, and hung back. Meeko had moved behind her fearfully. Flit was buzzing like an upset hornet around the door. Because a woman with pale skin and fiery red hair was standing on the threshold.
Every time Demona was certain that humans couldn't be any more useless, they proved her wrong. She'd knocked on any number of the doors and the best she'd managed to get was one of the men peeking through the window only to let it flop closed again. There was also a man sitting outside one of the houses but he had clearly been drinking because even shaking him to try and wake him and get some sort of answer out of him was absolutely pointless. Demona growled irritably, a sound that rumbled differently deep in her human throat but still expressed her anger fairly accurately.
Demona turned then to look out at the nearby water, wondering if the fog had started to disperse at all. It hadn't. Though she did catch sight of a small boat. A canoe. It was jetting away from her at an almost unnatural speed. "Wait!" Dominique called and started to run towards it but quickly gave up on that idea. There was no way she'd be able to catch the craft before the passenger with the dark hair rowing away would have well outdistanced her. Demona cursed her luck.
Turning back she decided to try a couple more of the houses before heading towards the shoreline and following it for a bit to see if perhaps someone else happened by. Thankfully the third house she tried, a rather large man opened the door. "What are you doing out here miss?" He seemed confused and quite frightened which Demona found both amusing and confounding. At least he wasn't shooting at her. He poked his head out and glanced around. "No it still hasn't gone," The man yelled back into the house.
"I'm looking for something. Have you by chance heard of a talking willow tree?" Demona didn't really have time to approach the subject with kid gloves though now that the words were out of her mouth she was a bit concerned he might slam the door in her face which wouldn't be helpful at all.
"Er... a talking tree?"
"I'd heard something, is all. Something about the natives and their connection with the spirits?"
"I don't know anything about it." The man stood stiffly and seemed as though he were indeed going to shut the door.
"You don't know anything." Demona replied flatly, "Could you at least point me in the direction of their village?"
The man gave her rather vague directions in short, curt sentences, "Really miss... you should get inside. There's... there's a curse upon this place. And there have been sightings of some sort of demon in the area. It's dangerous for a woman to be wandering around on her own so... unarmed."
Dominique quirked a wry smile, "I'll keep that in mind." Not bothering to thank the man since he'd ultimately been little to no help, Demona set back off into the forest following the directions the man had given her, vague as they were. Hopefully since the natives were the ones that believed in the spirits they would be able to tell her where this alleged tree was. Demona found herself chuckling at the idea that there was a demon in the area. Most likely they'd been talking about her and really, if there was anything in the area that should be feared, it was her.
It was almost like some sort of cruel joke. Certainly a cruel irony. Dominique had managed to find her way to the village no thanks to the fool human's directions. Yet this village was somehow more deserted than the settlement had been. At least in the settlement she'd actually been able to find people. Here she inspected tent after tent only to find the same thing. Nothing. A noise caught her attention coming from one of the larger constructs and Dominique rose from where she had crouched and hurried towards it. All she needed was one of these stupid humans to be around so she could get her answers and be on her way.
The gargoyle turned human halted just inside when her eyes fell on the occupant and she heard them speak. It was the same individual that had been in the canoe. She recognized the back of her head as the same one that was rowing away from her. "Did you say Grandmother Willow?" She asked not bothering with introductions since she didn't care who this woman was, so eager was she to maybe actually get some answers.
Here she was, having braved through a strange and obviously unnatural lingering fog; through a settlement that was too terrified by it to even go out-of-doors; then to her home, the place that she cared most for, and that her family dwelt, to find that it was deserted, with signs of a struggle. Pocahontas was full of many questions, none of which would be answered by thin air, and was shaken deeply. She did not know in what way her father, dearest friend, and other sisters and brothers of the tribe had been taken. Perhaps the only thing that kept her from reacting violently in sorrow, grief or anger were the lack of bodies - thank the spirits.
Then, a stranger appeared at her doorstep. Skin too pale to be a Powhatan, or other Native American. Dress too otherworldly to be a settler. Had Pocahontas been thinking more rationally, she would have had the sense to theorize that it could have been an individual from another isle who, in their homeland, would not have looked strange at all. The ambassador did have a lot on her mind, though. Caught, as she was, unawares directly after heart-wrenching ignorance melted into possible epiphany, had not stirred a contemplative response from the woman.
Pocahontas stepped back, then, forcing Meeko to jump out of the way, to keep his tail from being squished. Her brow creased, her eyes narrowed, but other than that the ambassador was remaining passive. The woman looked normal enough, despite her strange sense of dress, and the perhaps too-bright shock of auburn hair that trailed town her back. Pocahontas had thought, for just a moment, after glancing at her, that a primal, animal-like glow of dull crimson had been radiating from her pupils. Pocahontas dismissed it absently as a trick of the light, because it was gone upon closer investigation.
She shouldered through all of the uncertainty and emotions roiling through her veins, and decided to grab hold of what was concrete before her. Much easier to, for this moment, ignore all of the questions that entrenched her, and instead contend with the two things that were actually capable of answering. This woman, and her question. Her question about Grandmother Willow, to be specific. She did not sound inquiring, either. More as though she demanded an answer.
Grandmother Willow was a secret. The Powhatans as a whole knew of her existence as an ancient tree on their land, worthy of praise and reverence. Pocahontas alone (and John Smith through extension) knew of the wise old spirit that inhabited every root and twig. Rather than answer outright, Pocahontas countered with a question of her own. "Who are you?" Which was pretty obvious a question, given their paradigm. "And do you know what happened here?"
Demona didn't like this girl already. She was unable to answer a simple question. She quite plainly heard the dark-haired girl say 'Grandmother' and 'Willow' in that exact order. Whether it was the tree she was looking for or not, she didn't know for certain of course, but it was more than she had to go on a moment ago and sounded promising enough which was good enough for her growing impatience.
She bit back any retort she might have made, though. As much as she wanted to tell this girl that she didn't even know what 'happening' she might be referring to and that she only cared about the knowledge this alleged talking tree could impart to her, Demona knew she had to play nice at least for now. Though it pained her to do so. Humans were such sensitive creatures, always clamming up if you insulted or threatened them in even the slightest of ways. She steeled herself, ready to endure the company of this creature and knowing it was not going to be even a little bit pleasant.
"My name is Dominique," Demona said trying to keep from crossing her arms. It was a gesture humans made when they were uncomfortable or trying to put up a defensive posture. She wanted to remain open and friendly as best she could, "And I'm afraid I'm not sure what happened here. I'd heard stories about a wise spirit in these forests and came to see if they were true. It appears my timing is... inopportune."
Demona paused only for a moment eyes flicking between the two animals in the dwelling. The gargoyle found it rather odd that one might keep a raccoon for a pet or that one even could keep a hummingbird. But to each their own, she supposed.
Pocahontas could not decide rightly which way her opinion of this woman should go. There was an air to her, and the Powhatan discerned this mostly from her gaze, of ancientness to it. The woman's eyes claimed everything that they fell upon, and Pocahontas was reminded of a wolf about to pounce on its prey. Yet... There was no motion to attack. In fact, when the woman spoke, naming herself "Dominique," Pocahontas was reminded of her closest friend, Nakoma. Dominique seemed as though she was trying very hard not to sound annoyed, when really that's all she was.
The gut instinct of that predatory side combined with the facts before her, and the reality that Dominique did not appear to be any threat, warred within Pocahontas. What little, guarded hope that the young woman had been nurturing since asking her question about the tribe evaporated just as swiftly. She guessed it would have been too easy to have the dreadful mystery solved mere minutes after happening upon the deserted village. Pocahontas looked aside, not fully turning away from Dominique, who she was far from trusting.
Somehow the ambassador shouldered the burden of still not knowing, and instead focused on the rest of Dominique's explanation. A wise spirit. And she had questioned Pocahontas saying "Grandmother Willow" moments before. The thought brought the Powhatan back to the present. Dominique's appearance had misdirected Pocahontas. She just now remembered that it was Grandmother Willow who she needed to see, almost at once.
Yet, she could not lead this Dominique woman to Grandmother Willow. Even if the stranger had come to Jamesville after having heard hearsay of a powerful spirit. Pocahontas did not know the aims or desires of this redheaded woman. Either Grandmother Willow would stay silent in Dominique's presence, or come to life and risk exposing herself to a possible enemy. Pocahontas wrestled with the urge to push by Dominique and make for her canoe with all haste. There was always the risk that the stranger would follow her.
Pocahontas wanted to act. Standing there while not knowing what happened to her tribe was the worst kind of torture. She took a pause in her bedlam of thoughts, and inhaled deeply. The spirits came to her, but they were quiet and cautious. Not the singing choir that they should have been. Pocahontas felt them encircle her in a tentative whirlwind, and distant as the voices were she could still heed them, and her faith was redoubled. She looked at Dominique again, staring evenly at her.
"I have just returned myself," she admitted. "And to this." Pocahontas did not elaborate. It was obvious she meant the fog, and the deserted tribe, and that she had no idea what was happening. For now she ignored the talk of wise spirits and grandmothers and willows. She held fast to the soft voices whispering guidance in her ears.
Demona could feel the other woman's gaze upon her. Hard an unyielding which she ultimately didn't understand. She'd done nothing out of the ordinary to suggest that she wasn't who she said she was. She'd spent thousands of years learning to put on shows for people so her skills when pretending to be Dominique were more than formidable. And really, she ultimately had no designs on hurting this woman or the mysteriously vanished tribe of this village. At least for the moment, so she wasn't sure what this woman would be sensing about her to warrant this immediate lack of trust.
Of course, if this was her tribe and this was her home, she supposed it might simply be that she wasn't in the market to trust anyone at the moment. Or perhaps it was simply her nature which Demona could more than understand. Not that she cared to understand the workings of the human mind on any level but she needed this woman to cooperate with her, especially if she was the last person here that could lead her to her ultimate goal. Even that was simply to use this Grandmother Willow strictly in an advisatory capacity which may or may not result in their deaths later but that wasn't the point.
"Quite the homecoming, then." Dominque said solemnly, looking around the room as though she might somehow find the answer hidden in one of its corners. "I take it you have no idea yourself about what happened here?" She pressed. This other woman seemed to have arrived at the village before she had and perhaps had more of a chance to scout out the area. She had a feeling that she wasn't going to be able to get what she wanted until her companion managed to get what she wanted. She paused at the end of her question before adding, "Er, I'm sorry, what's your name?" She asked, her eyes on the tall woman.
The Powhatan was feeling light-headed. Normally, Pocahontas could manage no matter the circumstances. She was very good at shouldering burden, forging through tragedy and running proudly forward while adversity tried to nip at her heels. This was... It was to much. Pocahontas had no idea where her tribe was. There were signs of trouble, and yet no evidence beyond the overturned furnishings, cold hearths and empty village. Nothing made sense. Pocahontas felt as though once she had passed into the fog bank clinging to Jamesville, she had left logic - not-to-mention safety - behind.
The woman was reeling from her discovery, and before Pocahontas had time enough to even breathe, really, this strange redheaded woman was standing at the threshold to the longhouse. This "Dominique" who was looking into the existence of Grandmother Willow, which altogether did not sit well with Pocahontas. There was rumor and hearsay about Grandmother's existence, and perhaps that could have bred into more full-fledged tales that whispered beyond the confines of Jamesville to the fullness of Rohandor beyond but... There was something in Dominique's gaze.
Pocahontas kept thinking of a multitude of animals that she had watched while on the hunt. She felt a depth within Dominique's eyes that was at once like Grandmother Willow's, and entirely different. Experience, but tempered by something other than kind, gentle wisdom. Pocahontas did not feel threatened by Dominique, but her presence did have the potential to be threatening. With the scene that she had come upon in her deserted village, Pocahontas could not be blamed for being apprehensive of treating this stranger openly.
She desired to call upon the spirits. To steady herself, breathe, and listen. That would take concentration that Pocahontas could not gather at the moment, though, and a calmness besides. Then there was the fact that the spirits had been ominously distant in their tribal melodies of guidance since Pocahontas had disembarked from the ship of before. Meeko watched Dominique curiously from behind the ambassador, head tilted quizzically. Flit stayed put, buzzing in the air a few feet before Pocahontas, darting a few inches left, then right, glaring at Dominique as though daring her to come closer, and incur his feathered wrath.
The auburn-haired strange went on speaking, and the ambassador pressed her full lips together in reply. "No," she admitted, full of a deep sorrow, and poignant concern, "I do not." Dominique paused, and asked for her name. Pocahontas did not hesitate overlong. Despite all misgivings, or variable mistrust, she too proud to not state her name with confidence. She looked back to Dominique, having glanced askance at the shadows upon her former, lamenting admittance. "I am Pocahontas."
In a way, the dark-haired woman looked a bit like a trapped animal. Though she wasn’t crouching or hiding in a corner or under something, she had been standing very still and it seemed to Demona that she might very well be poised to run. Perhaps all of these forest dwellers behaved like that however, or maybe Demona was just imagining it. Regardless her one-word answers more than suggested to her that this Pocahontas wasn’t going to be of any use to her.
“Well it’s very good to meet you Pocahontas,” Dominique said with a slight nod, “I’m sorry you had to come here to all of…” She paused to give a slight gesture to her side as she glanced briefly over her shoulder, “This.” Demona turned her gaze towards the raccoon and tiny hummingbird that flitted about the room. Their attitudes towards her didn’t seem much more welcoming than Pocahontas’ was, particularly the hummingbird.
After a brief pause that included more awkward silence since getting this woman to speak to her was like pulling teeth, she gave another incline of her head, “Well I wish you luck with all of it. I hope you are able to find the people of this village. Perhaps I will return another time. Farewell.” Demona also gave acknowledging nods to the animals in the room before turning, pushing aside the fabric covering the door and slipping from the hut.
Standing there trying to wrench even a small greeting from the woman was a waste of Demona’s time. If she wasn’t going to help she was going to have to find her on her own. If she couldn’t find her on her own, she wanted to get moving on any other number of projects she had in the back of her mind. She descended the few stairs then let her gaze carefully flutter across the abandoned village. She turned her eyes in the direction of the dense forest bordering the village and with a determined exhale, strode off towards the trees.
Shoutbox Rules
Respect all members and guests
Don't be a know-it-all
No hot button or trigger topics including things like politics and religion
Don't be condescending
Absolutely no advertising
No adult language, cursing, sexual content, or inappropriate links
No spamming or otherwise trolling
No spoilers of any kind
Do not talk specifically about other RPs
Don't start or contribute to drama, this includes pity partying
Shoutbox
Welcome to Happily Ever Afters!
Tony Dracon: Responded to your PM, Kat/Ratigan, incidentally.
Jun 27, 2018 20:25:02 GMT -5
David Xanatos: Kat's back. Hope the vacation was fun.
Jul 21, 2018 21:00:05 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: 'Twas a good trip! I'm sad it's over, but at the same time I'm glad to be back home so I can finish up my cosplays for a con next month and hang out with my cats
Jul 26, 2018 12:34:56 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Hope the cosplay goes well. I'm putting away a little extra for a con in a few weeks. and yay cats, they're always good company. Except for that one who slaps me unprovoked XD. So what cosplays do you have in mind unless they're secret?
Jul 26, 2018 17:07:41 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I'm cosplaying Pearl from Steven Universe and Joseph Joestar from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure!
Jul 26, 2018 23:16:41 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I'm almost done both of them, I just have to finish styling Pearl's wig and fix up Joseph's gloves and wristbands
Jul 26, 2018 23:17:31 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Awesome. Had to look up Jojo because I'm not hip with the modern pop culture but I hope they turn out well.
Jul 30, 2018 15:33:15 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: I only just started watching the anime last year and I haven't even touched the manga, so I'm barely hip with it lol. fortunately I have my cosplay buddy guiding me through the whole experience
Jul 30, 2018 22:29:38 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: also I finally finished the gloves! They were more of a pain to work with than I expected, but they'll hold together... I hope...
Jul 30, 2018 22:30:13 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Niceness. Hoping they hold also. Got the Dublin comic con next Saturday here. Hoping to meet Karl Urban.
Aug 1, 2018 19:05:32 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: Cool! I think he's coming to my city in the fall, if I remember correctly. Hope you enjoy the con, Daryl!
Aug 2, 2018 19:10:23 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: I spoke too soon. Karl Urban had to cancel for schedule conflicts. They got Nick Frost though, I'm gonna ask him if he'll sign my Hot Fuzz.
Aug 3, 2018 18:08:47 GMT -5
Professor Ratigan: Dang! Nick Frost is great though, I love his character in Into the Badlands
Aug 4, 2018 22:54:36 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Enjoy your weekend Kat, hope the costumes came out as you wanted.
Aug 10, 2018 16:49:31 GMT -5
Basil of Baker Street: Met Nick Frost and Michael Dorn at the weekend. Both very nice blokes.
Aug 13, 2018 15:22:59 GMT -5
Dodger: Happy 2019 everyone
Jan 1, 2019 10:54:04 GMT -5
Yen Sid: If anyone is passing by I posted a Hiatus update. Hope everyone is doing well!
Apr 18, 2021 11:31:09 GMT -5
Yen Sid: I've temporarily disabled account creation while I update the site. Sorry for the inconvenience and thanks for your patience!
May 9, 2021 18:31:45 GMT -5
Owen Burnett/Puck: Checked the site again and saw the update! Here's hoping to a revitalized 2022.
Dec 15, 2021 14:41:27 GMT -5