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alias: Jessica
age in ##: 47
story: The Snow Queen/Frozen
gif (150x150): http://orig02.deviantart.net/1a35/f/2017/153/5/4/ezgif_1_94ea5600c2_by_mycers-dbb9zix.gif
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Ingrid

Arendelle

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Nov 14 2017, 01:43 PM
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<img src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/d4f8/f/2017/273/f/8/406ontoyou_by_mycers-dbp0q4y.jpg">
<div class="iabox">
<div class="ialyr1">mirrors reflect our moods, our desires,</div>
<div class="ialyr2">our essence</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iamain">
<div class="iapb">Ingrid was just staring at the clock. <br><br>

It was bigger than she expected close up, easily dwarfing her. She hadn't realised how big it was back in Storybrooke; it had been too far away to ever really think about, just becoming part of the scenery. But she could see it now, right up close, its hands broken and still across its numbered face. She looked down, at the remnants of the tower scraped into the pavement - and the ground thrown up around it in crumbling fragments. It was like it had been driven into the ground, an open wound into the earth like a scar. Ingrid frowned and went down on her knees, hesitantly reaching out to touch it. "I don't understand," she murmured, staring at its face. She didn't know what she expected to happen - a flurry of sparks, maybe? - but it just sat there, sad old and...decaying. <br><br>

She stood up, brushing some of the dust and dirt off of her dress. Storybrooke but not Storybrooke. Ingrid had gotten used to that now, as much as anyone could, but this was the first time she'd been able to look carefully at the damage. It wasn't a war, that she was certain. She wasn't even sure who it would be a war against down here, though she'd seen her fair share of villains...people she crossed the street to avoid. Maybe it was...that? "No," she muttered. It was different. She didn't know how, didn't understand how she knew. But if it was war there would be more damaged, more buildings rather than just the clock. It was almost as if it had been worn away. Not hunted down or some trophy of war but...mindless decay. Destruction. Death, though she supposed it was fitting. What wasn't, on the other hand, was the feeling she was being watched. <br><br>

There was someone looking around the corner at her. In the red half-light of the Underworld it took a moment for her eyes to adjust - only to frown. There were children here? Children in the Underworld? Big wide eyes looked at her, barely blinking. Ingrid took a step forward. "Hello?" she ventured. The child's eyes narrowed warily, almost going to hide back around the corner. Uh oh. The Snow Queen knew what that meant. The foster children had been like that at first, wary and guarded and careful of adults. She knew how to read them - it didn't take much to piece together the signs. But this wasn't fear. This was something almost like terror. "It's alright," she called, stepping away from the clock, getting that bit closer. For a split second Ingrid took her eyes off the child to look around. What was the child so scared of? <br><br>

Her?<br><br>

There was no way the child could know Ingrid's powers, no way whatsoever, but the thought still made her distinctly sick. But as she looked around at the street she could see no one else she could be looking at. The roads were deserted, with only the rustle of curtains and the distant shut of doors to indicate anyone was here at all. It was like a ghost town, and the thought made her shiver. But if there was nothing here to be afraid of, what was the child so scared of? And what was a child doing in a place like this to begin with? She turned back, her temples furrowed with a confused frown. "There's nothing out here to - "<br><br>

The child was gone. Vanished, as if she wasn't there at all. "Hello?" Where had she got to? Worry clenching at her gut the Snow Queen rushed forward, coming off the street, onto the pavement and through the buildings into one of the little streets going off the main. Thank God it's like Storybrooke. Why this was she didn't know, and at some point she'd have to find that out. The place was easier to navigate now she knew her way around. But that didn't allay the fear, the awareness that this Storybrooke wasn't safe - that no Storybrooke was safe, really, not for a child. Not when there were people like her. <br><br>

"Oh!" Ingrid had rushed around a corner and suddenly collided with someone. She stepped back, her pulse thudding in her head. Her chest rose and fell as she recovered her breath. "Oh - I'm sorry - I - " A tumble of apologies came from the Snow Queen as she came away, trying not to trip on the length of her own dress. But as she looked up at who she'd bumped into she stopped. "Wait. You're not..." Not the child she'd spotted. This was someone else. Her words died in her mouth, suddenly aware this was someone dead. Someone in the Underworld. In other words, someone entirely like her. <br><br>

</div>

</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-top: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iabb">ADD.: Evanna | WORDS: 790 | NOTES:</div>
</div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Oct 21 2017, 03:36 PM
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<img src="https://orig00.deviantart.net/bad9/f/2017/273/5/3/410sneakyingrid_by_mycers-dbp0q30.jpg">
<div class="mhbox">
<div class="mhlyr1">you’ll have to excuse us</div>
<div class="mhlyr2"> BUT THIS IS FAMILY BUSINESS</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div class="mhmain">
<div class="mhpb">Ingrid had finally got used to being alive. Things were settling - not into the normal of before, because that hadn’t been normal at all. None of casting the spell and trying to murder 99.9% of the town was in any way usual. But a new normal, then. Work at the ice cream parlour, new friends if she could get any. And…and reunions, too. <br><br>

She’d already met Elsa. That she was happy and secure gave Ingrid happiness beyond words. Her beautiful niece, at peace with the world. After what she'd done the Snow Queen had worried maybe the girls wouldn't be the same again, that maybe she'd done something so terrible by trying to bend them to her will that maybe she'd scarred them or something. No. Of course not, the Snow Queen thought to herself. They were all too strong for that. <br><br>

But she'd only seen one of the girls. Now it was Emma's turn. <br><br>

Ingrid had to talk to her too, had to see she was as happy as Elsa was. So she found herself at the police station. It would be the best place to find Emma, right? Ingrid hoped she still had her job here at the station. Ten minutes, she told herself as she sat down. She’d only stay here for ten minutes, and if Emma didn’t show she’d go. That was a good idea, wasn’t it? Nervousness worried at her. She’d stay a little longer. Just a little. She smoothed down her clothes with slightly sweaty hands. Normal clothes - not like the icy gown she had worn when she had first been alive. Thinking of that time she cast a glance around the posters on the walls, the old familiar station. The last time Ingrid had been here she had been in handcuffs - but smug with victory. She had sent Emma over the edge and had absolutely no regrets.<br><br>

Fifteen minutes. She wore trousers and a blue blouse now. It felt strange to wear the clothes that they wore here but this wasn't the first time - she'd worn this kind of thing all the time in the World Without Magic as a foster mother. Emma had always been a bright child. Perceptive - kind, too. But guarded. Fragile, inwardly. And who would blame her? A child in the system, shuffled from place to place and let down again and again. And eventually let down by her, too. <br><br>

Twenty? Was it twenty minutes now? Time seemed to go fast and slow at the same time. She somehow wished she’d never have to see Emma, never have to confront what she did - but on the other hand she wanted the suspense over. <br><br>

Ingrid brushed the thought away, confronted by a more worrying question. Wasn’t this forcing her to talk? Backing her into a corner? After everything she had done to Emma and the other girls….Ingrid shifted in her seat. She tapped her foot - more out of nerves than impatience. The longer she sat here the longer she regretted coming. Maybe she had to wait for Emma to come to her, not the other way round. But did Emma even know she was in Storybrooke? Had Elsa told her? Would she be waiting, then, for something that would never happen - a visit that would never come? Did Emma even want to see her again? <br><br>

Someone was coming in. Ingrid stood up quickly, like a shot of electricity had just rattled through her. Was this…? "Emma?" Her name slipped out before she was fully aware - but it died on her lips. It was a random stranger, giving her a funny look and a wide berth as he disappeared off down a corridor. Her shoulders slumped, and she released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Not Emma. She sat down again, clasping her hands. How much longer? <br><br>

Her foot tapped on the floor - less out of impatience and more out of fear. The wait was agonising, and all the time worrying about what Emma might say....maybe she’d gotten the wrong day. Could she remember when Emma worked or what her schedule was? Ingrid hadn’t spent much time thinking of anything like that last time she was here. In her mind what hours Emma kept working were completely irrelevant - especially since after she had cast the spell there would be no need for a police station anyway. Just a toy town for three sisters. She suppressed a shudder. <br><br>

Fortunately there was the sound of shoes on tile. She looked up again, her heart leaping into her throat. She craned her neck, trying to gauge who it was. Was this it? Was it her? For a moment she couldn't speak. Say something! <br><br>

"Emma?" she managed. She raised her voice, trying to prevent the shake in her words, the tremor under every line. "Is that you?" <br><br>

Last time. If this wasn’t her, she was going home. For one thing her heart couldn't stand the nerves. <br><br>

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</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-top: 2px;"></div>
<div class="mhbb">ADD.: Emma Swan | WORDS: 834 | NOTES: COMPLETE WITH TERRIBLE TITLE!</div>
</div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Sep 4 2017, 03:45 AM
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<div class="iabox">
<div class="ialyr1">a lot of patience</div>
<div class="ialyr2">a lot of love</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iamain">
<div class="iapb">Ingrid was by the pier, watching the Furies overhead. <br><br>

The Underworld was so strange. She'd been expecting - well, what anyone would expect from the Underworld. Pitchforks, fire, demons. And although the Underworld had the latter in the form of the swooping, cackling forms overhead, they were just black blemishes upon a red-tinged sky. Apart from that? <br><br>

It was normal. And, bizarrely, a copy of Storybrooke. It was almost an anticlimax. She looked back at the town now, wrapping her arms around her. But everyone she'd met said this was it, those people she saw here with frightened wide eyes and shaking hands and desperate looks. She winced at the thought of them, of how scared they seemed - these other members of the dead. But really? Was this the Underworld, the place everyone went when they died? Everyone, even if they hadn't been to Storybrooke? How would this make sense to them? How did it make sense even to her? <br><br>

Ingrid had only been here a few days; everything was still so raw. It hadn't taken her long to realise, as she looked around at all of the familiar buildings, that they were just that - familiar. But they had the twist that came with the Underworld. It wasn't a true copy, she'd realised. Some parts were missing, some parts were changed, and some parts were utterly destroyed, like the clock in main street. Not that that actually changed anything, because it didn't clarify the whole reason why the Underworld was like this. Now she was here, she...she didn't know what to do. Was this - was this it? <br><br>

At least she'd found Gerda and Helga. Even just thinking of her beloved sisters made Ingrid smile faintly. The pangs of guilt at making them stay in the Underworld as their unfinished business still sprung at her sometimes but it was lovely to be with them, to see them again - and to know they forgave her. Her grief had never gone away, not properly, but it was finally beginning to mend. But to explain everything that happened because of her, and being here, in the Underworld, which was so macabrely normal when it shouldn't be - when it was so pedestrian and yet was everything but....Ingrid shook her head a little. <br><br>

She needed to be away from them for a bit. Get some fresh air, some time to think to herself. She'd been alone for so long that she was used to it now, craved it even; some part of her needed the solitude. If there was any fresh air to be had, of course. She had the distinct feeling that she didn't have to breathe, just as much as she didn't have to eat anymore on account of being dead. But just as she'd had a meal this morning she still let her chest rise and fall, as if that made any sort of difference. It helped, to maintain some sort of normality. And if Ingrid had been alive, maybe her heartbeat would've slowed at the sight of the sea, of the docks, at the concept of open space even in this place. <br><br>

It was just so relaxing, walking across the docks. After all of the things she'd done and arriving here, realising that the Underworld was not how she thought - she needed some time alone. Time to think. And maybe there was beauty to be had here, as she looked out to sea and wondered whether there was anything beyond. The water was unlike anything else she'd ever seen. It was a kind of green - but not the green of nature and plants and rich, vibrant colour. It was dark green, almost black. But..she frowned. There were lurid flashes of colour under the surface, like a kind of fish. But it was bigger than any fish she'd ever seen. <br><br>

She crouched down, looking at the water up close. Yes - there was something down there. Something pale green, lots of somethings all twisting and turning and coiling into each other. They called out to her in calls she couldn't understand, yet knew instinctively to mean they were in pain. "Wait..." Were they - people? People, down there? She properly got down on her hands and knees now, not caring that her dress fell through the wood slats. There were people down there, people who needed her help. She reached out a hand to help them, trying to reach the water's surface...<br><br>

</div>

</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-top: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iabb">ADD.: Meri | WORDS: 746 | NOTES: </div>
</div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jul 30 2017, 04:27 PM
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<div class="iabox">
<div class="ialyr1">hello, storybrooke</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iamain">
<div class="iapb"> The twigs cracked under Ingrid's bare feet as she shifted her weight. She tied her white-blonde hair behind her, looking with purpose to the tree stump beneath her. She refused the urge to turn around, to look at who might be watching. No one was, or should be...not out here, not out in the middle of nowhere. She was fine. She was alone. Ingrid took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes for a moment. Her palms tingled - not with electricity, but with the familiar chill breath of an icy breeze. The very air around her felt colder, yet she didn't shiver. She never had. <br><br>

It was right - it was allowed! She wasn't doing anything bad to anyone, wasn't trying to hurt anyone or use her powers for bad reasons. This was nothing like what she'd done before, or tried to do before with the Spell of Shattered Sight. This wasn't good magic or bad magic - just magic, what she'd always had and always would. A thousand justifications for what she was doing came to the mind of the Snow Queen, clamouring to be heard and voiced as if to an invisible jury. Maybe if she just argued with herself for long enough she could give grounds for what she wanted to do. But she was fine - this was fine. She could do this! <br><br>

Yet for a moment it wasn't just her magic that was frozen. <br><br>

She opened her eyes and extended her palms - slowly, as if the slightest moment could startle what she planned to do, could scare away the possibility before she'd had the slightest chance to act upon it. "Gently, gently," she muttered under her breath. Ingrid could take it easy. It was her first time trying magic since she was back, since she'd seen Elsa. She knew how to do it - she knew she did. She could, couldn't she? She had spent her life with her ice magic. She'd be fine. Of course she would be. Nothing bad was going to happen, not with what she wanted to do. <br><br>

If she slipped up once - she stiffened. No. That wasn't the way to think about it.<br><br>

With a wave of her hand she summoned the magic and faced her fear. <br><br>

The flat base of the tree stump was suddenly covered with a foundation of what looked like snow, but then slicked over into shiny ice. It sparkled under the sunlight, off the sun's rays through the trees. And then, at her prompting, small mounds appeared - tiny columns, raising out of the ice foundation and towards rapidly forming roofs. Walls grew around them, tiny plates of ice, intricately carved and designed with little windows. And then the second story, and then the third, and battlements and turrets and towers, and Ingrid's eyes were bright with the glitter of ice and snow - <br><br>

- And then her hand slipped. The magic faltered, a column near the base breaking off with a cold hard snap. "No no no!" Ingrid's eyes widened in alarm. The Ice Queen tried to summon another column but the tiny structure was already wavering, the walls creasing and folding with the pressure. She stepped forward, rushed to the little castle's side, but it was too late. Before her eyes it began to collapse, little rooms and buildings and walls folding like so many cards. Finally it sagged and slumped sickly to one side, a mould of already melting snow and ice. <br><br>

</div>

</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-top: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iabb">ADD.: Open! | WORDS: 583 | NOTES: </div>
</div>
<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jun 25 2017, 08:36 AM
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<center>

<img src="http://orig02.deviantart.net/c540/f/2017/176/d/9/credit_needed_by_mycers-dbdyp1j.jpg">
<div class="iabox">
<div class="ialyr1">mirrors reflect our mood, our desires,</div>
<div class="ialyr2">OUR ESSENCE</div>
<div style="background-color: #aff0f0; padding: 2px; margin-bottom: 2px;"></div>
<div class="iamain">
<div class="iapb"> "It'll all be fine. Just take deep breaths and let your personality shine." <br><br>

Queen Sonja's words seemed intangible, untouchable as Ingrid breathed in and out. "It'll be fine," she said again, and the princess nodded. It was the same voice she had heard countless times when addressing the country, when addressing the nation in times of trouble...and it was the voice of her mother. But was it to reassure Ingrid, she wondered, or to reassure herself? <br><br>

Down the dais was the King, her father, and her other sisters. They were talking to King Harald now, giggling about something they were murmuring amongst themselves. Gerda caught Ingrid's eye and smiled, and Ingrid nodded back. She couldn't smile, only let her eyes follow them with a lingering gaze. She was the heir, and for the first time she had been met by something only an heir could do: greeting fellow monarchs Prince Henry and Princess Cora, from Misthaven. Their visit to Arendelle had been planned for months. New trade routes, new links between kingdoms; even Ingrid was beginning to pick up on the words whispered through the corridors. It was unavoidable, and months of hiding herself away hadn't stopped the event, and her own involvement, being arranged. She was heir to the throne; she had to meet the allies of her kingdom. There was no avoiding it. <br><br>

And she was terrified. <br><br>

Ingrid shifted her weight in her new shoes, which cut into her feet and made her feel uncomfortably warm. "You look beautiful." Ingrid turned to her mother again - it was as if Sonja had sensed her daughter's discomfort. Please no. But Sonja showed no sign of the terrible truth. Ingrid glanced around at the guards around them, at their family a little way away. They were only a few paces away but they felt so out of reach - her sisters, the ones who kept her grounded. "Do I have to be in....this?" She looked down at the icy dress - all white lace with a ruff around her head, and dangling by her neckline a single snowflake. <br><br>

Even looking at it made her skin crawl and as she glanced to her mother's smile she had to bite back a grimace and smile back, if faintly. "Why?" her mother questioned. She indicated the beautiful cut of the dress, its details, with a wave of her hand. Even her hand motions were queenly, Ingrid thought with a cringe of pain. "It looks lovely on you, I just wish you didn't wear those gloves." Ingrid looked up, wide eyed. "Oh no," she faltered. "I have to keep them on. I'm, I'm very - "<br><br>

Suddenly there was a fanfare of trumpets. She started at the shrill noise, digging her nails into her palms. Queen Sonja Outside the clattering of horses had ceased, the rattling of the carriage wheels halting to a stop. With a deep groan of hinges the great doors at the end of the hall opened to reveal footmen and servants - and the royals from Misthaven. Ingrid's eyes widened. So this was Cora. King Harald received them first, and made a speech about union between kingdoms - and then, all too quickly, she was being introduced to Cora. "This is Princess Ingrid, your majesty." Ingrid stepped forward, extending her gloved hand to shake. She had gone a pasty pale. What had her mother said? What were the words she had to use? "It's an - an honour to recept - receive you, your majesty," she stuttered, trying to smile politely. <br><br>

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<div class="iabb">ADD.: cora mills | WORDS: 835 | NOTES: HOPE THIS IS ALRIGHT! LET ME KNOW IF YOU NEED CHANGES. </div>
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<div class="tcred"><a href="http://shine.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=1892" target="_blank">♛ Ames</a></div></center>[/dohtml]


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