Thread: The Girl With Silver Hands [OUAT] - {Temp x Greeneyed23}

The Girl With Silver Hands Once Upon A Time Spin-off How many years had it been? Upon waking up, I truly didn't know. By looking in the mirror, I had assumed not too long but the last I had been awake, it was 1985, and the work was a much different place. Simply looking out the window, I knew it was 1985. Something was wrong. Time had passed. A lot of it. The last portable phone I owned was the size of a brick and now? People were walking around with cellular devices the size of cassette tapes. When I awoke, I was in distress. I was confused lost. I was in a private hospital, in my own room that only few people seemed to know of. I simply remember waking, and a nurse walking by and stopping dead in her tracks dead in awe. She cried in joy. She had been caring for me for 28 years. I was in shock. I had been asleep for nearly 3 decades, and I have not a single wrinkle to account for it. I should be well in my 50s, but nothing. I still looked like my young self. I couldn't understand it, and neither could she. All she could give me were two letters. One a discharge paper, another an anonymous sealed letter. Miraculously, it was an explanation. My past had come back to haunt me. Magic? It was back. The world was surely different, now. I had no friends or family. I had none of my old clothes, though that seemed to be a blessing in the new day and age. All I could do was start over. Start anew although really, I was starting over just to stroll right into my past. With a modern make-up, I looked nothing but a 2013 version of my old punk 1985 self. I was still dark, rather gothic, and especially pierced. Though, rather than my black hair, I decided to feed into the current color fad I had always loved red. Leather was still my favorite form of clothing. Despite the 80s having passed, I still ported a studded leather biker-inspired leather jacket , my classic high boots , and the none other leather gloves I constantly sported to hide my silver hands. Looking in the mirror now, I realized I was still a pirate at heart even among the Land Without Magic. It didn't take me long to build the courage to venture to this so called Storybrooke. Just weeks after my awakening - I stepped foot onto my Harley Davidson Iron 883 motorcycle and set off to my journey to Maine. In took several days, but I made it. I had crossed the city line. I had set foot directly into my past. So much of my past, I had no idea what was coming. I had been in town for barely two days before I learned of my ex-father's existence. Luckily, I had met up with an old friend, Little Red, or Ruby, who allowed me to stay at Granny's Inn until I figured out what I wanted to do in this little town. Little did she know, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to kill him. And I was going to do just that. A little bird told me that he frequented a small book and coffee shop downtown Storybrooke, so that was the first place I headed. Pulling up to the sidewalk next to the big glass windows, I parked my bike and headed into the shop. It was seemingly dead. Only a couple of people and one old man. It was him. Slowly peeling off my helmet I calmly walked over to him. His head was buried in the daily newspaper - partially hiding the identity I sought for, but I didn't need confirmation. I knew by his hands, out of all things, that it was him. Stepping up next to the little round table, I slammed my helmet flat onto the table - ultimately startling the man and causing him to instantly look up at my tall, strong figure. I didn't look at him. Not right away. But as soon as I leaned my chin downward - and let my cold silver eyes stare dead into his... the color in his face just drained. He knew who I was. He knew those desperate eyes. There was a long, brutal moment of silence before his quivering lips slowly parted - like he had seen a ghost. Xe... Xenia? Was it worth it? I whispered to him. A sharp, silent whisper - one that could cut through paper like it was butter - escaped my plump pierced lips. All he could do was look at me with that unmistakable terrified look on his face. He knew it was over. He knew this was it. Before he could even form the words to answer me, I snapped for my helmet, gripping it firmly in my solid hands and launched the object right across the side of his face. The strike caused him to fly right off of his seat, but that wasn't all I had. Was it worth it, old man!? Get up! Grabbing the collar of his shirt, I pulled him up off the floor, only to strike him down again. The price of my hands!? I shouted in pure rage, hitting him once more. The price of my broken heart? I picked him up once more. All out of greed! Using the same weapon - an item designed to save a life - I struck him again. This time slamming the blood-smeared helmet right into his crotch. Finally, I rose my arm and helmet to finish his already crippled, bloody body off, but this time when I went to swing, I couldn't.