Waking Up Storybrooke

Day 1 - Regina

Her plan was perfect. The cards were in her favor and now she held the upper hand. Evil for once has won and those pathetic "Goody" King and Queen will never know their rich, happy, sunny kingdom ever again.

Snuggling down into her bed, used to satin and lace of the finest quality, only to find cotton beneath her cheek. Her nose wrinkled at the smell that came forth, how old was everything in this new world she could rule, no "would" rule, with no magic? Must and mildew staunched her nose with the horrible smell of seaweed and age as a salty air blew from an open small window.

Fine. No more sleep.

She opened her eyes and sat up an audible noise of disgust coming from her lips as she looked around the room. It was blue, which would be okay if it was not for the pale baby boy blue that was mixed with the dusty cobwebs of the heavily bottom paneled room. Her bed took most of the small area up, covered in the same musty blue on tall spiraled dark spinals at all four corners. The flooring below was old and rickety, the country style definitely not her own, and must go as soon as possible. She picked each of her subjects into the right jobs for them based upon who they used to be, and if she had her way would never be again. Of course, there were people who could turn this weather-worn home into the palace she deserves.

Putting her bare feet upon the old wooden floor she stretched as she stood meandering over to the old warping mirror in the corner. There was something about it, almost as if age and time enchanted it with its only personal magic. It was a keeper, however, the figure that stared back at her was definitely not. Leaning close she realized the blue-green flannel pajamas where on her own fair skin, the rat's nest of black that adored her head was her own hair. Horrid.

Her lip curled up in a grimace of angst about to snap at a servant to fix the atrocities of her hair remembering suddenly there were none to fumble around her to save her from this fashion nightmare that surrounded her. Reaching for the silver brush she got from her mother years ago and one of the only precious things she brought from the other world she worked the mess of hair for a while getting it straight enough to pass, the rest handing in horrible knots around her shoulders. New world, new look. Reaching for long sheers that matched the brush she snipped off her hair above the knots she couldn't work out. Looking at the mirror once again brought a crooked smile to her lips. This Regina was just as beautiful as the mirror said before "what's her name".

Now for clothing for this... plaid...will never do. Putting the brush down she turned to the hallway, taking in the bed that was a pain in her side and the décor that screamed to her some pathetic country backwater town. Clothes should be in the closet. Those...folding doors might be it.

She put her long pale fingers on it and pulled out. Nothing. What kind of door was this? Growling to herself she shook the little white knobs several times the doors accordioning open just the slightest bit, and with two palms on the white wood, she pushed them open with a long slow creak. Inside there was only one outfit which hung from a wire hanger. It looks like clothing was another thing she would have to acquire, maybe this whole curse was more on her then she thought.

Putting on the pencil skirt that was a half size too big and the simple black sweater maybe a size too small she looked back at herself in the mirror. It would have to do. Taking a step back and turning to the side she hissed at the floorboard that squeaked under her foot, her hand coming up instinctively. No, no magic. What was she going to do anyway? It was only the floor.

Being good was going to be hard.

Yesterday she was the queen of all the lands of magic, from the enchanted forests to the wondrous villages. She alone ruled them all and millions trembled beneath her iron fist. Today she was just like the maggots with no power. She kept some of her magic but she couldn't let them know. Not ever.

They were her pawns and her spell to bind everyone into this world with no magic, in the small town conveniently named Storybrooke, Maine. They were no longer princes and princesses, mages and magic peddlers.

However, this queen, I mean soon to be mayor, was hungry.