Fabletown, a place for Fables to live separately from humans, or 'mundies'. It's the place they call home ever since they were run out of the Homelands, but their stories aren't all sunshine and happy endings. Dark secrets and twisted lies lurk in t...
Sheriff Bigby Wolf and his deputy, (Y/N) (L/N), otherwise known as 'Little Red Riding Hood,' protects them from each other.
...
The sound of radio static could be heard, a man's voice crackling before the sound clears up.
"-- five today, again, if you missed it for the date-- the hottest in June, 103 now and the humidity looks low, but remember, the hotter the air is, the more moisture it can hold!"
...
The air was still at the park, the sky above a dark blue with stars hidden by the bright lights of the city. A lone bridge curved over a gentle stream, the water calm and the lamp post's glow lighting up the ripples, the glow along the water almost shining like small diamonds. The trees gently rustle with the breeze, a few stray leaves falling downward in a calm, swaying motion.
...
"... so, 103 with 31 humidity is a lot more humid than, let's say, 73 with a 31 humidity, and it is muggy out there."
Tall, powerful buildings come into view, the buildings shrouded in the dark of night but warm glows coming off from inside the dozens upon dozens of windows lined along the four sides. Each building was different in height, one always taller than another-- almost as if they were competing to reach for the stars that shine so dimly above compared to their bright glow.
...
The cab drives down a dark street, the engine softly rumbling as the man continues to speak on the old radio. A man with shaggy dark brown hair that reaches his shoulders sits on the right side of the cab, a morning stubble decorating his jaws and around his lips. His skin tone was olive, dark bags evident underneath his light brown eyes, and hair decorated his forearms, some chest hair evident in the loose, slightly opened collar of his eggshell colored shirt, a dark gray tie loosely wound around his neck. His pants were also dark gray, a pair of dark brown dress shoes on his feet.
He rubs his tired eyes with a slow, quiet and steady breath as he gazes out the window, his body tense as usual. He was always on edge, ready for any dangers that lurked in the shadows.
A woman sat on the left side of the cab, her (E/C) eyes flicking over to the man with a hint of concern at his clear exhaustion. He was always so tired. The woman's skin tone was (S/C) and well taken care of, her (H/C) colored hair styled the way she usually preferred. She wore a beige collared blouse with buttons along the front, a pair of black cargo jeans, and black combat boots to help her easily walk around.
She also had a familiar, old woven red cape draped around her shoulders, the fabric well taken care of and stitched back up over the years-- her only remaining connection to her grandmother she had. Her fingers idly fiddle with the black ribbon of her hood, her eyes slowly leaving the man as she glances ahead.
(Here is what you are wearing, but of course, as always, you can imagine yourself wearing anything you'd like! I only do this to help myself with descriptions when I'm writing-- I would ask that you keep your hood! It's something from your sweet grandmama ;-; IF SHE ISNT SWEET IN REAL LIFE (MINE ISNT NICE LMAO SHE IS A MEAN OLD WOMAN) IM YOUR NEW GRANDMA--)
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