[The phone starts recording accidentally as Mary Margaret presses her hand on it, her weight leaned on it for a moment while she rummages through things. When it's uncovered, it slips to the floor, resting on a pile of things, and tilted at an angle.

In the middle of the floor of a very rustic apartment, Snow is settled on her knees. It's dimly ( Read more... )

[The feed comes on to Snow sitting in her apartment. She's back to normal, back to being Mary Margaret. Her hair is short again, her clothes simple -- a pair of jeans, a white blouse, and a light blue cardigan -- and she looks utterly distraught, even if she's trying to hide it. She's been crying, that much is obvious by the redness around her eyes ( Read more... )

[Snow is different, entirely different. Unlike the woman everyone saw arrive, Snow's hair is very nearly to her waist and curly, instead of the little pixie cut she had arrived with. Not wearing normal street clothes -- her jeans, and blouse and cardigan combo she so favours -- she wears instead a white dress, cinched in at the waist, the skirt ( Read more... )

[The hazel-green eyes that blink into the phone, framed by short, black hair, are a little bit wet and quite a bit full of worry and concern. Her voice, though soft and a slightly unsteady, is strong and even more so filled with concern.]Can anyone explain where I am? More importantly, can anyone please tell me if they know where Emma Swan is? She' ( Read more... )