wndybyrd

[wndybyrd]

[wndybyrd]

OPEN STARTER !

[ one week in neverland ]

frost kissed tenderly at the very tips of her fingers. that was the first thing wendy noticed as her eyes fluttered open, met by the light of dawn cresting over emerald treetops. the world around her was waking, too. birds sang in the branches overhead. bugs paid her little mind as they buzzed by. nature's symphony bid her 'good morning', and wendy responded with a short yawn.

slowly rising from the knotted ball she'd curled into, tired eyes finally absorbed their surroundings . . . unfamiliar surroundings. alarm stroked her nerves, sending goose-pimples down her arms and butterflies aflutter in her stomach. she was not spread comfortably across a pile of furs with curly by her side, cozied up for warmth to combat the remnants of winter ( which melted into a memory with each passing day, spring nearly in bloom ). she wasn't even in the tree, for that matter, nor anywhere near it. brambles clung desperately to the skirt of her dress and dirt stained the once-white lacing like an ugly cluster of bruises. in her few days on the island, what once was a wedding dress highlighting the peak of edwardian elegance ( modest collar, majestic train, and a tight bodice overpowered by piles upon piles of ruffles ) had been reduced to something more akin to a flat, tattered shift. the delicate silhouette haunted wendy's frame like a ghost of her recent past.

however, the unkept appearance of her clothes — though improper, something she would have found deeply embarrassing given different circumstances — were in the back of her mind. where was she ? how had she ended up there ? questions crowded her waking mind as she stumbled to stand on bare feet ( had she left her boots at the tree . . . ), turning in slow circles. this had happened before, more times than she'd care to admit. waking up outside of her room, bed, or even townhouse. gaps in her memory. confusion and anxiety. 'sleepwalking', the doctor had decided. the answer had pleased her parents so, to remain good and compliant, she let it please her.

wendy took a deep breath, forcing down the rising nerves before they could swell into a panic. surely she would be fine once she started walking. she'd regain her bearings, or, by some miracle, stumble upon a friendly face. but, just as she'd decided to head eastward, a heavy THUMP THUMP froze her in place like one of the frosted flowers by her feet. wendy turned her head, cautiously peering through the foliage. " peter ? ace ? " , darling wendy called out, naively hopeful. silence. she gulped. then, quieter this time : " it's impolite to frighten young ladies. do come out ! "

[wndybyrd]

HANNAH DODD as FRANCESCA BRIDGERTON BRIDGETON SEASON 3 | SNEAK PEEK (requested by anonymous)

[wndybyrd]

petersprize​:

— WRETCHED wasn’t cruel enough of a word to compliment the merciless annoyance that was wendy moira angela darling… blood ran quicker than the water of never’s creeks through the fae’s bloodstream, pumping in furious tandem with her small heart as each passing of the girl’s very SCENT across needle-eyed nostrils had the skin tinkerbell’s ears roaring hot. small fists couldn’t bare enough strength ( not without being disciplined ) to even rattle the very pedestal peter hoisted the other upon. though tinkerbell knew her perch was higher than the other’s, wendy’s breath on a simple exhale could be felt where tink stood; too close for comfort… no, wendy should be no less than TWELVE FEET deep in the earth with nothing but dirt in her lungs and worms in her mouth as the power of the island sipped what pitiful life she had dry. a death by the island’s thirsting tongue would be most merciful if it came down to that or the very things the fae would do if given the golden, and unpunished, opportunity.

flittering around the tree in which the lost boy’s lived, having noticed the girl’s absence, tinkerbell took it upon herself to reprimand the wench for her lack of ENTHUSIASM in the celebration of the battle. shameful, she had thought, to be such a sore loser when peter had granted her the luxury of even being allowed to participate... tinkerbell had watched with glee from the tree tops as the darling received a proper beating, holding not even the wick of a melted candle to the eye of her competition. small feet had disturbed the stillness of branches with kicks of delight each time a cruel blow was delivered upon porcelain, hoping one would be strong enough to shatter pathetically weak features and send peter into a fit of rage. a fit that could only be quelled by his lust for power, his need for control… a fit that would motivate him to find his desire to once more grip the reigns of the island and steer his ship right into the belly of the beast… tink only longed for him to THIRST as he had once before when that dreadful pirate had abandoned all peter had given him…. the permanent destruction of wendy would bring back the same peter that had allured tinkerbell enough to abandon all she knew for him. the peter that loved HER best.

it was the only thing that made the girl USEFUL.

coming upon her, wings beating like that of a hummingbirds as she eyed the other, tinkerbell was greeted with the vicious SWISH of an object she was almost short of dodging. a winded gasp flew from her lips as she aimed her gaze in the direction of her attacker, a shrill of discontent following shortly after. ❛ — oh you think you are so CLEVER, don’t you ?? ❜ tinkerbell sneered, fire ablaze in cerulean’s as fists were quick to ball at her sides. upon seeing teeth, twinkling like pearls, tinkerbell was half-tempted to lift her foot and kick hard enough to send a tooth down the back of the others throat. maybe if she hit it at the right angle, it would have an edge sharp enough to silence the beast FOREVER. she refrained, however, honoring peter’s approval more than her own vengeance. ❛ it’s pathetic, you know, to be hiding here when all the others are celebrating the victor… perhaps if your aim was better, you wouldn’t have made such a FOOL of yourself in the battle.❜ tinkerbell flew down close enough to deliver a heavy-weighted kick to the book in the other’s hands, sending it a fair distance across the floor as she then eyed it skeptically, almost laughing at the mere thought of being so ungrateful for peter’s charity that she’d miss a celebration to indulge in FANTASY. ❛ you are a marvel, missing all of peter’s excitement to read, ❜ tinkerbell scolded, turning a icy glare in the girl’s direction; ❛ the day you are nothing more than deadweight at the tip of a pirate’s sword cannot come soon enough…when there is a REAL battle, we’ll see your gratitude for peter then. ❜

pools of blue glittered with mild amusement as she watched the small woman’s theatrical, borderline erratic, display. toothpick-limbs shook with displeasure, teasing a small, accomplished smirk out of the human. witnessing tinker bell in her truest nature felt akin to sitting front row at a puppet’s show; the blonde was merely a marionette tugged this way and that by the strings of her own torrent emotions. so easy, it seemed, for the smallfolk to fall victim to their own inner carnality. it made wendy’s game of pestering this ( particularly sensitive ) beast that much simpler. 

wendy had not intended to actually hurt the delicate faery. after all, she was a darling. a darling girl with a darling smile, always guided by her ever so darling heart. everyone told her so. wendy was vanilla sweet and warm as the summer’s sun. she was as loving as a mother and loyal as a martyr, yet tink was the one ingredient needed for wickedness, jealousy or even insecurity to brew deep within the dark confines of herself. a creature so small—so inconsequential in appearance—made her blood boil, sickening the sweet and turning her candy-apple heart rotten.

“ i wasn’t trying to be anything . . . well, other than trying to keep clean. a home is no place for . . . pests. you can’t be too cross with me ! it’s rather hard to tell you folk apart from the bugs, sometimes. “     , she innocently defended. after all, the girl knew she did not need to try to be clever, she simply was ! it could not be helped, the sharp whip that was her silver-tongue. george darling had once taught her that the world was made up of those who were great and those who were not, and he ( a man so grossly obsessed with status and reputation ) had done everything in his power to ensure his children were nothing if not grand. and no matter how hard wendy had tried to shake such vanity away, that essence of superiority had been shaped around her ‘til it was nearly a second skin. any hit to her ego was like a lashing to that false-flesh.

the smirk fell off her face as fast as the book from her hand, hitting the floor with a loud thud which echoed in the musty air around them. the sound filled up the empty space that wendy’s stunned silence had left open. an unreadable look was shot in tink’s direction, but, behind the empty gaze, something began to bubble. a rush of heat crashed over the girl, reddening her cheeks and sending a shiver of agitation down her spine. pushing out her lower lip at the other’s loaded gun of criticism, the bullets tore through, gravely wounding her pride. though she knew better than dwell on the bitter thing’s cruelty, in the back of her mind, she imagined how lovely it would be to clap her hands over the insect’s frame. crushing those thin, flower-stem bones. crumpling iridescent wings like petals. the sound of her frantic bell ringing in terror would be a melody to wendy’s ears.

fist clenched, nails pressed deep crescents into her palm as she let out a huff of hot air in an attempt to quell the heavy wave of upset she was drowning in. breaking through the surface of her muddled mix of feelings, wendy pushed out a soft sigh and let her expression fall blank once more. her head tilted as she watched tinker bell through dark lashes, blinking like a doe.     “ how funny you are ! such a wild imagination, so full of silly stories. “     she focused on every muscle running through her body, putting in every effort to hide the effect the other had on her. wendy’s fist released, fingers now twisting at the fabric of her skirt.     “ but i am the storyteller. in fact, i’ve thought of a good one just now . . . 

“ in my story, peter grows bored of you. your endless pouting. your ridiculous tantrums. as time passes, you fall further and further into the back of his mind, shrinking ever smaller, until, one day, you disappear completely. POOF ! and everyone lives happily ever after. “

[wndybyrd]

@petersprize​ :: closed starter !

faery dear ,             give me wings.              i want to hear            the faeries sing.      up and away.        i cannot stay.                   when mother comes ,              i’ll be far away !

thin streaks of light peaked through holes in the ‘hanging tree’ and kissed at her face to wake. earthy scents of dirt, bark, and morning dew invaded her nose—an unusual comfort. the girl stretched and yawned, stirring ever so slightly, despite desperately wishing to crawl further into her makeshift bedding for just a few minutes longer. it was only the ring of a pan’s cock-crow from outside, signaling the official start to their day, that possessed enough power to tempt those heavy eyes open, blinking away the hazy feeling of sleep. 

but wendy’s bones were sore, the collection of bruises had begun to darken, and a litter of cuts she’d accrued ( tiny reminders of her embarrassment at battle ) had become ugly scabs. she was in no mood for cleaning or cooking, for playing or bickering. she was in no mood to play ‘mother’, a part that went without the praise or appreciation once earned. in fact, she was in no mood to do anything at all. 

instead, a ball of achey limbs, she curled into the soft nest of furs and fingered through the pages of one of her few remaining books ( though she’d read it a hundred times now ). whooping laughter slithered its way into her ears from the distance, but the noise was no bother. in fact, wendy hardly noticed at all, her thoughts too far lost in the novel’s familiar tale. it was only the jolly jingle of a tinkling bell that managed to tear dour eyes away from her pages. wendy watched with utter loathing as the little ball of golden light 'n’ iridescent dust flitted around the tree’s shadowy corners, a thick knot forming in her stomach with each passing second.

tinker bell had eluded her for some time since returning to neverland, though she would not deny her pleasure in the little creature’s absence. it was a shame, really, for as a child she’d imagined the fae to be enchanting and marvelous beings like those in her stories. but tink had never brought any wonder into wendy’s life . . . just the continuous threat of misfortune. a part of her had secretly hoped peter’s pet had tucked tail and ran to wallow on some other island far, far away. no such luck.

book in hand, she slowly rose out from under her covers and crouched forward. her feet barely padded against floor of packed mud, quieter than a mouse, as she crept closer to the little devil. then, in one swift motion, she extended her arms and snapped the spine of her book with a sharp ‘CLAP’. but, as lovely as it would’ve been to flatten the smallfolk like a pressed flower between the book’s thick pages, she missed tinker bell by inches.     “ oh my. “     , she hummed, her tone void of any apology her words tried to convey. her face cracked into a pearly smile that was ruined by a dark brewing behind her eyes.     “ i’m so sorry, tink ! why, i must have mistook that pesky buzzing for a mosquito. “

[wndybyrd]

scltnsea​:

— feeling her struggle against the sword lifted a brow on the man’s forehead- if she writhed in just the right way his blade could make an incision without him even making an effort. the idea was a tempting one, to tilt his grasp on the hilt just enough that she would have no choice but to sit still. better yet, laying the edge of the metal against the delicate skin of her throat. her words, a pale threat, withdrew a chuckle from him as he shook his head. ❛ — oh, miss darling, hearing the things you believe to be true will never fail to amuse me. ❜ inhaling a sharp breath as elbow met his side, james steadied his breath, pressing the sword harder now against her chest as his knuckles paled from the grip he was enforcing upon it. she was brave, he would give her that, for he was sure the evil she assumed consumed the man holding her hostage was not one to be dealt with lightly, and yet the young lady still resisted. if the circumstances were not what they were, the courage would be admirable, but for now, it was just pathetic to witness. all this resistance to go run home to an impish boy who saw her as nothing but personal property….perhaps now it was a good thing that james was notorious for toying with things that did not belong to him.

❛ — peter pan will never let me die, ❜ james explained with a laugh that was cold and humorless, knowing that fact as truth because if peter had wanted to, james assumed he would have been dead long ago. it was never HIS life the other had threatened or came after with red eyes and a speared tongue, but the people around him… charlie, nod…sally. there was a love between peter and james when they were on the island together, a brotherhood, before peter fell under the haze of the island’s curse and took with him the lives of many. james had seen it, his descent into madness, and he often mourned the boy he looked to with stars in his eyes in the blind naivety of his youth. ❛ besides, what fun would your stories be if there were not a villain to challenge the hero ?? wendy, i have heard of the tales you tell the boys… i have no doubt you honor my wickedness beautifully.❜ james had tried once to convince wendy he wasn’t the evil one, when she had come aboard his ship desperate for escape… wendy knew nothing of that now, so it appears, but that flittering red thread was one he would save for a rainy day.

❛ — leaving you be, wendy darling, will never be an option. no, my dear, you are but the queen in this game of chess peter and i will play until the ocean decides to bring us both to her mercy.❜ he pulled the sword tighter, raising it so it was now flush against her clavicle, feeling the strength of her sternum against it’s blade as he forced her closer to his chest. chin hovered above her shoulder, his smile present but not yet wide, brows furrowing as he thought aloud; ❛ though, it appears peter has unwisely let his queen go without protection, and now one swift move is all it would take for me to rip her away from him ❜

ah, yes !! a threat on her life was a wise decision for james’s to have made in this moment… a threat he was certain the girl would run and tell peter about and, in turn, upset him enough to potentially come for james and his crew once more. james was selfish when it came to peter, however, as his regard for the members of his ship seemed to waver its faith when it came to taking things away from him. perhaps he took wendy now, tossed her body overboard his ship and watched her eyes fade away as the darkness of the ocean swallowed her and her fantasies along with them. a double edged sword that would be… wounding peter horrifically and simultaneously fueling his power by feeding the island’s thirst.

as the thought ebbed in his mind, james found himself releasing the sword from her chest in a slow, controlled movement so as not to leave even a scratch upon her. no reason to give the girl evidence when she went to her master with the story of the veiled threat made on her life. as much as james despised the girl, it was only because of her foolish mind…. her innocence was one that resulted from a mastered game of manipulation she had no hand in. even coming back to the island, james was sure there was more behind it, and there would be no use in killing her if he intended to figure that out. he stood up, sighing, re-housing his sword back into it’s sheath and straightening out his jacket.

❛ i knew a girl like you once, wendy, and she was a phenomenal story teller. even if i must be the villain in yours, those lost boys need stories…❜

shallow breaths became bated as the sword pressed into her, flat yet icy. wendy’s squirming was quickly proven futile; the hulking man’s firm hold against her more diminutive silhouette was as solid as the steel of his weapon and stubbornly unwavering. his power had always seemed lesser in memory, but, then again, she had only ever witnessed him against the might of peter pan. no one else was ever allowed to go toe-to-toe with the captain in raids. she now wondered if that had been in unintentional blessing.

words of self-soothing floated into her buzzing brain, reminding the girl that he could do nothing to her. in never, her fantastical land of make-believe, no true harm could touch her. as close as the sharp of his blade came to scraping her collarbone, kissing her chin, or slicing across a cheek, she knew ( she believed ) in the depths of her soul that the only hurt hook could cause her was with his wicked words. still, the salt’s speech had begun to grate at the increasingly anxious child’s patience and fray at her tense nerves.

wendy’s dry lips parted, tongue perched in preparation for a retort soaked in wit and censure, but the words were swallowed back down as his heavy sword screamed against her sternum, caressing the sharp of her clavicle longingly. falling into his chest from the force of it, the light cotton of her nightgown did little to shield from the scathing heat that emanated from the depths of his chest — one she would have easily believed to be empty if not for the heavy drumming of a heart against her quivering spine.     “ i don’t need peter to protect me. if it’s a game of chess you’re playing, then you have already lost. only a fool would forget : it’s the queen that holds power on the board. “     she hissed, trying to still her traitorous body as it exposed the fear she was desperately trying to conceal. had he always been so frightening ? in her stories, yes, but in memory hook had been no more than an ambling fool peacocking around his crew of jolly pirates. though, as of late, her memories had proved to be incredibly unreliable.

a horrid mix of sea-salt, sweat, and some unknown booze rushed at wendy as his face slithered beside hers. the soft skin of a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust, her head turning away as his hot breath tickled the soft of her cheek. the girl felt as though she’d be sick, either from disgust or shame. nothing was more pathetic than a helpless damsel, yet, as his threat rang through her mind, she did begin to feel rather distressed. 

‘ one swift move. ‘   panic exploded from her pupils and spread across watery irises. the reality finally sank in as the weapon hugging her bones transformed from a prop to a death sentence. its touch stung more than before, eliciting an unintentional whimper.     “ sto- stop it. “     , wendy demanded in a hushed tone, her voice shaking.     “ you’ll ruin it. you’ll ruin all the fun. “     she’d only just returned ! and now this villainous bastard wished to expel her from never . . . for good.

petrified eyes glittered with tears before being scrunched shut, extinguishing any evidence of the effect his scare tactics had on her. still, the darkness of closed lids led her mind to wander away from its usual optimism. the pressure of his blade acted as a cruel promise of what was surely to come. how would he do it : slice into her right there, staining the serene shoreline and letting her blood melt into the golden sand ? press and press and press into her until he’d squeezed every ounce of breath from her lungs, ‘til he’d crushed porcelain bones to dust ? drag her back to the jolly roger so he and his crew may laugh 'n’ jeer as she danced across the rotted wood of their plank before diving into death’s salty arms ? by the time hook’s hold had slowly begun to relent, wendy had already died a thousand deaths at his hand.

peaking past her vivid machinations, the darling flew as soon as the sword had raised far enough from her tingling skin. on her hands and knees, she scuttled through the shifting sand to distance herself from his reach.     “ how grand ! “     , was gasped with bitter sarcasm, her rapidly beating heart stealing away any air in her lungs to further fuel the pump of adrenaline. blinking away the wet, cyan orbs cut into slits whilst wendy scrambled to unsteady feet. turning on the horror of a human, a scowl, dangerously scathing, painted itself across the dove’s features.     “ i’ll tell them the story of how i ran you through with your own sword. better yet, i will let them watch . . . at the next raid ! “

a renewed sense of confidence washed over her. the distance — along with a feeling, strengthened by hook’s relinquishment, of being untouchable — imbued the child with a false sense of invulnerability. despite the ghostly tears staining her red cheeks and shaking of clenched fists, she puffed out her chest.     “ you and your tricks have grown old. perhaps it’s time we close your chapter in favor of something-- someone new. better. “     such words were empty, of course. mere taunts to stab at his ego. in truth, hook was as integral to her best stories as peter. the two stood on either end of a weighing scale, keeping everything in neverland balanced. good vs evil, one unable to exist without the other.

“ you’re not the villain because my stories say so. you became that all on your own. “

[wndybyrd]

BATTLE , round two !

@banditnate​ :: closed starter.

wendy never should have made it so far, she knew the others were thinking. oh, how they had underestimated her. the lost boys did not dare witness the girl beneath her gossamer surface of ribbons and lace, deeming such delicacy to that of a china-doll displayed proudly atop a shelf. something to be looked at but never touched. a precious toy too fragile to survive their rough games and boyish savagery. they had mocked her acts of mothering, ignored her invitations to friendship, and all but ostracized the poor thing from their ( somewhat dysfunctional ) rag-tag group. though she’d never admit such a shameful truth aloud, wendy was desperate for their approval, craved their attention hungrily, and had sorely begun to miss her old collection of boys and the comfortable pedestal atop which they’d placed her years ago.

however, this momentary pride was a bit misplaced and, admittedly, not entirely earned. when wendy found herself facing flint in that first round, her skin had prickled and heart pitter-pattered a beat quicker. he was bigger than she—most of them were—and had the experience of many battles before under his belt. but, aside from all that, she pitied him. he cried at night sometimes, yet would always brush the girl off when she’d extend kindness the next morning. wendy was sure the others knew, too. even peter ( who never seemed to linger in the tree very long at bedtime ). from the moment their ‘fight’ had begun, flint’s eyes rapidly flicked between his naive opponent and glaring leader. he hardly threw any punches, choosing to simply deflect her pitiful swings with ease, and the ones he did were as light as blows from a feathered pillow. the match was uneventful and only ended in her favor when an apparently stress-induced trickle of blood slithered from out his nose.

‘how easy this game is ! what fun !’, she’d innocently thought, skipping proudly back to peter’s side. then, the other matches ensued. each more wild than the last. by the time it was her turn to take to the stone-stage once again, her eyes were wide as a deer’s and body coated in goosebumps, sensations of unease that were further intensified when her opponent took to his position. bandit. concealing her dread under a guise of mock daring, wendy cooed,     “ you wouldn’t hit a girl, would you ? “

she skirted around the edges of their arena, traipsing in circles around him with a false air of carefree girlishness. but, despite the front she fought to keep up, the child had quickly come to see just how nasty this group truly was. the wind carried with it the distinct smell of rusted iron from countless droplets of blood, fallen beneath the rocky surface on which they posed to fester in the rot of a hundred boys’ brutalized egos. wendy had always thought herself a clever girl. she was weaved with whit and wiles, a silver-tongued enchantress that spun others in circles with just a few words. she was not fit for the depravity they demanded in this lion’s den. she had miscalculated.

wendy sauntered closer, a sharp rock concealed in a white-knuckled clutch behind her back. the girl could only hope to entrap the stupid boy in another one of their bickering feuds, stealing his attention away for the slightest second so she may pounce.     “ but you don’t really have any interest in girls, do you. is it because they all run away from you ? “

[wndybyrd]

"in my experience," Bandit drawled, chewing on a piece of sweetgrass, "𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀𝓎 people tend to be the laziest. And you, Little Miss Priss..." he eyed the hair ribbons tying her little perfect braids back with scorn, "are among the 𝓵𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼𝓽."

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

wendy paused, the page of her book ( pinched between a set of well-manicured fingers ) suspended mid-turn as she thoughtfully considered his statement. not bothering to tilt her head or turn her eyes toward him, not deeming bandit worthy of the effort, she simply offered a syrupy laugh in place of a response. the page was flipped fully and her eyes roamed its small print once more, letting his mockery sink beneath her skin to fester.

it was impossible to decipher what she had done to receive such inexhaustible scorn and taunting from bandit. since the moment her twinkle-toes had touched the sandy shores of neverland, he'd seemingly had it out for her. lost boys loved to talk with their fists, but it was common knowledge that hitting a girl was just bad manners. besides, as the two had come to prove, words were a far more cutting weapon.

" spell 'luckiest'. " , wendy instructed, finally daring a glance in the other's direction. her expression remained placid, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of succumbing to indignation, but she could not fully conceal the sneer that played along her lips. " i would much prefer to be considered as lackadaisically remiss rather than imbecilic and inane. i've come to enjoy my life, as you have omnisciently decided, of leisurely luck. it seems far more desirable than yours of hapless woe. "

rising from the fallen treetrunk atop which she'd been sat, wendy tucked the book into her belt so it held snug against her waist. with her head held high, the young girl pushed past him and back into the hollow of their tree. but, just as she slipped past the shaded entryway, a head of amber curls peaked out once more to utter a final retort : " simply put, you may think i'm lazy but at least i don't have a pile of rocks where my brain should be. "

[wndybyrd]

'in my experience, lucky people tend to be the laziest.’

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

" then that would make you the luckiest. " , she pondered aloud, turning her back dismissively to the boy. rufio was a curious one. he acted so high and mighty like his armor was indestructible. but that simply wasn't true. wendy could see that the armor was just skin, a thing so delicate that even her nails could tear through it. his bones could break, and his body could fall from fatigue or sick. he was utterly human despite how monstrous he made himself appear to her.

wendy's trust that no harm could come to her on neverland ( an island of play and pretend, where nothing truly evil ever survived ) was, perhaps, a twinge too strong, and yet she continued to carelessly pester and taunt creatures far bigger and badder than she had any hope of triumphing.

" you mustn't really be that lucky, though. not like ace, who peter prides constantly, or even curly. so, if peter's the king and they're his dukes, then i guess that would leave you as their soldier-boy. a peon made of all brawn and no brain. "

content in her declaration, wendy turned her attention back to their soon-to-be supper as it roasted over the fire. she prayed the wind would turn and blow the spirals of thick smoke directly into rufio’s proud face. " now quit being lazy, lucky, and fetch us some more wood. pleeease. "

[wndybyrd]

@heartlcssboy​ :: continued from HERE.

a golden glow returned to her face, beaming in victory as peter obediently fell into the tangles of her hastily woven tale. the previous feelings of displeasure slid right off her back as the two tittered amongst themselves excitedly. they were the great pretenders. their imaginations roamed endlessly, collecting ideas that ranged from fantastical to nonsensical, creating new worlds or expanding upon the one around them. peter, like no other person she’d ever met, relished in the beauty of make-believe. but it was she, the wendy bird, that crowed a song so convincing not even the most cynical skeptic could deny her fantasies. she could convince herself of anything. her words always held true, even when they didn’t.

silence echoed through the forest, everything falling to a hush—just as her new drama demanded. even nature submitted to the child’s silver-tongue for the sake of a good story. wendy dared to break the stone stillness to peer up at peter, a pleased smile pulling at her face. the figure stood before her was no boy, he was strength and might and daring all wrapped into one. peter was a hero in every sense of the word. he was perfect.

the command jolted wendy out of her hypnosis. the girl, quick to comply, extended her hand with the expectation he would take it in his own and race them through the forest in pursuit of her mythic monster. but when a small, smooth trinket was pressed into her palm, their game was abandoned in favor of this new curiosity. a wooden wolf, so masterfully whittled it felt almost alive, was cupped gently in her palm. wendy brought it close, inspecting the gift with child-like wonderment. a thumb ran along the bumps of etched fur, and sharps of its teeth, before hovering over the beauty of smooth, ivory eyes.     “ i love it ! it will make a perfect new ‘kiss’. “     , she gasped, clutching it against her chest with pride. face split open in a wide, pearly smile, she looked on him with overflowing adoration. this sweet toy was all the material proof she needed to banish any anxiety that eroded her thoughts. he cared, and the darkness that often fogged her mind could no longer convince the girl otherwise.

“ but it doesn’t seem fair . . . i haven’t anything to give you. “     her face fell just a little, disappointed to not have a properly prepared gift for her mighty warrior, stood at the ready to ravage any pretend-monstrosity she could think up. but he fought more than just pretend things. peter was always venturing off to traverse the island alone and fend for its inhabitants, the sole protector of peace, whilst everyone else was lounged around their tree without a worry in the world. it did not seem fair for her to have earned such a comfort when peter was the one fighting wicked devices on his own. he took such good care of her, of them all, with so little reward or regard.

an impish gleam glittered in her eyes as she cast the boy a curious look. the wolf was tucked safely into the padded confines of a trouser pocket before wendy leaned forward, nearly to the tips of her toes, hands clasped behind her back.     “ surely it gets lonesome running around, taking care of everyone and every thing all on your own. the kind of ‘kiss’ you need is one to protect you from being feeling alone when off playing hero. wouldn’t you agree ? “     the question hung between the small space that separated them, a gap she had slowly begun to close. she cocked her head to the side, watching him carefully through her lashes. wendy’s tone was steady, and deeply serious, each word spoken with slow, careful composure.     “ it’s why i’m going to give you the most special sort of ‘kiss’. something i’ve never given anyone else. you won’t be able to see it or hold it, nor is it something you can show off to the others . . . but it can never be stolen away or lost, either. when i give it to you, you’ll have it to keep forever. “

as soon as ‘forever’ dripped off her tongue, wendy closed the gap entirely. her lips pressed softly against him, just above the tip of his own. his cheek had lost the plushness of boyhood, now sharp and chiseled like the etches of her whittled wolf. not even a handful of seconds passed by yet the moment felt eternal. when she finally did pull back, her hand moved up to brush the plot upon which her lips had just been planted.     “ even when we’re apart, i will always be with you. right. there. “

pleased, the girl fell back on her heels. a bouqet of rose-red had begun to blossom against her cheeks, but it went ignored, choosing to brush past peter and further into the deep wood rather than dwell. wendy was sure that if she lingered to long, he would hear the ferocity of her rapidly beating heart.     “ now i have your wolf to protect me, and you have my thimble. the scrungle, or any monster for that matter, shall not stand chance. not even hook ! “

[wndybyrd]

can we stop and think about this rationally ?

*PROMPT : this has been in my drafts for like a month n i forgot what it's from.

headcanoning this to be before the last post i did between them.

an idle pause, lasting no longer than the passing of a singular puff of air, was offered to appease her troubled pirate. wendy rose from the ground once again, dusting away any sand clung to her cotton pants before pestering cecco with an unbothered roll of her eyes. " what's so irrational about it ? " , she inquired in earnest, though the question came out jaggedly as she caught back her breath. bruised hands planted themselves atop tilted hips stubbornly. they were too doting ( a mother-hen squawking and pecking at its chick nervously ), not at all like the fearsome pirate she needed them to be at that moment.

still, she could not deny how nice it felt to be endeared. so often, it was wendy who took the place of a parent. the darling three's father had been all-consumed by work and finances, only ever turning his attention on the children to bark with displeasure. their mother, as wonderful as she was, possessed an eternal air of sadness; she was never fully there, fading into the wallpaper of every room she entered like a chameleon. and when george and mary cast her away, they became only ghosts to young wendy, as did the brothers and boys she'd put so much into caring for. cecco encapsulated all they had failed to, filling the hole her family had so heartlessly carved out, and she loved them dearly for it.

" it's not a real battle, just another one of their little games ! nothing to ruffle your feathers about. i'll be fine, really. " the tone was a little too confident considering the pitiful show of brawling she'd just performed. her swings lacked any force behind them, movements messy and without thought, reactions all a second too slow. speed, agility, and a learned knack for slipping out of holds were her only redeeming elements. still, as she'd so emphatically declared, this game of battle was nothing to fret over. wendy imagined it like a play, the rocky arena acting as a stage for the lost boys to perform their tricks and boost their egos.

planting her feet a little firmer this time, the loose sand gathering around her well-worn boots, she took to the position cecco had shown her. " you're the one always droning on about the 'wickedness' of neverland. it would be silly to deny me a fighting chance against all these beasties you believe lurk in the shadows. now, swing. hard ! i can block it this time. "

[wndybyrd]

‘how willing you were to think the worst of me. why aren’t you happier? i’m just being who you’ve always though I was. i’m giving you the ending you believed in.’

*PROMPT : she who became the sun.

such words were more scathing than he likely knew. she could taste the bitterness of them on her own tongue, the bite of each syllable slashing into her supple, unguarded skin. wendy wondered if it hurt him to say as much as it hurt for her to hear, or, rather, if peter enjoyed watching her squirm under the vicious binds his voice had entangled her in. the girl’s own tongue had been ripped from right out of her throat, unable to utter even the slightest plea against the assault of imputations. yes, it had been wrong to accuse him of playing that horrid trick on her, but had they not made up ? had she not submitted to the quick explanation he'd spun and fallen back into good grace ? had she not done enough to smooth the wrinkle caused by her tantrum ?! fierce sweet mischievous playful fun good happy happy happy . . .

" stop it ! "

it happened in a flash : a hand smacked across his face with the pang of a lightning crack. a sharp gasp followed, her palm—red as the hot blush blooming against her cheeks—buzzing from the sting of her rashness. sky eyes widened, welling with a mix of conflicted emotion, and lips shaped into an 'o'. the girl was frozen. but only for a single second, just enough time to catch back her stolen breath. a crashing tide of pure ire washed over her, wiping away any appearance of surprise or sorry she wore.

" do you really think such horrid things of me ? " tight fists formed at her sides and nails pressed little crescents into her burning palm, millimeters from breaking the skin. she didn’t want him to be right, not when being so mean. " i am happy ! but i'm allowed to be other things, too . . . no, i am many other things ! more than you know. " each jab he'd swiped at her was another knife to the chest, twisting its blade mercilessly deeper into her heart. worse yet was the look in his eyes, or lack thereof. a nothingness existed within them. a void that dug its way into her core and sucked everything up ‘til she was but a cold shell. it was only when peter graced her with the warmth of his smile did she ever feel whole again. he was the sun and without his light, she felt horribly cold. she felt awfully empty.

wendy hadn't realized how loud her voice carried—shooting across the treetops and shaking the dirt floor — until silence had finally fallen over them. her chest heaved from the effort of such howling, as well as a mix of anxiety and upset. peter was an indecipherable enigma that teetered between storm and serenity. wendy was constantly balancing along his tightrope of a temperament, careful not to tilt too far lest she tumble into a pit with no way out, left to be forgotten and replaced by some other performer to play tricks for him.

twisting her lips, a joyless smile painted itself across her otherwise melancholic face. there was no twinkle in her eyes or dimples in her cheeks. no sign of a laugh dangling off the tip of her tongue. she wore the smile like a mask. “ there. is that better ? look how happy i am ! why, it’s like a new game : pretend-happy. i smile and laugh and play, and you get to guess whether it’s real. “

she knew better than to believe that any amount of arguing, yelling, or crying would do much good. the boy was far too bull-headed to be reasoned with, and she didn't have the energy to endure the hot flames that rippled off of him and licked at her skin, charring the girl with their unrelenting ferocity. not bothering to wait for whatever retort or excuse he would shoot back, wendy turned on her heel and stormed off, back towards the tree. she’d had enough of their quarrels but not before tossing a final remark over her shoulder : " you’re wrong, though. the stories . . . they were all about you. it’s always you i’ve believed in. it's always you . . .

now go clean yourself up and pretend-happy or you'll spoil everyone's supper. you are the best at pretending, after all. "

[wndybyrd]

@exiled-eyes​ :: continued from HERE.

hurt eyes flickered across cecco’s hardened features, their face an unreadable mix of pain and hatred that was carefully concealed beneath an icy sheen. something had shifted yet the girl had failed to complete the puzzle of what exactly ( too many pieces missing, and too many players on the board ).

despite all her stories and everything she’d been taught to believe, this pirate was no nefarious villain or wicked grown-up. they did not wish to carve her up like a christmas ham, or tie her helplessly to the bowsprit of their ship, or chain her arms and send the girl tumbling into the graveyard beneath the sea. goodness existed within them—something she’d never before imagined pirates to be capable of—and they had chosen to extend this rarity to her. cecco had become a comfort, their wise words guiding her muddled mind through the confusing maze of new unfamiliarities neverland had come to possess in her absence. but even they, her one constant, had changed. in the short passing, a dark tension had seemed to fall upon her beloved pirate, a gray cloud shadowing their path with the promise of a torrential downpour to come.

wendy blamed captain hook, who had finally crept out of solitude like a cockroach scuttling in and out of the shadows. the hatred that brewed within him seemed to be contagious among the pirate crew he’d assembled, though the child had hoped cecco to be immune to such effects. now, before her very eyes, she could ( to her dismay ) see the earnest truth much too clearly. a seething fire that flickered deep within umber orbs, the bloodthirsty glint reflecting off sharp canines, the steadiness of a tightened fist. she took a step back.

“ you know nothing. “     her face fell, though the frown she wore was one of disappointment rather than sadness. she tugged at the sleeves of her coat, a once precious gift turned sour. wendy had donned the beloved thing with pride despite the sharp glares thrown her way by the others. now, though, it burned at her skin as if woven in acid, unbearable to the touch. balling the thickness as tight as she could, she tossed the mess of fraying fabric at cecco. 

“ i thought you were so wonderful but you really are as miserable as the rest. and yet, i’ll be heartbroken when peter kills you. “ 

[wndybyrd]

@scltnsea​ :: continued from HERE.

waves of sapphire lapped at the golden sand ( cool beneath her shift as the setting sun faded further into dusk ) tempting the imagination with what lay past that open horizon. not hers, though. why waste care on the mundane when such grand adventures and ceaseless wonder existed here at the very tips of her fingers. wendy knew the other place well-enough; she knew of how unyielding, how unforgiving, it could be to those whose thoughts strayed beyond the ordinary. but neverland. something about this place tickled at her mind, sending butterflies aflutter in the pits of her stomach, begging the girl to seek more. 

cerulean irises danced across the sunset’s reflection in the ocean’s surface, waiting for the waters to split open so the island may spill its secrets to her like an endless well of enchantment. it was intoxicating, her need to uncover everything the magic wonderland had to offer. still, too, it was a ball and chain that dragged her beneath its sea of mystery which spiraled on forever. each door she unlocked only led to another, sending the girl racing through a labyrinth with no end. and if she ever did reach the top, would never’s tower of secrets topple beneath her or would the darling finally be rewarded for her undying devotion ?

as the the sun slowly began to slip beneath the waves, painting the sky a dusty purple, wendy finally pulled her awestruck eyes away from the beautiful display. the chill of a gentle breeze and wink of waking stars was her cue to return home, lest carrion be forced to begrudgingly fetch the child’s wandering spirit and drag it back to the tree before night had fully settled. as she began to stir, the sound of carefully creeping boots brushed past her ears, and by the time the figure’s tall, broad shadow had fallen over her, it was too late. the predator descended on its prey with speed.

wendy’s breath hitched as the cool metal of a sword settled across her chest, sending shivers of shock down her spine. the girl did not need to turn her head to know who sat crouched behind her. his musk—a mix of salt and sweat—invaded her nostrils as hot, heavy breathing tickled the back of her neck. the soft features of her face wrinkled in disgust as she pushed her torso harder against the flat of his sword, futilely attempting to keep as far from his leather-bound chest as she could manage. hook. the man disgusted her, not just in appearance but in every facet of his being. the pirate captain was the epitome of everything she hated, everything she stood against. he was the singular stain that marred neverland’s otherwise picturesque existence. yet he was perfect in only one aspect : hook made for the most splendid villain.

the man’s words, poetic as they were empty, slithered through one ear and out the other, the message almost lost to wendy. after all, the girl was far too preoccupied with finding a way to wiggle out of her rather unfortunate predicament. his short monologue was no more than a bothersome buzz in the back of her head, like that of a mosquito she wished to squash beneath her palm.     “ i’ll have peace when the ocean mercifully drowns you. “     , she spat back. the sharp of her elbow rocketed into his lower left ribs while the other pushed at his sword-wielding arm. wendy shoved herself against the blade once more, more willfully this time, in hopes to break free from the suffocating hold entrapping her in its cage of limbs.     “ if it beckons to you, then go to it. let the waves swallow you whole and leave me be ! “

[wndybyrd]

"so we're getting the band back together? that's exciting." (/s, re: her arrival back in neverland?)

*PROMPT : as said by varric.

WINTER. the second day of her return, weeks earlier.

hands clapped together like the echo of cymbals, followed by a pleasant laugh trailing after the rhythm. eyes alight with unabashed glee, the girl's gaze hopped from tousling lost boys to the snowman the others were beckoning for her to help build, and, finally, to peter — who flitted through the air playing tricks on them all when their backs turned ( pulling at hair, sprinkling snow on atop heads, tugging at shirt collars ). the boys would whine and bark at their cackling leader, for he'd be quick to rise back into the trees and out of retaliations reach, yet the scene painted before her was a happy one. a familiar serenity existed within the chaos.

it was just as she'd remembered it all to be : endless fun. laughter carried through the air with every gust of wind. adventure lurked around each corner, patiently waiting in the shadows to be discovered. joy was rooted deep into the soil and spread throughout the land, and, oh, how she had missed it all ! how foolish she had been to abandon it.

a voice broke wendy from the trance-like enchantment, curls tickling at cold-nipped cheeks as she spun to face the stranger. her giggle took the shape of a misty vapor that twirled between them through the chilled air. " isn't it wonderful ! " she beamed, assuming that was exactly what the smirking boy had meant to imply. any haughtiness or derision in his tone had been lost to her, melted away by the warmth that welled in her chest.

" things are finally back as they should be. " it was an echo of peter's declaration from the day prior as her feet had steadied themself upon the island floor for the first time in four years. though, this boy would certainly have no concept of what such a statement meant. he was too new — to her, at least. " you'll see ! once this dreadful snow has passed, we'll have a grand time. i've so many stories to tell you all, and new games for us to play, too. peter spoke very highly of his new band of lost boys, so i'm especially excited to make friends with all of you ! "

she held out her hand, the tips of her fingers red with cold. she had not packed properly for such frigid conditions, but peter ( twirling through the air just above them, hunting for the next victim of his harmless teasing ) had already assured her that it would be gone in the blink of an eye. " where are my manners . . . i'm wendy moira angela darling. and you are ? "

[wndybyrd]

she who became the sun ( the radiant emperor #1 )  -   shelly parker-chan change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying  tw ;  death , war ,  violence , sexism

‘they say there’s luck in names, and you’ve certainly had luck enough.’

'in my experience, lucky people tend to be the laziest.’

‘where’s the fun in suffering by yourself?’

‘you think you’re that good-looking everyone wants to see you?’

‘desire is the cause of all suffering.’

‘I don’t appreciate being made a puppet for another man’s dirty work.’

‘when I ask myself if future pain is worth it for this life I have now, I always find that it is.’

‘I always knew you had a strong will. but what’s unusual about you is that most strong willed people never understand that will alone isn’t enough to guarantee their survival.’

‘more so than will, survival depends upon an understanding of people and power.’

‘it isn’t strength, but knowledge, that will be our best tool for surviving these difficult times ahead.’

'undoubtedly, chaos brings danger. but there will be opportunities, too.’

‘it’s due to chaos that we’re living through a moment in which even ordinary men can aspire to greatness.’

‘are you going to stab me?’

‘you can’t pray away your fate.’

‘I was merciful. I let you live.’

‘you cause me trouble as well as shame.’

‘you disappoint me.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood.’

‘any power with such comprehensive reach should be understood. perhaps especially if they’re on our side.’

‘in my father’s eyes, I’ll always be the failure.’

‘(name) is an easy person to love. the world loves him, and he loves the world, because everything in it has always gone right for him.’

‘you and (name) are two unlike things. don’t fool yourself that he can ever understand you.’

‘I know what it’s like to be humiliated.’

‘any kind of fool can stumble into success once or twice.’

‘you two are such a bad match. can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘can’t you have a single conversation without fighting?’

‘clever people know when to give in.’

‘if you join his side, you’ll regret it.’

‘how little lives are worth in this war. theirs and ours, both.’

‘you have a lot of feelings in you.’

‘to win a hundred victories, a hundred battles is not the pinnacle of skill. to subdue the enemy without fighting is the pinnacle of skill.’

‘what someone is means nothing about what kind of person they are. truth is in actions.’

‘I didn’t mean to kill. at first.’

‘I wanted to live, so I took a life.’

‘all that means is we have to make this life count.’

‘who did you become, when we were apart?’

‘I might not know you, but I know what you want.’

‘you’ve opened my eyes. there are so many more options than I thought.’

‘you saw something in me that I didn’t know myself.’

‘what kind of man bothers to see potential in a woman, and encourages her despite her own doubts?’

‘rest assured that the only reason I helped you is because it gets me closer to what I want.’

‘you know what’s worse than suffering? not suffering, because you’re not even alive to feel it.’

‘learn to want something for yourself. not what someone says you should want. not what you think you should want.’

‘don’t go through life thinking only of duty. when all we have are these brief spans between our nonexistences, why not make the most of the life you’re living now?’

‘why not make the most of the life you’re living now? the price is worth it.’

‘maybe your suffering is worth whatever it is you want to achieve. but mine wouldn’t be.’

‘that’s all past history. I never think of it.’

‘do you believe that? that one day we’ll be out of a job, because of peace?’

‘have the courage to take power for yourself! do you think it will come to you if you wait?’

‘do you actually believe the idiocy that comes out of your mouth?’

‘you never accepted me for who I am; you never even saw everything I did for you, all because I’m not like (name)!’

‘you always push everyone away. what do you find in it, the loneliness? I couldn’t bear it.’

‘you trust too much. I admire you for it. that you prefer to drawn people closer, rather than push them away. but it’ll get you hurt.’

‘the worst injury you can do to a man is shame him. he can never forget it.’

‘it must have been painful, learning that true wisdom lies in obedience.’

‘are you always thinking do little of me that my defeats seem inevitable?’

‘i’d have thought you’d be the last to cry about (name’s) fate. why can’t we just stand back and let it happen?’

‘so you’re going to save (name) from himself?’

‘and here I thought I was the only one who got manipulated by pretty girls.’

‘why are you lowering yourself by dirtying your hands like this? let someone else take care of this trash.’

‘you were only ever a pretender. you only sat on a pretend throne.’

‘why do we have to play these awful games? what for?’

‘what does anyone want but to be on top, untouchable?’

‘who do you think I am, to think I can make anything happen in my own life? i’m a woman.’

‘I know you don’t want that life. a different one isn’t impossible.’

‘you have something I don’t; you feel for others, even the ones you don’t like.’

‘you want me to believe you’re different. that you can give me something different. but how can I trust that? I can’t.’

‘are you fool enough to believe the future will match your dream of it, with no consideration of the reality of the situation?’

‘I don’t admit anything! I don’t need to! you’ve already made up your mind!’

‘you can’t reason with fools who refuse to see reason.’

‘he was right about you. you’re worthless. worse than that; a curse.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth.’

‘there are people who say that grief will hurt as much as it’s worth. and there is nothing worth more than a father.’

‘(name) would never put himself on the line for me, or anyone else. but you, you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?’

‘i’ve wanted and struggled and suffered for that fate my whole life. I’m not going to stop now.’

‘you are trouble. I’ve never met anyone more trouble than you,’

‘are you so certain of the possibility of change? it seems to me the outcome is inevitable.’

‘what I want has nothing to do with who wins.’

‘every time the world turns its face from you, know it was because of me.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it.’

‘stop blaming yourself and let yourself want it. i’ll give it to you.’

‘I have everything I need. whereas you, — you still need me.’

‘nobody expected anything of me. nobody ever cherished me.’

‘I cherish you.’

‘you think you understand me. but don’t forget it goes both ways. like knows like; like is connected to like. I understand you, too.’

‘pure emotions are the luxury of children and animals.’

‘more fool I am, to hope against hope for a change in his nature, that he might actually try to be useful.’

‘I presume you’re not here to kill me.’

‘you think you have power over me because you know a secret. but you don’t.’

‘how can something like that stop me, destroy me, when nothing else has?’

‘look at me and see the person who will win. the person who will rule.’

‘I presume you realize how much I dislike you. wasn’t the last where I said I wanted to kill you clear enough?’

‘you betray you ignorance in less than a sentence.’

‘how willing you were to think the worst of me. why aren’t you happier? i’m just being who you’ve always though I was. i’m giving you the ending you believed in.’

‘the times and means of our deaths have always been fixed, and this is yours.’

‘even the most shining future, if desired, will have suffering at its heart.’

‘i’ll follow you, as far as you want to go.’

‘I wasn’t born with the promise of greatness either. but I have it now. because I wanted it. because I’m strong, because I’ve struggled and suffered to become the person I need to me, and because I do want needs to be done.’

‘you said you’d be different. you lied to me.’

‘when you did this, did you even stop to think about how it might make me feel to bear witness for what you think is justified?’

‘I want what I want, and sometimes I’m going to have to do certain things to get it.’

‘you have two choices. you can rise with me, which I’d prefer. or if you don’t want what I want— you can leave.’

[wndybyrd]

heartlcssboy​:

Peter’s eyebrows knitted together in further confusion when his vulnerability was met with the same upset. That wasn’t right. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing taller, and was quickly swinging from emotional turmoil back to feeling unjustly attacked, which at least was a much more comfortable place to be but he didn’t want to feel the sting of falsely being accused when it came to Wendy. It wasn’t right! What was she even going on about?! Apologies? What did he have to be sorry about?! 

“ — grabbing at you? Wendy, I didn’t —!” And then the realization of what must have happened hit him and suddenly it all made sense. Oh. His shoulders slumped and his arms uncrossed, falling limply at his sides. Oh. His shadow must have been the one to scare Wendy, it was why she was so cross with him. That would not do. That would not do at all. But Peter didn’t have long to celebrate how clever he was to have solved that one mystery. Wendy herself was made up of puzzles and riddles and he still felt horrendously confused by her words, even after gaining this glimmer of context.

Peter titled his head to the side, deep in thought. At first, he had been affronted that she’d accused him of having tossed her aside. Like it was his fault she had left! This wasn’t the first time that she had alluded to thinking he’d been the one to banish her back to the Other Place instead of the truth, that she had chosen to leave him. Because he wasn’t enough. Because Neverland wasn’t enough. And in many ways, didn’t this misbelief work in Peter’s favor? Wasn’t it nice for someone else to fear being left by him for a change? Messing with peoples’ memories was such a tricky thing, he could conceal something by wrapping it up in a mist but the way a person’s brain knitted itself back together to make sense of the sudden hole was completely unpredictable. The mind was such a mercurial thing. As much as he had pulled and twisted at her thoughts, it was hard to guess what she thought had happened.

Peter fixed Wendy with a quizzical look as she reached out for his hands. He offered no resistance. Her touch, her nearness soothed the writhing fire ants under his skin and that horrible squeezing ache beneath his ribcage abated more and more the longer she cradled his hands in her own. So Peter stayed silent as she carried on, still struggling to understand what it was that had caused the tides of her temper to change direction while also feeling an overwhelming relief at her gentle touch. She absolutely confounded him, as she always did, as most people tended to; however, there was something about the raw and abrupt emotional shifts that made her feel kindred and knowable in a way that she hadn’t felt the last time she’d been on the island.

Even as her gentle touch turned crushing, he remained pliant and unflinching; letting her take whatever she needed from him because he needed this. All of this. He needed to hear how much she hated the Other Place, how much she’d wanted to come back to the island, to him. He needed to feel that she meant it.

“I don’t want to scare you,” fell from Peter’s mouth in a hoarse whisper that was as earnest as his hope that her desperate grip on him would leave bruises and that the island would deem those bruises too important to fade away. 

 He shortened the distance between them as he gave his answer, holding her wild gaze with a look in his own eyes that promised he meant every single world, “Wendy, I won’t send you back there. Not ever. I promise. Neverland is your home. No one is ever going to take that from you.”

For a long moment he could do nothing but look at her, mystified, fire ants long forgotten. 

When his words finally returned to him, he said, “I really didn’t do it. Must have been one of the small folk playing a mean trick on you….they can do that, but, of course, you know that. Make you see things and hear things. I’ll find out who did it and make sure they never do it again, I swear it!”

the tightness between her shoulders relented as a puff of air, one she hadn’t realized to be holding, flew free. a singular     “ oh . . . “     followed, wendy’s face hot with shame. quickly dropping the desperate grasp on his hands, her arms sagged to her sides heavily. while peter’s admission—his promise—should have been enough to ease the confounding stir of feelings that tore away at her mind, the girl’s face still glazed with puzzlement. after all this time, had wendy darling only grown into an ambling fool, to be so easily tricked, rather than the prudent young lady she’d believed herself ?   no. yes. had it been-- ? it must ! after all, peter could never be so awful. the soft sincerity etched into his expression, carving out bits of vulnerability she’d never bared witness to before, was proof enough : he was so good. peter was the titular hero in all of her tales yet she’d dared doubt him. silly bird !

shaky breath was swallowed back down her throat, burying any leftover sorrows, while the back of her hand wiped away the remnants of angry tears glistening atop rosebud-cheeks. it took a momentary beat for articulation to find its way back to the poet, all eloquence lost. finally, when it did, wendy tenderly sighed :     “ i know. you’re wonderful, peter. the most wonderful boy that ever was. “    curls bounced as she nodded along to her own words, further assuring the sentiments ( or trying to convince herself of them ). wendy offered him a small, sweet simper that—aside from sky-blue irises swarming with a mix of hope and apprehension—was enough to wipe her face clean of its previous anguish.

further surrendering her pride, she conceded,     “ i’d forgotten how tricky neverland can be. “     just off the top of her head, wendy could list a number of those that would’ve delighted in her torment. still, it didn’t feel right. as logical as it sounded, goosebumps still tickled at her skin. besides, even if they were at fault, it would do wendy no good to forge further division between herself and the folk. wendy’s white knight couldn’t always act in her shadow, defending the darling’s fragile psyche from every impish strike. carrion would be better suited for the task of confronting their mysterious miscreant ( less likely to let egoism best her ), but there was no use in saying so. once that boy got something in his head, he was not easily persuaded.

“ but what if . . . “     she began, leaning in close as her voice lowered to a hush, soft as the passing breeze.     “ . . . it was something else ? something new. “     a game of cat and mouse ! what better way to distract her fearsome fighter, as well as herself. a story, too ( smothering any hurt caused by her cruel distrust ) like she had tailored for him in the old days.

“ mother once told me of a monster that hides beneath children’s beds, patiently waiting for them to fall asleep. then, it creeps into the dreams of those little boys and girls, eating up all their good thoughts ‘til there’s none left. “     eyes sparkled with each syllable that tumbled off her tongue; there was a frantic thrill that flooded the girl with each story she sewed. tall-tales came to her so naturally, far easier than any truth she’d ever told.     “ it bears many names : sleep-snatcher, shadowbeast, the scrungle. it must have followed me from the ‘other place’ to feast upon my love for you, and the lost boys will certainly be next ! it’s said to be truly horrifying but, surely, the great peter pan would not fear such a thing as ‘the scrungle’. he’d rip it to pieces ‘til all that remained was a mess of blood and bone . . . wouldn’t he ? “

wendy’s head snapped to the left, wide-eyes staring into the wooded distance.     “ did you hear that ? it could be watching us, listening, right now. “     life was so much better when it was make-believe. oh, how she loved to play pretend.