We weren't always broken...

Second in command and Jail Warden for the Hangman's Tree

[twisty-curly-blog]

He smiled proudly, shaking his shoulders back as he leaned his head against the tree, “I can bet y’anything I can make anythin’ a compliment,” and this was true. Even the worst of comments, Curly could always twist around to his favour. He definitely considered himself to be the King of insults, and he didn’t take kindly to anyone threatening to take his title. 

Though thoughts of kings and the sight of Nibs put together made him uneasy, so he opted not to make such a comment, nor to linger on it for too long lest he make a mess for them both. Instead, he focused on mocking Slightly–his favourite past time–and picturing him as a prissy Merqueen, forever focused on his own reflection. He was glad Nibs was up for it, and he let out another hearty laugh at the sight. 

“Alas, Nibsy m’boy, y’might be right on that. Still, we can dream,” so long as we don’t dream too loudly, he thought, not really in the mood to be thrown in prison again.

He was going to ruin it, surely, but his curiosity was growing taller with each word. And as much as he was happy to ease Nibs’ stress, he was practically dying (dying!) to know what had transpired between the two. “Don’t s’pose ye’d wanna say the real story?”

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs nodded, attempting a small smile, though he could feel it fading from his face too swiftly.  Dreaming was something that didn’t sit well with Nibs, for it was in his dreams that his subconscious brought up things better left forgotten.  Dreams were no peaceful romp in fairyland for the toughened boy, for he had learned at a young age that fairyland was far less peaceful than the stories said. 

Thoughts like this ill-suited the company he was in.  He felt a bitter taste climbing up the back of his throat, and quickly he swallowed it down, trying to hang onto the more positive bent of the conversation that the two were doing so well.  It was meaningless.  Nothing but triviality, but still he appreciated it.  But even that appreciation died down quickly at Curly’s next words.  

Nibs felt his lips forming a grim line, before he even realized he was doing it intentionally.  Curly knew better than to ask him that question.  Though, again that had always been Curly’s problem, pushing and shoving when at times it was just better to stay still.  Nibs felt his fist clenching beside him, but for the sake of their previous conversation he forced himself to stay still.  He may not like Slightly, in fact there were times (more often than not) in which he wished he could hit the boy repeatedly with a stick, bashing his brains in so he’d never have to deal with the spoiled brat again.  But Slightly was there leader, self-appointed or not, and while Nibs didn’t think the boys particularly needed one, and in fact he thought Slightly’s attempts to take over a long dead kingship were pathetic more than anything else, he had vowed long ago to never show their conflicts to the others.  Not when death came so easily to their kin.  

Nibs turned to look at Curly, eyes hard.  “No, I don’t suppose I would.”  His eyes turned back to the woods, before he stiffly stood up.  “I’ll not have you broadcast our troubles to the rest of the boys and rile them up.  I’ve done enough stupid things today to confuse them, I won’t do any more.”

[re-joy-ce]

Bandit had been following the rage filled boy for awhile. Her favorite Lost Boy should’ve noticed already that she was there. Her ego got the best of her at one point that she was getting better at sneaking around. Her keen eyes admired the anger that was so destructive as she went with the sound of the wind as she moved. Every step she got closer and then waited to separate them. 

She wondered at one point how badly he wanted his dagger, the one that was kept close to her skin, back. She never actually used it, but felt it would come in handy one day. By now her stalking got boring. Her prey wasn’t in the slightest interested in her so she finally stepped it up a notch and made herself known by snapping a branch in her hand. Quickly Bandit ducked behind a tree. Either way the echo of the branch cracking wouldn’t have shown him exactly where she is. So her conniving mind decided to deceive rather than let him have the satisfaction of seeing the smirk on her face. She could get him more angry than how much he was now. 

Another branch snapped on a tree diagonal from her with a slingshot she sometimes carried. This was the perfect opportunity to play with illusions. 

[brokennibs-blog]

There was a brief silence after the first twig snapped, almost enough to convince the boy he had imagined it.  But the feeling of being watched was growing within him now that he had put aside his blinding rage.  Every muscle in his body was tense, ready to spring into action at the slightest movement or noise.  While angry he might not be the keenest, but when he was paying attention, opening himself to the woods and the forest, his senses and intuition were nigh unstoppable.  A sound echoed just to the left of him, and his quick eyes followed the dull thwack of a higher branch snapping from its limb.  A branch too high for any person to be on.

His eyes narrowed as he observed the tree and the ground from his position, the branch almost obscuring a pale, oval stone seemingly out of place amongst the rest of the mossy growth.  Anger started bubbling in Nibs’ stomach at the thought of someone toying with him, mocking him even.  Enough boys in the camp were fond of slingshots, so Nibs could recognize the handiwork of one.  His anger, blinding only a few minutes before, was now being directed into murderous intent.  His body remained immobile, hoping to reassure whatever idiot had chosen to screw with him, but his eyes began scanning amongst the trees, looking for anything out of usual.  The lost boys were famed for knowing almost every nook and cranny of these woods, and Nibs was sure he could play the rogue at their own game.  

Just as he thought this, the barest hint of movement attracted his eye, diagonal from where the branch had broken, off to his right.  He held his knife tensely in his hand, his lip curling in a feral snarl, though his body remained deceptively facing the broken branch.  Then, with one swift, fluid arc, his body moved, arm raising up and releasing his knife in the direction of whoever had started this little game.

[direisms]

He took longer than usual to right himself, but the girl said nothing, instead leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree and allowing a–perhaps small, but definitely true–smile to grace her features. The muscles in her cheeks protested–it had been far too long since the warrior queen had smiled at anyone, let alone a Lost Boy, with any level of honesty. But he just seemed so off-put by her presence, and his words were… well, accurate. 

“Maybe.” Tiger answered, expression shifting to something akin to her normal expressions as quickly–and notably, with much less pain–than it had shifted to a smile. There was a flicker of something in her eyes that she would not name, and knew Nibs wouldn’t either, both for fear of admitting to vulnerability–or Spirit forbid–affection. “You’re lucky it was only me that did.” A caution as much as a general comment. Not everyone in the woods was as lenient, and Nibs knew that as well as she. He’d just been blinded by something. 

Knowing the Original as she did, Tiger Lily was fairly certain that something was anger. “I’ve heard bears quieter than you, you know.” A small part of her–the part buried in her ribs and hidden by scathing flames and calculating stares–wanted to ask what had happened. What could possibly enrage this familiar face to the point of such carelessness. But… the question held so many implications that she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept, and she kept the words back. 

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs observed the girl’s face edge back into its normal expression as though it were a reminder of his own place.  His back straightened, and his almost goofy demeanor slid away, face regaining its usual impassive calmness.  It wasn’t hard, especially since Tiger had distracted him from his anger towards Slightly.  It had been such a long time since he’d seen the girl, he had been completely shocked by her sudden presence.  It was always a bit hard for him to see her, knowing the history they both shared, but sometimes it was an almost comforting hurt, anchoring him securely to his own body.  

He knew what she was saying, without her even having to say it.  He had been reckles, and stupid.  Had he stumbled upon any other person in the forest, he could have been far less lucky.  He had no doubt he could have defended himself, but he would have been creating a whole lot more trouble than necessary.  He nodded shortly, acknowledging her unspoken words, knowing she’d understand.  “True,” his deep voice echoed in the woods, silence returning to the forest now that his assault upon it had ended.  

At her next comment, a small smirk grew at the corner of his lips.  “I doubt you’ve ever met a bear as angry as I was just then, though, so I suppose it makes sense.”  He knew she was curious about the reason, but he wouldn’t speak ill of the leader to outsiders, even if Tiger Lily was hardly an outsider at this point.  His pale eyes wandered down to her, curiosity also nibbling at his stomach, as he suddenly realized he wasn’t the only one acting out of character, though he bit his lip, unsure of how to phrase it.  Gentleness wasn’t something that came easily to Nibs, so even as he spoke his next few words, he frowned at how gruff his own voice sounded to him.  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in Lost Boy territory,” voice darker than he’d intended.  A smirk played at the corners of his mouth.  “The younger boys might faint at the sight of a girl.  I’d warn you to be careful, but I think it’s them I need to be more worried about.”

[twisty-curly-blog]

Curly was no stranger to harsh words and sounds of annoyance, so Nibs’ response was nothing unusual to the boy. In fact, he gave a sheepish smile in response, taking another bite out of the apple and slowly sliding down the tree to sit down himself. “Could never be a Merqueen, though. ‘Cos I can’t stand t’water,” he was replying as if this was a sincere possibility, “but thank ye, dearly, for thinkin’ I’m pretty,” 

If the conversation stayed this shallow, Curly was certain it could last for hours, and maybe some part of him wouldn’t hate that too much. He could pretend, that there wasn’t any bad history between them–or a shared tragedy, as it were–and that instead the world was fine, and the island (or himself) was not dying. 

He let out a loud laugh, always enjoying jokes at Slightly’s expense. “Actually, now that I think about it, he’d make a good Merqueen. Don’t ya think?” 

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs rolled his eyes at the older boy’s comment.  “Only you would take that as a compliment,” he sighed, before looking over at the other, eyes more observant.  He had noticed the occasional cough out of the boy in the past few years, a sound unheard of before, but the boy seemed as blithely uncaring and joking as ever.  He was probably thinking too much into it, though there was a slight part of Nibs that knew he would always feel protective of the boy sat before him, regardless of who was the ‘older.’  

He knew they were keeping the conversation light, purposefully staying far from any subjects taboo.  It was that unspoken weight that often made it so hard for Nibs to be with any of the other Originals, but it hadn’t begun to make his skin itch yet like it did at the worst of times, so he breathed out, trying to lose some of the anger he was still harboring.  He let out a short snort at the image of Slightly as a Merqueen, before nodding brusquely.  

“It would sort of suit him.  Hopefully the other fish would get so annoyed with him they’d throttle him with his own tail.  But there’s no way we’d be that lucky, is there?”

[prisxner-blog]

Even jailbirds got their chance to sing. Loki was no exception. His forte had never been music, mostly because songs were a forte of certain people he could not tolerate, but it didn’t mean that the boy never got his chance. Voices didn’t matter, but Loki had one better: games. The one thing he was guaranteed to be good at, a combination of luck, natural talent, and dedication crowning him the victor nine times out of ten. At the very least. That was why they locked him up, after all. No one could keep up. Pan was scared that someone could contest his title of Boy King. Loki didn’t care for titles, though, just for the games. Whether he won or lost. He was talented, but sore losers were not fun to play with. So he made sure he was not one.

Games were few and far between, much to his dismay, thanks to the damn amulet that kept him chained. If Pan had been afraid, Slightly was even more so. So no one let Loki out, not unless he tugged at their heartstrings or proved to be too dangerous to keep in the tree. But every so often they gave him a day in the sun… Today was one such day. But the light had begun to dim, meaning only one things: he would be called “home” soon. And he had yet to play all day, everyone seemed to be hiding, and he hadn’t ventured into their camps to call them. But his day was redeemed as he heard a voice, one all to familiar, that grated on his nerves as it excited him endlessly. Nibs.

“It wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, old friend,” he cooed, perching on a branch just above where his friend stood, “And I’d be offended if you didn’t already know.”

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs knew that voice even before his head whipped up, locating the other lost boy dangling in the tree a few feet from him.  His eyes narrowed at the sight of him.  Nibs knew it had been one of Loki’s days out, a treat Nibs had mixed feelings towards.  

Though the moniker old friend wasn’t wrong, Nibs remained tense, knife still in his palm.  It didn’t bode well to let your guard down around Loki.  His brow furrowed, anger at Slightly quickly evaporating at his sudden company.  “It’s been a while since you called me old friend, Loki,” he finally responded, stiffly straightening up, trying to relax the tension that had suddenly taken hold of his limbs.  He swore he could feel the tingling of the old scar upon his arm, a memento of the last time he’d had a proper falling out with the boy.  And yet, despite all that, there was still a niggling guilt that ate at him whenever he thought of Loki behind bars.

“It’s nearly dusk, isn’t it about time you head back?” he finally continued, a wave of fatigue washing over him at this new dilemna.

[broken-siren-deactivated2016051]

She managed to untangle herself from the vines and stared at him. She wasn’t going to argue, she was in no way suited to defend herself, not if it meant killing another living thing. So she just stared at him in silence, slowly hiding behind another rock. Just because he told her he wouldn’t hurt her, she still didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust Lost Boys, even with the truce they shared. She was skeptical of his words, so she stayed to herself.

It was odd that she was still even above the surface with a Lost Boy such as him. She examined him and looked around the Lagoon wondering if any of the other mer were out. 

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.” She muttered in regards to his last statement. Her voice was soft and frail, much like the mermaid it belonged to. She was still uncomfortable in the presence of the boy, so she remained behind a cluster of rocks. There wasn’t much that would make her feel remotely safe around this boy, so she decided it was best for her own sake to remain in the shadows.

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs dimly noted the girl moving from the shadows to another outcropping of rocks.  She didn’t trust him, a fact that brought a small curl to his lip.  Good, he wasn’t to be trusted.  A thought that was seconded by the frailty of the girl’s voice.  That was another thing Nibs hated.  Girls, playing at weakness, only to attack later on, in whatever vicious way they could.  Bitterness clung to Nibs’ every feature, and with a short tsk, he straightened up, not wanting to spend a moment longer in foul company than he had to.  

“Don’t speak to me of disappointments, girl,” he said, voice hard.  “You do not want to play that game.”  His face had turned an ugly, ashy shade.  “In future,” he warned, voice dark, “...you shouldn’t swim where no one else is watching.  Others might not be so...”  What word could Nibs use in this situation.  Gentle?  He let out a short bark of aggressive laughter at the thought, no doubt startling the girl again.  Forgiving?  That wasn’t it, either.  His philosophy tended towards the old “eye for an eye” code.  Willing to pay no heed, he supposed, but that wasn’t quite it either.  Finally, turning back once more towards the girl’s direction, he finished.  “Dismissive.”

[direisms]

Tiger Lily had stolen away a few precious moments of quiet in the wood, slipping easily past the barbs and coils of those bordering her lands and into the much less formidable ones nearing the Lost Boys. Perhaps not her brightest move, in search of quiet, but far enough from her people for comfort, certainly. 

And the warrior queen was hardly anyone to be messed with. But heavy steps, thrashing and snapping, were unusual on the island in general, let alone in this particular wood, and they caught the huntress’ attention. She turned, moving swiftly and silently through the trees to catch a glimpse. Were it a newcomer, she would perhaps at least guide them in the right direction of their proper camp–she saw no point in the slaughter of innocents–and were it a pirate or a mer (though the water people were hardly ever so careless), she would make a plan, perhaps attack, if it proved valuable. But it was none of those, in fact it was a familiar face.

Nibs. Angry, ever-darkened Nibs. The faintest hints of a smile played at her lips and, rather intentionally, she stepped on a loud branch, drawing his attention so as not to startle him before stepping out of the wood. “Hardly anyone worth stabbing.” She replied, voice nearly teasing, though Tiger hadn’t been teasing in many, many moons.

[brokennibs-blog]

The sight of the familiar girl in front of him was enough of a shock to completely stall Nibs for a few seconds, anger draining away from him like a swift wave.  His eyes widened in surprise, before he took a short breath and composed himself, knife flicking artfully in his hand before he hid it back in the depths of his ratty clothes.  “Tiger,” he said softly, the ghost of what almost could be a smile flitting across his face.  

He let out a small sigh before straightening up to his full height.  Nibs was not fond of girls, he knew his hatred of them bordered on the irrational, but that didn’t stop the bitterness that coursed through him whenever he saw one.  Though his hatred usually was bent towards the lost girls, it tended to bleed out towards all members of the sex.  With one exception.  Though Nibs would be loathe to admit it, there was always a soft spot lurking for Tiger Lily.  If anyone could understand being left behind, who else than Tiger.  She at least knew the sting of what happened... before... just as dearly as the rest of the Originals.  

He sighed at the realization of just how loud he must have been, rampaging through the forest like a wild boar.  Bringing his pale eyes up sheepishly, he shifted his shoulders awkwardly, as though he’d been caught in some embarrassing action, a gesture highly uncommon for the usually collected second in command.  “I guess I deserve being snuck up on, considering just how loud I was being?” his smile reverting back to his usual grim smirk.

[twisty-curly-blog]

As emotional of a response as it was, Curly was pleased that he’d managed to change Nibs’ mood–if only slightly. Chatting with him–or any of the others who were there when everything changed–was not his ideal situation. But perhaps feelings of nostalgia still lingered deep within him, and every so often he supposed he could stand a conversation (provided it wasn’t too long) with any of the remaining five. Yes, yes, he would tack it off to something like that–nothing more than old habits dying hard. 

He looked at the apple, glancing at the bite mark he’d only just noticed. “What…ah, y’insult m’honour, Nibs! Course it was for you,” but he shrugged when Nibs showed no interest in his offer, taking a large bite out of it in response to his rejection. Mouth full, he spoke again, “’Ve always been givin’,” he replied–a blatant lie, as he typically hated sharing, but he said it regardless of the truth. He tried to laugh at the ‘Mother’ comment, but hearing it from Nibs felt too…negative.

Curly leaned back against a nearby tree, twisting his face up as if he had to think about the answer when he already knew it. “’Spose since y’left. What’s a’matter with Slightly? Did he see his reflection and ‘member how ugly he was?” He teased. 

[brokennibs-blog]

It was strange, talking with Curly like this.  All the Originals avoided each other, with the exception of Slightly, who seemed to haunt Nibs’ every waking moment like a thorn in his side.  They were all too bitter, too twisted, though a deeper part of him could feel an almost longing desire for those times rise up between the two of them.  But that desire was tinged with too much bitterness to last, and with a sour purse to his lips, Nibs looked back at Curly.  

With a sardonic snort, the boy raised his brows.  “You’re about as giving as the Merqueen, Curly.”  He shook his head, amusement and disapproval in equal measure touching his features.  Curly’s humor had always been a bit too flippant for Nibs’ taste.  Nibs, though charming when he wanted to be, was more a man of action, and had little time for the amount of jokes Curly always seemed to be preoccupied with.  

At the boy’s next words, however, Nibs let out an uncharacteristically expressive, annoyed sigh.  “More like he caught sight of himself and wasted the rest of his time staring at his own arse and cooing in admiration.”  Nibs spat out bitterly.  He could wax on about Slightly for ages, but he bit his tongue.  It was not his place to cause strife amongst the boys, no matter how much their idiotic, self-appointed leader deserved the annoyance.

[wolfskinkane-blog]

An ethereal glint reflected off their altruistic orbs, they could sense the uneasiness they might’ve caused, and were somewhat ashamed of that effect. Like a rampant child, he appeared to be questioning himself for a fault he had not even exploited. And with a patient and stagnant stance, the Walker listened to the boy’s silent dispute. They watched him hesitate with their hand, unsure of what to do with the weapon, that had inevitably turned into a natural extension of their own abused limb. What blood he must’ve shed, what terrors must’ve haunted him. Kane could only empathize with the frail boy playing pretend, no more.

“You don’t,” they gently agreed as they remained situated, understanding that it would be only tormenting to breach the boy’s space, right then. He deserved some ground to claim as his own, especially when plagued with skepticism. A faint lilting smile traced the corner of their lips. Watching him trying to piece everything together was endearing, and nostalgic in the way he reminded them of the lost’s long lost leader.

“You are observant as you are heedless…and yet, I suppose that is to be expected.” Kane mused, evading their inquiry altogether. It was difficult, biting back their elation. It had been so long, so long, since they were reminded of the boy that refused to grow up.

Tracing their fingers up to their hidden necklace, they could feel it thriving with life and in turn, a ghostly smile lifted their lips. This expression rare and almost forgotten itself, for the changing times gave the Walker lesser reasons to beam. Yet there they were, adorning gaiety across their softened features. “You are Peter’s boy, after all.” Whatever discontent that might’ve followed that remark was something Kane was willing to chance.

“Thank you,” The sagacious soul uttered before the other could react. Fixing their earnest gaze on the other, they nodded in gratitude. “We never thought we would seem him again.”

[brokennibs-blog]

The boy’s words served only to confuse Nibs even further.  Normally so level-headed and calm, the boy couldn’t help but feel his emotions battling about within him, pulling him one way then the next in all too dizzyingly short of a time.  Nibs had no idea why this... thing, because Nibs was growing less and less certain of his boyness as the seconds ticked on, had expected anything of him, not least his own observation abilities or lack thereof.  

Discomfort pricked at the back of Nibs’ neck at the other’s familiar, almost affectionate tone.  People did not speak that way to Nibs.  The Lost Boys didn’t speak to him like that, his so-called allies didn’t speak to him like that, hell even P-- even before, he hadn’t been spoken to like that, so to have an outsider address him with sincerity and a smile was as foreign to Nibs, as if his mother had descended right in front of him, begging forgiveness for abandoning him so many years earlier.  

But it was the next words from the boy that struck through Nibs like a heavy blow.  How did he know Pan? Nibs’ thoughts raced wildly.  It wasn’t even the modern term they used for him, but this creature knew Pan’s proper name?  He’d not heard the name Peter befoul anyone’s lips in more time than he could count, and before he knew what he was doing, the familiar cold hatred he experienced whenever memories of Pan flashed through his brain descended upon him.

Eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched as though he’d been wounded in the few seconds their conversation had started, Nibs glared back towards the boy.  Regardless of whatever affection, or gratitude the person seemed to be radiating, Nibs could only taste bitterness.  

“I’m not,” he finally declared, his voice a cracked, hoarse whisper, far less strong than he could have hoped.  “I’m not his, I’m my own.”  He hated how his tone betrayed just how much hurt still ached out at any mention of his once beloved leader.  

He could barely keep himself from spitting the bitterness rising up within him out of his mouth.  Half of him wanted to attack the boy - bash any thoughts or memories of that cursed smiling Pan from existence, while another half wanted to run as far away as he could.  Eyes glaring, his feet seemed to decide for him, taking a shaky step away from the beaming boy in front of him.  Resisting all his instincts, he uttered out one last, dark statement, dripping with a century full of hate and hurt.  “I don’t know who you are, but you’d be far better off forgetting anything about Pan.  You’ll never see him again.”  Swallowing an acrid lump in his throat, he continued.  “He’s never coming back.”

[broken-siren-deactivated2016051]

Serene, much to her own displeasure, was far to slow to disappear into the clutches of the Lagoon before being seen. So she stayed with her back pressed up against a few rocks in the shadows, trying hard not to be seen by the boy. Her breath hitched as he spoke, not wanting to be found because she was hyperventilating. Out of everyone on the island, Lost Boys scared her. She knew what they were capable of, and she didn’t want to end up at the end of one of their knives. So she remained cautious.

She had a tight grip on the rocks, ensuring that she wouldn’t float away and so her tail didn’t make too many big ripples on the surface and the glassy water. She slowly and quietly sunk into the water completely and moved over to where there were more vines for her to hide behind. 

She did her best to blend in, but the fact that her eyes were so bright made her stick out a bit. So, just to be safe, she tried to move back deeper into the vines, but her tail had gotten caught and she struggled to get unwound from them. Because of this, it gave away her location and she started to panic.

[brokennibs-blog]

Whoever it was, the mer had hidden herself well, barely noticeable in the shadows, but Nibs’ keen eyes could just about make out the glimpse of a flash of bright blue surrounded by a halo of brown hair.  A small, dangerous grin pulled at the corner of his mouth, proud at having discovered his prey, but the girl’s erratic behavior was just unusual enough to stop him from immediately declaring her a foe.  She seemed almost like a fish on land, flailing helplessly.  The mer’s movements were hard to see from his vantage point, but there was just enough edge of panic about them for Nibs to be sure this girl was no threat.  

His upper lip curled in distaste.  He was not fond of mer, but he at least could view them as formidable foe.  They were a challenge that he had at one point taken much pleasure in fighting.  He had not been seeking a fight, and he certainly had no plans on breaking the truce, but he couldn’t help be disappointed in the more pathetic aspects of the fish before him.  This was no one, just a scared little girl trying to run away from him, and Nibs hated girls.

“Calm yourself, I won’t skin you,” he spat out bitterly.  He straightened up and sheathed his dagger.  It was obviously unnecessary in present company.  “I’m not about to break the truce, not on Mer land,” he continued.  With a dark chuckle, he shook his head.  “I  was expecting more of a fight.”

[twisty-curly-blog]

In an island so often filled with misery and frowning faces, Curly often felt it his duty to…lighten up the place when inspiration struck. So when he watched the second-in-command storm up and leave in such a fuss, he couldn’t help but follow along after him. Comically mimicking his actions. It had gone on long enough, though, without being caught that he found himself growing bored of the situation. So when Nibs stopped in his steps, reaching for his weapon, Curly breathed out a melodramatic sigh of relief before smiling wildly. 

“There, there–s’only me. No need t’be so scared, eh?” He teased, saluting the boy. He reached into his pocket, pulling out an apple he had honestly been saving for himself (figuring a peace offering was better than nothing), “Look, see? I even brought ya a treat for yer troubles,” 

[brokennibs-blog]

At the sound of the other boy’s voice, the tension in Nibs’ muscles was immediately relieved, and he straightened up, a mixture of exasperation and relief upon his face.  “Curly,” he intoned, equal parts annoyance and amusement battling for dominance.  It was the apple that finally decided it for him, however, and he settled on a long-suffering snort, before rolling his eyes.  “You?  Of all people you brought me a present?” his deep voice barely capable of hiding his amusement at the apple very evidently not intended for himself.  

“I didn’t realize you’d become so... giving, of late, Curly.  I’ll be calling you Mother soon, if you’re not careful.”  The word tasted bitter in his mouth, though he’d meant it as a joke.  Lost Boy slang though it was, there were certain memories that even he wished the Neverland powers of forgetfulness would work on.  Funny that he only ever seemed to forget the good memories.  

Ignoring the boy’s outstretched hand, he took a seat on a nearby tree stoop, before sparing a glance at the other boy.  Remnants of his rage were still punching through his stomach, though he could feel them fading with distance and curiosity.  It had been an age since he and Curly had spoken, since most Originals tended to avoid one another, at the fear of inciting more pesky memories.  “Exactly how long have you been following me, by the way?”

[broken-siren-deactivated2016051]

Serene was perched comfortably on a rock near the shore of the lagoon. She lay across multiple rocks, her tail spread out and her head resting on her arms as she stared at the forest in the distance. Nothing seemed to be interesting her as of lately, things that used to interest her were not the same and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because she was lonely and had no one to share them with, or maybe because she was starting to see why she was getting teased and realized she had to at least put some effort into stopping the others from picking on her so easily.

She let out a sigh and absentmindedly started to sing. It was a depressing sound, it made the atmosphere even more hauntingly sad and seemed to match the weather as well. She shut her eyes, and continued to let her melody flow throughout the barren lagoon. Serene assumed that by now, the other mer were able to block out her depressing song, which was why no one had cursed at her to be quiet. 

A  few moments passed before she heard a voice. Her eyes shot open and she looked for the source of the voice, but not finding anything. She slipped into the water quietly, barely making a ripple, and hid behind a few rocks, trying to find who had just spoken.

[brokennibs-blog]

At the sound of water rippling, Nibs internally cursed himself again.  Not only had he let his mind wander, but he’d somehow let his feet carry him all the way to the lagoon without a hint of caution.  He was a Lost Boy, and Lost Boys feared nothing, but there was a difference between recklessness and sheer stupidity.  He looked around tensely, eyes trying to adjust to the dim light the poor weather provided against the eery reflection of the water’s surface.  

He saw no one, but he had heard a splash only moments before, which meant only one thing... mer.  Nibs wasn’t particularly fond of the fairer species, though to be fair he wasn’t particularly fond of anything.  He was on dangerous ground - literally, as the Siren Song could lure him unwittingly to his death with one lapse in concentration.  

His body tensing, he started to edge closer towards the precipice he assumed the splash had come from only seconds before.  His body remained tense, hand curled around his dagger with a confidence earned only with use.  But he knew even if he was confronted with a Mer, he couldn’t kill it, the blasted truce haunted him even now.  

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...” Nibs let out in a low, sing-song tone, predatory instincts taking over his every move.  From the corner of his eye, he saw a quick flash of brown hair, and he sprang into a defensive crouch.  “I warn you, fish, if you don’t want your pretty face cut up, you best keep your song at bay.”

[wolfskinkane-blog]

A stifling aura infected the air, corroding it with a wickedness otherwise known as rage. The upheaval, intense enough to perturb the once tranquil soul. Tracing it to its source, a verve kindled in the Walker; their eyes landing on the familiar boy that he had watched while seasons passed. Pan. Kane found themselves thinking of the passing gold, a figure that they had long grieved over themselves. It was innate for them, to feel so strongly over the Child King, just as Never had, once before. They bore the soul and the spirit after all, and nothing loved the joyous leader more than them. 

On its own accord, their body rushed to keep track of the human. Having watched them all grow, they inevitably felt attached to what remained of that fleeting, fae’s child. Lost Boys, their name was now ever so becoming on them; and wasn’t it then that names sounded more like insults when they hit too close to home. For a brief moment, Kane lost track of their own composure and let their guard scatter with each pulsing beat. 

Crack!

What a grave mistake, what a sporadic mistake. Shuddering in their hidden spot, they slipped their gaze to the branch they had accidently crushed. But even then, it was difficult to ease their palpitating hearts. Grasping the jagged stone around their neck, they quivered at the magnitude of current that ran through it. How odd…

After a hesitant pause, the Walker bravely and for once, recklessly, revealed themselves. With celestial blues, they took in the aging of the boy. What tragedies you’ve left in your wake, Peter.

“It appears you have lost yourself, boy.” The soft-spoken soul warned as they brought the attention to their poisonous surroundings with a glance. A mortal did not belong in woods such as these.

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs’ well-muscled body tensed even more when the boy stepped out into the clearing.  Nibs’ mind raced at the sight of the unfamiliar face, a brief confusion passing over his own dark features.  He was too young to be a pirate, surely the adults weren’t recruiting boys who looked... his own age.  And yet Nibs knew this was no Lost Boy with a certainty that only earned leadership could provide.  He looked like no Native nor Mer that the boy had seen before, all of which stood to puzzle the boy further.  

Though the other boy’s tone was unmistakably less aggressive than his own, Nibs kept a tight grip upon his knife, not backing down.  His eyes remained fixed upon the boy in front of him.  At his words, however, Nibs’ upper lip curled in a defensive, feral growl.  “Lost yourself,” he had said, and while the words were true, a fact Nibs internally cursed as he realized his feet had unknowingly led himself into one of the more toxic parts of the forests, the word “lost” seemed to mock him.  He was a Lost boy, who had found himself lost... an irony others would love to feast on in the face of his weakness.

And yet, despite the tightening of his grip around his knife, there was something about the boy’s face that stayed Nibs’ hand.  There was no hint of malice tinging the other’s features, a fact that unsettled Nibs more even than his unfamiliarity.  In fact, the emotion that touched his eyes was something Nibs hardly recognized, akin somewhat to... sorrow, and yet still that wasn’t it either.  It was an emotion that served to put Nibs even more on the defensive, for he somehow felt as though he’d... disappointed the other boy in some strange way.  

Impossible, Nibs thought, and quickly shook his head, pulling himself out of his internal revery and allowing a slight relaxation to his tensed, hulking form.  The other didn’t seem to wish him harm, at the very least, though the dagger remained in his hand.

“I don’t know you,” Nibs said softly, eyes fixed intently upon the others’.  Though it feels as if you know me, his thoughts flitted anxiously.  “Which is unusual, though I don’t know everyone.  But you’re not an adult,” Nibs spat out the last word.  “So what are you?”  And why are you wandering in a place that even I know better than to set foot in?  The unspoken question lay plainly in the air between the two of them.

[neversoslightly]

Slightly was lazily perched in the lower boughs of a huge tree, swinging his limbs off the sides of it and staring into the canopy without any fear of falling. Lost Boys feared nothing, after all. He was sick and tired of the noise of Hangman’s Tree and had escaped to come here for a while to collect his thoughts. 

Hearing twigs snap in the undergrowth, the Lost Boy turned to glance at the ground for a moment, spotting someone who was making their way through the trees, making an effort to tread lightly, it seemed.

“You know.” Slightly called smugly, lethargically rolling onto his side to face the person. “You’re not half as sneaky as you think you are…”

[brokennibs-blog]

A grimace spread across Nibs’ face as he lifted his pale eyes to meet those of his effervescent leader.  “And you’re not as good at evading others as you think...” his deep voice broke through the air, eyes narrowing at the other boy resting in the tree.  No, not resting... shirking his duty.  Nibs resisted the eyeroll threatening his impassive features as he calmly stood his ground beneath the tree Slightly occupied.

“You know some of the younger boys are looking for you, right?  They’re seeking some words of advice from our fearless leader,” sarcasm dripped heavily from the last two words as he grinned sardonically up at Slightly.  “...But it seems you’re... occupied?” Nibs continued, gesturing magisterially at the tree, lip curling in smug disapproval.

[brokennibs-blog]

Nibs was fuming.  He could feel his hot blood pounding in his ears as he walked through the woods, paying almost no heed to where he was going, nor to how noisy he was being.  It was a rare occasion for the boy to abandon his post amongst the boys and prisoners to venture out on his own.  When he was younger, yes, he had loved to explore and go on wild joy rides through the green vines, but it had been a long time since any emotion akin to joy had tinged the boy’s twisted, bitter features.  

But today was different.  After yet another one of his “conversations” with Slightly where the other boy had again proven just how ill-suited he was for leadership, Nibs could barely contain his rage.  Which was why he found himself blasting through the forest, all thoughts of secrecy and caution expelled from his brain.  That was, until he heard the sudden warning of a branch snapping behind him.  Whirling around, Nibs tried to catch his bearing, and mentally cursed himself as he realized he didn’t even know where his blasted feet had led him.  His back and neck tensed as his hand automatically reached for the dagger ever-present at his side.  

“Who’s there?” he asked, voice grim and deadly.

[hunksiesgonnahunk-deactivated20]

[kohlmurdock]