LOST BOY.

i tried to be someone else, but nothing seemed to change. i know now- this is who i am really am inside.

[warbornhq]

"No, no. Nothing like that. It’s smoother, it’s soft around the edges, a sound… bathed in gold. You, Peter Pan, you know very little about what goes on in my head.”

[infxni]

"The only sound I here is composed of my flute and your shrill banshee voice."

"You're head is too small to have anything but your inflated ego filling it up."

[hrlequins]

"Has condescension always had such dramatic flair? Honestly — shut up for five minutes.”

[infxni]

"You're telling me to shut up? I'm not the one who just wasted all my air on some boring comment."

"At least I put some use in my words."

[steelvengeance]

"Have you got anything better to do than make little panpipe metaphors and bother me?"

[infxni]

"Metaphors? There's nothing poetic about your empty skull."

"You're funny, Hook. What do you think could be better than this?"

[messed-up-curly]

A dark blanket had covered the sky, calling the night to set in. Somewhere in a small clearing, a fire lit up and bawls cut through the silence. The Lost Boys were celebrating, dancing around the fire as they enjoyed themselves. Curly smiled, feeling the joy spread around her whole body as she watched the others. She couldn’t explain it nor would she ever admit it out loud but they all meant a great deal to her. Never before had she felt part of something, a family,and now she immediately got this whole bunch which had taken her in and accepted her. It felt amazing to have so many caring brothers stand by your side.

She noticed Pan sitting in the center of their circled multitude, overlooking things like she’d done. His lips moved but she couldn’t make out what he said so she tried moving closer to him. Though by the time she just neared, his mouth moved to blow air in to his pan pipe and music filled the air. A smile crossed her features and the surge came back to her. It seemed to numb her first intentions, soothing her thoughts. Forgetting she’d wanted to talk to Pan, she moved back in line and danced. Completely giving in to the feeling of how she once was lost, but now was found.

[infxni]

The reason behind Pan's insult was simple enough- one of his own had defied him and for that they had to suffer. Somehow, someone managed to leak poison into the frail boy's head. A rebel successfully consumed the lost boy's loyalty in all entirety. Peter had seen it with his very eyes, silently furious as he stalked the child. And he had every right to do so, he had justified tonight. Loyalty was all Pan had.

As the others danced about gleefully from their self-entitled victory in battle, the traitor had all but withered beneath the bonds that Pan and the others had contained him in. The lad was already a bloody mess, but it was not over yet. Like a cat and mouse, Pan enjoyed toying with his victims. His wicked smiled beamed maliciously between steady melodies that escaped his instrument. It held two very different meanings depending on who listened. For those loyal, the pan pipe invigorated them, the music dancing through them like the blood in their veins. Meanwhile, Pan sat before the rat forced against a spear, using the very same melody as an insult to the other's intellect.

He shook his head, a clear sign of disappointment mingling with his dark intentions. Pan turned about to face his clan, raising his voice to draw attention.

"It appears victory isn't enough for some, boys!" he announced, pointing his flute toward the whimpering child on display. "We have a rat before us tonight, someone who doesn't belong." Eyes surveyed the crowd before him, the leader eager to see everyone's reactions. Tonight made him wonder a great amount of things, most of all who else decided to question their devotions. "I believe we need to set an example. Would anyone like to do the honor?"

[infxni]

"Ever wonder what the inside of that empty little mind sounds like?"

"There you go, dull and numbing."

[infxni]

Resurface

[tramp-the-rebel]

Wounded from a fight with a pirate, Tramp had taken to the shadows to mend himself. A pirate had managed to stab him just below his ribs, giving him a fairly deep laceration. It took only a few moments for the rebel to stitch himself up and be ready to return to the battle. He hadn’t planned on staying in the darkness long for fear of anyone viewing him as a coward. Only cowards hid in the shadows. However, Tramp held his place when he saw a familiar figure from a distance with his followers behind him like the mindless soldiers they were. The sight of the boy elicited an immediate response of anger in the rebel. Simply laying eyes on him brought a sort of rage to the surface that he never felt with anyone else he’d met.

Tramp stalked him silently as the Lost Boys joined the battle, waiting for an opportunity to make his move on Pan. Now was the perfect time to attack. He was out of Tink’s eye line and away from the midst of the chaos that was plaguing the port town. The two were semi-secluded in the outskirts of the battle. The rebel had planned on waiting for the perfect opportunity where Pan would be off guard and reveling in the spilled blood on the streets. But that plan was instantly destroyed when Tramp noticed that Pan had found the location of the rebel leader. 

The rebel drew his sword and stepped in front of the boy as he began to make his way to her place atop her horse. There was no way Tramp was going to let Pan anywhere near her. Even with how upset he was with her, the protectiveness he felt for her never dissipated. His eyes locked with Pan’s and filled with a look of hatred that Tramp had never given to someone before. The complete disgust he had of the boy was unmatched. The rebel pushed Pan’s sword away from his own and placed the tip against his chest, pushing lightly.

"Don’t go anywhere near her," he spat the words out like poison. 

[infxni]

"Or what?" Pan provoked, not phased by the clear threat this boy posed. Pan knew he was; it was impossible not to. He scoffed at the mere thought of Tinkerbell believing this rat was anything like him. Tramp was just that, a poor excuse of a life and very much a nobody as far as Pan was concerned. They locked eyes as Peter huffed a chuckle. The other was no threat. Had he the sense, Tramp would have been better off stabbing Pan in the chest without another word. Yet there they both stood, alive and well.

He gave little time for the other to respond. The leader's nimble figure was up in the air before Tramp had a chance to attack. "I'll do whatever I want to!" he exclaimed, unable to comprehend just how stupid this boy was to provoke him. The air was his guide as it carried him ever higher, effortlessly twisting about before landing on the ground. There was a change in positioning then, this time with Pan's sword against the edge of Tramp's neck, a hand reaching out across the other's mid-section to prevent movement. Pan stood behind the other from his quick jump, and unlike Tramp he had every intention to kill him then.

With force, Peter rounded both of them to face the woman upon her horse. This moment could have only been better had the traitor been close enough to watch it. His grip upon his handle tightened as the blade slowly dug itself against the boy's neck. Adrenaline rushed through Peter's veins. He had the power to break Tinkerbell more so than he ever had before, far past the point of repair in the taking of this boy's life. But as Peter pushed his sword even further toward him , an idea flashed across his head. His eyes widened at the thought. Killing Tramp was too easy. There was no fun in doing it, not like this.

Pan wanted to see Tramp suffer.

"I think we should play a game," the lost boy proposed. He laughed again menacingly. "I wonder if the traitor would even bother looking for you, should you become lost." Literally so, if Pan could have his way. He tightened his hold against the other, hoping to cause some reaction.

[the-one-who-loves-the-night-dea]

"I have been in all the skirmishes… Do you not remember me Peter?" Her doe brown eyes looked over at him as she fake pouted. "I even brought you two of your Lost Boys. I thought I was more memorable. Oh well!" That was all she would say on that matter. The pixie wouldn’t give away the fact that she was still seeing them. She was surprised he didn’t realize who she was before Tinkerbell and Peter were at odds she visited the Twins daily out in the open. It would be treason to Tink. Pan would either want to kill her or simply rub it in Tink’s face. Nyx might have been sarcastic, but she wasn’t stupid. The boy had always been so curious and Nyx found that amusing about him. He went round and round in circles about her as if he were staring at an animal in the zoo. That was what she was right now. A panther that was too lazy too attack right now, but would tear someone to shreds if provoked. 

"That’s very like you Peter. Always just wanting your fun no matter the cost, never wanting to grow up, and a disdain towards the adults. What makes you so confident that you will rule Neverland?" Nyx started to swing back and forth on the swing underneath the tree. "I understand having fun, but what are you telling the boys that they are fighting for?" The brunette remained emotionless on the outside. She looked as if she was as careless of his follies as the night, but inside she was boiling. If the boy was risking her twins’ lives for nothing, she would have his head sooner than he could even blink. They are risking their lives out there for his fun? No, she would not allow it.

"Torn? No. This war has been going on for centuries and I am growing tired of it. Don’t get me wrong. If I see someone I really care about getting hurt out there, I will step in. I just don’t see the point in stepping in right now." The swing was large and she patted the space next to her. "Care to sit or are you going to just continue to pace around me?"

[infxni]

"Are you worth remembering?" He questioned further, paying no heed to whoever she might be. There did seem to be a familiar air about her, a sense of pride mingled with warmth that simply couldn't rid themselves from his head. But if she was offended by his lack of knowledge about her, he didn't notice. No matter the relation they may have held in the past, it didn't matter. She had sided with Tinkerbell and for that Pan easily despised the woman before him. Not enough to kill her right now, but enough to willingly let go of any memories he held with her.

Nonetheless, images surfaced at the mentioning of his own. They came alive and cleaned themselves from the dust and shadow Pan had settled them into. The Twins, yes, now it started to come back to him. "Doesn't matter who brought them here, they're here and they're with me." His tone was almost mocking, the boy already prying about for a weak spot within the girl's mind. Pain was fun for him, but mind games were always better. Seeing someone deteriorate with only words was a marvelous sight. "What a surprise that you sided with the traitor after seeing what happened to her." He mimicked her in pouting. "The boys were so upset by her and your betrayal."

"I already rule the island, don't tell me you're as daft as the rest of them," Pan then added, always quick to proclaim his self-granted title. He motioned toward the battle below. "There they are, fighting for their lives for the sake of whatever useless prize is to be granted." Pan shrugged, a certain disposition of entitlement apparent. "Then here I stand, doing whatever I please for fun. I don't have to win my group over with promises that will only be broken. They fight to fight." He was amazed that people had not realized this sooner. "Should they fail though... well that's never a good thing. They need strength to survive- it's not my fault if the weak ones pass. They fight to live in this war that Hook and Tink threw themselves in." A war that had already been won in Peter's opinion. His chest swelled pride knowing how smart he was to realize this, focusing his stare back to the battle before them. 

A sigh escaped him as he contemplated silently of the position all sides were in, stopping his pace to better inspect the burning town. Pan was childish, but centuries played a role in how he thought. "After seeing so much, you start to realize how this is all a game." The sentence seemed dark in how Pan expressed it, solemn and unforgiving. He turned back to Nyx, wary of her invitation. "I'll display your skin before all the boys if you so much as try to harm me," he warned. "I'm not stupid."

[the-one-who-loves-the-night-dea]

Nyx instantly recognized the voice. It was the one and only Peter Pan. “I’ve swung on it plenty of times Peter; if my weight was what caused it, then it would have stopped a long time ago.” The brunette didn’t bother to look at him. A part of her wondered if he recognized her as the one who had brought and taken care of the twins. Paranoid, she wondered if he knew that she still visited them. There was no way he did. Deep down she knew he didn’t, but she couldn’t help the fact that she worried about it either way.  

A part of her wondered how long the boy had been there and another part wondered what he was doing here, neither mattered. Pan sounded almost happy and excited for the fights that were breaking out below them. The fire and smoke that seemed to engulf the night seemingly fueled the boy. Nyx would question it, but it’s Peter Pan. The boy who tortured people himself and sometimes even pits his own boys against each other. War was his element like night was Nyx’s. She stopped the swing and stared back out over the hill.

The figure of Peter Pan soon appeared in between her and the view of the carnage in front of her. Her deep brown hues slipped up to his eyes. “No. I grow tired of fighting all the time. It’s pointless. Three groups fighting against each other and it gets nobody anywhere. Plus if you look inside the groups people are torn apart about who they care for and what they are fighting for.” She shook her head. “I’m tired of fighting. If you came to kill me or hurt me, I won’t allow it, Peter. I don’t want to fight, but I am not going to die.”

[infxni]

He allowed her to have the final say toward the swing. It was merely a comment made to be rude and far more pressing matters were at hand. The amusement of one of Tink's followers staying so far from battle was incredible. Interesting, in fact, given that Tink boasted so often of how fierce and obedient they could be. Yet here Nyx was, the most fierce thing abut her being that she didn't bat an eyelash at the battle below. Had Tink seen her now, Pan denied any possibility of her understanding other's running from the battle. He cocked his head to the side as though inspecting her, a surveyor of the display before him as though she were an animal in a cage. So calm, yet Peter was cautious to an extent. .Not many on the island displayed their true intentions so openly. To do so would be foolish and Pan did not think the girl as such.

He smirked in response. "Fighting all the time? Can't say I've seen you in many skirmishes." In fact, as Pan looked down upon her, she didn't seem familiar from war at all. He recognized her face from somewhere, however, but lacked the ability to pinpoint it. Forgetting the past was a specialty of his, save for the memories that hurt too much to dismiss. He waved the thought away. "I wouldn't say I'm fighting against anyone. I'm just... making it more fun." As the final word slipped from his lips, he nearly chuckled. There was nothing better than a life revolving around enjoyment, no matter how sick his amusement seemed to others. Footsteps continued to carry him in a steady pace around Nyx. "It's the only thing to do with the adults bickering away. There's no use in it at all." Especially when Peter knew he would win whatever this war was about. He already felt that he had. 

Again, his face held an expression of interest and curiosity in the other. "Are you really saying that others are torn with the battle, or are you too afraid to admit that it's you who feels torn?"

[warbornhq]

"Give it a try, dear, let’s see how far you get." She mumbled, throwing a disinterested glance his way. She knew that Pan was ruthless enough to attack the pixie, but she never shied away from a fight. Not from him. She would never stop fighting him. “Oh?" She drawled, a half-formed smirk curling the edges of her lips, amusement light like a feather in the husky tones of her voice. She was by no means attacked by his words anymore, not the way that she had once been. Her love for him, it was so alive inside of her that she was sure it was the only thing keeping her warm, but she had long ago learned not to be phased by the things he said. "What is it they call me again? The martyr? The saviour? I don’t recall ever being told I’m nothing before. Or should I take the word of a little boy as bible?”

She chuckled as the smile slid like raindrops from his face. She had always been more resilient than he, and Tinkerbell  just as good an actor as she was a liar. Truthfully, it pained her to stand before him, speaking to this boy was like chewing on glass, breathing around him felt like she was choking. But she kept that little tilt to her chin, that slump in her shoulders and that expression that reeked of boredom. She kept it all, for she wanted to see him hurt. “My fault?” She replied, never ceasing to be amazed by this boy’s audacity. “None of this is my fault, Peter Pan. You got yourself captured the day you cut of Hook’s hand, I ‘lost’ myself the day that you betrayed me, and I fought this war for you!” Her voice rose with her words, face turning to an anger she kept in place always for him. “Do you think it was easy for me? Seeing all of them flock to you and knowing that I could’ve been among them? Do not dare to suggest that any of this is my fault. This is all because of you, you stupid, intolerable, useless little boy! Hook may kill me Pan, but at this point I would rather spend an eternity decorating his ship with my limbs than spend another second looking at you.” 

[infxni]

"Your ego fills your ears with everything but what you wish to hear." His heart was racing at this point. No matter how hard he tried to push these feelings down, the woman had a hold of him. The very thought that he was a pawn did not settle well within. Pan tried his best to show otherwise. "You're destined to lose. A fairy with nothing left of herself will get no where. Perhaps the only amount of saving you'll manage is to prevent your pathetic, poor excuse of followers from a slow and painful death."

But still, it wasn't working, and even Peter could realize her ability to unwind him. She was pulling at loose ends that were beyond his ability to repair, tugging away violently every time he hit a snag. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. The pressure was like a rock being pushed against his chest. Peter inhaled sharply and held it in, trying harder to suppress the memories that caused his head to scream within. He silently wished for the ability to incinerate another with his stare alone. Seeing Tinkerbell burn before him, seeing flames engulf the only thing that could harm him, he would have paid his own immortality for. 

He knew he couldn't. His pain was too mingled with pain, sorrow, a hurt inexpressible. When the sorrow did show, it came out completely wrong. It evolved into rage that fueled every action. It did so now as Pan reached for the dagger at his side. He gripped the hilt tightly as he stalked toward her, movement swift and direct. With all his strength he pushed the other against the hard wooden surface behind her, placing the dagger against her neck so she could feel the cold sting.

"I hate you." There words came out like a whisper, forced close enough to her ears that he could feel the heat of his breath. It could not satisfy his need to let his hurt be known. "I hate you!" The boy screamed now, wanting nothing more than to have her ears bleed from the volume of his voice. Pan moved his head to face her directly. "You had your chance and ran when all of this became too difficult. You hid, shy and useless, while that despicable monster ripped me apart. You betrayed us all by giving up, by not making amends for the wrongs you did. You were too scared to join me again, so you hid behind the role of a false savior. You set up your sad impersonation of me and the others with your stupid rebel play. Too bad this is all real."

He pushed the blade against her throat slightly more. "I can kill you also, don't forget. What reason do I have to do otherwise?"

[infxni]

Resurface

He could sense a change within the island as though the spark of war was within him. Pan may have been warped into a shadow of who he once was, but that did not stop the connection he held to the island. The centuries he resided on the land had long ago planted a seed within him. Should anything put the island at risk, the seed grew and blossomed, raising alarm to the boy despite how twisted he was. The sensation was like an electric shock to the brain, painful yet rejuvenating as Peter became filled with wonder and new meaning in the war. In this wild game of chess, someone had made the first move. Peter could not deny his desire to see what would happen next.

The effort it took to rally his clan together was minimal, of course. One such as Pan who learned to see red had told tales to his followers for what seemed like eons. Stories of bloodshed staining the shores of the island took the place of heroic deeds told lovingly by doting mothers. Fight, he would demand of the small children and hardened veterans of the island, at times even pairing them together to defend their very lives. From this demand, the boys he had taken under his wing were savages to the core.  His group of menacing boys far too lusting for blood picked up their arms and marched onward into the battle. Joy and glory could only be solidified if they were to fight for it. Pan would not accept anything else.

In the dead of night, Pan and his group bled into the battle, drawn to the chaos like a moth to flame. Havoc reigned upon their arrival as the Lost Clan triumphed in such atmospheres, taking the lives of pirate, native, and rebel as though they were ants. Peter paid no heed to who his followers slaughtered. Everyone was prey to him, including those he once held most dear. In the distance he could see the traitor upon her horse, looking everything but regal in the stone-cold eyes of her previous confidant. The sight caused a rage too ferocious to extinguish. It pulled upon the boy to march toward her, only stopped when someone jumped in between him and his desires, wielding what appeared to be a make-shift sword. Peter instantly drew his own to make the metal clash together, not yet seeing who dared to attack him in the mix of fire and smoke.

"Stand down," he seethed between gritted teeth, eyes boring into the other.

[the-one-who-loves-the-night-dea]

Of course the fighting would start in the night. Tink knew that it would be the best time to attack and nobody would expect it. Nyx didn’t know whether she enjoyed that it happened at night or it ruined what the night meant to her. The night was always peaceful until now. A time where Nyx felt in her element and could take a breath. She walked bare foot on the grass allowed the dew to tingle on her feet. She found a tree that was on a hill, it was one that over looked the town. The tree had a swing on it, which Nyx felt would be a good place to watch the battle. Tonight she wasn’t interesting in fighting, unless she absolutely had to.

Her slender fingers wrapped around the silvery chains attached to the swing. Nyx sat down and rocked back and forth. Her chocolate eyes focused on small fires and ruby red blood being spilled. It was beautiful and captivating from this distance. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the scene unveiling before her. Then she noticed the fact the swing wasn’t squeaking like she remembered when she came here in the past. Her eyes left the battle field and went to the chain beside her. Nyx spoke absent-mindly to herself. “You know, I could have sworn this used to squeak.”

[infxni]

"Perhaps your weight put it out of its misery."

An insulting comment to make, yes, but little else could be expected of the boy who seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He had been watching the female for some time now, curious as to how oblivious she seemed to the chaos below. Atop the hill they could both see the fiery torches permeate the sky with ash and smoke. The innocent screamed in a dis-enchanted chorus as flames licked at their skin. They made a song Peter may have soothing enough for him to slumber to. Misery was his passion. Tinkerbell's forces were laying waste to the port town, making a mark on all inhabitants within. Even Pan was proud of her tonight.

He had done his fair share in the terror, of course. While not set on aiding the traitorous scum, he could not deny pleasure in seeing others suffer. Slaughter came second nature to the boy with little left to lose, and like a force of nature he brought heartache to both sides of the war as though everything were a joke. As his clan fought with little concern about who they were harming, in due time Pan grew bored. There was only so much to do when he felt he was the best at everything. Entertaining the idea of who could be lurking beyond the town caused him to slip away. And such was how he ended up upon the hill, surveying his carnage and the innocent bystander upon the swing.

He raised an eyebrow imploringly once his presence was known. "Not one for destruction?" he asked, making his way out of the bushes behind her and rounding about to face the other. "I would think a town set ablaze would deserve more attention than a swing."

[warbornhq]

"I have more intelligence in a fingernail than you do in that brain of yours, Pan." Her eyes rolled upwards, a sense of disinterest about Tinkerbell. She had grown used to these encounters as one might grow used to an ache. It still pained her deeply, but she had learned to ignore it, and get on with things. "I don’t have to pretend I’m anything, love. I am free, and you’re still a prisoner. He’s stronger than you, Pan. Sad you can’t see it."

Her scars tingled, yet Tinkerbell watched Peter with a look of boredom. She actually yawned, eyebrows raised as she looked around at their mossy surroundings before landing her gaze back on Peter. “Are you quite done with your dramatics?” She asked, clearly unimpressed, a master of her own countenance. Tink never betrayed herself, especially not to this woeful boy. “You’ve stolen from me, Peter. You left me to die, yes,” She took a step closer, face a snarl of disgust. “But I have never felt more alive.”

[infxni]

"Should I rip those off too?" Surely, Pan was not above such gruesome acts. The very idea almost made him shiver in excitement, yet he contained himself to the sickening grin growing with each sentence.The woman's apparent disinterest in the conversation did little to phase him then. "You're pretending right now, girl." He licked his lips. "Even if you were free, you'd still amount to nothing." By now his tongue had a mind of its own, running amok in a desperate attempt to get a rise of of someone already so broken. It was all Peter could do to get her attention. 

But then she yawned as though there were a gentle lull between them, as if Peter was a mere figment of her cracked brain. Pretending did little to ease the sadness he felt toward her. Unlike the girl, Pan's facade could only go so far. The weight of hurt tugged at his heartstrings. A numbness settled within him. Yes, he was dramatic in every sense of the word. Feelings and sensations filled more more than he would ever admit or wish to show. His smile faded at the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth. "This is your fault," the male growled back, teeth gritting against each other with each syllable. "You caused all of this: my capture, losing yourself, the war. You can't keep anyone safe." He grew louder, arms reaching out to push the girl away. "Whatever life you may feel won't last. Hook will have your head decorating his figurehead soon enough."

[warbornhq]

"Am I supposed to be afraid? A delusional little boy king that doesn’t see the puppet strings hanging from his back?" She quirked an eyebrow. "You’re one of Hook’s little pets, you should not fool yourself into believing you’re more."

[infxni]

"If you were anywhere near intelligent, yes." His eyebrows furrowed together in frustration, his anger steadily rising within. "You're the delusional one, acting as though you are high and mighty when you're truthfully the dirt I walk on." His jaw clenched tightly then and he allowed a moment of silence to fall between them. It was after that a wicked smile played across his lips, morphing his displeasure into a twisted enjoyment.

"I stole your very being with nothing more than my fingers. Don't tell me that I'm a pet when I held your freedom in the palm of my hand. You're nothing more than a hollow shell because of what I did. Stop pretending that you amount to anything else."

[warbornhq]

"Nah, darling, I was hoping to use that lovely, fat head of yours for my feet."

[infxni]

"Excuse me? I'd would watch your mouth, if I were you."

"I should have stomped you out with my boot when I had the chance. You're no queen."

[warbornhq]

"— and it belongs to me.”

[infxni]

"Big words for a small girl. Looks more like a footstool, if anything."

[vera-syreni]

Viviana closed up shop early. After her conversation with James and the flashes of memories or visions or hallucinations or whatever the hell they were, she needed some fresh air. She was trying not to freak out. She was failing miserably. Her arms crossed tightly across her chest, she was lost in her own thoughts, trying to remember a past that didn’t exist, a fake life that wasn’t hers. Or was it? Whatever these things she was seeing meant, she knew something was definitely wrong and this world wasn’t what it seemed. 

So wrapped up in her own problems, Viv failed to notice the boy, and in particular, his foot. Tripping on it, she went sprawling but managed to catch herself on the bench before she hit the ground. Rage flared up in her, her heated gaze falling on the boy as she righted herself. “Or perhaps you should watch who you decide to trip you little-” she stopped, shocked as her hand reach for the boys throat, as if it had a mind of its own. Quickly pulling pack and shoving her hand into her pocket, she finally look at the boy’s face.

She felt as if a cold bucket of water had been dumped on her. It was him. The boy on the flyer the sheriff had showed her. The thing that started this spiraling trail of visions in her head. “You- You’re Peter,” she stuttered, staring at him in disbelief. 

[infxni]

He was enjoying himself far too much in seeing the woman tumble downward. Pan snorted at the spectacle, and though he tried his best to escape the woman's vengeance, Peter's footwork was not fast enough to prevent a hand swiftly reach for his neck. A moment of panic flashed before his facade as eyes widened and lips curled in terror. Just as quickly as such a look came, however, so it faded and waned as Vera held herself back. A flash of anger dissolved into wonder. It made Peter consider if she knew what was going on too.

Then again, Peter definitely would have been dead had Vera understood the situation she was in. Her voice would not have been so astounded at his name either. Everyone knew who Peter Pan was, perhaps not in this world but deep within the fact remained so. As he pondered the possibility of the spell waning, head spinning at the thought. If it were so, there was only so little time left before his reign ended, at least in this world. 

Re-addressing the woman who continued to stand before him, Peter had gained enough composure to settle into his over-confident self. He cocked his head to side and mockingly applauded the girl. "Bravo, you're probably the smartest person in this stupid little town." His voice was heightened to where it sounded like a father cooing a child for some mediocre task. Yes, Peter was already back to pushing the mermaid's buttons. "Not that it's that large of a compliment, mind you."

[steelvengeance]

Far too distracted with his phone and the twenty million urgent e-mails he had with angry exclamations stamped on every single one of them, he was not at all paying attention before he found his own foot caught on something in the way, losing his footing he caught his balance luckily but the voice that perked up behind did not sit well with him. An angry snarl on his lips he turned round to face the boy he’d been looking for, this ‘Peter’ kid who’d been apparently harassing people. 

"You should watch who you’re tripping up." he growled back, taking a step towards him. 

A small flicker of distant angry recognition lighting up while he had a proper look at the boy. An urge to actually murder the innocent boy in front of him, he had no idea why, his left hand ached gradually building into stabbing pains shooting up and down his arm. 

Making a move towards him, he curled his fingers around the lapels of his coat and hoisted him up from where he was sat, something strangely familiar about him but James had never properly seen him till today. “Been looking for you, lad, you’re coming with me.” 

[infxni]

His choice of victim had been all too perfect, he came to realize as the former captain reeled about in complete anger at Pan's actions. All Peter could do was smirk, cocky as ever in demeanor and response. "You wouldn't have fallen if your old eyes had seen what was ahead of you. Must be terrible, being so frail and clumsy." Just as the final words slipped through his lips, Peter found himself hoisted upward. Still, the boy's mood could not be disturbed. Pan acted in a way far opposite from someone about to get in a potential fight, going so far as to laugh in the other's face.

The laugh did subside eventually, but his mood continuously escalated. "Oh really?" the youth implored, now attempting to free himself from the other's grasp. Hands far smaller than his captor worked at the others wrist. It took a good shove before Peter was able to stand back, unhindered. "Can't think of any good reason to follow you. With your previous display, I run a better chance on my own compared to being your crutch." Eyebrows contorted themselves along with his matter-of-fact expression. "What makes you think you can boss me around?"