the calm before the storm

Gage ~ Pirate ~ lostineverland-rpg

[animationmonique]

A map to Neverland

[oncealostboy-blog]

He had lost her. 

He had lost her again. 

Read More

[pirate-gage]

It felt like it ought to storm, if only to relieve the island of the electricity that seemed to hang from the boughs of the trees. The air tasted like metal and smelled like salt, making the hair on the back of Gage’s neck stand up and shards of ice gather at the center of his bones. 

Ever since the stars had shifted, Gage had felt ever so slightly off-balance. It wasn’t natural, what had happened. It was unprecedented. Gage had spent much of his time at sea reading maps, restoring maps, making new ones; the sky here now resembled none of them, and that had remained like a burr at the back of his mind since the day the sun set for good. He couldn’t put the sky back in place, but he had finally decided that he would just have to make this nightmarish atmosphere its own place. He had the materials, and he had the time. So here Gage was, wind tugging at his hair like skeletal hands, trudging towards the mountain that stood at the island’s center to get a better look at the sky. But it was a decision that he was quickly coming to regret.

What made this night so different from the others? What had happened? Something terrible had been released, that much was clear from the very texture of the moonlight — but what did the island have left to upheave that hadn’t already been released?

Perhaps that wasn’t a question that he should want to ask himself. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that Neverland always had something else to throw at you.

There was rumbling. It was faint and far away, but its vibrations made their way up his spine to rattle his skull — it sounded like the ground was preparing to gape open wide and swallow the sinners it harbored, in the same way some of the crew claimed it stole the corpses that littered the forest after one of the Lost Boy’s games. Gage had never put much stock in their tales (he had heard all that and more, cloaked in the shadows that clung to corners as men from every corner of the world sun their tales), but in that instant, he realized how naive that assumption had been. Neverland was different. Wishing that it wasn’t wouldn’t change a thing.

Startled from his thoughts by the trembling of the earth, Gage took his eyes off his feet to find, much to his dismay, that he had walked a bit farther than he had intended, surrounded by trees and the whistling wind. If he stood very still, it sounded like the air carried a scream with it.

Instead of doing that, Gage turned and ran back the way he had come.

He ran towards the spires of the castle, his eyes fixed only on them, even as the insubstantial hands that grabbed at him seemed to become more and more solid by the minute. More than once, he saw something darker than night swoop down from the trees and rush past him. They struck terror in his heart, which seemed to know what they were even if he did not. His breath came in short puffs, the pencil he had tucked in his pocket poking his leg as his strides got longer.

But somewhere ahead of him, someone else was breathing.

Was it one of the remaining Lost Boys, out looking for someone to blame for the destruction of their collective lives? A fairy? Something worse? Whoever it was, Gage didn’t want to face them unarmed. He drew his knife and kept running, hoping against hope that the person would turn away, because he for one certainly would not.

They didn’t turn. Their footsteps were starting to fumble ever so slightly, like they had been running for some time now. Gage was about to go back on his word and turn away, even though the other runner had no doubt seen him by now (he didn’t want an altercation, no matter who it was with, not now, when the forest seemed increasingly intent on devouring all that walked within it) when one of those dark shapes darted down, heading directly for the runner. Gage caught a glimpse of disheveled hair and a brown eye that seemed strangely familiar, even in its panic. Very familiar. He had seen him before — Gage had almost thought the boy Hook had been so anxious about had met his end. And for some reason, Gage sprang forward, knocking the Baelfire to the ground.

Maybe it was the look on his face that had spurred Gage on, recognizing a bit of himself there. Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction, or that flicker of recognition. But the shadow passed over them like a sheet of ice, chilling his blood and draining his strength, and the hazard the boy posed abruptly returned.

Gage scrambled back to his feet, feet, his knife still clutched before him in his shaking fingers and his stomach full of unease. With his luck, Baelfire had become just another Lost Boy despite what he had been before, and Gage's moment of altruism would cost him his life.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, out of breath and hoarse, unable to see the boy’s face again as a cloud passed in front of the sickly moon.

[inked-black-books]

[crucigera]

No, I’m not ok. But I haven’t been ok since I was 11, maybe 12. I am still here though. I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough

Clementine Von Radics (via unabashinglyme)

[comeintothereverie]

[iocanes]

[pirate-gage]

Doherty (from Dochartaigh): People of the Oaks, Unlucky

[alisha-mae]

Alisha pushed through the branches that reached into the space of the barely-there path she was following, hearing the decaying leaves cracking feebly under her feet as she paused, looking around, to push her hair back from her face. She couldn’t yet hear the still water of the harbor by the castle, but she could smell the ocean in front of her, guiding her vaguely through the treacherous tangle of woods toward the ship she’d seen from the mountain about an hour before. It had been only four days since she had spoken with Captain Hook in the forest and he had offered her a place on his ship. She hadn’t wanted to wait too long, though and miss her chance to join him— especially after she had met that fairy, Vidia, on the mountain. And now, strange dark shapes had appeared around the island, as well, blocking out the stars as they flew above the trees with their strange, bright eyes piercing the night. On Neverland, the occasional and distant scream of another person was not completely out of the ordinary, though it never failed to put her on edge. Within the last day, however, she had heard the most horrific cries, twice— first a girl, far away, and later a man, both screaming with such agony she had no doubt they were dying, and dying terribly. She had no intention of meeting the the thing that had caused those deaths. And if her plan helped her avoid the creatures that were proving themselves so deadly, then it was all the more reason to expedite the process.

The most reassuring part of joining the pirates, Alisha supposed, was that she had to do very little to gain their trust. The plan was appealing in its simplicity, which also allowed her an easy way to step back safely if the situation changed, and she had to let the plan go. As long as she proved her loyalty to Hook, she would have no elaborate lies or character to keep up, and all that would be required of her would be to align herself with the goals of the pirates. She would be allowed to hide in plan sight. There was no reason why, given a little time, she would not be trusted to guard the Lost Boys on her own. And this, she hoped for her own sake, would lead her to Pan.

[pirate-gage]

The brink of the beach was such an odd place, balanced on a knife’s edge between one world and the next. The earth and the sea were in a constant battle, one wearing away at the other like two stones on a grinding wheel, each being sanded down slowly by the other, disappearing into dust as the sand vanished into the depths and the foam dissolved on the shore. It was a place of neither here nor there, not quite belonging to either world but with a foot in each. That is where Gage sat, sheltered in the shadow of the castle like a child hidden in his mother’s skirts, running his thumb over the knots in a worn bit of rope.

Since the day he had first stepped onto the Jolly Roger, stepped out of Ramin’s grasp and off of solid ground that had trapped him for so long, Gage had never thought to look back. He had found a place to belong, squeezed in among the crew. A pirate. Others would look at him like he was crazy for thinking so, but the ship was where he was safe. Perhaps, by the definition of those who would doubt him, that was not altogether true; he had compiled his own set of scars and stories over the years, seen battle and blood and explored the underbelly of the world. But at the end of the night, he could fall into a dreamless sleep, wake up with the rising sun, and do it all over again of his own free will. No longer were there masked men hawking over his every move. No longer was he struggling to hear his own thoughts over the clamor in his head. No longer were his limbs bent by the wills of others, his own body turned against himself and forced into the fire. That was the safety Gage ached for. Peace of mind. And with every sail he unfurled, every wave he rode and every storm he weathered, every knot he tightened and every new shore he touched, he found that.

It was too almost good to be true.

Loop the rope around itself. Twist it and loop twice more. Pull it tight, Uncoil. Repeat.

It had been too good to be true.

Because the blood had settled in the crevices of his skin, blood he barely even remembered spilling — could it even be said that he had been the one who had spilled it? There were some among the crew who certainly thought so, the ones who had wanted to hang him for treason against the captain right there on the spot.

Because it had been him, but it hadn’t, it had been that shadow with the the eyes like dying stars — but for a spell, they had been one and the same, him and the ghost, but now it was just him. Sitting. 

The rope was beginning to fray at the edges.

The crew had to know that Gage never would have attacked the captain had he been in his right mind, didn’t they? The captain had to know -- Hook, who had many made mistakes but had still saved his life all that time ago and to whom he owed it now. And it made Gage’s fingers slip off his knot, to think that the whole lot of them saw him as a villain, a menace. A freak.

Of course, they were right, weren't they?

He was dangerous. He was unstable. He couldn't avoid the magic humming through his veins, even when he kept it stoppered tight until he felt like he would erupt, fire falling from his palms and burning through his chest. Even with all his efforts, the shadow had managed to duck through his defenses and take a hold of his soul.

Gage hadn't held on tightly enough, not tightly enough to keep firm his tenuous hold on control -- control that he had never truly had, not even over himself. He hadn't been careful enough, and look what happened.

And now everything that he had striven to gain for himself had been ruined, all because a fiend had stolen his body from himself. Rarely had his simmering sense of self-loathing burned with the fervor that it did now -- this outburst had been his worst mistake, because this time, he had something to lose. It made him sick.

Gage had been twisting the rope all this time, dark head bent low atop stooped shoulders, eyes focused on the knots that his fingers flew about, without really seeing. His knotting had grown more and more forceful as he slipped further into agitation until it reached near-violent efforts, and the poor frayed rope couldn't take it anymore. It snapped, bringing Gage back to his senses, staring blankly at the severed twine clutched in his trembling hands.

How much farther could he unravel before he too snapped?

Gage stood atop his craggy perch, toes curling around the edges, and threw the fragments into the sea.

[technologicalpagan]

[steelhandedstingray-blog]

His fist clenched in his hair, breath stilling at the rapping at his cabin door. Demons didn’t knock, nor did imps or Crocodiles that only left someone of the human variety, and for what it was worth he hoped it was someone he recognized. A crew member, perhaps. 

And then the voice, quiet behind the thick oaken door, and there was a curl in his lip that shone white with a gleam of a smile. Gage, the youngest of his crew, one he’d taken a liking to for quite obvious reasons. Though his own question of the boy’s loyalty was still wavering. But for now, until things came down to harsh realities, Hook would continue to play in the boy’s favour. 

Jerking the cabin door open, wide enough to lean half his body out into the corridor, he stared quietly down at Gage. Head tilting slowly with an arched brow. “Gage- might I help you with something, lad?”

Wasn’t as if the young pirate came knocking at his door all too often, then again, with Hook shouting threats with whomever might be passing by, he supposed there might have been reason. And the captain very much doubted he was here to check on his own self worth. 

Reaching inside his coat picket he pulled out his flask, giving it a shake in the lad’s direction. “Or perhaps you came down for a drink and a chat.” Pulling the cork with his teeth, he took a long pull before giving the boy another stare. “So which was it, lad? Don’t be shy, we’re mates, aye?”

[pirate-gage]

No, there was nothing Gage needed help with -- nothing that the Captain would be able to assist him with, anyway, since he doubted that the man had the ability to put the stars back in their proper places or to explain why his feet were inexplicably rooted to the worn wooden floorboards despite the faint urge to take a step back to escape the rum-tainted cloud of Hook's breath.

He hadn't seen much of the captain since the sun last set; the man had been busy, he supposed, and it wasn't like Gage had been in the mood to see him, after he had accepted the help of that fairy. Fairies weren't to be trusted.

But before him now stood his captain, looking all the worse for wear after the past dark weeks. The shadows that ringed his eyes were as dark as any swirling outside, his eyes themselves just as wild. His hair was in disarray, standing on edge like it was ready to leap off his head and flee the island, leaving them all behind. It almost made Gage embarrassed to have found his captain like this; having kept Hook at arm's length and in firmly in a position of authority, it made him uncomfortable to see him fall so far.

Hook pulled a corked flask (evidently the source of the alcohol on his breath) and continued speaking, but the most peculiar thing was happening. I was just passing by, Gage's mind said, I'll be going now, but something cold was spreading through his veins like lead, numbing the alarm that flared and quickly flickered out at once.

"Aye."

Gage could feel himself nodding, his voice flat and his fingers cold and beyond his reach. His fingers were never cold -- they were never still, and yet now they hung like stone at his sides. This should have worried him, but that part of him had been frozen for the time being, shut down to make room for something new and altogether insidious.

Blackness prickled at the edges of his vision, and if Hook had been bent over just an inch further, he might have seen the way Gage's irises were giving way to emptiness.

"May I come in?"

[steelhandedstingray-blog]

There weren’t many times the pirate captain could count when he had truly been afraid. Watching his love die, without any means of help, the staggering heartbeat of a young Naval sailor right before he took his first steps into the unknown. The feelings is father struck into him, heavy and hard, and unrelenting. But now—

It was only a matter of time before that one particular shadow decided to hunt him down. Playing it’s little game with his head. Hell, even the ticking was drowned out by the wooshing of winds, every time one drew close. And it wasn’t as if a shadow could be run through, or struck down. Trapped, but even that required a bit of difficulty. 

Perhaps it would pass. Perhaps he would also be free of this hell. At the moment the latter seemed more probable. 

Boarded up in his cabin, Hook paced, the one bloody comfort he had was now feeling just as useless as the rest of the island. His beloved ship, his sanctuary, she was beginning to lose her hold. 

He would not loose her, not like this. Not here. Not ever. As much as he would never admit it, a part of him lived in her. The best parts, and it was Killian that refused to let that die. 

Storming back on deck, rain and wind whipping around him as if the skies knew things were only getting worse. A ringed hand tugged at his tresses as his hook smacked into the wood of the helm, splintering under the pressure. A decision he’d regret later, but there was a destructiveness inside of him that would not be quelled. 

"Is this what you want?!" Arms stretched wide, and Hook gave a dark laugh, teeth gleaming in the dark. "You can’t rip the soul from a dead man, let alone his damn shadow!" 

Finely tuned to the sounds of his ship, an out of place c r e a k had him spinning with a narrowed brow.

Shadows didn’t creak.

"Who’s there? I suggest making yourself known before my hook finds your neck."

[pirate-gage]

Gage had a headache. Of course, that wasn't unusual, but it was different tonight -- he was accustomed to intermittent spams, jolts like lightening that seared his mental sky with angry fire; this was like a shroud had been placed over his eyes, making the world hazy and far away from him, confined within the veritable coffin that his skull had become. Were it any other night, he would have been more concerned, but strange things were crawling about the island tonight. No doubt the sensation was just left over from his unsettling encounter with Baelfire in the shadowed wood... After all, Gage was used to strange things happening in his head, far more so than he should be. He felt so distant only because he had not slept in far too long. The periods of blankness stemmed from the stress he had been through over the last few hours. There was no alternative that he would consider, especially not one regarding the chill that had settled in his bones since the glittering eyes of that thing had cut through the murky night like hellish stars.

No, he would not consider that, even as he felt like his breath would frost the air in front of him.

Perhaps his exhaustion was also to blame for his poorly placed footsteps when he finally made his way back to the ship -- is this how the older men felt when they drowned themselves in rum to lose their mind for the night, not quite able to control their outermost extremities?

Lost in these thoughts, the last thing he expected was to be shouted at, threatened by a faceless voice that he recognized anyway without seeing. Feet frozen upon the latest offending board, he lifted his head slowly to look about himself. To his left was the captain's quarters, from which Hook's voice had carried, accompanied by an uncomfortable crunching sound.

Gage's first instinct was to leave Hook to his thoughts (which seemed to be becoming darker and more convoluted with each dawnless day that passed), but he was in no mood to receive a hook to the neck, so he turned and knocked on the worn wooden door, hoping that it would not startle the man within.

"Captain?" There was a moment's silence, so Gage quickly continued. "It's Gage."

[pxrcelaintosteels]

He clings to his hate so stubbornly, because once the hate is gone he’ll have no other choice but to deal with his pain.

(via theimpalpable)

[radnorsgrin-deactivated20170303]

Visit Original Link

The Hanging Tree - The Hunger Games

(fan arrangment by adrisaurus)

(cover art by ~La-Chapeliere-Folle)

[radnorsgrin-deactivated20170303]

[unforgetabledepressed]

[stunningpicture]

Half a moon

[panthereve-deactivated20211123]

Tiger Lily clicked her tongue again. People answered questions how people answered questions, and if their response was unsatisfactory, then there wasn’t much she could do about it except push. And she’d already pushed for Gage’s name—she wasn’t really sure how close he’d be to snapping at her. She wasn’t good at reading people. So, she said nothing except, “That’s fair.”

She looked out on the horizon again, trying to see the sticks of the ship, and frowned when she couldn’t. It was too dark for her eyes, at least until a cloud uncovered the moon. She turned back to Gage and rested her chin in her palm, watching his silhouette carefully. “How do you know there’ll be pirates waiting to kill me for fun if I venture too far? Sounds like you’ve been speaking from experience.”

[pirate-gage]

It seemed that his original judgement had been a bit off the mark; uninformed as she was, the girl perched opposite him was catching on quickly. Gage shifted, settling more comfortably into the crook of the bough with one leg dangling off to the side and the other pulled close to his chest. "Well, every knows that." Mostly everyone. "Except you, I guess."

She said he spoke from experience, and it was there that her curiosity came a little too close for comfort. He did, true, but not in the way she would expect -- his experiences had not been at the hands of the pirates, but rather gleaned from the sidelines as other less fortunate souls wandered across their path. To mention death was to exaggerate slightly, but Gage knew that someday soon the boredom would be just a bit too much, and the light of some poor little Dreamer or leftover Lost Boy would be snuffed out for good. "But -- I... not really." He plucked at a loose thread in the fabric of his pants with careful focus, chin balanced on his knee.

[thethieflordscreencaps-blog]