#baelfiring;

[magicaedestruit]

turn back the hands of time; a recollection

єη∂ιηgѕ

       уσυ мυѕт яємємвєя αℓℓ тнє ѕαмє

              тнαт αт тнє ¢яυχ σƒ єνєяу gαмє

                       ιѕ кησωιηg ωнєη ιт'ѕ тιмє тσ ℓєανє тнє тαвℓє

I've made my peace. Funny, that word; I never thought I'd use it, even less so in that context. But there you go. I'll count my losses and focus on the winnings, and it's time to be checking out. The most important thing is we won, or will win, in the end. Keep her safe, keep him safe and keep yourself safe. That's all I ever hoped to gain from all this.

     αη∂ ιт'ѕ ιмρσятαηт тσ вє αятƒυℓ ιη уσυя єχιт

                  ησ тυяηιηg вα¢к, уσυ мυѕт α¢¢єρт тнє ¢ση ιѕ ∂σηє

                         вυт ησω αη∂ тнєη, уσυ мιgнт яє¢αℓℓ

                                      тнє мσмєηтѕ ωнєη уσυ нα∂ ιт αℓℓ

            уσυ нα∂ тнє ¢нαям, уσυ нα∂ тнє тαℓєηт

              αη∂, му gσ∂, уσυ нα∂ ѕσмє ƒυη

It's dark here, darker than I can remember. Maybe it's the absence of him, and of Emma and Henry. Of anyone I love or have ever loved, really. But I'm planning to change that, Papa. We'll get you back---just you wait.

There are numerous times in my life when I've felt numb, but never have I been physically unable to do anything. To stand by and watch as everything we'd finally built up again crumbles before our eyes? I'm not gonna let that rest. I couldn't for the world. It's my time to chase ghosts and idle hopes.

 Doubt is the most spiteful thing. And it's times like these that remind me exactly why I shouldn't hold grudges in the first place. He's my Papa, nothing'll change that. And I think now's as good a time as any to start trusting him again.

He thinks I should be dead. I should be, shouldn't I? I'm not. And there'll be one hell of a fight before I go down, especially now that I know about the prophecy. If anyone wants to get to my son, they'll have to go through me. Anyone. That includes him; I'll be damned if I don't act like the father he should have been.

Henry and I practice swordfighting every now and again. They're wooden swords, nothing special, but the kid seems happier than ever. I can tell my father's watching us, but I don't acknowledge him. It'll take more than a little goodwill for me to forgive him. Maybe if he observes, he can learn a thing or two about fatherhood. ---That is, if I'm any good at it. I try. I try to be better than him.

Belle, I've been told, is her name. All these years, I've hoped that, if I couldn't do it, at least something or someone else would spark something inside him again, make him see a different way of living. The way he talks to her---he seems to really love her. I suppose there was something good left in him after all.

I almost lost him today. Despite our differences, I still can't bear to lose him.

The nerve to come marching back into my life like that. I finally had everything sorted out, finally had a good life, and in comes the freight train to wreck it all. He suggested using magic to make up for the lost years. I'd suggest using magic to sashay the hell out of my house.

I've found her. Despite everything, I found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And then I lost her. If I'd been given any lessons about how to love another human being, I think they're a distant memory now. I screwed up. We all screwed up. It runs in the family.

Some nights, I lie awake in bed and listen to the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and the breaths that come with it. And I can't help but wonder what he'd say if he was to see me now. Then I realize I don't really care. I shouldn't.

It's a good thing I learned how to survive on my own long before this. Neverland's a scary place, so they say. But once you've seen the darkness in the eyes of someone you once trusted, nothing'll scare you anymore. This is just another challenge.

I've found a home. I wasn't actively looking for one, wasn't expecting to be taken in. If my own parents wouldn't have me, who in the world would? The Darlings. They're my family now. I'll fight for them with my last breath if I have to. I'm no coward, after all.

I don't understand. He promised me---no, we made a deal. He never breaks deals. We were supposed to start fresh, together, away from all the bad things. Away from the magic that's been keeping him so sick and weak. I don't understand him. I don't understand why he did it. But I hate him for it.

I'm sad to see what he's become; if I didn't know better, I'd say he'd fallen ill. His skin grows more sickly by the day, his eyes darker---but the worst part is the shadow that looms over him. He's scared away most of our friends, and now he's starting to scare me. I just want to make him better. I just want my Papa back.

Something happened today, something very bad. I could see the change in him even before he looked me in the eye. Please---I don't want my Papa hurt.

He's hurting, but I don't understand why. I ask him; "Why are you hurting, Papa?", but all he does is put up a smile and tell me it will all be fine. We are happy, the two of us. I thought we were. Are we not?

Mama left today. I don't know where she went, but Papa says she's in a better place. I think that means she's really gone now. I can't sleep very well and wake up at night because I miss her, but Papa lights me a candle to help the bad thoughts go away. I'm glad I still have my Papa; I love my Papa.

Mama told me to stay at home and watch the house. I'm old and brave enough now, I can do that! ...It's very dark in here, though. I wonder when Papa will be home. When he comes home, he seems angry. Did I not do good? I watched the house, like I promised Mama. Maybe Papa doesn't think I'm brave enough just yet.

I got lost in the woods today while playing with Morraine. Mama yelled when Papa brought me home, then hugged me like Papa did when he found me. Maybe next time, we'll stay closer to the house.

It's my birthday today. Papa got me a whole slice of cake with a red candle on! He said Mama is out celebrating. It's dark when she comes home, and I'm already in bed, but her voice wakes me up. "Baelfire," she says, and she smells funny. "I love you, Bae." My Papa gave me cake and Mama loves me. I had a happy birthday. 

Sometimes, I wonder how things would've turned out if he'd stayed and fought. Would she have stayed, if he'd returned home after a real battle, injured and traumatized? Would she have raised me on her own, had he not survived? I don't have enough memories of her to determine whether or not she would've been a good single mother.

But Papa, despite everything? He did alright in the end.

Now it's time for him to let go.

[magicaedestruit]

Little thing

Send "Little thing" and my character will tell you something as a child.

I saw a falling star last night, Papa. I wished it would give you peace of mind—-you look so tired. I wish you didn’t have to be tired and sad all the time.

[magicaedestruit]

12) My muse’s first contact with a representative of another culture (or species, in an SF/F setting).

"Think ‘e’s dead?"

The voices were distant, then, but they came with an accent that Baelfire surely would have raised his eyebrows at, had he been fully aware of the situation. They spoke a language similar to the one he was familiar with, but with a very peculiar cadence to it, almost foreign. Almost?

"Poke’m with a stick an’ find out. ‘Ere, lemme at it."

There was a dull sensation to the boy’s left side, before it became so sharp it shook him back to full consciousness in a snap of a moment. The scruffy-looking youth sat up, rubbing his head and blinking a few times in attempt to regain grip on the situation. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was—-the portal, of course. He’d opened a portal between worlds with a magic bean with the intention of taking his father to this new world without magic, but…

The memory was too fresh on his mind, so fresh it made him wince. In stead, he decided to focus on the situation at hand. Jolting upward, he startled the band of boys that had been hovering over his crumpled-up and unconscious body just moments ago.

"It lives!"

Bae frowned at the remark; what an odd thing to say.

"I am no ‘it’. W—-who are you? Where am I?"

The boys exchanged glances, before throwing a collective, questioning -and perhaps slightly ridiculing- look in his direction. The boy that had called him an ‘it’ spoke up once more.

"Are you daft, or what? Your mum drop you on the head? Why, look around you, kid; you’re in London."

Of course, Baelfire didn’t need further urging to indeed look around, studying his surroundings for as far as his gaze could stretch, and he frowned in conclusion that, in contrast with his homeland, the horizon was clouded by buildings, and the streets were as crowded as a small village on a market day—-perhaps even more crowded. But what puzzled him more was the odd name the older boy had given him.

"What’s a London?”

The three street rats shook their heads, playing it off as though they’d just dragged something insane out of the gutter—-but in the end, this first impression had given them enough incentive to keep the strange young lad around. Because if someone didn’t know what ‘a London’ was, surely they must have quite the interesting story to tell.

[magicaedestruit]

"I don’t like people touching my things…” (I don't care if i'm late yolo)

"Well, you shouldn’t have put them in the sharing circle, then."

Baelfire narrowed his eyes at the slightly older boy, tipping his head just a little to the side as he looked him over. Peter Pan had a golden ‘mi casa es su casa’ rule of holding a sharing circle every once in a while to build trust among the Lost Boys, where they would place items of emotional value in a circle for the other boys to share with for a day. Bae wasn’t quite sure whether this had the intended effect on the boys, however, since more often than not, sharing circles would cause conflict, for example if one of the cheekier boys would have the brilliant idea of stealing a very personal item from another boy and putting it in the circle. Then again, perhaps that had been Pan’s plan all along; he liked a bit of strife and competitional behavior among the boys, so long as at the end of the day, they were still loyal to him.

Pressing his lips together, Baelfire allowed for his expression to soften a bit as he produced a bit of a sigh. He could understand where Rufio was coming from, really; it was one thing to share and care, but some of these boys had items from their ‘past lives’ in their possession, and to have to share those with the rest of the boys at the risk of something getting damaged wasn’t exactly the best feeling in the world. Opening his hand, he held out the item he had taken from the circle and offered it back to Rufio.

"Don’t tell Peter, I don’t think he’d approve of us giving back circle items before sundown."

[magicaedestruit]

ANGSTTTT

Put an 'angst please' in my ask and I'll generate a number 1-10 and see what our muses get

2. My muse is curled in a ball on the ground, screaming in pain and calling out for help. Your muse comes to the rescue.

It had been a foolish decision, to wander off in the forest all by himself; due to the nature of his father’s business, Baelfire and Rumpelstiltskin changed locations every so often, and every time they did, the boy needed to explore the surroundings of their lodgings all over again. His father had always told him not to stray too far, and this time, he would find out exactly why his father had always been so overly concerned about him being in danger if he would stray off the beaten path.

It was running late in the afternoon and Bae knew he was supposed to return to the small hut where his father would be waiting for him with dinner, but he had found some berries just off the path, only a few feet away from the track he was supposed to be following. It couldn’t hurt to go off the path just a little if he would return afterwards, could it? Oh, but it would. It steadily grew darker, and finding a large set of bushes that contained a rich amount of berries, Baelfire got a little too enthusiastic in plucking them. Eventually, it became too dark for him to navigate his way back to the trail he had been following, and he was well and truly lost.

Upon stumbling through the forest, however, he noticed something remarkable in the distance, something that looked to be a tower of sorts. With youthful logic, he figured navigating towards the tower wouldn’t be all that difficult, and perhaps he could ask for directions there. Perhaps that plan might have worked out, had he not stepped straight into a bear trap the moment he set foot near the bush that bordered on the tower grounds.

The trap’s rusty iron teeth sank deep into the skin of his leg, clamping around it like giant iron jaws with a force intense enough to snap a bone. He cried out, both in pain and surprise, and sank to the ground, curling up as an initial reaction, before he attempted to pry the trap loose, but to no avail. Darkness had settled in completely, and he was caught in a trap that was supposed to catch bears. How long before the actual bear would show up to devour him, skin and bone and clothes? With that in mind, he began to shout frantically, waving his arms around in hopes someone would catch sight of him in the dim light of the moon that pried through a curtain of leaves overhead.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

[magicaedestruit]

Do, or did, you have a favorite thing of your Papa's? Something he owned, but that you really liked?

I’ve always liked the cane he used to keep track of my growth as it made me feel proud of how big I’d grown. He always told me I could have it once I was old enough—-I figured back then he meant once I was old enough to have to use a cane to walk, like he does, but…I guess he was talking about being old enough to use magic.

[magicaedestruit]

Best memories from Neverland? Not present day but when you were a kid.

Back when Pan and his boys thought they would be able to convince me to become one of them…they were very nice to me. I was almost inclined to believe they were actually my friends. Almost.

It’s a good thing I didn’t listen, but…yeah, they were nice. Tried to involve me in things. I wasn’t used to being involved.

[magicaedestruit]

What's one of your fondest memories as a child?

Spending evenings with my mama and papa, sitting on papa’s knee while he read me stories—-yeah, long time ago.