#nrpg honesty

[cptxhook]

Is there anything Peter could ever do to win you back?

truth be told…

“Hmm…” He pondered, polishing the hook that replaced his hand. “I think…” He started, apparently calm. Too calm. “That maybe….Just maybe….” He looked up, a storm in his gaze. “He could bring her back.” James said, unable to pronounce her name, grief and anger present in his hushed voiced. “He could bring my friends back!” He snapped, getting up from the chair he was sitting it with enough force to make it fall back, crashing on the floor loudly. “He could give them all back to me and give Wendy Darling to the crocodile instead.” He explained through gritted teeth, the nails of his hand digging into the skin of his palm as he made a fist with it, a dull ache that he didn’t feel. Not really. "He could suffer. Cry me a river and beg on his knees for my forgiveness and then I can make him watch Wendy and Tinkerbell get teared apart. He can cut his own arm and leg off, he can burn in hell and come back and then I would spit in his face.” It was this grief, this anger, this thirst for revenge that gave James his reputation.Standing there was the terrible Captain Hook. “Nothing he ever does or says will ever fix him. He is a monster and I would rather die than go back to him.”

[acexfhearts-blog]

What’s your most terrifying memory?

“I don’t-… I don’t like to think about that sort of thing. Why would I want to when I have so many happier ones I can visit?”

Ace’s fingers drummed restlessly as he attempted to push the flood of unwanted memories from popping up front and center in his mind. Most of them were blurry, tinged with an unholy pain that kept his body feeble and useless, and accented with a nausea that never seemed to fade. Alien hands always reaching to prod and pet him, gawking eyes that peered over his bedside like he was a caged animal. They all blended into one long fever dream, and the more Ace thought about it the more relieved he was that he’d finally woken up.

There was only one memory that rivaled his nightmarish time in the other place. It was sharp and loud and happened all too quickly, but it was as clear as crystal. He’d been in Battle. The game had changed. Ace went from trying to defend himself from a series of blows to rushing his friend and... There was blood. So much blood. He didn’t think so much could all fit inside one person. The taste of it was hot on his tongue and he remembered the way it coated his teeth. His friend didn’t die right away. He struggled, attempting to close the gaping wound in his neck, trying to survive despite the rules of the game clearly stating that only one of them could leave the ring alive. Ace didn’t want to see his friend suffer. That why he’d finished him off. Out of pity- out of mercy.

Ace had never wondered before then what it must’ve been like, watching someone slowly fade away before your very eyes. He’d always been the one crying for help, never the one ignoring the pleas. He’d only acted on orders, but regardless of how many times Ace assured himself that it was allowed, that he was innocent, the guilt of what he’d done never failed to truly shake him to the core. 

[kaneonboard]

What has been one of your happiest memories aboard the Jolly Roger?

fIt was the middle of the winter and we were all freezing cold on the ship. Charlie thought he would walk around without a coat and suddenly the whole crew was on him. You have never seen such a group of mother hens as this bunch of pirates. Hook was chiding him and Nod threw his own coat on him. Isadora threw enough wood on the fire to send it shooting up and Anna made him sit down. I can’t really say that I wasn’t part of it too though. I made the boy have a warm drink and then I gave him some hot stew. It was a funny thing, but it felt like family.

Soon afterwards, Kanaloa sent us something fantastic, a seal. A seal somehow found its way to the shores and it provided us with food for weeks. We ate and we drank and we sang. We told stories about places we’d seen and battles we’d fought. It was one of the first times that I looked around and knew that The Jolly Roger was home.

@cptxhook, @nodofneverland, @wildchildbooth, @runchxrlie, @fortunefavorcd

[cptxhook]

Do you miss being a Lost Boy?

truth be told...

James swallowed thickly, his hand clenching into a fist, jaw and shoulders tensing. It was way too complicated for a yes or a no. It shouldn’t have been, the answer should be the obvious no and yet....

James sighed.

“Some days....” He started, his voice soft, just a whisper. “Some days I do. I miss it so much, it hurts me and I hate myself for it. I miss the adventures and the games, running around feeling invincible. I miss the way it felt...” He said, looking up at the sky, closing his eyes for a moment. “Being free. Truly free.” A hint of a smile hid on the corner of his lips as he made a small pause, remembering old days, easier days, happier days. The rose coloured lens of the memory. “And I miss him.” He admitted, opening his eyes, anger mixed in the hazel eyes. “I miss the way he used to look at me, I miss the way he laughed, I miss chasing him through the forest and fighting by his side. I miss looking up at the stars with him, I miss playing dumb games and swimming in the lagoon. I miss the way he used to call me. I miss feeling larger than life.” 

“But...” He continued, shaking his head to get rid of the fog of sweet memories from his mind, letting reality hit him, pull him back to where he belonged. “Most days I don’t miss it at all. I don’t miss aching from losing a friend, I don’t miss watching little boys getting hurt trying to impress someone who doesn’t give a damn. I don’t miss patching wounds and cleaning tears and explaining that sometimes, games are just like that even when I knew they were not, even when I knew....” He stopped, taking a deep breath to calm the anger boiling deep within him, pushing away the memories of old faces, of lost boys who died in one game or the other, desperate to get Pan’s approval, to show him that they were worth saving. “I don’t miss being another toy for him to toss around, wondering when it will finally break.”

[cptxhook]

What does your crew mean to you?

truth be told...

He took a moment to think about about his answer, to try and put into words what the group of people that had found their way to the Jolly Roger meant to him. 

"Family doesn’t describe them.” He started, a small frown appearing on his features. That sounded wrong, perhaps but it was the truth. “You don’t get to pick your family, the crew... They picked me.” He continued, unsure if his words were making much sense. “They could all leave, I wouldn’t stop them, but they pick to stay by my side, to fight battles that are not theirs. Not really.” He sighed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, tying to sound more poetic, like descriptions in the books he had found through the years. “The bond that we have is stronger than blood. Is choice, it’s trust. I care for them deeply, I would give my life to protect them without a second thought. They...They are my responsibility and they are my friends, siblings in arms. I would’ve lost my mind without them. They are my reason to keep fighting.”

[cptxhook]

What would happen if Peter Pan died?

truth be told…

“My friends would be free. They would be able to find a home in the Other Place, sail the seven seas if that’s what they want.” Hook answered, a small smile appearing on his lips. The crew would have great adventures, maybe Nod would find a nice place to call home and live a quiet life. Charlie could do normal kids things, grow up, be happy. 

“This bloody island would stop excising, it would rot without anyone to feed it.” He continued with a huff. He imagined the plants would die along with Peter, perhaps the winter would slowly take over, perhaps everything would just wither or the island would sink. He didn’t really care much. What mattered was that the crew wouldn’t be cursed to stay in the shores of Neverland.

“The merpeople would need to find another home….The faries might die with the island as well.” He sighed, shrugging again. “We’ll see what happens when I figure out how to kill him.”

[fortunefavorcd-blog]

What's the story with Bowen the Bloody, huh?

honesty week

❝ Where’d you hear that name? What do you know of it? ❞ The story of how she’d come to be a pirate wasn’t one she liked to tell. Even with how openly she shared her history with others, that was one part she preferred to gloss over. She would say only that she’d run away to flee an arranged marriage and that was that. The particulars were ugly and she didn’t care to have them tied to her name, even if she knew Bowen had played a large part in shaping her into the woman she was and for that she was thankful.

There’d been a time when she’d thought she had loved the pirate captain. An incredibly stupid time when the culture shock of the marauder lifestyle had mixed with her blossoming teenage rebellion and created a haze of adoration that had so deeply impaired her judgment. She had never loved him. He’d always been a wretch. It was the courage his infamy had afforded her that she had actually loved. That feeling of being untouchable had been intoxicating, seductive and she’d done things she would forever regret while under its influence. 

They’d both taken too much from one another and expected too steep a price in return.

It was funny, looking back on her days spent aboard that damnable ship now. He was the one whose name had made others tremble and yet she had been the crueler of the pair. 

❝ Bowen the Bloody is nothing more than a coward and I can only hope he’s succumbed to hemp fever by now. ❞

[cptxhook]

What was the best decision you've made?

truth be told…

He looked back on his life, on all the things he had done, all the decisions he had made, all the paths he had chosen that had led him here: captain of a pirate ship, too much blood on his hands, the feeling of betrayal now an old friend. 

He had many regrets, if he could go back, there would be a lot of things he would try and do different, he would say so many things to so many people, try to spill less blood. But in the end, after everything, knowing everything, what choices wouldn’t change? What would he never do differently?

He looked down at his hand and hook. His hook was on his left hand, the same hand that had took Peter’s when offered to come to Neverland. When Peter, with that wild smile of his, offered him a new life, a better life full of adventure and games and never, ever growing up.

“Coming to Neverland.” He whispered softly, a secret he would never reveal. But perhaps he was drunk on melancholy, lost in thought and memory. “Choosing Peter.” He added, so quiet he might’ve never said it.