Neverland is home to lost boys like me
and lost boys like me are free
“You’re very kind,” Fang offers her another smile, telling himself that the gesture doesn’t look as hollow as it feels (he wills his lips to twist a little wider, his eyes to crinkle a little more at the corners, wishing it to come as effortlessly as it once had). The lighthearted boy still lives, somewhere, beneath all of the pain and despair that have been shackled to his shoulders. His eyes dart to the side as two young foals bound past them, giggling in a game of chase, and he feels a flutter of something hopeful in the aching of his chest. He can’t remember the last time he saw children able to play so freely.
His gaze is brimming with more emotion than he intends when the red stallion returns his attention to Caelum. Glancing to the stone beneath his feet, he blinks quickly before looking up again, rounded ears tipping forward to hear her describe her tea shop. Noting the pride in her tone, Fang can’t help the little smile that skews his dark lips. “I believe you,” he says, amused, with something that’s almost a chuckle in his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to enjoy a cup of tea,” he treads carefully now, resisting the flood of memories that rises in his mind, and their throng of emotions that wait to ravage him with times long-lost.
What have I become? He laments quietly, looking to the fairy-like stranger and wondering what she can see in him, wondering how translucent his paper-thin façade really is.
Knowing he has never been a good liar, Fang is grateful for Caelum’s discretion. She receives him graciously, explaining her familiarity with this new world—this new court—and offers him her aid. With a bruised heart that has been skinned and left bleeding, her generosity feels familiar and warm.
“I have a lot of questions,” the stallion admits, almost sheepish. “Maybe you could show me around the city?” He tips his head forward, allowing her to shepherd him through the streets, if she is willing to be his guide. It is a simple request, one that gives him a few moments to sort through his thoughts. “What…” Fang hesitates, trying to decide where to start. “What is Novus like? Is there more than one empire?—uh, court? If so, then what separates one court from another?” He recalls Caeleste, and how each empire had been divided into seasons by their patron deity. Are gods as relevant here as they had been at home?
Here, would the gods die for their people?
Reminded of the demise of his beloved goddess, Fang presses his lips together, seeing the darkness and its monsters again as the images flash unbidden in his mind. Vasanta had given him life again, only to sacrifice Her own. The war of the Terrors had raged and ruined everything that lived, so powerful was the devastation that even the divine could not be spared from the hungry shadows. His heart still races at the memories, so he glances away, barely able to whisper the words for fear of the answer:
“Is it peaceful here?”
tag; @Caelum
“…”
His gaze is brimming with more emotion than he intends when the red stallion returns his attention to Caelum. Glancing to the stone beneath his feet, he blinks quickly before looking up again, rounded ears tipping forward to hear her describe her tea shop. Noting the pride in her tone, Fang can’t help the little smile that skews his dark lips. “I believe you,” he says, amused, with something that’s almost a chuckle in his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to enjoy a cup of tea,” he treads carefully now, resisting the flood of memories that rises in his mind, and their throng of emotions that wait to ravage him with times long-lost.
What have I become? He laments quietly, looking to the fairy-like stranger and wondering what she can see in him, wondering how translucent his paper-thin façade really is.
Knowing he has never been a good liar, Fang is grateful for Caelum’s discretion. She receives him graciously, explaining her familiarity with this new world—this new court—and offers him her aid. With a bruised heart that has been skinned and left bleeding, her generosity feels familiar and warm.
“I have a lot of questions,” the stallion admits, almost sheepish. “Maybe you could show me around the city?” He tips his head forward, allowing her to shepherd him through the streets, if she is willing to be his guide. It is a simple request, one that gives him a few moments to sort through his thoughts. “What…” Fang hesitates, trying to decide where to start. “What is Novus like? Is there more than one empire?—uh, court? If so, then what separates one court from another?” He recalls Caeleste, and how each empire had been divided into seasons by their patron deity. Are gods as relevant here as they had been at home?
Here, would the gods die for their people?
Reminded of the demise of his beloved goddess, Fang presses his lips together, seeing the darkness and its monsters again as the images flash unbidden in his mind. Vasanta had given him life again, only to sacrifice Her own. The war of the Terrors had raged and ruined everything that lived, so powerful was the devastation that even the divine could not be spared from the hungry shadows. His heart still races at the memories, so he glances away, barely able to whisper the words for fear of the answer:
“Is it peaceful here?”
tag; @Caelum
“…”
Lost boys like me
are free.
are free.
please tag Fang in all replies; magic and force are permitted
