TEST DRIVE MEME

[fairyfoes]

TEST DRIVE MEME

Considering apping to EACHDRAIDH? Why not give the setting a test run here! OPTIONAL SCENARIOS 01. ARRIVING IN THE DRABWURLD. The Seelie and Unseelie courts welcome you with mirthful revelry and hearty food. After you have been briefed on your purpose here, you will find an endless feast and a night filled with entertainment to placate your concerns. Mingle with new arrivals, sneak down the castle halls and make sure your eyes are always on your glass; fairies and imps have no bias when it comes to tricks! 02. THE STATION. Looking for a little slice of home? The Station gives you all that and more. Take advantage of the wifi, have a cup of fairy-brewed coffee (the one they didn't spit in) or sit back and relax on the patio. You can even move your things into one of the available rooms! 03. WILDCARD. Your own scenario! Explore the Drabwurld or simply take advantage of your Locket!

Comments

peter pan (book) | jm barrie | ota

[infant]

[ A boy stands on the end of one of the tables at the feast surrounded by twinkling fairies. His dagger is out and he mimes gutting a man to the cheers of his young companions, for no grown-ups are allowed to sit with them. ]

— and gutted the old pirate like a codfish! [ What were their names, Peter? asks one boy, receiving a shrug. ] I don't know. I always forget after I kill them. [ Can't you teach us how to fly? pleads another, and Peter laughs as he hops into the air, zooming over their heads and whisking off a tuft of dark hair from one of the boys with his blade. ] The fairies here say they can't help you fly, they haven't any dust.

[ He lands with his hands on his hips, feet confidently apart, in the midst of woeful cries that please him immensely. Peter, Peter, show me how to use a sword! Peter, take me to Neverland! CROW, PETER, CROW!

And so he does, his rooster-call resonating keenly through the entire Seelie hall which it briefly disturbs. ]

[drearily]

[And down below, after having sat off to the side and listened to his talking with the younger boys, is one Wednesday Addams. She's contentedly working on piecing together something, which eventually will be a makeshift crossbow. It's her favorite sort of weapon, and she feels a little naked without having one here.

Especially in a situation like this, where there's boys that are loud and boisterous like Pugsley. It makes her happy, in a bittersweet sort of way. Her parents aren't here, and neither is her brother, and she needs someone to play with. And it looks like that someone is going to be Peter for now, although she probably has no real intention of harming him.

Maybe.]

You know what they say about things that go up, don't you?

[With a smirk, the little girl moves to stand up, taking aim with her decently made play crossbow.]

Just like Icarus, they're always destined to come down.

[If Wednesday Addams had bothered actually trying to make friends at any point in the public school her parents forced her to attend, she would know this wasn't the best way to go about saying hello to someone new. But since she's an Addams, and she's the image of her mother with the impish mind of her father, this is how she attempts to play. I AM SO SORRY PETER.]

[infant]

[ Entirely pleased with himself where he stands atop the table, he takes one look at the crossbow in her hands and flies up, a wild grin in place as he spreads his arms to provide her a better target, dagger glinting in his grip. ]

Then fire! Shoot me down if you can, girl, and have at thee!

[ EVERYONE IS MALADJUSTED HERE. ]

[drearily]

[If Wednesday could see stars, she'd be seeing them right now. He's actually playing along with this. That's her kind of potential playmate. Smiling in excitement, she takes aim and fires.

She watches the handmade arrow go upward, only to be completely off mark and go into a painting instead. That smile of hers abruptly fades and the crossbow is tossed down.]

Woe!

[Oh well. She better roll with it and just keep her eyes on the dagger. Someone's left a butter knife on one of the tables, and with a bounce to her step she runs over to retrieve it, brandishing it before her and taking a starting fencing stance.]

Find thy way down to land, rooster boy, and give us both a real challenge!

[infant]

[ Peter's all set to try and dodge, but there's ... no need. Oh. He wrinkles his nose at the butter-knife, flies up and yanks out the arrow, soaring back down to land on the table in front of her.

He offers it back and says frankly, ] I can't fight you if you don't have a real blade that won't cut anything, it wouldn't be fair or gentlemanly. Here you are.

[ A butter knife, really. That's not going to wound anyone!! ]

Maybe you could get some more arrows, too.

[drearily]

I'm hardly a lady. And Father says to never trust a boy that insists on being a gentleman.

[She protests, knowing she could do enough damage to Pugsley with it. But still, she's not going to force him to fight (at least not yet), and reaches forward to take the arrow from him.]

My crossbow assembly needs work too. It pulls too far to the right.

[Huff.]

Unfortunately.

[infant]

You don't need a father to make up your mind for you. Think whatever you want, but the arrow is yours. I'll not keep it.

[ He peers at her weapon. ]

Do you make many of these? This is better than any of the bows my Lost Boys can build.

[drearily]

[Crouching down to pick up her crossbow, she gives a curt nod.]

Uncle Fester taught me.

[There's a pause, as she takes a moment to look him up and down.]

Have you always been able to fly?

[marksqueen]

[Susan catches the end of the boy's story and his display. She can't help smiling a little. He looks human but he reminds her so much of a Narnian in his spirit. The way he speaks to the fairies as friends, maybe, or just his entire nature]

You do know how to draw attention, don't you?

[infant]

Hello, girl. Yes, I do.

[ He's fantastic, didn't you know? Ah, the cleverness of him! Peter holsters his dagger and bows for her with a flourish, since she's hardly a woman grown; it's a very regal old-fashioned bow, by all accounts, and he lifts his head with a smile. ]

Peter Pan, at your service.

[marksqueen]

[she smiles at the "girl" comment. He's very gallant in his way and she curtseys as a queen should]

I'm delighted to meet you, Peter Pan. I am Susan Pevensie, of Finchley.

[infant]

[ His smile is fond as she reminds him of Wendy and Peter hops off the table so they are of a height. When it suits him, he can be a gent. ]

Are you going to live in this castle, Susan?

[marksqueen]

It seems that way. It's not as nice as Cair Paravel, but I suppose I don't have much choice.

[infant]

You could come away and live with me, Susan. I shall find somewhere safe, away from the grown-ups, and live there with the fairies as I used to in Neverland.

[marksqueen]

It's kind of you to offer, but I couldn't accept. I need to be on the look-out for my siblings. They need me.

[maybe this is why she reminds you of Wendy, Peter. She does have a similar "mother" thing about her]

[retund]

[ She only catches the end of his conversation. Immediately, her jaw sets. When she turns around, her mouth thins in a stubborn line. Then, with a certain air of indignation and superiority: ]

They're not real fairies. [ She doesn't know what they are, just what they sure as hell are not. She knows fairies, she was a fairy, part of her still is, even without faith and dust and wings. A fairy would never act like this, endorsing killings and kidnappings. Fairies help make dreams come true -- or they try to, at least. ]

[infant]

[ He plants his hands on his hips as he lands on the table after his crowing takes him up high and walks over, staring her in the eye. ]

They are. [ Irritating and in need of a good hiding, perhaps, but still fairies and he will defend them to the end. A coldness seeps into his tone, sharp as the dagger which is unsheathed at her. ] If you say anything further that causes them harm, lady, I shall kill you here and now.

[retund]

[ she removes the dagger from her side in turn, and raises her chin high, defiant. of course, this boy is trouble. boy's are so often trouble -- that's why pan prefers them, she thinks. ]

You said yourself that they cannot fly and have no fairy dust. That means they lack faith. [ never mind their other flaws. ] And you can't be a fairy without faith. [ she knows that all too well. ]

[infant]

The boys here cannot fly, the fairies — I don't know why they haven't any dust. Perhaps it is because old people like you keep trying to steal it.

[ A good enough explanation as to be true. Maybe it is or isn't, Peter thinks it sounds about right enough to fit. ]

If I were a fairy surrounded by greedy grown-ups, I would cast off all my dust too! I would cut out my heart and murder myself before allowing anyone but a child to fly.

[unhand]

[Who exactly did you gut? Certainly wasn't this old pirate. This Captain Hook doesn't recognize Peter Pan. After all, the Pan he knows looks rather different. But he the crowing and shouts of 'Peter' and 'Neverland' are a bit hard to mistake for anything else. Hook approaches the boy, looking solemn and suspicious and generally unpleasant. He usually does when it comes to anyone that has anything to do with one Peter Pan.]

You must think you're very impressive.

[Hook doesn't, and sooner or later, he'll figure out who and what you are.]

[infant]

I am! I am the best there ever —!

[ The sight of that hooked hand knocks the wind out of Peter's sails long enough for him to land with a stumble, swallowing the end of his bold statement. That isn't the captain he knows — not nearly old enough — but he can't possibly be anyone else. He remembers Hook on the bulwarks, jeering Bad form! before falling to his death.

Peter scowls and takes out his dagger. He flies in front of the children who are so far from his hardy Lost Boys as for it to be laughable; Hook is Peter's, anyway. Victory or death is his to claim from this pirate. ]

You. How did you get in here, old man?

[unhand]

[Hook rolls his eyes. Probably not the wisest thing to do when dealing with someone as dangerous as Pan (if this even is him. Hook has his doubts.) but Hook's never been known for his wisdom.]

The same way you did, I'd assume. What's it matter?

[infant]

[ There are many things Peter doesn't like, chief among them is being dismissed and treated inadequately. The way he jumps onto the edge of a nearby table is slow to descend, floating down by degrees as he keeps keen green eyes locked on his foe. ]

It matters to me and, so, it matters at all.

[unhand]

[Hook may be dismissive, but he's certainly paying attention. He doesn't seem to have the calculated cunning he's used to in Pan. And he's flying. He knows Pan can do that, but Pixie dust is rare. Hook's not sure why he'd waste it. He's also not sure why Pan would take on this shape, though he knows it's within the boy's capabilities.]

What's your game, here? You're up to something, I'm sure of it.

[infant]

I am. Very good! Perhaps now that you're not so old, Captain, you might be able to keep up with me.

[ His smile is frank and cocky, and Peter has every reason to be when he is as fleet as the wind, a master swordsman with a lust for battle. None of that is betrayed by his appearance, only the wolfish sternness in his eyes that so often unnerves Wendy and commands the Lost Boys.

He is delighted, he decides, and strolls the edge of the table. ]

Where are your seadogs? I can't remember how many I slew last time. Is there a new Jolly Roger? What of the crocodile?

[ Really, he can't help being a facetious little shit crowing when he feels confident. ]