neverland group thread
Characters: Peter Pan and EVERYONE
Location: A classroom, and then NEVERLAND
Time: All day Tuesday, until someone finds Peter
Content: NEVERLAND
Warnings: Peter makes the Institute his little bitch
Walls walls, wonderful walls and bricks and balls that were kicked, and bad habits kicked and a sky restrained with iron bars and windows and leaf-stripped trees. He found the CD player buried in the back of a pawn shop where technology went to die and found the CD for free at a church party for nice, clean-looking boys with delightful accents and broad shoulders. The plug was, easily, the easiest thing to find to plug up and in and send it all a-spin, the twinkling flutes and lutes and lyres strung to sing for funeral pyres but piled higher and higher to perch a single blue plastic slide atop the embers. And he said
"Yes, this is the proper way to begin once again." He pushed the door ajar and laughed and though she shushed him he laughed more and pulled her hair and grasped her hand with the kind of pale tenacity in the corners of his mouth that belonged to a dead man but managed to look oddly appropriate on his thin, boyish face. In the corner of the room, a spider spun a web; did it watch that boy, weaving his magic with heaven-rolled eyes and a smile that must have burned down Alexandria with its impertinence. Did eight eyes see the boy and the fairy fall into their stupors with smiles on their faces and light in their skin, or did the work continued diligently until
At once, at very, very once he let out a shriek of delight and jumped no less than two feet in the air, propelled by tiny feet that belonged to a body that was just right. He flipped his long hair out of his eyes and sprang to flip over a tree branch and, without a single care, ran off into the lush greenery that twinkled into the daylight which would give way to flowers and fields and Indians and Pirates and The Sea.
Peter Pan was in Neverland.
And so was everyone else, for that matter. Well, not everyone, just the poor souls who happened to be entranced by the music from a four quid murder of music, fancied bacchanalian by its maker. Anyone who was unfortunate enough (or lucky enough, if one could find Peter to ask his opinion) to follow the sound of the music into the room would suddenly find their consciousness transported to this world of Peter's making. There was nothing to fear, however, Neverland was born of Peter's love for all his boyish adventures. The four corners of the island were stuffed to the brim with potential for fantastical adventures; fairies, mermaids, pirates, Indians, and the occasional cannibal in cannibal cove, or the crocodile in the bay, but surely these places could be avoided with a pinch of common sense.
Location: A classroom, and then NEVERLAND
Time: All day Tuesday, until someone finds Peter
Content: NEVERLAND
Warnings: Peter makes the Institute his little bitch
Walls walls, wonderful walls and bricks and balls that were kicked, and bad habits kicked and a sky restrained with iron bars and windows and leaf-stripped trees. He found the CD player buried in the back of a pawn shop where technology went to die and found the CD for free at a church party for nice, clean-looking boys with delightful accents and broad shoulders. The plug was, easily, the easiest thing to find to plug up and in and send it all a-spin, the twinkling flutes and lutes and lyres strung to sing for funeral pyres but piled higher and higher to perch a single blue plastic slide atop the embers. And he said
"Yes, this is the proper way to begin once again." He pushed the door ajar and laughed and though she shushed him he laughed more and pulled her hair and grasped her hand with the kind of pale tenacity in the corners of his mouth that belonged to a dead man but managed to look oddly appropriate on his thin, boyish face. In the corner of the room, a spider spun a web; did it watch that boy, weaving his magic with heaven-rolled eyes and a smile that must have burned down Alexandria with its impertinence. Did eight eyes see the boy and the fairy fall into their stupors with smiles on their faces and light in their skin, or did the work continued diligently until
At once, at very, very once he let out a shriek of delight and jumped no less than two feet in the air, propelled by tiny feet that belonged to a body that was just right. He flipped his long hair out of his eyes and sprang to flip over a tree branch and, without a single care, ran off into the lush greenery that twinkled into the daylight which would give way to flowers and fields and Indians and Pirates and The Sea.
Peter Pan was in Neverland.
And so was everyone else, for that matter. Well, not everyone, just the poor souls who happened to be entranced by the music from a four quid murder of music, fancied bacchanalian by its maker. Anyone who was unfortunate enough (or lucky enough, if one could find Peter to ask his opinion) to follow the sound of the music into the room would suddenly find their consciousness transported to this world of Peter's making. There was nothing to fear, however, Neverland was born of Peter's love for all his boyish adventures. The four corners of the island were stuffed to the brim with potential for fantastical adventures; fairies, mermaids, pirates, Indians, and the occasional cannibal in cannibal cove, or the crocodile in the bay, but surely these places could be avoided with a pinch of common sense.