Status: Will update, probably slowly.
Renew and Ruin
Something New
It doesn’t start when Wendy offers the kiss. Neverland’s unraveling begins even before Pan craves it. Before his desire is no longer fueled by mere boyish curiosity, but a need that licks and stokes at a fire that grows in his belly.
It started with the girl herself. She arrives to Neverland already on the cusp of womanhood and no amount of wishful thinking and forced innocence can curb her growing appetites. Wendy clings to childhood, is desperate for adventure and the wildness that sets her heart alight, and Pan’s sincerest promise of it never ending. But already, in a place she wants to tamp down and lock way, she wants for more. Heat scorches her skin in ways unbefitting a child. She knows of Mother and Father and dark nights that leads to Baby and Family. The stories she brings already tarnishes Pan’s innocence and hollow his ignorant, lacking heart. Against herself, Wendy plans to fill it with a different kind of knowledge; one that renews and ruins in equal measure. She is sure misery loves company and there is no better companion than Pan himself.
Tonight, for example, the mermaidens tolerate Darling’s presence and she rewards them with a story of Triton’s daughter. Ariel, she says, falls in love with a human prince and gives up the ocean for him. The mermaidens’ laughter mock, but their half-wistful glances at their singular adoration gives them away. They would give up their briny sea to share pixie-dusted skies with a cruel, uncaring elvin boy. They would shed their scales to be his bird. But unlike Wendy, they would never be foolish enough to bare those desires so recklessly, to watch him with eyes so openly wanting.
“Wendy?” Peter speaks as their feet land softly on the thick grass that lays at the base of Wendy’s tree-home. “Would you clip your wings for a prince?”
She shivers and goosebumps erupt across her skin; the mermaidens attempted to drown her for her frivolous, insolent tale, and now her dress drips puddles at her feet. She considers Peter’s question carefully as she wrings her gown, then, tenderly, her hands flutter to wring out the tips of her hair. Before answering, she reaches for the ladder which leads up to her resting place. Steeling herself, she meets Pan’s eyes.
“Yes, “ she says, placing her foot on the first rung. “I suppose I would...for the right prince.”
Peter considers this as he watches her ascend to her nest. Such a curious thing to think of, a flightless Wendy-bird. Curiouser still, a Wendy who would willingly give it up.
It started with the girl herself. She arrives to Neverland already on the cusp of womanhood and no amount of wishful thinking and forced innocence can curb her growing appetites. Wendy clings to childhood, is desperate for adventure and the wildness that sets her heart alight, and Pan’s sincerest promise of it never ending. But already, in a place she wants to tamp down and lock way, she wants for more. Heat scorches her skin in ways unbefitting a child. She knows of Mother and Father and dark nights that leads to Baby and Family. The stories she brings already tarnishes Pan’s innocence and hollow his ignorant, lacking heart. Against herself, Wendy plans to fill it with a different kind of knowledge; one that renews and ruins in equal measure. She is sure misery loves company and there is no better companion than Pan himself.
Tonight, for example, the mermaidens tolerate Darling’s presence and she rewards them with a story of Triton’s daughter. Ariel, she says, falls in love with a human prince and gives up the ocean for him. The mermaidens’ laughter mock, but their half-wistful glances at their singular adoration gives them away. They would give up their briny sea to share pixie-dusted skies with a cruel, uncaring elvin boy. They would shed their scales to be his bird. But unlike Wendy, they would never be foolish enough to bare those desires so recklessly, to watch him with eyes so openly wanting.
“Wendy?” Peter speaks as their feet land softly on the thick grass that lays at the base of Wendy’s tree-home. “Would you clip your wings for a prince?”
She shivers and goosebumps erupt across her skin; the mermaidens attempted to drown her for her frivolous, insolent tale, and now her dress drips puddles at her feet. She considers Peter’s question carefully as she wrings her gown, then, tenderly, her hands flutter to wring out the tips of her hair. Before answering, she reaches for the ladder which leads up to her resting place. Steeling herself, she meets Pan’s eyes.
“Yes, “ she says, placing her foot on the first rung. “I suppose I would...for the right prince.”
Peter considers this as he watches her ascend to her nest. Such a curious thing to think of, a flightless Wendy-bird. Curiouser still, a Wendy who would willingly give it up.
This is something Peter will give great thought.