SLEEPING SICKNESS

This time she did laugh, with an edge of scoff, and shook her head. “Well, you’re right about one thing - I am most definitely not a Tootles. I can assure you I’m not the one in misfortune. I quite enjoy being a Piper, thank you.”

"I believe that's what they mean when they say that 'you're in denial.' I think that's an odious thing to be in, especially when you're a Piper."

Starling stopped when she saw a figure standing next to her lake. Well, it wasn’t her lake, but that’s where she usually spent all of her time. And never before had she seen someone else there, too. So, why was this… thing here also? Starling carefully took a few steps forward. “Who are you?”

Squinting his viridescent eyes, Tootles chased after the little fish swimming in the lake below. In one hand, he was clutching a few pebbles and the other had one pinched between his fingers as he aimed it at his targets. It might've been inhumane, but it definitely passed the time. He jumped at the sudden noise, not noticing that anyone was creeping on him until it was too late. An annoyed expression filled his features once he realised that it was just a girl. "Tootles. I'm sure you've heard of me."

“Excuse me? If you were anything like the rest of yours, you’d be proposing certain death and not an adventure. You’re peculiar-you know that, right?”

"Well, you can be dreadful at times, for you are a liar and a fiend—but you're Peter! No one could kill thee, not even Nibs, I reckon. Peculiar? Isn't that why you named me Tootles?"

"Do you want a mother?" she asked curiously. Her eyes widened momentarily as she was surprised by his words but then her brow creased in a small frown. "You do know that I’m one of the Lost Children, right? Would you like to see my head on a spike?"

"N-No!" He retorted defensively. "I'm a Devil, and Devils don't need mothers. We'd be much better off without all the girls, as well" he mumbled childishly as he drew lines in the dirt. "Well, I wouldn't get upset over it" he lied with a blasé undertone.

Careful, now. You wouldn’t want to fall into murky waters like these.

"Don't worry. I don't like the water, it makes me awfully wet."

"I’m not going to give you anything. Or anyone."

"But you offered."

Em, I wont be doing that, no thanks.

"But you're the only flea I like! And Tink, well, I'd rather not have her in my mouth. She can be utterly fearsome, I admit"

Crying doesn’t seem to be Hook’s style, but you never know. Are you always this…upbeat? I don’t know the right word for it.

"Oh, but he did cry! Tears like rubies, it was a satisfactory sight to see, I must say. If you think I'm upbeat then you shouldn't snort pixie dust."

If she weren’t so defensive about him insulting her knife, she might have laughed. Instead she tilted her head. “Well, I’m Piper, and I don’t believe being Tootles gives you any superiority to my weapon.”

"But, of course it does." He interjected with a senseless smile. "I can see how a Piper could never understand. You're not a Tootles after all, and how unfortunate that must be for you."

"No, they don’t. Not anymore." She said firmly. Tootles had such a childish naivety to him; Levee was attempting to help him out more than anything. Unfortunately, all she could manage was tough love. She wasn’t overly attached to any of the other Devils. Most of them simply deemed her crazy and didn’t trust her, which made her bitter. More reluctant to trust them. "And stop calling me girl. You know my name, Tootles. It’s Levee. Calling every female ‘girl’ isn’t going to make us any less real." She shifted her weight, but didn’t lessen the pressure of the knife. Her playful attitude was teetering on the edge of turning to anger, always at risk of falling into a fit of rage. "You don’t want to lose your life over this. Just tell me."

Peeling one eye open, he glanced at the brunette tentatively and cautiously, making sure that her gaze alone wouldn't strike him down. "Why not anymore? That's an odd thing to say." He mused aloud before flinching away as she continued. "Levee. You are well-named, for a—a g-girl, I mean." He mumbled diffidently, feeling ashamed for complimenting a girl. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he considered what she last said; being killed by a girl would be a humiliating way to go. "Aye" he quietly agreed as he looked at her with utmost seriousness filling his eyes. "Being killed by a girl would be a dishonour." He admitted before he chewed on his inner cheek, debating whether he could trust her or not. "You cannot tell the boys, especially not Slightly! I believe it would kill him!" He exaggerated, accidentally nicking his neck for leaning towards her in order to make a point. Cringing back, he glued his head against the rough bark behind him. "I wish to give it to...Peter. Perhaps it'll fix thing, perhaps it will not. Promise you won't tell?" He pleaded with her softly, still giving her the benefit of the doubt, despite her going back on her word only moments ago.

"Me, Slightly?" He smiles. "Does that mean I can be the leader?"

"Aye! You can lead us into battle! And we'll leave Tootles behind, because he can be terribly loud."

Which is exactly why I would never think about killing him.

"And he's stronger than us all put together. I think he's remarkable."

By your standards, yes. I’ll admit that. Don’t think I’ll be swaying your opinion anytime soon.

"Aye, I'm not easily swayed."

Wrong about the first part, right about the second.

"So you admit that you're old"

She caught it clumsily, never one for grace, and frowned at the boy. “Who are you to judge my knife?”

"Well, I am Tootles" he answered her as if it were the only logical and sufficient answer.

"I don’t think the Lost Children would like my stories very much if they didn’t have happy endings," she replied. The girl chuckled and shook her head. "I see nothing wrong with telling you a story so it would just be silly if he got upset. Can I ask you a question though? Doesn’t anyone tell you stories?"

He shrugged his shoulders, disappointedly. "All the girls are mean, and I don't think anyone really wants a mother, not anymore at least. Knowing them, all their stories would end up with Peter dead and the Lost Children's heads on spikes. I rather like the latter." He mused, unaware of how sadistic that actually sounded. 

Not quite, try again. 

"So you're a fairy, then? You're too old to be one of Peter's girls"