#twpan

@twpan ,           tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies from the lake

his nails dig deep into his skin, but he can’t feel it.

metal on his tongue and fire in his heart, hyungwon could boil the water he finds himself swimming in if he’d had all the magic of the sea witch in her depths but as it is, he’s only a mermaid; as it is, he can only watch.  the scowl on his lips looks almost like it’s been written in stone, and he supposes when it comes to peter - especially lately - it might have been.  ( hyungwon may feel drugs running through his system on a good night, but peter is an addiction he hasn’t been able to rid himself of since neverland. ) his mood always tips scales when it comes to peter pan, and there is no in between.  there are only extremes.

for now, hyungwon watches and bides his time even though he should know better than this, thinks he knows better than this.  peter pan has always found a fascination in all the things that he was not, so the vicious metal he’s about to spit from his mouth is only but a pointless feeling and nothing more.  he watches their curves and their lines and the shape of their mouths when they talk to him, when they flank him, when they steer him out of the path of his pool.

had peter not promised to see him today?

venom runs through his veins instead of the blood that should be spilling from the way he’s digging his nails further into his skin.  hyungwon wonders why he bothers when peter doesn’t put up much of a fight but only comes to the realization in his head that he’s probably used to this behaviour.  it hasn’t changed since neverland, when his sisters would tear his attention away and he’d forget about the boy sitting on the rock.

“ typical peter.” he mutters under his breath, and hyungwon’s about to dive back into his pool to lay on the bottom and forget.  nevermore will he get his hopes up for peter pan. ( he can’t count the number of times he’s thought that very same thought in his head. )

his head is about to breach the depths when he sees it, though.  something isn’t quite right and hyungwon can’t quite put his finger on it, so he pauses for a moment and goes deathly still.  it’s in the way that peter carries himself stiff when hyungwon has never seen him as anything but loose limbed and uncaring because that’s more typical peter pan.

five minutes.

ten minutes.

he’s still sitting deathly still in the water and peter is still sitting just as uncomfortably as before.  hyungwon fights with himself internally; a battle not to care about it because peter has never once cared about him, versus everything that pulls him to his side.  it’s clear which one wins when hyungwon finally pulls himself from the depths of the pool, all dripping wet and grabbing for the towel that sits folded by its side.  within its folds and wrapped up tight is the very glamour that he dislikes to use, but still he lets the magic swath his body and give him legs for the time being.

wrapping the towel around his waist, he stalks through the club and parts seas with the dark look in his eye and the drops of water that fall from his skin to the floor.

@twpan

eighteen times. twenty four total.

jack knows the numbers by heart. the same scene replays itself over and over in his dreams still, as clear as if it were happening all over again. eighteen times peter stabbed him before the world went black forever. six more times after that, those ones jack didn’t feel but left marks on his body nonetheless.

and yet even after dying brutally by the hands of the boy he had considered his best friend, his brother, he wanted to return. he never wanted to leave, it’s not his fault that peter wouldn’t listen. but as fate would have it, jack frost could never return to neverland; it’s never winter there, how could the first frost ever set foot in a place that was constantly spring?

somehow he didn’t realize that even the residents of neverland had spilled into fabletown. sometimes he thinks he sees a face that he recognizes, but it’s never been so convincing and obvious before. he could think it was glamour, or a doppelganger, or a coincidence. but this one is different, jack would know that face anywhere. he’s seen it mirthful and mischievous, he’s seen it conniving and conspiring, and he’s seen it twisted with rage and rancor. that’s peter pan, that’s his best friend and murderer.

when she looks at him, she has to see nothing more than a murderer. it’s not a secret. many of the gods know this fact. she can’t offer any explanation: she can’t even deny his actions nor can she take responsibility for them. but she has to, as she brought this monster into this world.

but how is she to bring him out of it?

he catches her attention at the spectacle he’s creating in public. he’s angry, that much is clear, and all she could think was how dangerous that was. people were staring. the victim of his rage seems terrified. and peter? he looks downright murderous. it’s general cause for concern.

he’s nothing but a monster, she reminds herself. yet at the end of the day, she couldn’t have bigby’s wrath come down upon him. they were supposed to stay underneath the radar. surely, crazy things happen in new york but murder in broad daylight in front of people isn’t typical.

silently, she weaves through the flow of people and makes her way towards him. a crowd hadn’t formed just yet but there was a congealed bulk of people paused nearby watching. she reached him and grabbed him by the ear. she pinched at it with just enough pressure to cause discomfort. when she walked away, she pulled away hard enough to cause him actual pain and follow blindly.

“are you out of your mind?” she growled as they walked away from the situation. “do you want to be put in mundy jail? do you want bigby to devour you whole for your stupidity?” she yanked him closer to her. “are you asking for a death wish, boy?”