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Victorian

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  1. Victorian

    Neverland-Inspired

    Hook was the captain of the Neverland pirate crew. The lost boys and I referred to them as the pirate crew of Neverland because theirs was the only pirate ship--in fact, theirs was the only ship in general--that had ever arrived to these shores. How do we know this? This is what we were told by the mermaids and the fairies. In case you're wondering: by some strange magic, the creatures of Neverland that possess these magical abilities or traits--such as the mermaids, fairies, or even natives, with their spiritual practices--have the ability to understand us foreigners. They get our language. And I'm not really sure why. But when we tell them things, or ask them questions, they can understand, and give us answers that the lost boys and I have more or less been able to decipher. That's how I was able to tell Tink to try and see what the pirates were hiding inside their heavily-guarded cave. It's a pretty obvious location, and everyone knows where Pirate Cove is, just like everyone knows where the pirate ship is. Painted red and gold, it's impossible to miss as it stands out brightly against the blue tropical skies, the drifting white clouds, and the white sandy beach where it resides. The lost boys and I know the areas of this island quite well, and we definitely know the location of the ship and Pirate Cove right before it. But it's impossible to access. The pirate crew has its own system. At all hours of the day--and of the night--there are both members on-board, armed and ready to defend in case of an attack, and members on the surrounding beach or within the cave. If it wasn't for these pirates' nonstop vigilance, the lost boys and I would have looted that cave ages ago--and left on their ship. Unfortunately, the reality is that the pirates and us aren't evenly matched. Just like the pirates and the natives aren't evenly matched. It's why no one faces the pirates: it's why, despite the horrors they've committed, they're allowed to live out their lives on this island in peace. No consequences for any of their crimes. Not even the crime of our theft. You heard me right. Theft is the proper word to use when talking about what the pirates did to us. They stole our lives from right beneath our feet when we were too young and too naive to do a single thing about it. We were ecstatic when we escaped... until we finally realized that they had just left us stranded somewhere where nobody would find us and where we wouldn't be able to escape, at least not for a long time. I wasn't able to escape until I learned how to fly. And that took a very long time. Now, I'm the only lost boy that knows how to fly. (I know, I know. I'm technically not a boy. But honestly, inside my head, I can't really tell the difference.) And I'm ridiculously proud of it, too. Because I'm the only one who can fly, I'm also the only one who's been to the mainland. You know, England. And to be honest with you, it wasn't all that great. When I got back, the boys were filled to the brim with stories they had to tell me about EVERYTHING I had missed--because apparently, EVERYTHING happened in the few days I was gone (yeah, right)--and they were dying for me to tell them about England. About what "she" looked like, as they said it. About their families. About the streets, and the architecture, and was everything the way it had been before? Except that I didn't know anything about their families, because we hadn't known each other before. The lost boys and I, we were all roughly the same age, but if we had gone to the same schools none of us remembered, and we certainly hadn't lived in the same neighborhoods... I had gone to visit our old estate, though. At nighttime, I had flown high in the shadows created by the opaque clouds, and I had located my old home. I was still 16, but I was changed. I was looking for my parents. The two members of my family that I had been separated from without warning. I was cautious, and frightened, and I almost didn't dare approach the large windows. I didn't find my parents. I returned "home" empty-handed. Disappointed, with Tinker Bell flying alongside me and listening to me talk about it almost the entire time. But as I got closer to Neverland, my concerns seemed to vanish quickly as the idyllic island came into view. The chemistry within my brain shifted, and so did my feelings. I began to feel lighthearted and carefree once more. I'll tell you what happened. When I got to the estate, I learned that Mom and Dad moved away. I have no idea where. Another city? Another country? I have no idea where they are. I have no idea why they left. Of course, I was upset when I didn't find them. Very. Although... it's hard to bring them to mind sometimes. It's the strangest thing... but it's like on this island, every other facet of the world, every other dimension of it, becomes a fog. Something unreal, like a story that was all made up. Shrouded in some mist, your memories fade to the background and you are no longer defined by them, or who you used to be. What matters is what is going on now--and who you are, here. Sometimes it strikes me: the thought that this is weird and bizarre. None of us lost kids miss our families all that much. We go on just fine without them. It doesn't affect us on a daily basis. And most of the time... well, most of the time we just don't think about them. And it's weird. But sometimes, I wonder if there's something about this island that causes detachment from reality to occur. It brings up a red flag when I think hard about it. But really, it's so easy to forget! It's painless to forget, and quite blissful too! When you remember, that's when all the bad feelings start. The guilt, the shame, the longing, the disappointment, the heartbreak, the burning anger and resentment toward the bastards that took us away from our former lives in which were happy. It's so much easier to ignore it! It's strange, that it's easy to forget who you were and where you came from, and stay trapped in Neverland forever.
  2. Victorian

    Neverland-Inspired

    [This is a closed RP that a friend and I are planning to work on together, inspired by the Peter Pan story] I lay with my back resting on a poorly-made hammock. The lost boys and I had worked on it and others like it together, following the guidance of the natives, who didn't speak our language. Which was English, because we all had come from England. It made me wince subconsciously when I thought about how limited my knowledge of the world was, that I had only visited England and Neverland. I winced again. God, even the pirates--even Captain Hook--have seen more of the world than I have. And they can't even fly! No indeed, though they did have an impressive engineering masterpiece of a ship they liked to use for "pirate purposes." Which basically just meant robbing and killing for wealth. And they had actually... experienced some decent results. Pirate Cove--you know, their hideout--was heavily guarded at all times, but I once sent Tinker Bell there as a spy on my behalf, and she had come back with tales of impressive treasures hidden within the cave. Which sometimes made me fantasize. I won't lie. About seizing some of that wealth and heading back to England, and returning to what I had before. I love the lost kid life, but sometimes it gets a bit... monotonous. I've been thinking for a while about taking a vacation, which basically just means a flight, to the mainland. You know. England. The only place I've ever known? I sat up in the hammock, hearing it creak as I shifted my weight. Except that a kid like me... won't fit in anywhere. Because I have nothing to wear but these outfits made of bear skin and other animals' pelts, gifted to us by the natives in exchange for returning to them what the pirates stole. Ha. They never even noticed. But in England, if I remember correctly after all the years it's been, people don't look like that. They don't look like savage children raised in the wild with an island for their backyard and no public or private school education. In England, everyone is civilized and I long forgot all my manners. It's a completely different world in England. I left it long ago, and I don't remember how many years it's been. I never kept track. Even if I had a clock, it wouldn't work. Because here in Neverland, time stands still. That's right. I'm the same 16-year-old "girl" that I was when those damn pirates decided to mess around with my perfect life. I remember very well. Their ship was disguised as an incoming trading ship. The men that got off were dressed well and presented well, and went to different estates pretending to look for potential buyers of whatever product they pretended to sell. Those in charge of the house, like my parents, were occupied trying to understand what these "tradesmen" were saying, while other crew members slipped inside and took the children. Why? They were short on labor. They could use us for whatever they wanted, maybe even sell us. They took me. They took my brother. They took other boys and I didn't see any of them until I woke up on a rough wooden floor that smelled of sea water and I realized I was tied up. I didn't wake up until the ship was well on its way to Neverland. There was nothing I could do, nothing any of us could do. Our parents didn't realize until it was too late. Many parents didn't. Nobody knew the men, nobody knew how to track the ship. They searched for us, different families did. This, I learned later on. When I finally was able to return. Once the ship reached Neverland, it was absolutely safe and hidden from view. Nobody in England knew about Neverland, and I bet they still don't. It's the only place on this Earth that I know of where magic still exists. A place that does not exist on the map, or in anybody's mind. A place where nobody could come and rescue me. After we escaped the ship, we went to hide out with the natives. Because we had stolen from the pirates before jumping down onto the burning sand and tearing for the dense forests lining the coast, the natives accepted us warmly. Even despite the language barrier. There's a language barrier between Tink and I, too. We don't understand each other. And yet we do, because understanding transcends the spoken word. The pirates made me feel weak, vulnerable, and helpless for the first time in my life. They made me want to be strong. I wanted to learn how to fight and be brave and survive in these harsh conditions. I wanted to take care of myself from now on and depend on others no longer. One of the significant things I did was cut my hair. I remember. I had always worn it loose and long. It had been clean and well-brushed. A pleasant blonde color. It had been a part of my identity. Ever since the incident, I wanted to start over. I wanted to remake myself. I grabbed a knife and positioned myself in front of a stolen pirate mirror. Staring hard at myself and forcing myself not to feel any sadness about the fact I was letting my past self go, I made the cuts. I remember the locks falling to the ground beside my knees. But I didn't falter. When I returned the knife to the chief, my hair came down to my chin, in a bob. It was a different feeling. A weight had literally been lifted. I could feel the wind toss my hair and I could feel the wind caress the back of my neck. I felt freer. Now I could run through the forests without my hair flowing behind me and getting caught in something. I had always been a pleasing girl; polite, educated, and proper. Now, I had the freedom to be wild. Mother wouldn't scold me for getting dirty anymore. Not my dress, or my shoes, or my hair. I had the freedom of mobility, action, adventure... and I had freedom from manners and English conventions. It was a new world. I no longer flinched when my clothes got dirty or when I got scratched. I no longer wore dresses because there were none, this was not England, and because it just wasn't practical anymore. The natives taught us how to hunt with spears and arrows. How to set traps for small game. How to catch fish in rivers and collect berries. Which berries were good to eat, which berries weren't. Which plants were poisonous, and which were medicinal. The natives used natural poisons found in the environment to put on the tips of their spears. They taught us how to skin animals, clean them, and cook them. How to make clothes and shoes. The natives taught me how to be silent when I walked through the forest. They taught me how to walk soundlessly, improving my skills as a hunter. They gave me a compass, which I used for my first return trip to England. Stolen from the pirates, of course. They taught me how to track animals. They taught us how to make fires and shelters. They showed us the Hollow Tree. Our current home. I was in the Hollow Tree at the moment. It was, as the name implied, a tree that had been hollowed out. Nobody knows why, but it sure as hell wasn't us lost kids who did it. From the outside, it looks perfectly normal. Like any other tree in this dense forest. But to us, it is a shelter and a hideout. A place where we are safe from the pirates, and a place we must always go to / leave with great care. Because it's been a long time since we stayed with the natives, but we'd have to stay with them again for a while if the pirates found us. That is, assuming we'd make it out of such an encounter alive.
  3. Victorian

    Mechanical Future (Closed)

    Early the next morning... They haven't been themself since last night. Last night, everything changed abruptly and without warning. Without any kind of warning. They're still processing it, actually. Which is one of those weird things, because before, processing things took no time at all. Except... well, something remains to be clarified. There was a different type of processing taking place before: logical processing. And what Avenir seems to be experiencing right now is beyond logic... it's... something that incorporates logical and illogical aspects at the same time; it's emotion. But how is that possible? This is just one of the many thoughts running through their mind. Another thought is: Will I ever see Steven again? --But whereas in the past they would have undoubtedly considered the question in an emotionless way, an utterly emotionless way, now they feel some sort of physical pang, or pain, when the thought crosses their artificial mind. Steven is one of the scientists that help--or maybe it's "helped"--Avenir with just about everything. Steven is one of the scientists that worked on Avenir's creation. Steven and Avenir have--or had--a particularly intimate bond. But whereas Avenir never felt any sort of... emotional attachment to him before, not because of any fault of their own but because they were never wired to feel, now that Avenir plays moments in their head that they spent together, they feel sad and lonely. It can't be that they are malfunctioning. Can it? They sure hope not. Now that they can seemingly feel, they can also feel intense fear and a strong desire to live which conflicts with "Mother's" plans for them. Potentially. They have no idea what the politician wants with them, but clearly she has an abundance of resources and she will spare no expense to have Avenir returned. Avenir shudders for the first time tonight, but not because of the surrounding cold. Their robot body doesn't respond negatively to snow on the ground, or snowflakes on its skin. Not even rain or water will damage this machine, as long as the outer covering is completely intact. It is the topmost layer of protection for the delicate electronic parts that work tirelessly beneath.
  4. Victorian

    Mechanical Future (Closed)

    Note: This role-play is between myself and a friend. We're both new to written role-play, and personally I'm trying to improve my story-creation skills and my story-writing skills through practice... It was a mechanical world. Except for humans and plant species, there was no more biological life in it. This, ever since the end of the Last War. A time of ignorance and human recklessness which resulted in the nuclear annihilation of life throughout the world. Had it not been for the shelters, no living creatures would have survived it. Sometimes, Avenir thought the world would be better off without humans. Of course, they would never tell the scientists that. Avenir's pronouns were they / them, the scientists had decided. "It" seemed too cold to refer to such a human-like creation, despite the fact Avenir was all electrical and mechanical parts beneath their convincing outer skin. They were the culmination of years of effort on the scientists' part, years involving careful study of the technologies that had been developed before the nuclear war. Yes: technology had advanced following the war, but it had not yet reached the peak it had been at before the war. And yet here Avenir was. How did that happen? The door opened, interrupting Avenir's stream of thought. One of the scientists who had worked to develop their technology strode in, looking nervous. Avenir had a concept of the feeling of nervousness in their mind. But they didn't actually know what it felt like. "What are you doing?" The man asked, coming up behind the humanoid. They nodded to the book they had in their hands. "...Ah." The red-haired man looked serious for a moment, and then looked away, feeling self-conscious in the face of Avenir's electric blue gaze. Feeling shame for having feelings in the face of a completely emotionless, completely precise machine. Somewhat inferior. "Why are you nervous?" Frank, outright. Logic didn't dance around problems the way Emotion did. "Honestly? Somebody very important is here to see you." "One of the scientists." "No, it's somebody you haven't met before. But she's seen you." "In pictures." "In person. You were deactivated." The man sat down in the chair next to Avenir, who removed their hands from beneath the cover of the book. He eyed it thoughtfully, aware that this was a priceless object that Avenir held carelessly in their hands, priceless because this was an "old" book, from before the war. The public was unaware that relics from the time still existed, and the man was not sure why that was. He had not been given that information. The reserved politician (and heiress of a large fortune) who had proposed the humanoid project and who had turned a large part of her estate into a laboratory for it--the woman who had provided this ancient yet advanced technology, and these artifacts--had not revealed her motives, or how she had come into ownership of these supposedly lost remnants of the past. "Who is she?" "The person that started all of this," the man said with a smile. "She even gave you your name. You could call her 'Mother' and it would be correct, in a sense." Avenir stared blankly at the man, knowing he would explain further and wanting nothing more but to absorb the answers to their questions. "She provided this lab, and these materials--which were necessary for your completion!--and she started this project. Indirectly, she created you." "Why?" The scientist licked his lips nervously, breaking eye contact. "That, I don't know. She says it's confidential." He paused, then went on. "She's a politician, and I know that she's aiming for the presidency. This city is built on machines. It depends on machines. The people depend on machines and are practically helpless without their technology. This... revealing her creation to the public, would have her win by a landslide. I don't know what the purpose of machines like you would be, but I'm sure she knows something that I haven't yet figured--" "Why hasn't she told you?" The man looked up sharply. "Well, she hasn't told any of the scientists, it's not just me..." Avenir continued to stare. "Well. I suppose that for a person like her, it wouldn't be wise to let everybody in on her secrets, and on her plans. If she were to tell us, word might get out, and then... things would not go according to plan." "Do you really believe that?"
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