red

[aunter]

R E D > You enter the door and find yourself in a glass box, suspended in the sky. Bright blue skies, white fluffy clouds, even birds pass by in the air around you. One look down and you see grass fields and sprawling lakes as far as the eye can see. Some wild horses running across the fields, some cows, just exactly what you'd expect. It's idyllic as fuck. Then the words appear:

Comments

[wheatcake]

Yeah. Nobody touch that die until we've all made the decision.

[And- And he's speaking with complete seriousness, now. No more joking.]

We wouldn't die that way. If death's an end route-- and whatever's doing this is implying it is-- it'll be a circumstance of the game. The rules didn't say 'don't kick'. The rules said sacrifice, dice, knife.

[lost_first]

Vague rules mean one of two things:

Absolute power over the space.

Or holes it can play with.

[wheatcake]

[Snaps fingers.]

Now you're thinking. There's always a way forward. You just can't give up.

[lost_first]

No. The one thing I won’t do is give up.

[wheatcake]

[He holds out a hand to shake.]

Good. Me neither.

[lost_first]

[ He’ll offer his hook with a wry smile before giving the hand. ]

Aye. I’m a man first. A pirate second.

[wheatcake]

[He laughs.]

Samesies. But with spiders.

[lost_first]

As long as you don't decide to eat me, I'm sure we'll have little to argue over.

[wheatcake]

...The hell kinda spiders they got where you're from?

[lost_first]

They are there no longer. But we called them the Many-Eyed. And I saw more than a few of my boys eaten by them.

I only learned their true name as a man.

[wheatcake]

That's messed up and I'm sorry for your loss.

Think of me as a... friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

[lost_first]

They were simple beasts. And Peter had could have properly allowed for communication between our two people. But it wasn't nearly as [ the bitterness is sharp] 'fun' for him.

[ He looks to Peter with a wry sort of expression. It's not a smile. It's far too tired. ]

So far, you act as a friend. A true friend. One who wishes to see all of us brought through this safely.

I will consider you one until you prove otherwise.

[wheatcake]

Good. Me too.

[And, nervous laughter,] Wow, Peters are just jerks, right?

[lost_first]

[ ...how do you have a secret identity, man? Your chill is non-existant.

James, well used to reading a room (or in his specific case, a forest clearing full of people of about the same maturity level as Peter most days) raises an eyebrow.]

The 'Peter' I speak of is a spirit, an eternal boy whose life is renewed and whose wounds are healed by blood shed and lives lost on the island he lures young boys to with promises of fun and adventure.



Just for reference.

[wheatcake]

[hol up]

And you have a hook hand.

[lost_first]

[ Don't worry. He's kind of...

He knows. He knows about the story. And about how people see him. And he absolutely doesn't care. Not. One. Whit.

None of them have actually MET Peter.]

I'm sure you have questions. I've heard the jokes before. I can't leave Neverland very often, but I do leave.

[ B.i-t.t.e.r.]

Must restock my crew, after all, and our supplies. Or what will Peter's 'playmates' pillage? Who would they fight? How would they die for his laughter?

[wheatcake]

Jeez, Johnny Depp needs more therapy than I thought.

[Massaging his temples.]

Well, you seem cool. I know what bad press can do. I'll believe the genuine article.

[...]

Arrrticle.

[lost_first]

[ ...that... does get. Sort of a wry smile. And a glance over at Peter like...

'Seriously?' But he presses his lips together and clears his throat before he speaks.]

I will appreciate that. And... as I said. Do the same.