** Only one thing can still prevent Neverland's downfall: In the dark times when a star's light perishes, a new one must be found! **
Neverland - a world in which simply everything was possible as long as you could dream it. But behind a shining lig...
Hook's hand held an iron grip on the crumpled fabric of her coat at the collar and shoulder and seemed to want to tug her around like a puppet. Through her buzzing thoughts, she listened only peripherally to Hook and his man's conversation. Instead, her eyes slid around, trying to find an escape route or sound out what opportunities might present themselves. The ladders were caught up and after a few moments, the clacking of rungs and ropes died away. But there were the wooden rungs that led down the side of the flank somewhere on most ships, and ropes that she might be able to cut.
Depending on whether they were mooring the dinghy to the ship or hauling it in. The Jolly Roger was not always anchored outside the jetty, but usually near the pirate camp on the beach. So she might be able to make it off the ship. But then there continued to be the crocodile-infested waters and the cove teeming with pirates.... she had to wait for a suitable moment. But that was the problem: she didn't know how much time she had left or what Hook was going to do with her... And when she thought of what might happen to her if the rat's nest found out... No... she couldn't calmly wait for Pan and the others to just come and rescue her. But WHAT could she do?!
Briefly, her gaze flickered back to the actual cloak-bearer, flitting over the dark hair, and taut shoulders, and lingering for a moment on the coquettish features of Winterfrost's face. It wasn't hard to guess what Hook and every other pirate on board were thinking: they felt superior, cheated, and at an advantage. The pull toward the dark was a double-edged sword that could sever veins and veins from within-Luke knew the feeling better than she would have liked, and she felt the warning tingle of danger thick as dust bunnies in the air. Hook surveyed the situation, letting the measuring gaze of sharpened blades roam, and though the man's features were as cool as Father Frost's must be, could she swear she saw tense cheek muscles grinding beneath the neatly dark beard? When she imagined that he was looking in her direction, she hurriedly released her gaze and stared at the ground, not wanting to irritate him or the pirate pack any more than necessary. Unlike some of the lost, she was not only attached to her life - but she also knew when it was time to bare her teeth or keep quiet.
Hook's conversation, however, drew her attention back. Found something on the beach? Her brow furrowed broodingly under her cap, while the thoughtful expression crept crookedly into her features, not quite wanting to fit into the image of the shivering prisoner. What could the pirates find at the booth? Other than bones and sand, a bit of... Flotsam, perhaps? Or had they possibly picked up another lost person? No...that was unlikely. If so, they wouldn't make such a secret of it, but instead would proudly heave their chests and snub themselves with the catch. Luke was sure they wouldn't have passed up such an opportunity. Especially not when the dreaded captain's gaze hovered so grimly at half-mast, looming like a sword of Damocles over everyone's heads, just waiting to find the poor sap who would be the first victim of the gathering storm.
Whatever it was, she probably had other worries right now?! As she was made aware by the agonizing grip on her shoulder, which once again elicited a pained grimace and a suppressed groan before roughly tugging her along by her strings like a puppet. The slender body followed the jerk, the dull sound of boots on planks accompanying it like the drumbeat to the gallows. She struggled to keep up with Hook's pace and almost tripped over her own feet before the familiar image of the double door to the captain's cabin reappeared before her. Golden letters were set there in an ornament that, in its heyday and moments when she could have been aware of the art, would surely have elicited an admiring whistle. On the shield amid the embrace of gold-tinted vines and ornamentation was written in a sweeping script, - of course - gold letters on a black background 'Captain J. Hook'. From the momentum with which Hook pushed her nose-first against the door, she nearly slammed into it first. A low growl escaped her lips before she pushed down the brass handle, the shadow of death on her neck, and stepped forward first.
In the meantime, lights had been lit in the cabin. Numerous candles on overhanging chandeliers flickered in the breeze that entered through the open door and broke among the numerous objects on shelves and in cupboards. A groan escaped her at the sight of the shards on the floor, scattered in a sea of water and flowers. Petals had scattered in all directions, most notably tracing their escape route toward the door now toward her. One had only provisionally lit the light but had not yet found time to put this one in the order in addition to the mess on deck.
A soft howl caused the heavy curtains at the window to billow slightly, while the cool wind blew in with the salty smell of wide seas and dark night. For a second the lips of the young woman puckered, standing a little indecisively in the cabin from which she had recently thought herself successful. Now, however, the pendulum had simply swung back again and brought her back to this place.... damn it. It was only then that she noticed the flowers that had been left behind in her little... theft... had fallen to the ground, and her head almost instantly tilted to the side in a fit of accruing irritation as she gazed at the different colored splotches of soft heads that now lay sorrowfully on the ground. This sight... did not fit the horrible overall picture of Hook she had had so far.
Before she had set out, she had possessed a vile, diabolical imagination, admittedly composed of the parts she had been taught. Of Pan, the lost and her own image of pirates and her fantasy, which probably every person carried in his heart since childhood. A large structure, with sharp edges on which the blood of innocents stuck. But now Hook kept breaking out fragments piece by piece - and her first imagination was barely recognizable. Frowning, her gaze slid from there back to the window from which she had escaped once before. In the meantime, however, fog and the blackness of the night swallowed up the view behind the mighty gates through which the gurgling rumble of the waves penetrated inward. The thought of another foolish escape attempt of this sort, however, crumbled under Hook's fingers, which gripped ironically into the red cloak and her own beneath it so that she scowled, grumbling, at the tip of the hook he kept pressing into her back or side as an incentive to go on. Hah, she almost could have laughed bitterly that he did it meticulously so as not to damage the precious piece of the cursed coat even more in the process. It was probably true... he was a vain stockfish.
"And now? Are you going to throw me out the window single-handedly?" she asked a little contritely, jutting her chin sideways at Hook and glaring at him with a glare in the corner of her eye. God, her thoughts and the uncertainty were driving her crazy.
"What are you going to do with me now?" she just had to know.
Inquiringly, her eyes looked up at him from under the peak of the woolen cap, which had visibly taken its mark from the adventure as well. A cobweb had caught on the woolen fabric and a new smudge adorned it like a signature of the forest. Although Luke made an honest effort to keep her voice from trembling, and there was more defiant confidence than wavering fear in the color of her voice, her body was still tense whenever Hook made even a move.
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