Peter Pan and the Lost Fae of Neverland

[08] OCTO

"What shall we call ourselves then?"

Cubby asked while they were seated in a circle on top of Neverland mountain. He had curly hair and Peter suddenly wondered why he didn't call him Curly instead.

The sun was starting to set in the distance, dusk almost upon them as the sky slowly bled into the night. From the log he was sitting at, Peter Pan had a marvelous view of the entirety of the island. Pinagmasdan niya ang paglayag ng Jolly Roger sa Never Sea, kung saan alam nilang namomorblema na naman sina Captain Hook sa pagtatapal ng ginawa nilang butas sa barko nito kanina. Peter can still hear the captain's horrendous screams, yelling at them to walk the plank and leave his crew alone after firing one of their canons, almost sinking the pirate ship.

Of course, Peter loved messing with them on a daily basis. Hindi yata makukumpleto ang araw niya kapag hindi niya nakikitang naii-stress o nagagalit si Captain Hook. He knows old Hook secretly likes it too but doesn't admit it.

'It's not like there's a lot to do in Neverland anyway,' Peter thought before his eyes drifted back to the group of human boys sitting around him.

Tandang-tanda niya pa ang araw na tinakas niya ang mga ito sa mundo ng mga mortal. Sa katunayan, tanging si Peter Pan na lang ang nakakaalala sa mga pangyayaring 'yon. Most of these boys, some of them almost the same age as Peter before he stopped aging sometime ago, already left their old lives behind.

Including their memories.

'But not me... I never forget. I always remember what needs to be remembered,' Peter prided in himself before standing up on the log. Like the king of the world---no, like the King of Neverland.

And maybe he is.

Six pairs of eyes followed his every movement reverently, waiting for their savior to speak.

"Lost Boys," Peter announced. "Simula ngayon, tatawagin na tayong Lost Boys. Wala na kayong kakailanganin pa hangga't nandito kayo sa Neverland. Akong bahala sa inyo! I swear on this very mountain that I'll never ever ever leave you guys..."

.
.
.

Peter woke up to the dull pain in his head and to the noise of people arguing outside.

'Ano na naman kaya ang nangyayari?' Napaupo sa kama si Peter. Pero bago pa man siya makasilip sa kaguluhan, agad na nagising ang diwa niya nang maalala ang mga nangyari kagabi. He quickly turned his attention to the area where the arrow dug into him, but was pleasantly surprised to find it gone.

In fact, he can't feel any pain at all!

'Only a scar,' he silently observed, brushing against the skin. 'Did Jester heal me?'

Speaking of Jester, this room smelled like him. Musk, with an undertone of cedarwood. Nang inilibot ni Peter ang kanyang mga mata, noon niya lang napansin ang kabuuan nito. Purple tapestries and silk furnished the interior, the wooden walls were painted a light brown. A small walk-in closet and a bathroom on the opposite side. Golden ornaments and framed pictures decorated the space.

'That's Jester, huh?'

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the huge oil portrait of Jester before him.

Jester looked the same, with those pointed ears, mischievous purple eyes, and glowing wings tucked behind him. The dark locks that usually framed his face were swept back, giving him a regal look as he wore a fitted tunic with a high, stand-up collar. It was adorned with delicate embroidery and beadwork inspired by vine patterns. Jester almost looked like a prince, with the elaborate golden circlet on top of his head and an amethyst amulet around his neck.

'Are all fae this meticulous with their appearance?' Peter couldn't help but wonder.

"Ehem."

Nabaling ang atensyon ni Peter sa kabilang dako ng silid nang biglang pumasok si Jester, may dala-dalang tray ng pagkain at isang nakakalokong ngiti nang mapansin kung ano ang kanyang tinititigan.

"Dinalhan kita ng pagkain, pero sa tingin ko ay busog ka na sa tinitingnan mo."

Napasimangot si Peter at inis na ibinato sa kanya ang pinakamalapit na unan.

Jester laughed good-heartedly and dodged the velvet pillow, placing the tray down on the small table beside the bed.

"Don't waste your energy on me, Peter Pan. Lalo't nasa labas lang ng silid na 'to ang mga nilalang na gusto kang lunurin sa Never Sea," simpleng sabi ng fae bago naupo sa tabi nito. Agad na napalitan ng seryosong ekspresyon ang mukha ni Jester. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel..."

Wait, what does he feel?

"I don't know how to describe this feeling," Peter admitted.

It wasn't relief from being spared last night from a near death experience. It wasn't happiness that his wound was healed. It wasn't sadness over the fact that he's now in a foreign place with only a fae to trust, and even that is questionable. Nor was it fear because of the impending danger brought by the viscious Lost Boys outside.

May mali nga siguro sa kanya. O baka naman manhid na talaga siya sa lahat?

Wala siyang maalala. Ngayon ay mukhang wala na rin siyang maramdaman.

Meanwhile, Jester stared at him for a moment too long, as if studying an open book. Finally, the fae spoke...

"I get it. Minsan masyadong kumplikado ang emosyon ninyong mga tao," paliwanag ni Jester. "At kahit pa pilitin ninyong lagyan ng 'label' ang mga emosyong ito, sometimes it still won't feel right. In fact, nothing will ever feel right. Emotions are not individual labels you can just put on like price tags on an object---they are a spectrum of both said and unsaid feelings. Sometimes a mixture of both. You can't label something as complex as human emotions, Peter. Many failed in the past century, so what's the use in trying?"

"Are you saying it's alright if I don't answer your question?"

"No," Jester shrugged. "I'm saying it's alright if you can't understand your emotions right now. You don't need to figure it out if you're not ready to feel and accept them as they are."

Napatitig si Peter sa kanya.

Napaisip.

Siguro nga may mga bagay at pakiramdam na mas madaling 'wag na lang pangalanan.

---

"I seen you all before,
One too many times.
I fear not what’s in store,
While you hide the crimes.
Petty you, I shadows,
Your standard is failed.
Look up, there’s your gallows,
Dead bodies all wailed.
Your sins were never mine,
All in your dear head.
I no longer benign,
I already bled.
No more we are in sight,
Die alone your own blight."

---Nickolas J McKee, "Seen All to Well Souls Hanging High"