Peter Graham was just an english boy until he was stolen by pirates and taken to Neverland, the place inbetween worlds. There, he became Pandemonium, the fearsome fae warrior who started an organisation planning to otherthrow the pirates. But when P...
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Chapter Eight - Winnie The Pooh Song - Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood // White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane
Windsor wasn't really expecting to be attacked. He was just lost and wandering. He'd been following some guy for the last few minutes, hoping he'd lead him back to somewhere familiar to Windsor. He needed directions. He didn't need a punch in the mouth and a knife on his throat. So his main 'defence' was putting his arms up and praying that whoever attacked him was a sympathetic dude. Unlikely, but Windsor was a lover not a fighter. (He had to admit he wasn't much of a lover, what with his entire history of relationships consisting of one and a half. But he was even less of a fighter, what with his entire history of fighting consisting of play-fighting with his sister and whacking a kid in the back of the head with a book when he'd made fun of his sister for 'looking indian' last year.)
"Jeez, you fairies are weird." Shit, he'd forgotten he had no filter when he was scared, it probably hadn't been the smartest idea to insult his attacker.
The knife against his throat relaxed at the sight of his raised arms and Windsor stepped into the light so he could see his attacker better. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was just a boy his age. Windsor noticed the frown he wore looked like a hand-me-down that didn't quite fit right. He almost relaxed then he remembered Pan, who had looked like he didn't have enough strength in his noodle arms to hurt a fly but Windsor had seen him take on four grown men and come off the winner. He took a hesitant step back from the boy in front of him.
"Oh, I'm not a fae." I'm something worse Windsor prompted his attacker. He might have been scared shitless but even he could see that it would be an epic line to come next. "I'm lost."
"Dude, me too. These tunnels suck to memorise, eh? I went to find a bathroom and now I can't find my bedroom." In the dim candlelight (couldn't the fae have invented some freaking light bulbs already?) Windsor could see confusion on the face of the boy in front of him.
"No, I'm lost. L.O.S.T? As in Languishing Or Severed Tyrant?"
"As in a what?"
"I told Pan it was a stupid name." The boy muttered. "L.O.S.T is the name of our little rebel group. I assume your a part of it, judging by your dress." He gestured to the leafy shirt Windsor wore.
"Why did you call yourselves L.O.S.T? I thought you were the good guys, aren't tyrants bad?"
"You'd have to ask Pan." The boy replied pinching the bridge of his nose and Windsor had the distinct feeling that the boy in front of him had asked Pan that exact question and not gotten the answer he'd wanted.
"So, you're literally lost, huh? I guess you're one of the newbies. Funny, I didn't see you earlier for my training."
The boy sounded confused so Windsor decided to explain.
