The Fourth wall breaking of DEADPOOL meets JANE AUSTEN meets MAGICAL WEIRDNESS
When a mysterious new boy comes to town, seventeen-year-old odd ball, Peneloper Auttsley, must confront the secrets of her past in order to save her present.
...
While Gideon has arrived in the Oaks, Peneloper, still among the great, magical overseers of all layers, finds herself met with another, and what could possibly be an even greater, adversary.
Upon agreeing to the memory restoration, Kelpner Finn had begun walking toward her, a relatively large, gleaming needle in his possession. Her emotions, which until this point had been in disarray, thus unite under a single banner - that of Dread.
Kelpner continues his advance.
Peneloper shifts uncomfortably, her eyes a wide, almost useful width, perfect for a small salad plate or crudité, lips mashed together so tight they threaten to vanish.
Her aura erupts into a gingham pattern of the newly christened, Penred. She is terrified, much to Kelpner's confusion, and is now almost certain the needle has, in fact, gotten longer.
In a last ditch effort for pain-free freedom, she eyes the Exit, if you dare door and contemplates if she really dares. She decides, again, for the best of all parties involved, she does not. Bravery, in this case, would mean the assassination of good sense, and while Peneloper has lost some of it due to the continued presence of those she considers "magical idiots," she hasn't lost it all.
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• Do You Remember •
Peneloper flinched as Kelpner neared, the light dancing off the metallic needle and carrying with it enough menace to dull a demon's snarl. Like every other good folk made from solid, common sense, she had never been a fan of needles or knowingly putting herself in peril. This situation called for both, and while it was what some might have considered a necessary evil, it provided little comfort.
Chant squeezed her hand. "You sure about this?"
Peneloper shook as she eyed the syringe. Her blood vessels throbbed with the singular wish they could constrict so completely, no needle, no matter its length, could ever puncture them.
But there'd be no hiding. Unfortunately, Peneloper had once been assessed by a blood-letting psychotic of the Red Cross, that she, and her veins, were "made to bleed."
She straightened and tried to shake off the shakiness in her shoulders. "It's the only way I'm to regain my memories." She spoke in clear, precise terms, her words sounding like she'd meant them, like she wasn't on the verge of needing an adult-diaper and change of pants.
For those that could read her mind, her strong front fooled no one. For Chant, who couldn't read a Cosmo magazine article without almost passing out from too much blushing, her thoughts alluded him, much the way the female orgasm had. He shrugged, unable to read both the room, and his best friend. "Are they really that important? Jeez, I don't remember much as a kid. Maybe sneaking out of the crib, smearing peanut butter on the walls, nothing life-changing though."
