Name: Spectre {Was once known as little one, Ghostie, Little Pan, & love (by wendy and tinkerbell) }
Age:17
Gender:Male
Desire: On the surface lies no hope. No sign of the boy who once was. There is no sigh of happiness, no trace of freedom. All that stands before you, is a shattered soul, but inside it is a child begging for pan. Crying for strength. Seeking revenge.
My Story: There once was a land, where age was of no factor. Where time held no essence. Life was eternal. This land was the garden of all edens, the fountain of personal, everlasting youth. Youth to those who were truly youthful. Progression of ones self only existed if their minds were ready for it. Only if they excepted it.
In this land that never was, this land of "Make believe" lived a clan of small children. These children, this clan of misfits were known as The Lost Boys. Lost they were, no ryhme to their existence, no reason to live other than life it's self. Oh and live they did, a joyouse existence. Adventure at every turn, danger a living thriving obsticle. Magic with every blink of an eye. All there because they believed in it. All there because of the one boy who kept it thriving the most. The head of the clan, the adopted father to them all, biggest brother if there ever was one. Peter Pan.
Out of all of peter's deciples, out of all the young souls that he blessed with his magical sense of imagination, was little one. Abandoned at birth by a swashbuckeling whore, a lady of the night, only to be discovered by a young fairy. A fairy of gold complection, and shimmering emerald eyes. His cries had carried throughout the night. Cries of fear, hunger, and lonliness.
It was magic that brought him to Pan's front step. And with the help of the lost boys, and the fairy at his side they raised him. Pan raised him. He was little one, pan's shadow, his ghost. The one figure who truly never left pan's side. He was taught everything, how to fish, hunt, believe in the unbelievable, and how to fight. Fight the evil pirates the ruled the waters, and made it clear thay wanted more than just a shore. It was pan who brought him up in the world, and it was Pan who left him there.
Everyone has a shadow of their own. A reflection of the sun to keep them company in lonely times. However it was Hook who had severed the bound that held Peter's shadow to him. It was 8 years ago that Peter went to the land of aging souls. 8 years ago that he became enfatuated by the one known as wendy, only to lose her to the world in which she had came. And it was 8 years, that the relationship that once was held so dear, was extinguished along with the life of a hero.
Ghostie, Pan's ghost, little one, love. All names that had faded to black. All traces of a life that could never be again. 8 years is a long time, enough time for pain to fester. For a heart to harden, for hope to die. 8 years created the shattered boy. 8 years filled a heart with hate. 8 years to turn a boy into, well, into the Ghost of Neverwood.
Who Pulls the strings?
iSymbi
Age:17
Gender:Male
Desire: On the surface lies no hope. No sign of the boy who once was. There is no sigh of happiness, no trace of freedom. All that stands before you, is a shattered soul, but inside it is a child begging for pan. Crying for strength. Seeking revenge.
My Story: There once was a land, where age was of no factor. Where time held no essence. Life was eternal. This land was the garden of all edens, the fountain of personal, everlasting youth. Youth to those who were truly youthful. Progression of ones self only existed if their minds were ready for it. Only if they excepted it.
In this land that never was, this land of "Make believe" lived a clan of small children. These children, this clan of misfits were known as The Lost Boys. Lost they were, no ryhme to their existence, no reason to live other than life it's self. Oh and live they did, a joyouse existence. Adventure at every turn, danger a living thriving obsticle. Magic with every blink of an eye. All there because they believed in it. All there because of the one boy who kept it thriving the most. The head of the clan, the adopted father to them all, biggest brother if there ever was one. Peter Pan.
Out of all of peter's deciples, out of all the young souls that he blessed with his magical sense of imagination, was little one. Abandoned at birth by a swashbuckeling whore, a lady of the night, only to be discovered by a young fairy. A fairy of gold complection, and shimmering emerald eyes. His cries had carried throughout the night. Cries of fear, hunger, and lonliness.
It was magic that brought him to Pan's front step. And with the help of the lost boys, and the fairy at his side they raised him. Pan raised him. He was little one, pan's shadow, his ghost. The one figure who truly never left pan's side. He was taught everything, how to fish, hunt, believe in the unbelievable, and how to fight. Fight the evil pirates the ruled the waters, and made it clear thay wanted more than just a shore. It was pan who brought him up in the world, and it was Pan who left him there.
Everyone has a shadow of their own. A reflection of the sun to keep them company in lonely times. However it was Hook who had severed the bound that held Peter's shadow to him. It was 8 years ago that Peter went to the land of aging souls. 8 years ago that he became enfatuated by the one known as wendy, only to lose her to the world in which she had came. And it was 8 years, that the relationship that once was held so dear, was extinguished along with the life of a hero.
Ghostie, Pan's ghost, little one, love. All names that had faded to black. All traces of a life that could never be again. 8 years is a long time, enough time for pain to fester. For a heart to harden, for hope to die. 8 years created the shattered boy. 8 years filled a heart with hate. 8 years to turn a boy into, well, into the Ghost of Neverwood.
Who Pulls the strings?
iSymbi
