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Tinker Bell (tink_says) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

"How you were raised? I don't know what you're talking about. You like certain things because of somebody picking you up? That's odd. Is that something that they do in Japan?" Her head canted to the side, and she did her best to consider what he meant. How did somebody picking you up entitle you to something? She decided that it was a sort of strength test or something that had to do with weighing. She also decided that she would do her best, from now on, to not say that certain things were odd. It never occurred to her that being raised had anything to do with someone starting as a baby and growing up. That was a completely foreign concept. Fairies, after all, were born from the laughter of children, and they were born fully formed. After all, how would they make it back to the Neverland if they had to worry about being babies? She had never had any parents, nor had she any brothers or sisters. The only growing up that Tinker had ever done was mental, and she was still very young as far as that went.

When he mentioned that their calling and their knocking wasn't doing any good, she stopped. Her mouth closed, and she fell completely silent. She noticed that he looked somewhat defeated, and his sigh had not escaped her. The disappointment in his face was clear, and she felt somewhat bad.

Things seemed somewhat hopeless. They were trapped in a cell with no light, no windows, no way out. It was filling with water. They were unsure as to whether or not they would be fed. It was grim, she had to admit, and her light began to dim slightly. It remained only through her determination; she knew, after all, that they would not fare well if they were in a state of total darkness.

A moment later, the mood changed. Noticing that he perked up at the prospect of flying, she giggled and nodded. "Of course I can make you fly. I wouldn't say something like that just to make you smile. I like telling the truth. It tends to do better than giving people nothing more than empty promises. I can make you fly, Domeki, and it isn't even going to be that difficult. And I am going to get the process started, because I don't want to have to worry about you drowning until I have to worry about me drowning. It will definitely make things easier for the both of us."

Hovering over his head, Tink looked down at him. She shook her wings as hard and as fast as she could, hovering in place and flapping, and faint sparkles of dust began to fall downwards. The dust was the same color as her aura, a sharp white that illuminated the room. It clung to his hair and shoulders, giving him a sort of luminescent quality. After a few moments, she stopped and flew down, perching herself on his shoulder. From the amount of dust that she put her hand in she had to admit that she had done a mighty fine job. Already, the dust was starting to sink in.

"From here," she said, speaking softly and close to his ear, "you just need to think some happy thoughts. That's all it takes, really. Fairy dust and happy thoughts. Give it a shot, and you'll be flying before you know it."