They say that here in Neverland, the stories are the memories, so it is no surprise to anyone that a misfit holds the histories. She travels far, and near, and wide collecting lore and legend. And this adventure’s never done, for every tale tells another one.
Or so the story goes…
· ✧ ·
And so the story goes that the storyteller landed on the grassy surface of Misfit Island just as the billow of waves tossing to and fro in the sea below transformed into giant sea snakes. The watery creatures shot up in the air, giving chase to Avit through a battalion of sky sailors.
“And this is Myth our storyteller,” Lexi explains, out of breath, to a group of bewildered new arrivals looking around in cautious delight.
“I see Avit is off wreaking the Maestro’s havoc.”
“It was my idea,” Lexi grins, gleefully owning her part in the mischief.
“Ahh,” Myth snickers knowingly, looking out into the sky as the fastest flyer turned into a speck on the horizon. “Any chance she’ll be back soon?”
Lexi bobs her head in thought. “Soon?”
“Myth, how goes it?” Oc asks, jumping down from the bird coup, a triumphant glint in her eyes.
“Not well, it appears I’ve missed a tale worth telling.”
“Oh yes, the story goes –”
“Wait , wait wait” one of new arrivals interrupts, bewildered and impatient for answers. “What were those things, and who are misfits and what is all this and—and” she pauses lost for words precise enough to describe the strangeness of it all.
“Those were sea snakes,” Myth explains, “Beautiful creatures from the depths of Nki’wata’s sea, prone to a chase, and destructive, as you see, if you get in their way.
“The story goes,” she continues leaning her arm on Lexi’s shoulder, “that our Lexicon has a talent for talking to anything and anyone, a mind for strategy, and strangely a heart for harmony.”
“Usually,” Lexi corrects.
“And if I had to make a guess from those fleeing aero-ships,” Myth continues, grabbing a pink and yellow fruit from a nearby branch and taking a bite, “calling the sea snakes was part of a daring or at least a mischievous escape.”
The new arrivals look at each other lips pursed with knowing smirks and satisfaction behind their eyes.
“As for the misfits, that’s us.” Oc points to themselves, “and Grips and Avit. We’re adventures by trade and no limit’s accomplices.”
“But not Piper?” one of the new arrivals inquires.
Myth tosses a fruit to Oc, scrunching her face in disbelief. “Piper was here?”
She holds out her hand and catches it. “Briefly. And you’re right.” She nods to the inquiring girl with glasses. “She’s not a misfit…I’m not sure what she is…Lexi?”
“Hmm…” she ponders. “Nothing I could name besides Maestro.”
“And you all live here, on this floating island tree house thing?” one arrival asks.
“This is Misfit Island. Where else would we live?”
“And it’s all real?” an anxiously, disbelieving girl blurts out. “Not a dream or a joke?”
“Not more or less than anything else.” Lexi replies gently, watching the girl’s eyes dart back and forth vigilantly.
“But, more important than who we are,” Myth pivots, “who are you? What are your names, if you have them.” she turns to the anxious one, “a name for a fruit?”
“I’m Brave and this is Witt,” she says passing the fruit lobbed at her to the inquisitive one with glasses.
“I’m Deter,” another responds, catching the next fruit that flew a little too far. She examines it for a moment then takes a bite, smiling as the juice drips down her chin.
“And I’m Poise,” the next girl states, refusing to catch the fruit at all.
“I can’t believe this island flies, how does it float in the sky without sails or wings?”
“Magic,” Oc answers simply. “And what about you?” She turns to the final new arrival.
“Uhh…I’m No One… I don’t have a name,” she whispers after a moment’s hesitation.
Lexi squeezes her arm warmly and hands her a fruit.
“That’s alright. Names have a way of finding you here.”
Suddenly the sun disappears, and the dark inky night fills with the stars and moon. Oc rolls her eyes, “someone’s fighting over the time again.”
“Fighting over the time?” Poise repeats exasperated.
Oc flicks a switch hidden in the grooves of the banyan tree trunk and slowly, warm little lantern lights flicker on throughout its branches.
“There’s no stable day and night in Neverland.” Witt infers, curiously examining the lights.
Myth nods, “some want the day to last forever, while others can’t wait until tomorrow, and since the sun and moon dial operates on the shards of a shattered hourglass, it’s not so hard to change the time. Although you never know when tomorrow begins, when it ends, or if it will come at all… or so the story goes.”
“And so the story goes,” Lexi echos.
The new arrivals, still befuddled, walk around slowly becoming acquainted with their surroundings. Brave had ventured further into the island and Witt followed after her, distracted by each passing fascination. Deter flew clumsily up into the trees and threw fruit down to No One and sometimes to Poise, who remained unconvinced of the island’s mechanics.
“I like them too.” Lexi grins leaning her head on Myth’s shoulders.
Oc yawns. “They already act like misfits.”
“Hey,” she yells out grabbing their attention. “We’ll show you how to grow a hammock.”
“And I want to know the story of your capture and escape.” Myth insists. “If anyone can tell it.”
Oc looks over at Deter and Witt, “you two might be the best for it.”
The two give each other a quick glance and begin to tell the tale.