Figment Dreamfinder - Sixteen - Imaginator Extraordinaire
A wild child with a knack for getting into trouble. How could you stay mad at such a "sweetheart"?
"That game sounds boring, I think sword fighting sounds more fun"
"Excuse me, Peter? Playing make believe is always fun. Sword fighting sucks… because you always stab me with things. I’d rather play make believe. We could make believe we’re sword fighting."
Thomas couldn’t help but laugh as Figment thought about his future. He didn’t blame him for not wanting a wife. Perhaps the kid was still in his ‘girls are icky’ phase that every man goes through. “Well, if that’s really what you want to do, I say go for it.” He didn’t even know if his advice was needed, or even wanted but since the kid continued to talk, as would he. “I do not have a wife, no, but I live with a woman. And I get a bit nervous that if I don’t keep her happy, she’ll break all my things.”
Figment’s expression seemed to twist up in confusion. Why would anybody live with somebody else that they ‘feared’? It didn’t make sense to the boy and so he knew he had to investigate this. “Why would she do that? You’re a guy! If she broke your things then you could just push her down and kick dirt in her face, right? Surely you’re stronger.” Fig treated girls much like he would treat boys. No difference other than they had punching bags on their chests.
Quasimodo was actually having a little bit of trouble manoeuvring through the swamp, never having been in a place where you had to step over so many things. It was weird and a little annoying and he didn’t particularly enjoy it. “You’re lucky.” He muttered, but he knew why his father kept him inside. He was a monster, he shouldn’t be seen in the public eye unless they were specifically coming to see him. At all the threatening things that came with his yawn, the boy’s eyes bulged and he looked at him with a completely shocked expression. “Okay. I-I’ll try not t-to.” But he was usually sleeping right now.
"I’m not lucky. Just not unfortunate," the kid smiled at the boy in complete belief of his own words. It should have been acceptable for Quasi to venture out. He was older than Bo after all. Any parent who confined their child was unfit to have one, and thus popped in the idea that Figment should take Quasi. Yes, even despite him being a bit on the older side. He still seemed a kid at heart. So unknowing about the world. "Well, we’re almost there and then you can like, kick your feet up or whatever. It’s a bit dusty but it’s my home." Fig slowed down so that he was keeping Quasi’s pace instead of zipping through the swamps like he was used to doing. "Why are you going so slow?" he spoke genuinely curious. The teenager wasn’t trying to poke fun at the boy at all.
"Wouldn’t surprise me. Everything else that happens to me happens without my permission. Why not that too?" He said thinking his logic was completely sound. Eeyore were very literal creatures and believed him. Figment seemed to be a prime example of why Eeyore missed home. But, he wanted to prove himself to Peter so badly too. He was always caught in this middle space liking being alone all the time and hating himself for it. "Tinks the best fixer"
He mosied along with his usual slow gait as only a donkey boy could move and finally saw their hangman’s tree, so ominous in the forest swamps, and quiet. Who knew a rag tag group of boys like them and Peter Pan lived just underneath it.
"Tink is the best but I think you’re a close second, ‘Yore." He tired hard to carry on with the conversation seeing as how Fig knew not to touch anything remotely negative. Eeyore was the best at pointing out the sad shit and proving his pessimism as ‘logic’. No matter how tempted the teen was to try and prove Eeyore wrong he bit the inside of his cheek and carried on.
"I have something hiding under my sheets too. Maybe I’ll show you… if you agree to play with me and only if you get creative. It’s a good surprise too. You wont want to miss it.” He grinned mischievously before nudging Eeyore along a little more fervently.
Rapunzel kept her baby blue’s attached to his facial features, but every now and then would look at the younger boy holding the grocery bag tightly to his chest. He had accused her of being untruthful, when in reality she was being truthful with all of her heart and soul. The girl didn’t lie, she knew the pain it had caused for other’s. “I’m not lying, but you’re also not very nice for stealing.” At this point in her pregnancy, she was rather emotional. Mainly, she would be either irritable or vulnerable. “Figment, if you would have just asked rather than steal, I would have let you run off and take them. I’m smart enough to know that stealing is bad, and that I don’t want to see a bright young boy such as yourself end up behind bars.” She didn’t know him well, but could tell he had potential. Everyone did, to her. Turning around, she began to walk away. “You can either let me help you and be grateful, or be known as someone who steals groceries from a pregnant girl. You can decide for yourself.”
"I can be nice," he pointed out as some wishy washy attempt to prove her wrong. "I can be very nice actually." Bright? He liked that. He enjoyed compliments even though they rarely came his way. He was used to silly insults, all fun and games, but compliments and sincerity were refreshing. "I wont end up behind bars. I promise you that." Fig stared down at the food in his arms for another moment but when he flicked his eyes back up the girl was walking away form him. "Hey! You’re just going to leave? What the hell?"
Thomas felt the eyes of Figment judging him, but he wasn’t really bothered by it. He was trying his best, not much else that he could do. “There’s this one saying, it obviously doesn’t technically fit here but you’ll get the gist of it - Happy Wife Happy Life. Keep the women in your life happy and they’ll save you a lot of grief.” He couldn’t believe he was giving this teenager advice, but hey, first time for everything.
"Happy wife? Oh ew- nope. I’m never getting a wife. I think I’d rather be a Lost Boy and enjoy my young days in the swamps with my friends and the moment I turn into an old fart I’ll just give up living." Figment had his own theories about what would happen to him as the years carried on. Maybe he would use his last days sharing his imagination until he blipped out of existence. A bitter sweet thought that didn’t cross the boys mind to often but now was one of the times it did. "I’d rather make myself happy before I go making a girl happy." He shrugged his shoulders with a smirk. "Do you have a wife?"
Quasi nodded and smiled at him a little bit, but he knew why he was given his name. He was a monster. He slowly headed into the swamps with wide eyes, never having dared to venture inside on his own, but now he was with someone… hopefully it would be alright. “I’m twenty.” He didn’t really act twenty, but his heart of gold made up for his innocence. He was the kindest boy someone would ever meet, not that many people would meet him. “You’re allowed outside a-at sixteen?” He asked with slightly wide eyes. He knew that most people lived their lives in the day time and, now that he thought about it, he stretched his arms out and let out a big yawn, but he was used to being locked inside the house unless he was with the freak show at night.
Figment was skillfully maneuvering around the obstacles for it was all he had ever known. Practicing his explorations on the daily assisted him in knowing how to handle the land. Quasi was in good hands. “Twenty? Woah, you look younger. Like… maybe a tad bit older than me,” he bumbled on with his words and a sloppy crooked smile. “I’m allowed to do whatever I want, really. I-… I used to have a dad like you do but he let me discover the world for myself.” That was putting it simply. Behind that was a whole different story. When Quasi gave out that yawn, completed with a stretch of his arms the younger boy gasped, “Dude, none of that! You can’t be falling asleep out here. A croc will crawl up to your napping self and then gobble you up. Or maybe the mosquitoes will eat you alive. Oh- or maybe you’ll fall asleep on a patch of quick sand and then emerge from the swamps as a bog monster!” he lifted his arms up, wrists limp to show his quality impression of a monster. “No sleeping, okay?”
"I wasn’t saying it like it was a bad thing, not at all." Thomas said, shaking his hands defensively, no longer touching the boy. "I shouldn’t have added the word just, I’m sorry." He furrowed his eyebrows, but relaxed his face as his advice seemed to be positive. "Yeah, a special girl on your mind? That’s sweet."
Figment gave a long hard look at the man trying to save himself from his own misuse of words. Even if they hadn’t been misused at all. He was clearly trying to calm Fig though and this intrigued the boy as to why? “Eh, she’s not really that special but she tells better stories when she’s happy so…” he popped his shoulders up for a quick shrug.
Quasi blinked but obediently started walking after him, frowning at the part of him having to explain himself. “Quasimodo.” He answered softly, looking around as they walked. He didn’t know what the other boy wanted to know about him other than that, honestly. His life was just so boring… well, the version he was going to tell was.
"Woah, what a mouthful," he bluntly stated before laughing over the kid’s name. However, he already knew he had no room to talk. He knew he was appropriately named but it came from the logic of a child with leftover intelligence from his creator. It was a complicated situation. "My name is Figment. Now we’re no longer strangers and this got a little less creepy." He eventually dropped the other’s hand and continued his walking, jumping purposefully over logs and venturing through foliage once they reached the swamp lands. "I’m sixteen," he lied with ease. That one was easy since he practiced it so many times. "How about you Quasi?" Nicknames were always fun.