Name: Elizabeth Hawkins

Birthdate: 31 July

Gender: Female

Age: 17 (In appearance)

Parental Involvement: Nonexistent in the best, or worst kind of way. She hasn't seen her father for many years, and her mother passed from a disease when she was a child.

Appearance:

Item: A Sorceror's Stone Embedded in her Chest. Just below the collarbone and deep within her. Without its power, or if she drains it completely without reprieve, she will die. It is a glistening, oval gem that can only be seen if she wills it.

Compass: Nonsense 1, Wicked 1

Short history/personality:

Alchemy.

In her world, it is a science that combines both chemistry and mysticism. A place in which those who would draw circles would create an exchange. One item can become another, as long as they share similar atomic structure. A steel bemch can become a spear, a brick floor can sprout up and become a wall, living flesh can be combined to create horrible abominations.

It is a science that Elizabeth had been taught from a very young age. After all, she was a descendant of Flamel, her father always purpoted proudly. The only Alchemist ever to create a Philosopher's stone.

Only to vanish moments after.

Alchemists everywhere sought the stone, and her father was no exception. While Elizabeth was content with the beginning knowledge of alchemy at first, her father sunk further and further into madness to try and find the stone. He was called the crystal alchemist by the monarchy which ruled the land. As he was adept at creating beautiful gems and stones with alchemy.

Little did they know, and little did she know, that ut was practice for something greater, something far more horrific. One day after finally decoding the last pages of Flamel's texts, her father disappeared with the book clutched to his chest. Leaving her alone for three days straight. Both peculiar and troubling, she soon found out the reason why.

Sporting events, while rare, practucally drew the whole kingdom to watch the athletes compete. Hundreds of thousands of people clustered together in one place with the entire Royal Family to boot.

Elizabeth was there as well, watching from the nosebleeds because the tickets were at least affordable. There, in all the madness her father appeared. He strode out into the midst of the field, and there, as the gameplay paused with his interruption, he disrobed. Along his legs and back were wicked, jagged lines of black and white, and in a maddened scream, he brought death to the kingdom. Just as they were once standing, hundreds of thousands of people ceased to exist in the blink of an eye.

He had taken their body and souls to craft a gem. A small, oval gem which he took into his seedy grasp. And as the government ceased to exist, the kingdom fell into ruin as the last remnants would soon be absorbed into the stone as well. One man had wrought total genocide to a country, and when he turned.to proudly show his daughter his horrific accomplishment, he realized that she was no longer there.

She was in the abyss, her soul a prison in the gem, but now rife with new alchemic knowledge.

Through the chaotic torrent of death she swam, until she rose to the surface. Out of the gem she reformed, literally growing from nothingness as her soul willed it greater than anyone else in existence within the gem, and in her struggle to seize control, she lashed out. For hundreds of feet the world was torn asunder, and it engulfed her father. Hoping to never see him again, she fled.

But she was no fool. She ran, desperately seeking someone who might help her, hoping for someone who could possibly explain all the whispers, all the screams and woe, but in her loneliness, she began to talk to the myriad of souls now trapped inside her body.

So she ran.

Until she found a door standing alone.

No walls or frame to support it, it just simply stood. Further examination of the intricate engravings revealed something alchemical, or maybe even magical about it. So bravely she took the handle, turned the brass knob, and stepped into silence.

Pure, uninterrupted silence. No souls whispering, no kingdom of death. Nothing. It was bliss. For she soon found herself standing before a school, with an invitation that appeared magically in her grasp. As if the school wanted her to be there. A living philsopher's stone, and it wanted her there.

Who was she to refuse it?

Name: The Flower of Miracles, or Viola.

Gender: Female

Age: 176

Race: Plant

Homeworld: Unknown

Compass: Logic 1, Wickedness 2

Bio: The flower of miracles.

That was the name they had called her at one time. Upon a barren wasteland, they had found her. A thin, frail sapling that had taken root in the crevace through the frigid howling air of an ice planet. A place so cold that the strange bipedal people that took her in often called it uninhabitable. Yet...inhabit it they did. Though she never understood why.

What she did understand however, was their kindness.

They gave her a fresh pot of dirt, a warm light, and water. Resources so desperately scarce on the desolate world they existed in misery upon. The kindness she could grasp, but the reason for it was something beyond her. The tall darker one often reflected of a lost home whenever he looked upon her growing seed. While the thin, frail looking one often gained a distant look whenever the other talked about their lost home.

Listening to their stories, she came to one conclusion: she wanted to help them. Wishing only to see them smile once again. For the two in their little hut had stumbled upon her, and took her into their home. With her entire being, the little plant simply wished to take them to the plant draped in glorious greens, waters, mountains and beaches that they often dreamed of in their sleep.

With their nurturing, she began to grow. The hut slowly grew warmer, the nights more forgiving, and the generator strained less. At first, the people didn't notice, assuming that the planet they lived upon was just going into its summer season. However, as time grew on and the little sapling began to grow even further, they noticed something absolutely awe-striking.

The ice around their home had begun to melt.

And green grasses were beneath it.

Over the next week, they watched on as for nearly two-hundred meters' distance, life literally sprung into being around them. That which had once been barren now had leaves, the small growth of trees and grass, and the trees themselves began to bear fruit. Even through the thick cloud cover that circled above them in such a desolate world, they began to see hints of sunlight. Beams of warmth that began to poke through.

Little did they realize that it was only the beginning. She began to grow even bigger, and as a result, the life that had begun to sprout grew to even greater heights of beauty and peculiarity. Literally, life had begun to sprout from the ground. And soon before long, the tall dark one had to learn how to hunt for food. Something that he had done as a child and had yearned to do again. The thin frail one could long at last take from the trees and carve pieces of art in leisure, something she had once done as well.

In her little pot she was beginning to outgrow, the plant's soul smiled. She had brought them happiness. Finally then, they truly noticed her. Having left their hut weeks ago for the warmth of the outdoors they missed so much, a chance entrance of the dark one brought her into view once again. The small wooden cup his beloved had hewn from wood fell to the ground, as the tiny sapling had grown into something else.

Encasing herself in a sphere of glass, the dark one saw the frame of someone, or something inside of it. She grew to even greater heights then, and the small rickety shack broke away, and finally she too could see the sunlight as with her will, the clouds broke away.

The two people who had sacrificed so much now saw her for what she truly was. She rose to exist within her little sphere of biological glass, watching on as life itself continued to blossom and grow. Now, with an area ranging at nearly at two square kilometres, she had reached the extent that her power could reach. It turned then to the refinement and further polishing of what she had created.

Yet her little triumph, her oasis on the wastes did not go unnoticed.

Years passed, and one day a great calamity fell from the skies. It was confusing to her, terrifying even as she shrank back in her little sphere. While the two who were her caretakers rejoiced. Shooting a strange light into the sky, and the calamity roared in deafening tone and drew closer. It was massive, a goliath in the heavens whose steely texture seemed even colder than the barrens she had sprouted upon. It landed on the ground, and more creatures like the dark and frail one emerged.

Once the new creatures drew closer, her caretakers quickly drew to them. Pointing at her and talking in a fervored tone, it was here that she first heard the name she grew familiar to so quickly: The Flower of Miracles.

Yet the similar creatures were not kind nor sweet. As abrupt as their arrival was, it also took a turn towards tragedy. One of them drew a blade and pistol, both weapons being foreign to the plant, and used them on her caretakers. She screamed in agony, in misery, her fingertips extending to the edge of her glass orb as she desperately tried to do something.

She wished to save the lives of the ones who had saved hers.

But it was to no avail as she crumpled into a miserable heap inside her little sanctuary. For all the power she held to create life, she held not the power to restore life to the ones who had blssed her with hope and a home. Her fingertips, slender, luminous and pale, curled into angered fists as there was nothing she could do but sit as these new cruel caretakers took her into their ship.

Tests began then, as men wearing clothes that were long and white examined her. Poking needles into the orb and trying to break the sanctity of her skin; they took samples of her blood, sequencing her DNA and giving it to other scientists for the sake of creating others like her. In time, all her heartbreak, all her misery coalesced into an overpowering sense of trembling rage as soon those who manned the ship found something to their disfavor.

With the poke of one last needle, the orb of glass began to melt. Sensors of energy and heat rose off the charts, and the Sapling, what had once been a tiny little plant caused the ship to literally melt from the inside out. The temperature itself of the interior rising into the hundreds of degrees as these despicable creatures were baked within that which they had thought was safe.

So aimlessly, the ship drifted through space, a dead hulk of what had once been a command ship. Years passed, stories became tall tales, tall tales receded into legend. Yet even now, some even say that she still exists, waiting for those who helped her gain life to be reborn so that she could embrace them once again in the beauty of joy and nature.

The Flower of Miracles laid in slumber, in wait, sleeping, dreaming of the day where she might wake once again.

Over a century and a half later, whispers echoed through the hallways and vibrations rattled what little remained of demolished floors. Someone, something was coming. Extending her conscious along the roots of flowers and grass that ahd begun to grow through fractures in the alloys and metals. Blossoming in the ashen and skeletal remains of the ones who had treated her with such cruelty.

She could hear foosteps.

Whatever was approaching her hiding place was drawing closer. What did they want? Slowly, pale luminous eyes of white opened to look down the narrow abysmal hallway that lead to her location. Murmurs echoed down that hall. Some were laced with fear, some with wonder, and others with determination. Were they coming to seize her and take her back to the men in white?

Distrustfully, she watched as there was a faint glimmer in the distance. Slowly, it grew bigger and brighter as it drew closer. The sound of digital electronics making a pulsing noise the closer it came to her. She didnt' move. Everything in her mind screamed for her to do so, but at long last her peculiar visitors came into view.

One was a strange looking man, with a large brown beard. And two more women...who had bodies that did not transmit the normal wavelengths of life she was so familiar with. Their discovery could only be summed up with one sentence that the bearded man uttered.

"Mother of God..."

More footsteps sounded then and the three stood aside. Her eyes drew into a skeptical squint as it drew closer until another man came walking forward. In comparison to what she soon realized were his comrades, he held no mechanical alteration. Curiously, the peculiar looking girl within the orb of glass slowly crawled forward towards them.

"IT'S ALIVE." The man with beard shouted, raising what looked to be a heavy weapon of some sort. In reaction, the plant shrunk back and away in fear at the opposite end of her orb. The silver haired one who was truly biological raised his hand in silence and the bearded man lowered his weapon. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the Plant and rested his palm upon the glass that separated him and her.

Raising her hand, she paused to stare at him with the emptiness of her white eyes for a few seconds before reaching across the void. The talons of her fingertips coming to rest evenly with the height of his hands. Then, his hand experienced an extraordinary level of warmth which radiated down his arm as the green creature's eyes fluttered shut.

Memory, genetics, history. All of it was open for her to view. She could see his happiness and misery, his struggles and his triumphs. But there was something else that struck her mark. His genetics. A few alleles here, a scattering there...this man was related to the Dark one. The one who had given her water, earth, and hope. Crystalline tears streamed down her cheeks then as the bio-glass orb she had been encased within for over a century ceased to be, dissipating as dust into the very air.

Collapsing to the ground, the Sapling's fingertips reached forward towards this other with silver hair. Pausing, he stole a piece of heavy clothing from the man bearing a beard, draping it over her before picking her up and walking out of the lonely hulk that housed her nightmares.


Abilities: Life Generation. They say Plants create miracles. Life, water, food, literally out of thin air. And this isn't far from the truth. Though...anger one, and the situation can become most dire. The universe's most powerful Warships are powered by plants as ingenious minds found ways to use such power for far more nefarious purposes. They are her cloned descendants, some cities in the wastes are even dependent on them.

Full Name: Ryker Axel Porter

Nickname: Jaguar. Or Luck, if too lazy for Jaguar. In the past five years, he was really only known by these thanks to Pan and his affinity for nicknames. He gained them because of the black jaguar skin he wore during the cold months, and that he always seemed to have and bring a great amount of luck bordering on supernatural. He is still not used to being called or calling himself Ryker again.

Birthday: February 29th, 2000

Gender: Male

Age: According to Earth, almost 18. According to Neverland, around twenty. Physically, 15. Mentally, you would not guess he aged a day. One does not age in Neverland, the time there is a bit wonky compared to Earth’s, and he never had any reason to even remotely “grow up.”

Parental Involvement: Obsessively active. When he first went missing, his face was plastered everywhere, and now that he is back, they are willing to do whatever is necessary to get him to return to “normal” so he can live a “happy, normal life” free of Neverland “delusions.”

Appearance: Ryker has a strong face, with a slightly pointed chin, and an even pointer nose. Over the past few years, his ears have even gained a slight point to them because of his exposure to fairy magic, making him look elfish, which is one of many things that got filed away under something that must have been caused by his abductors. He is rather tan from spending hours in the sun, and his eyes are a pale green, which deepen as far as black as his mood and emotions darkens. His black hair is always messy, but mostly because he refuses to brush it, and he has not cut it in a long while. The last time he did cut it, it came out horribly uneven; daggers are not the easiest things to cut hair with, especially without a mirror. Though once plain black, it now has a faint pearlescent sheen that shines in the right light from spending too much time around fairy dust. He also has various scars from innumerous misadventures. Clothes-wise, whenever it is not too cold, he favors a simple pair of shorts and going shirtless. Back on Earth, he’s substituted his jaguar pelt for a black hoodie two sizes too large that he wears whenever going shirtless is not permitted or is otherwise inappropriate.

Item: A pendant. A prism crystal, its outside glitters in a rainbow hue of colors, giving it the appearance of the clearest diamond to grace Earth. But in its hollow innards, glowing emerald sand swirls around, twisting and curling to its own rhythm. The rare green fairy dust, it is the only thing right now keeping the Darkness in him at bay. Were it to break or be removed for long, one of two things would happen: either he would grow deathly ill as his body was forced to fight the Darkness on its own, ultimately leading to falling comatose, or, more likely than not, he would go slowly insane until the Darkness consumed him, body, mind, and soul. With the rules different in Earth than Neverland, what the latter would mean for him on Earth is anyone’s guess.

Compass: Nonsense 1, Wicked 1.

Personality: Ryker is an adventurous soul who has always sought after nearly anything that brought a sense of freedom. Before finding his “door,” he was mostly capable of hiding behind a content façade. He has never felt quite right in society, always hated the thought of growing up, of being stuck behind a desk, of conformity. Now, his is openly reckless, willing to push his luck to the limit, and try just about anything. After spending so long with few—if any—rules, he has a major disregard for them, and strives to break them. He longs to be capable of flying again—an ability that left him once forced from Neverland—and be his own master. Because of the Darkness lurking inside him, he is also prone to anger and hatred, often in quick, yet fierce bouts, being vindictive, and even occasionally cruelly playful. Despite his mistakes, he is willing to do whatever it takes to be capable of returning to Neverland, and to regain the freedom he felt there.

A Kinda-Not-Really Short History: Adopted as an infant, Ryker grew up with overprotective parents. They were nice enough, sure, but they did everything in their power to make sure that nothing bad ever happened to him. Which, really, meant practically nothing ever happened to him. They were always there, whether he wanted them or not, preventing him from doing anything ever really fun. They were obsessed with seeing him succeed academically, not caring what he wanted for himself, his protests always brushed off.
He often wondered which would be worse: them, or parents who did not give a crap.
He tended to play the good little boy for them, but, as he grew older, he began sneaking out. He had to get away from them. Every cell in his being longed for adventure. He wanted to run free, to do as he pleased and not be bound by the rules of society—or, rather, his parents.
When he was fifteen, he made a life-changing decision: he was going to go and make his own adventure, whether his parents liked it or not. Break some bones and get some scars. Make his own darned decisions for once.
So, he filled his backpack with what he thought he would need, and snuck out when he was sure his parents were asleep, leaving any intention to return far behind. Everything seemed to line up perfectly: his backpack was just the right size, the weather was fair, his parents fell asleep early, and there was even a blackout, allowing him to go unseen through his neighborhood.
That night while nearing the edge of the city, he stopped to rest and encountered a few fairies (that’s right. Not Peter Pan. Fairies). Instead of flying to the “second star to the right, and straight on ‘till morning,” he tumbled through a portal they made hidden behind a dumpster. Because apparently, he was supposed to be “the one” to save Neverland from the Darkness brewing beneath it.
With over a hundred years since the first documentation of Neverland passing, the world—Never-Never, as most of its denizens call it—was not quite what it once was. Captain Hook? Consumed by the powers of the Darkness, and wreaking havoc as ever with his shadowy crew on a frightening level. The Indians? Divided, some cannibals, others docile. The Lost Boys? Pretty much the mischievous boys one would expect. The fairies? Widespread and probably the lightest, most good-natured creatures in Never-Never.
Ryker quickly befriended the famous Peter Pan, becoming the ageless boy’s right-hand man. For nearly five years, the two got into and out of trouble. They laughed, they fought monsters and pirates, taunted Indians and other people who had found a home in Never-Never, and frequented the fairies’ domain. In Never-Never, he even discovered he could both fly and, so long as his fairy companion, Fairfara, was not too far behind, even had some simple magic abilities.
For the first time in his life, he felt truly and wondrously free. Pan and the Lost Boys became his brothers, and the only family he needed. They watched out for each other, sure, but there was no one breathing down his neck, expecting things from him that he had no desire to give. Though the reason for his coming there lurked at the back of his mind, occasionally reminding him of his purpose, he never saw a reason to rush it. Even Pan did not seem very worried about the Darkness. Though, nothing seemed to worry Pan, so that is not saying much.
To try to keep a rather long story short, for five glorious years, he was home. But then, through a course of events, Pan decided he wanted to see for himself what was so bad about the Darkness. It did not take much to convince Ryker to join him and satisfy both their curiosity. In the end, it led him to make the worst decision of his life yet.
Ultimately, a seed of Darkness planted and grew in Ryker, eating him from the inside out. In an attempt to save his life, Fairfara and a few other fairies did the only thing they could: they gave him a talisman with some of the most powerful fairy dust to help keep the Darkness subdued, and forced him back to Earth, hoping the Darkness could not survive long outside of Never-Never. Though, “not long” is a relatively loose term to immortal creatures.
To his horror, Ryker found himself stumbling around the same alleyway he had disappeared through so many years past, with no idea what had become of his brother, Pan. He was quickly picked up by the police—panther pelt and all—and returned to his parents. With three years passing on Earth, they were overjoyed to have him back after so long.
Ryker barely lasted the first week back. His parents refused to let him out of their sight, no matter how he lashed out at them. His answers to where he had been where not taken well, and appointments were made immediately for him to see a psychologist. After all, it just wasn’t right. Whatever ordeal he had been through, it had scrambled his brain worse than the couple had feared. People in their right mind did not think they went to Neverland, or act as he did now. Though he had never been exactly quiet, scarcely a day went by without a shouting match. Or twelve.
He only just managed to convince his parents to leave him alone long enough to use the bathroom and sleep. Each night, he slipped away, desperately searching for some way to return to Never-Never, to prove that he could keep the Darkness he felt inside himself in check, and defeat it as the fairies had hoped. If he did not find a way back to his true home, he was certain he would either go insane, or die.
When his parents discovered he had been sneaking out, they tightened their security. He was being suffocated from inside his own home. Being inside was bad enough. Being indoors with them was even worse.
Three weeks (and four unsuccessful therapy sessions) later, his parents found out about a school that specialized in odd cases like his. Though he retaliated, he was ultimately forced to concede.
Packing just enough to satisfy his parents, they headed on a long car ride that felt like it took an eternity. Though, he hoped he would not have to be there long, and either he would find Never-Never again, or it would find him. After all, if he still had as good of luck as he did in Never-Never, then there was every possibility he would find another way back to his home.
But only time will tell if his luck has, at long last, run out.