The Fourth wall breaking of DEADPOOL meets JANE AUSTEN meets MAGICAL WEIRDNESS
When a mysterious new boy comes to town, seventeen-year-old odd ball, Peneloper Auttsley, must confront the secrets of her past in order to save her present.
...
Peneloper replays the last thirty seconds of her life in her head: the swooning incident; the gentle rustling of fabric as she walked shoulder-to-shoulder alongside Crispen; the pitter-patter of rain intermingling with a heart that refused to calm as Crispen smoked in silence; him towering before her, hand outstretched, fulfilling his promise earlier to tell her everything; the sincerity of his words, "Let me show you the worlds."
There it was again, she thinks. Worlds. A purposeful use of the plural. No mistakes here.
She ponders the implication. Worlds. In movies, such things were known as multiverses - an over-saturated money-generating landscape filled to the brim with cut and paste origin stories that only fatigue the viewer.
But what Crispen had offered to show her was much more nuanced. Worlds. He wanted her to know of them. Only thing was, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
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• Look Through My Eyes•
Peneloper had not expected Crispen's offer so suddenly. Even without supplying any of her trademarked prodding, goading, or annoying into reluctant submission, Crispen had presented her with this moment. The moment, to be exact. It shouldn't have surprised her though, as Crispen had told her flat out he would tell her all she wanted to know.
Recalling that conversation, where he assured her if she asked honestly, he would respond in kind, she asked, "If I take your hand, I'll be shown the world?"
He nodded, rain misting his neck and soaking his sleeve as the awning proved futile in the smallest breezes. Drops pounded the asphalt and car hoods, filling the silence between them when words failed to form.
Peneloper shifted her gaze and focused on Crispen's hand. The hand. Empty as offered presently but filled with the knowledge she desired. If she took it, what then? Would they deal with this Refracted, defeat it? Then what?
Would she enlist in some hidden away magical school to refine her latent ability? As far as she knew, such places were relegated to the movies.
"While Silence has been an exquisite friend to me for several years," Crispen said. " I'm afraid, Miss Auttsley, you don't have much time to—"
She clenched her fists and set her jaw. Face downward, she watched the rain drown a patch of grass to her right. Finally, she managed to scrounge up the remains of her voice and said, "Just—" She swallowed. "Just give me a moment, please."
"No rush," Crispen whispered. "Take all the time you need, Nell."
Knowing he'd overhear it, she thanked him with her thoughts, confident he was smiling at her unspoken kindness though she dared not look up and find out for herself. He'd given her time, and she would use every second.
