Prince Aladdin Quest (Disney Villains *Almost* Victorious)

Dim Star

Geppetto didn't think about himself much. He didn't see this as any sort of personal flaw himself as it was not out of any hatred of the self, or born of an overabundance of self-confidence, nor even was it born out of some sort of ignorance. Rather, he simply choose to look outward, turning his eyes outward toward the problems of others.

But here, within the dark of the great whales insides there was no where to turn his eyes. Inside the whale there was only the dark, the ship, and the whale. Only Geppetto and whatever his mind could conjure from the dark.

A seed of fear was beginning to grow within him, Geppetto would admit. The Dark had always been one of man's oldest foes, the one fear that had lingered since days before cities and towns. It'd been the reason he had learned to make music boxes, to soothe children's fear of the dark. And here he was, trapped in darkness without end. Already he was seeing movement out of the corners of his eyes in a world where he could see nothing, assigning noises he wasn't sure truly existed to dark figures out of sight, and forgetting what the shine of the sun had looked like.

Figaro had been here once, of that he was near certain. He had been a good cat and Geppetto was initially relieved to have him for companionship but between the rationing of the fish he could catch and the torrents of water that occasionally rushed in the poor thing had been swept away. Lost in the Dark. Geppetto liked to think that it had escaped somehow, perhaps short one or two of its nine lives but free. He didn't like to think of what might have happened instead.

Pinocchio entered his mind then. A bright shining star in the dark. Warm feelings of love and pride filled him, warming flesh and bones that had long since become as cold as sea spray. Pinocchio truly is Geppettos greatest Wish come true and highest pride given life. His Magnum Opus if such a term could apply to ones child.

A good child, innocent but mischievous at times. Sharp too, practically new born and yet so smart. And, perhaps most importantly, earnest. He tried with everything he had. A puppet as real as any boy.

Something sour entered Geppettos mouth at that. Something roiling as it came to clash with the feelings of pride and love. Here in the dark he didn't try to delude himself as to what it was.

Pinocchio was a puppet. A wooden puppet made of, and named for, pine. He would never grow. Pinocchio would almost certainly never have a wife or child of his own. Depending on the Fairies wishes Pinocchio may never even die, or drop whenever her fancy inevitably changes. Geppettos selfish wish may have doomed poor Pinocchio to a half life.

Francesca would know what to say. His heart ached, knowing she would've been overjoyed at the son they never were able to have. He could almost hear her voice, comforting him and telling him that all they could do now was try to give Pinocchio the life he deserved.

Geppetto was broken from his thoughts as all around him the world began to move in a now familiar way. The great whale was rising. Old hands gripped onto rough wood as he braced himself on the shattered remains of his shelter.

Time was immaterial in this place anyway but the times where the whale moved were worse. Exhausting bouts of activity that seemed to last forever. Luckily this time seemed to not last too long as the whale slowed quickly.

Light filtered in for the first time in a long time as the whale opened its mouth. Geppetto briefly looked at his pale sagging skin, suffering from the effects of age, lack of sun, and sea water before turning away to look outward. He nearly wept.

Between teeth like swords Geppetto could see the night sky. Stars glittered beyond their reach, bright untouchable dots of hope shining as if for the man without hope. A little blue one peeked out from behind one tooth, dimmer than he remembered but shining still.

As the mouth closed and his world was cast into darkness yet again Geppetto breathed a steady breath and pulled himself toward the driest part of his shelter. Resigning himself to hunger for the night he laid down and willed himself to sleep. Dreams of Francesca and himself watching Pinocchio play with Figaro danced across his mind, filling him with the hope that one day he'd see his son again.

A/N: in a blatant attempt to have EXP to contribute to next turn I offer this to the void. Given I have not seen or read anything about Pinocchio in a while (also haven't really written in a while but meh) I am unsure how accurate it is but hey, we ended up here. Title is very last minute and made off off the cuff.