Me and a friend talked about this ship. Started from when I joked people would start shipping it and then he went, "This pairing seems like a solid ship from looks alone tho"
Then I responded: "Actually in Guillermo del Toro standards it could be like melancholic cause it's 'thwarted by a maligned star' cause regardless of how much they want it, they're pulled apart by their fates and positions. It's like Shape of the Water if it was more fairy tale esque, neither are human, and there's whimsy melancholy."
And then this happened. So I'm linking said friend to this, 'cause we both wouldn't stop going, "This is very GDT."
This is written way pre-film so lord knows if this is gonna hold up when it does drop, but if it does... yay. Also put this in the 'Pinocchio' category here because it's the only one relating to it, so until there's a category for the 2022 Guillermo del Toro film, it'll be mixed in the Disney category. Much apologies.
The first time he sees her, it's under the strangest of circumstances.
.
.
.
See, Sebastian has lived in the woodcarver's house for years and years – as long as he can remember, and there's a lot he remembers. He remembers the moment Geppetto carved his first puppet, the moment the first customer walked in and then the second, the third and the fourth – and the remembers the moment the woodcarver met his wife. The cricket recalls the wedding in the garden, simple and short, private as can be. He remembers the moment the woodcarver's wife announced her pregnancy, how her joyful husband wrapped her up in his arms, and the eight months that followed.
The childbirth, the death of the baby's mother, how Geppetto wept for his lost love and his new son, how he doted on the boy—how he devoted himself to giving Carlo a great life, only for tragedy to strike. Carlo fell down a hill, into a freezing lake, and when the woodcarver finally pulled his son up… it was too late.
Sebastian remembers watching the mourning father bury his son. He's seen him go out to the grave every day, by sunset. He's seen the pain and misery, something he wishes upon no one – because no one deserves to loose someone they love.
For years, Sebastian has watched Geppetto go by his life, living it nearly the same as before but seemingly more hollow. Much like the many homes the cricket's been in, including his current one – the heart of a wooden puppet. Well, it wasn't always a puppet. It used to be a tree in the woods not too far from Geppetto's home, but then the man came to cut it down, and carved the cricket's new home into a puppet – a puppet with resemblances to his son.
Sebastian looks over the puppet, his home turned marionette. It's smoother now, and he's not as inclined to get poked with splinters, which is good. But it feels bittersweet too, as it serves a reminder of a father that loved his son – imperfections or not, a love so strong he'd do anything to replicate what he had lost. Sebastian respects the woodcarver, yet part of him finds this odd as he stands outside his – former? – home to look over the new wooden boy.
But nothing can truly prepare the poor cricket for what comes next.
The stars are shining bright. The windows are open, curtains pulled back, exposing the night sky – the stars in all their wonder, the moon at its fullest; a beautiful sight to behold. Sebastian has seen this many a time, yet tonight it's different – it's brighter, bigger, and … there's a special glow. The glow gets brighter, shines more and more until finally, a blue aura enters the place.
Sebastian stumbles back, nearly falls off the working table, but he forces himself onto his feet just in time to see her.
A fairy. One of turquoise, her eyes a bright blue, shining far more than any star ever could. Her head of regal feathers, her wings long and massive and graceful, her hands dainty and gentle-looking— her entire figure and appearance is that of someone important, someone divine and holy. She's not like anybody he's ever seen before. A force out of this world. She's so beautiful, he can't help but hop up on the puppet to get a look.
But in the process, her eyes—those large, wondrous teal orbs—glance upon him. He bows his head, gulping as he lets out a, "Hello!" His voice is as confident as he can make it, loud as he—a mere cricket—can get.
She smiles, and he feels his knees almost buckle as he looks up at her. "Hello," she says. Her voice is hard to describe — it's calm, but firm and strong. Loud yet quiet. Regal yet humble. It's perfect; absolutely, positively perfect. Sublime to his hearing. "You are Sebastian, are you not?"
The cricket's breath catches in his throat. How does she…? "Y-yes," he quickly says. "I – I am, yes. I am Sebastian J. Cricket. At your service." He quickly bows in a more dignified manner, though inside he knows he's most definitely made a fool of himself.
She laughs, a soft laugh that makes his heart flutter. "No need for formalities, Sebastian. I know who you are," she says softly. He looks up at her, stunned, and she answers his question before he can even ask: "I am the Turquoise Fairy. I am a spirit, and with that comes a knowledge of many things."
Sebastian raises a brow in intrigue. "Oh, really now?" He doesn't doubt her on her claims of being a spirit – of course not, for what else can such a divine lady be? But he's curious... "How many things do you know? Do you know of imperfect fathers, imperfect sons, loss and love?"
The Turquoise Fairy nods her head, the feathers' eyes blinking at the cricket in intrigue. "I know of such things," she answers. "And I know of old spirits that rarely involve themselves in these sort of … human affairs." She raises a finger. "But on occasion, they do."
Sebastian's eyes light up in curiosity and wonder. "And what else do you know?" he asks her, his eyes never leaving her.
"A story of a wanderer — a wanderer that thinks he knows all but doesn't," is the fairy's response, simple yet it only leaves him with more questions.
"I'm sorry… do you mean me?" the cricket asks, pointing to himself. He doesn't know everything, not really, but he knows enough of the woodcarver and his story — that's all he's claimed to know about through his many years. He has seen so much, so the fairy's words perplex him. She might have seen more, but— "Because I may be a wanderer, but I'm no know-it-all." He crosses his arms, pouting.
"I never said you were," says the Turquoise Fairy, an amused smile forming on her face. "What I meant was… you think you know the full story of the imperfect father and his son, but you don't." She turns away from him, running her fingers over the puppet's face. "You don't know the story of the wooden boy, of the borrowed spirit within him."
Sebastian's eyes travel to the puppet. Wooden boy, she calls him, yet all he sees is a marionette. He doesn't understand what she means by the borrowed spirit. What spirit could a puppet possess? It is wood, mere wood cut from a tree, carved by a mourning father and—
"But that is alright," the Turquoise Fairy continues. The cricket stops in his thoughts. "Now, you can learn." And at this, her hand starts to glow — a bright blue, like the bluebells from the meadow he once lived in.
"Wh-what are you doing?" he asks.
A somber look appears on her face. "Geppetto has suffered so greatly, loved so much… one that gives happiness to others, he deserves his wish to come true." She touches the place where the puppet's 'heart' is – where Sebastian once lived – and the glow grows. "Figlio del legno, sveglia. La tua seconda possibilità ti aspetta."
Suddenly, the puppet starts to glow. Sebastian's eyes widen as the puppet is wrapped up in a blue aura. Many questions rush through his mind. What's going on? What's happening? Why is the puppet glowing, why is it rising up so high, why—
The puppet rises into the air, bright light shimmering around it until finally, it starts moving. The light dissipates, but the puppet never does stop moving, not even as it lands on the table – rather ungracefully, as well. A small 'thud' occurs, followed by an, "Ow!"
All Sebastian can do is stare in disbelief between the Turquoise Fairy and the now living wooden boy. The wooden boy that stretches his legs, blinks his hollow sockets of eyes, lifts his arms, rubs his sockets and then waves his hands. "I can move! I can see, I can talk, and — and—" he puts his hand to his throat, then touches both his cheeks "— and I'm alive!"
"He's alive," Sebastian breathes, rubbing his eyes to make sure he's not dreaming. To make sure this isn't some kind of trick, a mirage of sorts – and lo and behold, it's not. It's real. This is real. The wooden boy lives, talks and moves, and he'll surely soon start to walk as he's about as real as a pile of wood with sentience can get. And if there's a wooden boy, that means the fairy … she's not part of a supposed dream. She's real. More than that, she's like an angel. Otherwise, how could one do such a feat?
The cricket watches as the Turquoise Fairy helps the wooden boy up as he stumbles around, trying to walk on his clumsy wooden legs. He nearly topples backward, but she's steadying him, keeping him on his feet. Like a mother would do for her child, Sebastian observes silently, feeling a smile tug at his mouth.
She's graceful, gentle, but mysterious in her words as she tells the living wooden child, "Pinocchio, you are alive, but not quite a real boy. Not yet."
Pinocchio blinks up at the spirit, confusion in his hollow eyes. "How come?" He looks at his hands, made of tree bark. "I can talk like you, and I move – that's real enough, isn't it?"
Sebastian feels his eyes roll. The boy's adorable, but clueless – and he can't help but barge in. Get something across. "Not if you lack the flesh and blood," leaves his mouth, in a very blunt tone.
The two turn to him. The Turquoise Fairy shoots him a look, a scolding one, and he flinches back. He looks at Pinocchio, the wooden boy now tilting his head in confusion. Then a look of concern crosses the boy's features, and Sebastian knows he's said the wrong thing and winces. "I mean—!"
"Can't you fix that?" asks Pinocchio, turning to the blue spirit, his voice filled with sorrow. Enough sorrow to make the cricket's heart twitch with remorse. "I—I want to be real! Can't you make me real?"
The Turquoise Fairy gives the wooden child a sad look, shakes her head and responds in an empathetic tone: "I'm sorry, but I cannot do that now."
"Why not?" asks Pinocchio, despair in his voice. Sebastian knows if the boy could cry, there would be many tears running down those cheeks, but he's a wooden boy – and wooden boys cannot cry like real boys. Still, that doesn't stop the obvious emotions inside Pinocchio from bursting. "You're the blue fairy! You brought me here for a reason, didn't you? Why can't you grant my wish?"
The Turquoise Fairy tries to appear firm and stern, but the blue cricket nearby can see the flash of pity in her eyes. The hesitation in her movements. The way her voice nearly betrays her as she responds with a, "I wish I could, but I can't. My magic is not without limits and in your case, my dear boy of wood, there's much to be done before you can become real."
"L-like what?" Pinocchio looks and sounds so confused, not that the cricket blames him. After all, anybody in his position would be justifiably overwhelmed with confusion and emotion at this, especially when there's seemingly no real concrete answers.
The fairy of turquoise gives a sad smile, picking him up in her arms and setting him back down on the table. "I can't tell you now," she replies. The child frowns, opens his mouth to object, but she cuts him off before he can even speak, "You will understand, eventually, when our paths cross again." And with that, she presses her hand to his forehead and in seconds, Pinocchio is fast asleep.
Sebastian's wide-eyed, staring at the now sleeping wooden boy, then back at the spirit. "Why?" escapes his lips in a soft whisper. "Why can't you make him real? Why did you put him to rest? Will he wake up again, or is he—?"
"He will wake up, but he won't remember this," the Turquoise Fairy is quick to answer. "He shall sleep well, with memories of his old life in his thoughts…and when he wakes up, he will see his father." She turns away, her shoulders falling as she sighs. It's strange, Sebastian thinks, seeing this spirit—one with a great power to give life—in a vulnerable state like this. "I cannot make him real now, because in order for him to be real, he has to go through a test," she continues. "Prove himself brave, truthful and unselfish, and when that happens he will be a real boy…but first he must learn to choose between right and wrong."
Sebastian gives a puzzled look. Right and wrong – how can a child determine that? "The poor thing hasn't even been sentient for a day, and you're placing this upon his shoulders?" he asks her incredulously, hopping over the sleeping wooden boy, towards the edge of the table. "He's just a child, can't even— wait, what was that about an old life? Did you… did you put Carlo's spirit in…?" he trails off, just as she gives a sad nod.
"He is Carlo," she tells him. "He has his essence, but he isn't the same as before." She makes a gesture with her hands. "Reincarnation is a complicated thing. They're back, but never truly the same. Pinocchio and Carlo…they can't be more different."
Sebastian looks at the sleeping child. He recalls Carlo, a very quiet child. Never as fussy, or loud…did what he was told without hesitation… honestly, it's a wonder the woodcarver – his father – hasn't woken up yet. "I can see that," the cricket says, voice blunt though he doesn't mean to sound like it this time. He looks back at the spirit. "But he's a wee lad. Doesn't know the difference between right or wrong. Surely, you can't expect him to go through this task of learning. He's got no proper conscience, that inner voice to tell him what's right, what's wrong – 'don't do this, Pinocchio, don't do that!'" He makes wild gestures with each words, trying to get the point across. "What good is he if he doesn't have that guide?"
"That's where you come into play," the Turquoise Fairy says, turning to him. She points at him. "You, my dear Sebastian, will be his conscience."
Sebastian gapes at this. "Me? Surely you jest. You can't really be suggesting that I be his conscience now."
"Why not?" Turquoise Fairy asks, tilting her head. She sounds amused, cheeky – and he feels like frowning, but that voice is so lovely his lips never quite form into a frown. "You seem to already concern yourself with his best interests. You asked me, just now, why don't I make him real. I see no other living being that could fit for a better conscience than you." Her voice grows rather delicate at the last words, so gentle and sincere.
She's serious.
Sebastian feels helpless. Horrified by the idea, if he's being sincere. He doesn't know how to rear in a kid, let alone be a proper conscience! He was a lone insect, not a family type of… he never— I can't do this. I'm not cut out for this job. I'm just a cricket. He tries to object, but the words never leave his mouth. It opens and closes, and the moment he sees the look on her face falter, he knows he can't say anything to dissuade her.
"… alright, what do you want me to do?"
The Turquoise Fairy smiles slightly. "It's simple. Show him right from wrong. In moments of temptation, keep him on the right path. Keep him safe and well, and out of trouble."
Sebastian pauses, thinks about it. He can do that – keep the boy out of mischief, steer him from temptations, make sure he doesn't get himself killed, tell him what's right and what's wrong. It sounds...sort of easy. If he doesn't dwell on it too much, it sounds alright – not a bad job. He's been around the country, seen much worse – escaped much worse – so he decides, this isn't so bad.
He nods at her and as soon as she holds her hand out for him to hop into, he does just that - leaping right onto it. It makes him feel lighter than usual, his heart getting this strange tinker to it, but he shakes it off.
"You have my word," he promises her, kneeling. "I will be Pinocchio's conscience. When it comes to temptations, I'll lead him far away. I will teach him to better himself. Under my guide, he'll learn many things and grow into a fine lad." He grabs one of her fingers, grasping it gently, his eyes glancing up as he finishes, "This do I swear."
She laughs, a beautiful laugh that makes him flush. "My, how noble you are," she teases him. He gives a sheepish grin. "But I admire your passion." She gives a nod. "From now on you, Sebastian J. Cricket, shall be Pinocchio's conscience." She lifts her other hand, gently touching the top of his head with a glowing finger. He flinches, but he feels nothing but the brush of the tip, enough to send him shuddering.
"What happened?" Sebastian asks, feeling himself up.
"I granted you a gift," replies the Turquoise Fairy. "So that if you ever get injured or squashed, you'll come back unharmed… to continue your journey with the boy."
"Ah." Sounds sensible, Sebastian thinks, but then his eyes look into hers again. There's this light there – he doesn't know what it is, or what it means, but it shines so well and he likes it. He likes it quite a bit. "Don't suppose you could, uh, grant me anything else?"
"Depends on what you wish for," she says, curiosity in both her tone and facial features. "My powers are … limited, like I've said before, so if you wish for—"
"I want to have some words with you," he says quickly, firmly. It sounds ridiculous, a mere cricket like him seeking something like this from her of all beings, but she's so … interesting. He can't help himself. "Alone."
The Turquoise Fairy looks surprised, her teal eyes wide. Sebastian winces, knowing he's crossed a fine line, and rushes to apologize: "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have …"
She holds a finger up, and he stops. "Don't be." She gives him a reassuring gesture, one that says: it's okay, you didn't overstep - it's fine. "Where do you wish to speak?"
Sebastian's legs nearly give out, but he manages to sort himself out enough to say: "In the woods… the grassy areas, to be exact."
"Very well."
.
.
.
Sebastian asks the Turquoise Fairy many questions, all that he can think of from the top of his head, and he listens carefully as she answers each one. How come her powers have limits? Where is she from? Are there more like her? Why this particular family?
"My powers have always come with limits, to assure that those whose wishes I grant, that they follow through their moral obligations," the fairy with turquoise hair explains. The eyes on her wings blink as they stare at the cricket standing on the edge of a blade of grass, but he pays no mind to them. "You see, I have a path in life, and that path is to lead others on the right path. But my involvement and power over that is strictly measured – I can do certain things, but at the end of the day, a moral task must be completed. The person – or wooden being in this case – must prove themselves, follow the instructions and show that they are of good heart. It is only when they completed this task, that they will be granted what they truly wish for."
She glances at the house in the distance, then at the stump of what was once the tree the boy was carved from. "That is why I couldn't make Pinocchio human yet. Why I couldn't grant his wish. Geppetto has proven himself, but Pinocchio hasn't yet." She looks back at her cricket acquaintance. "He must go through trial and error first, and when he finishes and if he triumphs over unsavory temptations…"
"… only then will you be able to make him real," Sebastian finishes, a harsh breath escaping him afterward. It sounds logical, it makes sense, but at the same time it sounds so… wrong. He sees the sad expression on her face, the way it seems she doesn't really agree with this, not entirely, but she's given no other choice. She cannot will everything. "The life of fairies – it sounds bittersweet, and rather frustrating." He hops onto another grass blade, a step closer. "Granting wishes, only with restrictions and a 'gotcha', every single time."
"It is a bittersweet way of life," the Turquoise Fairy voices her agreement. "It is very frustrating. Many times, I've done my best and while there was many triumph, some cases ended in tragedy. Every time a tragedy occurred, I wanted to do all I could to undo it, to make things right, but I couldn't – I wasn't allowed to. My magic … it would never work." Her fists ball up, her eyes narrowing. "My involvement is limited, so often to where I can't help, even if that is my wish," she sighs. "But there is no use in trying to rewrite what's been written in the stars."
She looks up, frowning deeply. "I am a spirit, bound to my duty granted by those high above. I work with what I can, as it is all I live for now. I grant someone's wish, I give them a task, and it is up to them if they succeed or fail in proving themselves— live up to their morals, or fall into an abyss of darkness." The spirit of turquoise grips her arms, her wings wrapping around herself. "Over my hundred and twenty-five years of living, I have seen so much… I have seen success, the unsuccessful, happiness and sorrow— the beauty in the world, and the ugliness of it."
"But with each year, you learn something," Sebastian says, in an attempt to cheer her up. He can't stand the fact she's pained over her own existence, her purpose in life being tied to something so unfair, that he wishes to try and bring some joy out of it. To try and lift her high up from this low point, steal that pain away. "You learn of love, loss, pain, happiness, sorrow, life and death — you've seen and experienced more than I have in my span of life, much shorter than yours." Another hop, another step closer— "That's something good, to carry the knowledge, to be able to tell tales no one else can." She turns to him, and for once, he stands high as he can, firm as he can under her gaze. "I won't deny that your life is harsh, that it is difficult but for all the trials you go through, you have your own tribulations."
A pause, then, "That's … rather profound and smart. You make a fair point."
"Well, of course." He puffs his chest out. "As someone that's seen many things, I can concur to how hard it is, living such a trying life. But there's always something about it that makes it worth living, you know?"
The Turquoise Fairy pauses, a shorter one this time. "I think I do."
Sebastian beams at this, a warm spreading through his chest. It might be his body trying to pump through his veins, give him warmth so he's not freezing out in the dark woods – but he doesn't think that's the case. "I'm glad you understand! Now, as for my second question…"
"I come from a different world," the fairy starts to explain, gesturing up to the sky. "High above. To the naked, simple eye, it can't be seen, but for us otherworldly beings, it is more than viewable — it is our home, our sanctuary. There, we are brought to life by our creators, our forefathers, and we are given a purpose. There we live in peace, where the threat of death and decay never linger over us. Where there is no depravity, and only bliss."
"Sounds grand."
"It is for the first, oh, twenty years." She waves her hand in dismissal, her teal orbs rolling in slight disdain; something he's quick to detect. "But it grows dull, rather tiresome afterward. There's an atmosphere there that is very suffocating that by my thirtieth year of life, I saught many ways out, yet there were none – and there's still none. There is no other place for spirits like us." She rubs her arms again, another sigh escaping. "We are bound to our world, just as you are bound to yours. It's not fair … such is the way of fae life. A paradise and a hell all at once."
Sebastian's antennae lower in sympathy, yet he presses on. "And are there any other fairies?"
"There's many of us," the fairy of turquoise answers, a chuckle escaping her. "More than a million. Fairies for every job imaginable – in fact, I've got three sisters. My eldest sister, Nyssa? She's off in the east, guiding wayward vagabonds and assassins towards a better path – weighs in justice, with a fist of iron. Middle sister, Nuala, she's a peacemaker. Tries to stamp out the war path off in the darker areas of the world, where the decay is more prevalent." She scowls as she glances at her own hands again. "I am the third, with my job of granting wishes and sending those out on journeys of morality… and then finally, there is my youngest sister, Ofelia. She is perhaps, the most 'pure' a fairy can get, tending to children…nurturing them, bringing them joy in their darkest moments. Providing a beautiful fantasy amongst the darkness, an escape from the cruelty." A laugh, not entirely happy, escapes her. "She's only lived for forty years, but she's had the easiest task of us all. Never have I seen her shed a tear or grow frustrated. Always so cheerful and graceful."
She sways a bit, sadly shaking her head. "It's foolish, I know, but sometimes I feel … jealous. They all have a path in life where their control is greater, and then I exist as the 'wise one', yet I can never really do much." Her lips purse. "And it's difficult, seeing the young ones stumble in their journeys. Seeing downfalls over decades and decades, it leaves me so empty."
Sebastian's brows knit together. "That's—that sounds harsh."
"It is. Such is my life." She dismissively waves her hand through the air, her wings flapping harshly for a second. "But it's something I'm used to. And to answer your final question – I saw Geppetto, in a crystal." The insect gives her a confused look, and she elaborates, "Each fairy is given a crystal so they know which person to tend to. It is how I've been able to keep track of how many I've…aided, throughout the years. Geppetto is the … one hundred and fifteenth person I've aided." She pinches her fingers together, eyes shut as she counts.
She's lived for so long, yet her beauty never aged, Sebastian thinks to himself, leaning on his grass blade.
"I heard his wish… a plea, a sorrowful demand, for his son," the Turquoise Fairy goes on, her voice faltering slightly. Teal orbs clouding with sympathy. "His Carlo. And then, I saw the boy's spirit lingering around here — that's when I knew what I had to do."
"So you brought Carlo back…through Pinocchio," Sebastian says slowly. "Like reincarnation." Which makes him wonder, if she's really just an angel disguised as fae. That'd make sense, but then it only makes him feel like an utter fool for wasting her time – and for being too forward, what, with his big grand vow of being a good conscience. Idiot.
"Yes, technically." She shakes her head then, adding, "But like I've said, they're not all the same."
Sebastian pauses, thinking for a second on how to word his next words. Don't sound daft, he tells himself. You're in front of someone that can walk through the fine line of life and death. "So if I'm his conscience, what does that make you? His re-creator or his…mother?" He immediately wants to slap himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
"I'm just the fairy," she insists, her cheeks turning dark for a moment. Is she blushing? For a second, she looks bashful and— and it's so bizarre considering she's such a high figure. Much higher than a mere bug. "Well, perhaps...I suppose I could be a re-creator, but a mother? No, no I can't be. It's not something us fairies are…meant for…"
Sebastian blinks. "Why not?"
"Well, we don't— most of us aren't born from families," the fairy replies. "We're created from clay, sculpted by our forefathers. And most female fae, we don't have those maternal connections. I was sculpted by a father, cold and harsh as the freezing winter. I never had a mother, so I have no experience, no instinct – and what is a mother without a natural instinct?"
"Well for what it's worth… I think you'd make a– a fine maternal figure," Sebastian says slowly, fiddling with his hands. "From what I've seen with how you handle Pinocchio."
The Turquoise Fairy raises a brow at him, but then that smile of hers returns. "Thank you, Sebastian."
"You're welcome, uh…" he trails off. "… I'm sorry, I know this is inappropriate to ask you, but I never did get your name."
"It's not inappropriate," she assures him. "My name is Nicoletta."
"Oh." A smile takes hold of his mouth, tugging up one corner of it like it's got it on a hook. "That's a lovely name."
Nicoletta laughs. "Thank you." The eyes on her wings look up, and another sigh escapes her. "Ah, I must go now." She glances over at the insect. "But my time here isn't finished yet. I'll return, soon as I can."
"You will?" Sebastian asks her, and he doesn't mean to but excitement shows in his tone.
"Yes," Nicoletta replies. "Goodbye, Sebastian. Take care of Pinocchio, won't you?" As she turns to leave, her wings spread out, she adds quietly: "And thank you, for your company … it's been a long time since I've really been able to talk to someone."
Sebastian waves at her as she departs, going to wherever it is she comes from – that mythical land, far beyond a mere creature's reach. Far beyond his reach. "I promise, I'll take good care of him! And –" he's dazed for a second, recalling those last words "– you're welcome …"
A sigh leaves him as he hops off, back to the woodcarver's house. "Nicoletta," he utters her name silently. "You are a wonder."
She's unlike anything he's seen before, and he can't help but want to see more of her. Even if, unknown to him, this story's conclusion is not the one he wishes for.
* – Geppetto's son is named Carlo based on a detail I noticed in the trailer. If you pause and squint, the gravestone says the name, likely in reference to Carlo Collodi, original author of Pinocchio (which was WAY darker in the original serialized version, but was forced to a happy end 'cause of parents of that time going "Bring him back" not that I'm completely mad lol).
** – The fairy repeats the cricket's phrase from the start, for reasons that'll get more clear in later chapters. I promise it all ties in, eventually.
*** – Gave a reason why the fairy can't do certain things, because worldbuilding and also to make sense of things that nag at my logical side, even if it's fairy tale stuff. Also, if you are a fan of Guillermo del Toro films, there was a brief nod to some of his other films.
**** – The name Nicoletta is derived from two things. One is the deep meaning in Italian, and the other is that it's the name of an actress Nicoletta Braschi, wife of Roberto Benigni and a portrayer of Fata dai Cappelli Turchini in the early 2000s "Pinocchio" film by her husband. Go seek out the Italian version though, because the English dubbed version is trash.
Praying this is decent haha, 'cause I spent a little too much time on it. A lot of things probably aren't accurate, regarding personality, but in my defense it's an AU right now – and when the film does drop I'll make a fic more accurate. Promise.
