Wonderland [Tama and Koe-chan]

May 13, 2015

Koe-chan's Character

Name: Lukas Banister

2nd Name: Kerry

Age: 17

Appearance:

2nd Appearance:

Personality: Lukas is a very outgoing young man who wants to be friends with everyone. He is easily embarrassed and shy around those he doesn't know, but he will still try his best to get along with them. He is sensitive and empathetic, which often causes him to cry when others are in pain. He has a gentle natures, loves animals, children, and playing basketball, even if he isn't the most graceful.

2nd Personality: Kerry has a monotone voice and finds it nearly impossible to express the emotions he is capable of feeling. He is very serious and any type of joke or sarcasm goes right over his head, as he takes everything literally. His demeanor is distant and cold, and he often seems lost in thought. He is a quiet loner, and his emotions must be intense for him to experience them. However, this state of mind makes him mentally fragile, and he is often unsure of how to care for himself, as pain is one of the things he has trouble feeling; although, it is more like he can feel pain, but not the alarm or fight-or-flight instinct that comes with it. It's as if his senses had been dulled somehow, making him reliant on those around him. He also has the capability to perform inhumane actions.

Other: When he enters Wonderland, he will lose his memories, so the Cheshire Cat will give him a new name, acting as though they've known each other for a while. He will also have to build a new personality, and the cat will assist him for his own benefit.

Tama's Character

Name: Cheshire

Nickname: The Cat

Other Aliases Unknown

Age: Unknown

Appearance:

Personality: In many ways, the young man known as Cheshire lives up to his most famous alias, The Cat; a sadistic, intelligent, and often manipulative person, with a taste for adventure, the expensive, and the forbidden. A gang-leader, master thief, and often regarded as the most dangerous creature in Wonderland, the cat is not easily crossed without revenge. He is also well known for his ability to seemingly disappear and reappear at will, a skill unique to this young man; it's also suggested that his appearance has not changed in decades, if not centuries, other than increasing numbers of scars and piercings. When in polite company, including royalty,however, Cheshire often shows another face, that of a charming, well turned out intellectual.

Other: Cheshire will often refer to himself in the third person, and many prominent Wonderlands believe he is mad. He also has ears and a tail, and some believe he was once a mere housecat before being warped by Wonderland.

May 14, 2015

"Are you serious?" Lukas exclaimed, his voice rife with disbelief and annoyed confusion as he stumbled out of the bushes. He had hoped that the path he had been following for the past twenty minutes or so was in the direction of the main street, but it was just his luck that he was back in the clearing where he had started two hours ago. With a huff, the blonde teenage boy plopped down onto the grass, raking the fingers of his left hand through his hair in a show of agitation. Earlier that day it had seemed like a great idea to take a shortcut home from school, but now he was regretting that decision with every fiber of his body. Not only had he missed soccer practice, but five minutes into his journey his phone had lost reception, and by this point the battery was almost dead. He had turned it off to conserve its life--not that it really mattered, as the GPS was useless with no connection--and had to rely on other means of determining what time it was.

It must be at least six by now, he thought, gazing up at the darkening sky. The bright blue that he had enjoyed earlier had been replaced by mysterious navy; he would have found that color to be pretty as well under different circumstances, but at that moment, with no clue of where he was or how he was going to get home, the shadows and the towering trees surrounding him seemed very oppressive. Mom must be worried sick. Lukas frowned at that thought, feeling a familiar tugging sensation in his chest. He was a very sensitive young man, so much so that he often felt the pain of those around him. Just imagining his mother in a concerned state of mind made his heart ache. It was this sudden uneasiness that brought him back to his feet.

I have to get home before she panics. The blonde reached down and picked up his bag--which he had dropped upon taking a moment to rest and mull over his options--and slung it over his shoulder. He had only taken a few steps when his stomach rumbled, and despite being alone he had the decency to blush. Not to mention I'm starving! However, the streak of determination that had appeared to him while thinking of his mother vanished when he heard a twig snap behind him. His body froze, muscles tensing, blue eyes widening to the size of saucers as he felt his confidence fly away. First he was stupid enough to get lost, and now there was a wild animal after him. Could his day get any worse?

Lukas closed his eyes, his face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to determine how big the animal was via sound. However, he was distracted by someone calling his name. The voice was deep, and yet the tone was oddly playful; the blonde only knew of one person with that kind of voice. Immediately he turned around, a smile lighting up his face when he saw that he was correct. "Hi, Allen!" he said cheerfully, jogging over to the upperclassmen.

Allen Walker was an albino with messy white hair and blood red eyes. His skin was unnaturally pale and flawless, and he was extremely tall, reaching almost six feet in height. Unlike most other teenagers--though there were rumors that he had been held back and was actually in his twenties, as there was no way a high-schooler could look so mature--he wore black slacks, black dress shoes, and a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a crooked black tie. Everyone, both in school and out, avoided him. They thought he was creepy, and scary, and dangerous, and they were right in thinking so. It was unhealthy to put your trust in a sadistic, bipolar schizophrenic whose favorite pass-time was inflicting pain upon others. Of course, no one in this world had seen him do such things, but they could feel his dark aura. Or, at least, everyone except Lukas could, which made him the perfect target.

A smirk made its way onto Allen's face, and the coldness of his eyes went unnoticed by the shorter blonde in front of him. "I couldn't help but notice that you're lost," he said in his usual sing-song voice, bending down to have a better look at the boy. His head was tilted slightly, as if he were examining a specimen, but Lukas was much too dense to know to back away. "I could help you find your way home, if you'd like. I go through this forest everyday." In response, Lukas broke into a grin.

"That would be great!" he exclaimed, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. Allen resisted the urge to grab the boy by the throat and shake him like a doll. Seeing others smile made his blood boil; he was the only one who deserved to be happy. However, he had a job to do, and he was never one to go back on his word. The voices made sure that he always did as he was told.

"Wonderful," he purred, and when his smile widened, it was as if he were baring his teeth. "But let's make it more interesting, hmm?" Allen paused for a moment, putting a finger to his lips as if pondering something. Then, he snapped his fingers. "How about a game?"The blonde blinked uncomprehendingly.

"A game?" Allen nodded.

"In order for you to get home, you have to catch me!" A single red eye winked, and then the taller man was off, his long legs carrying him quickly across the forest floor. Lukas was stunned for a moment, but then he laughed and gave chase. Like he can outrun me! he thought, all worries momentarily forgotten, I'm the team's best forward!

The whitette, who knew the forest like the back of his hand, led Lukas through a serious of seemingly random twists and turns. The young boy was too distracted by trying to keep up to notice, but they backtracked several times and the route they were taking was nothing more than a giant circle. Allen had a feeling that Lukas couldn't have found his way out even if they had gone straight, but he needed to make sure the boy was well and truly lost, just in case he tried to run when the fun began.

As the game of chase continued, certain things about the forest changed. The air became colder, the sky darker, and the plant life sparser. The atmosphere felt heavy, as if it were pulsing with some unknown force, some ancient magic. Lukas only became aware of what was happening after he took a moment to catch his breath, the stillness allowing him to become in-tune with his surroundings. He frowned, lifted his head from his bent-over position, and eyed the leafless trees with slight suspicion. The land was almost completely barren, as if the season had suddenly changed to winter. A shiver passed through his body, and he stood up straight, rubbing his arms.

"Hey, Allen?" he called uneasily, turning in a sow circle as he examined the area, "Do you, um, see anything weird about this place?" He could sense something around him, something that brushed against his skin and sent tingles up his spine. This is freaking me out...

The albino had stopped as soon as Lukas paused, and when his name was called he approached the younger man. He knew what had caused the other to bring the game to a halt, because he too could feel it. The pure energy that had been turned black by corruption, the forceful tug that beckoned him home. It almost made him burst into hysterical laughter, but he kept a hold of himself for the most part; he was unable to hide his wide smile, though, and the crazed light in his eyes.

"You didn't win the game," he said, and he blonde looked at him, his attention drawn away from the creaking tree branches, "but I'll be nice and take you home anyway." Lukas opened his mouth, about to ask a question, when Allen shot forward with inhuman speed, grabbing the junior by the collar of his jacket. Blue eyes widened, but before he could say anything, the older man yanked harshly on the jacket, dragging Lukas away from the clearing they had stopped in. The boy was too stunned to immediately react, but he started to struggle a moment or two later.

"Wh-what are you doing?" he demanded, his voice high-pitched with unease and growing fear. Allen said nothing, not until they reached a hole in the ground. Upon seeing it, Lukas' struggles ceased, and he stared at it with curiosity in his eyes. "A rabbit hole?" Now Allen allowed himself to chuckle, and he released Lukas' shirt. He knelt down in front of the hole and put his hands on either side. Then, he pulled, somehow expanding the hole until it was big enough to fit a person. Lukas watched with a mix of amazement and terror staining his features. Once the hole was the correct size, Allen stood and brushed his hands off on his pants before turning to Lukas. It was at this moment that Lukas knew he had made a mistake, as the gleam in Allen's eyes was murderous. But before he could turn tail and run, the albino leaned forward, as if he were about to tell Lukas a secret. The blonde swallowed, unable to look away from the hypnotizing red eyes. Warm breath ghosted across his ear, and then he was pushed.

The touch was light, almost gentle, but it was enough to startle Lukas closer to the hole. He teetered on the edge for a moment, and then the ground seemed to vanish from beneath him. Unsure if he was screaming or not, he twisted his body in mid-air, hoping to find something to grab onto. All he saw was Allen's smiling face--were those ears sticking out of the top of his head?--before the hole returned to its normal size.

Allen sighed once Lukas was gone and stuck his hands in his pockets. He turned, a blank expression on his face, before his lips contorted into a terrifying smirk and he lashed out with his foot, kicking a small stone as far as he could. The day's efforts had left him feeling violent, and he needed to find a way to release his frustrations. That stupid cat owes me big time for this, he thought, removing his right hand from his pocket. Sitting in his palm was a shiny, silver pocket-watch. With a click it opened, and he checked the time--"Nope, still broken."--before grabbing its chain and swinging it by his side as he walked, humming an eerie tune. I really wanted to play with him.

Lukas didn't know how long he had been falling for, but his screams had stopped soon after his initial plummet. His throat was raw and his eyes were dry, as his body had been robbed of fluids when he had first released his panic. Now, instead of desperately searching for an exit, he stayed motionless, simply letting himself fall. He was surrounded by utter blackness, and the oppressive atmosphere seemed to have sucked the life out of him. It was unfortunate for him, though, because he was still only at the beginning.

It could have been an hour or mere seconds after his descent--time didn't seem to mean anything in this place--when he felt a sudden weight being lifted from him. He didn't have the strength nor the motivation to see what had happened, but he knew that his backpack had finally slipped away...although slipped wasn't the right word. His brow furrowed as he contemplated the sensation; the bag had been pulled. It hadn't fallen on its own. This was enough to spark fresh panic inside of him. He wasn't alone.

There was a moment's pause after his realization, and then something shot out of the darkness. It started out as one, but then dozens of inky, clawed hands were grabbing at him from all directions. His screams returned at full force, but rather than cries of fear, they were wails of pain. The things ripped at his clothes until he was bare. They dug into his skin, giving him the sensation of thousands of needles being shoved into him. Then there was the feeling of being pulled apart. He nearly fainted from the onslaught of agony, but something kept him from sinking into blissful unawareness.

He was too far gone to realize what was happening to him. Claws tugged at his hair, and the short, blonde strands lengthened and darkened until they were as black as night and as soft as a feather. Hands pulled his muscles, stretching his form until he was tall and thin. Gentle, misleading palms brushed against his skin, removing the tan from his pigments until all that was left was pale white. And his eyes...pointed nails dug into his eyes, ripping the organs from their sockets before something else--something stormy gray instead of baby blue--was shoved back inside. If he had been in his right mind, he would have wondered why there was no blood.

The process seemed endless, but eventually the physical changes were complete. However, the claws were not finished yet; if the physical altercations had been unbearable, then the mental ones were excruciating. The young man felt as though his soul was being torn at the seams, his mind being molded into a foreign shape. His body convulsed as the fingers dug around inside of his skull, grabbing hold of his memories and shredding them until there was nothing left. His thoughts were warped, his personality bleached and rewritten. His desires, his dreams, his pleasures, his morals--everything was stripped away and replaced by those of another. Even his voice was taken from him; the final step in the monstrous hands' plan was to grip his vocal chords and crush them until they too were nothing like they had been.

By this point, the boy known as Lukas was gone. What the hands had created was a new boy, one with a dark mind, a dark body, and a dark soul. He was nameless, this new boy, blank as a slate, ready to be manipulated and used. Why this had happened to an innocent was unknown, but there was no turning back. Not unless the fragments were recovered, but they were scattered throughout the land, and it was doubtful that they would ever be found.

The boy reached the bottom of the spiraling hole, and the hands laid him gently onto a patch of broken earth. His pale body, clad in tight black jeans, black shoes, and a long-sleeved black shirt, laid sideways on a patch of dust and dirt. His head rested on his outstretched arm, and his raven-hair covered his eyes, black fingernails nestled in the loose strands. He was asleep, asleep in the middle of a junkyard that was filled with scrap metal and devoid of life. The sky above was dull and gray, and there was a severe lack of color. The only bright thing was the purple-tinted creature that was slinking towards the junkyard, prepared to retrieve the gift that had been given to him.

May 16, 2015

His shadow cast down the stairs as he entered the dive of a bar, a little before dawn. Red light. His ears flicked upwards, his eyes adjusted to the heady gloom, lit by ruddy radon. That long shadow looked almost devilish, his tail whisking around. The smell of alcohol, of cheap food, the smell of sweat...disgusting. Overpowering. Not that he wanted to frequent places like this. No, he was here to kill someone, one way or another; someone who had failed him for the last time. Despite this weighty purpose, there was a skip to his walk, the soft leather boots barely making a sound.

Not that he was attempting to make a quiet entrance; every step down the stair was accompanied by a soft, yet carrying jingle from the heavy bell round his neck. "The bell that tolls for thee", some had taken to calling it. The death-knell of more than a few Wonder-landers had been accompanied by that skipping walk, that jingling bell, that soft, slightly high chuckle, and that perfect, white-toothed smile that stretched across his perfect, flawless face. The last thing they had seen...a smile without a cat. A knife. Then nothing.

He went by many names. Mephistopheles. King Uncrowned. The Smile. Lord Underland.

He prefered one, not his own name not his true name no but his favourite name.

The Cheshire Cat.

Since before the Queen's reign, this miscreant, this violent young man, (and he had barely changed in appearance since the Madness had descended, the chaotic civil war between increasingly fractured factions), had all but ruled the underworld of Wonderland. Some said, these days, he almost ruled Wonderland as a blood-stained lord of misrule, as ruthless and dangerous as the Mad Queen herself.

A name of terror, and now a name increasingly on the lips of court.

The Cheshire Cat.

That was the most common name he used; not that anyone knew what, where or who a "Cheshire" was. Some had often wondered if that was where he originated from; a land across the seas, or above the clouds, or beneath the earth, where creatures like himself were common, as matter-of-fact as the Dodo Birds, or Lizards or Dormise. Others wondered if it had once been the Thresher; because there was a lot of blood on that cat's paws. Soon to be more. Some even wondered if it was a name he'd simply heard, and removed it from its original owner or speaker, wearing it, as he wore so much, as a trophy.As for what he called himself...well, he said he'd forgotten that name a long time ago. When he was just a kitten. Whatever one of those was.

Regardless. Here he was. He wasn't going to trust one of his lackeys with this. He jingled his way down the stairs, every eye suddenly snapping to him. Everyone knew that sound, either by first or second hand experience.

Everyone knew who he was

Good.

A Dodo Bird stopped cleaning his glass behind the bar.

A couple low-number Suits drank up quickly and looked around for potential other exits.

A runty Domis, little more than two score summers old dropped his glass, swore, then dashed for the door. Cheshire let him past, giving him a grin the Dormis would see in his nightmares for months.

Even the fat, dark green Lizard, chewing a mushroom thoughtfully, and so out of his skull that he probably thought he was in the middle of a desert, from his state of undress, did a doubletake, and shrank a little into the shadows

He stepped down lazily onto the wooden floor of the bar, smirking as two guards approached him. Big, burly men. Dums. Had to be. Always twins, always on security jobs like this. Idiots. By the Queen, some even used them because they were total idiots-they barely remembered anything, you could almost rely on them to misdirect or confuse someone to the point of frustration, and most of all they were tough as old boots.

Cheshire gave them a soft bow

"Good h'evening, my fine Dums. Just looking for a friend of mine. The March Hare. Jumpy little fellow. Smokes a lot. Drinks a lot. Mad. Well, we're all mad, but not the nice kind of mad, if you know what I mean?"

He smiled softly

"I do hope you've seen him, because, well, I have a present for my dear old bonhomme, the March Hare. After all, he and I go waaaay back. And, well, I owe him this"

They gave him a stupid look.

Gave each other stupid looks.

...

"Wot."

This was from the Dum on the left. He had slightly more hair, and slightly less fat.

Cheshire sighed.

"I suppose my usual parlance is going to end up just making your heads hurt. Let me use nice, short, simple words."

He adjusted his coat, pulling out a Wanted poster.

"Him"

He held it in front of their faces

"Is he here?"

They stared slack jawed at him. By the Queen, this was getting nowher-

Ah

Wait.

There, at the back of the room

A familiar shape. A familiar silhouette.

There he was, clinging to the shadows, furtive as ever.

Cheshire took a step forward, trying to get around the Dums.

No such luck-damn, he'd forgetten for their bulk how fast those bastards could move.

"Not telling."

"Not needed"

"No."

"Rules."

Cheshire drew himself up to his full height, brushing his dark purple hair out of shadowed, dancing eyes.

"Don't you know who I am, boys?"

They looked at him

Looked at each other

"No."

He grinned, and the whole room seemed to take a second step back. A couple more dashed for the exit.

"You don't...know...who I am?"

A plaintive note to his voice. He let his head hang low. By now, people were starting to hide behind or under furniture. He allowed himself a theatrical sigh

"Do you know, there are stories about why a cat has nine lives? Some say it is because the cat is the favourite of the mad gods who created us. Some say it's because the cat is owed nine lives because they are reborn from unfortunate children of other worlds. Some even say it's because they are lucky. But, I'll tell you the truth boys."

He raised his head, and those eyes flashed now, little more than black lines of furey against golden irises that burned like Crassus's reward.

"It's because."

A step foward

"One life"

Another

"Simply isn't enough"

His claws unsheathed from their hiding place inside his jacket, and he strode fearless into striking distance

"TO SPILL. ENOUGH. BLOOD!"

It ended as quickly as it began. The Dum who had spoken first swung his tree trunk of an arm. The cat ducked underneath it, spun, and slided neatly through that arm as though it were naught but paper. He went down screaming like a child. The other Dum aimed a punch that would have floored a carthorse. The cat jumped.

Landed on his shoulder

Sliced his throat open.

He went down, blood spattering everywhere.

The Cheshire Cat turned.

"I'm the King of Thieves, Crooks and undesirables, W'underland."

He spun, catching the March Hare by the scruff of his shirt, and slammed the unfortunate Lapan down onto the floor

"Cross me, double deal me, or try to steal my hard won crown, you rabble of fools, and I'll execute you like I'm about to execute this poor wretch. Savvy?"

He smirked down

"Long time no see, Marchen. Nice to see my old friend again. You bastard"

He sheathed the claws, pressing a now bloody boot down onto Marchen's chest

"You shouldn't have worked for the Duchess, Marchen. Very bad idea."

The Lapan stared back up, eyes unfocused. His voice, barely more than a whisper, was winded, thin, and dry, as though through a straw. If the desert could speak, it would have this voice

"You were...so beautiful, Chesh. Back before...you...got"

His eyes began to tear up.

"I...do you remember the time we did...the Royal Garden Party, and you stole...her hankerchief...?"

He started to laugh, then coughed, moving one arm to wipe away the snot from his nose

"You...told me your name once it was a pretty name and it meant something in a language you said yes an old language a language far away yes a language no-one speaks here yes it was a pretty name and it suited you and you smiled and you weren't. Like. This."

Cheshire smiled. Unpleasantly. He shifted his foot to the Lapan's windpipe, drawing a short blade from his belt.

"You're deluded, Marchen. That never happened. You're mad. And not the good kind of mad. I was never not like this, you know. Deep down. From the day I met you I knew I had t-"

Something

Something was coming.

Something more important than this.

Makeitquick.

Makeitqui-

Too late.

Marchen moved with speed Cheshire hadn't expected.

Strength Cheshire hadn't expected

He was at the door, breathing heavily, before the Cat hit the floor.

"I'll send the Duchess your regards, Cat. Should've killed me then. Fool."

Cheshire lay there for a second, wincing.

And then the wicked grin, the smile of Death, the smile that haunted dreams and waking hours slid back onto his face.

And he was gone.

Leaving behind...only the shadow of a smile, and so much blood.

A toy

A new toy.

A present!

A present from the White Rabbit

Fun

So Much Fun

A new mind

A new body.

A new plaything to while away the hours with

A new doll.

A visitor.

Another one.

MINE.

He blinked into existence on the edge of the Junkyard. No-one came here.

Not that it was overly dangerous, either naturally, or by the habitation of any persons or species

No-one came here because there was nothing to come here for.

Broken things stayed here, but then Wonderland itself was broken in a way, so nothing ever was added nor taken from the scrap.

Cheshire liked this place. Quiet. Lots of perches. Lots of things to doze on in the sun.

No sleeping now.

Time to find this new thing.

A new thing. Added to all the things that did not move, that could not move.

He strode through the scrap with purpose.

And there he was.

There.

Lying, perfectly still.

A boy.

Black hair black clothes. Beautiful.

Pale skin.

He stepped closer, crouched.

Mine.

My beautiful new present.

Mine.

My doll.

Hello.

Welcome to Wonderland, young man.

My name is Cheshire.

And I will protect you

May 16, 2015

The boy did not want to wake. He was perfectly content with the way he was: unmoving, unfeeling, unimportant. There was no point to his existence, and he was fine with that. Nothing else mattered but the all-encompassing darkness that surrounded him like a warm blanket. However, his serenity did not last long. A voice--a curious voice, one that was gentle, yet laced with poison--grabbed hold of his mind and started to pull him out of the thick water that he had drowned himself in. No. I don't want to leave. For a few moments he resisted, but in the end he was too compelled by the soft, almost musical tone to hide forever. His consciousness rose to the surface of the black ocean that had become his mind, and the meaningless sound transformed into words.

Hello.

Welcome to Wonderland, young man.

My name is Cheshire.

And I will protect you.

Wonderland. What is Wonderland? Who is Cheshire? The urge to know was too great, and after a brief moment of silence, the pale boy let out a low groan. His eyes fluttered, dark eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones, and his back arched as he became aware of the pain lancing through his thin, lean body. The fingers in his hair clenched into a fist, and he curled into himself, trying to push past the wall of agony that was holding him immobile. He remembered the voice, then, and lifeless gray eyes suddenly opened. The boy laid still for several seconds, simply breathing and staring blankly across the landscape as he waited for the pain to vanish. Once it became tolerable, he pushed himself into a sitting position with trembling arms. He was unused to his new body.

Where am I? Who am I? The thoughts rushed into his head, and he winced. Thinking caused him pain, and he had no real desire to figure out who he was or where he was. Again, all that mattered was his existence.

The boy put a hand to his forehead and exhaled through his nose, blinking a few times before turning his head towards Cheshire. His expression, like his eyes, was empty, and as he studied the bloody cat-like man, no fear or confusion entered his gaze. All that was present was slight interest. He had had nothing to amuse him while floating in the darkness, but now there was something that had caught his attention. "...who are you?" His voice was monotonous, and he stared at the cat unblinkingly. The shirt that he wore had sleeves that extended far past his hands, and his jeans were tucked into loose, untied ankle-high boots. There was a severe lack of color in his appearance; he was fresh and ready to be painted.

May 18, 2015

The cat approached the prone figure with the expectation of one about to open a choicest present on a birthday or Christmas Day.

Once again, it seemed, the White Rabbit, had excelled himself in picking this boy-whatever he had been before, the journey down to Wonderland had...honed him to pure, untainted beauty, removing every imperfection, every fault, as a master-craftsman would plane and polish and cure the wood he was working with until left with strong, beautiful materials.

He was...beautiful.

He lay there, like a doll dropped by a spoilt child, and the Cheshire Cat crouched, gently reaching out a hand. Hesitant to touch him, hesitant to break this silent spell that fell over both of them. The words having already slipped from his mouth, the Cat simply watched. Waited for a response.

Had the White Rabbit done too much to him? Had one of the little cogs broken inside the clockwork, sheering off, lodging somewhere in that mechanism of the mind? It would...be unthinkable that such a beautiful thing was already broken in some way. That blasted Rabbit! For all the toys he sent him, this was the most esquisite, and it wasn't workin-

A groan.

A cloud of breath above those perfect pale lips.

The Cat exhaled himself in relief.

A stretch, then a wince, his eyes fluttering. He curled in on himself, face twisting.

This poor boy. It must have hurt to fall so far, to be remade, to be made...perfect-but then, even the master craftsman nicked himself on his blades as he worked. He was in pain though, and the Cat felt, suddenly, annoyed that he had not touched the boy, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, told him that he was going to be alright.

This happened with all of the Rabbit's gifts. First the pain, then slowly finding their feet, unsure at first. Then came the fun.

Ah!

His eyes had opened, slowly, like budding flowers in the weak morning sun.

Beautiful. Grey, reflecting the grey of the junkyard around this beautiful boy. Soon they would dance with life, but for now they simply observed. Dull mirrors for now.

He raised himself, and the Cat took a step back, allowing him space. He moved...with surprising grace, but hesitant. Trying his own strength. He looked around, eyes examining everything with confusion.

The Rabbit Hole had wiped him completely, it seemed, and the Cat couldn't help smiling at this realization. Even better. Occasionally that Rabbit had sent him ones that remembered...a little too much. Ones that tried, failed, fought desperately to get back to wherever they had come from...he'd had to break those ones. Mostly.

And then the young man's eyes gazed at him, and the cat gave him a smile back. Perfect. Ensnared. Hook, line and sinker.

His voice was soft, a little hoarse from lack of use, but beautiful as any music.

Who are you? asked that voice.

And the Cat crouched, smiled at his new toy and replied, sincerely and sweetly

"I am your friend. I will protect you. You don't need to be scared."

And he smiled. Not the grotesque smile of a monster about to slay in cold blood.

No.

The smile of a cat about to play with an unassuming mouse.

He stood, holding out his hand, to help the boy up.

"Let's get you somewhere nice and warm, hmm? Then I can tell you all you want to know. All you could ever need to know."

He smiled again

"But, say. What's your name?"

May 18, 2015

The moment their eyes met, the boy felt a chill shoot up his spine, one that had his blood running cold. A strange tingle in the back of his head told him that at one point, such a physical reaction would have alerted to him that something was amiss, that he was in danger. That instinct was still intact, but the fear and urgency that normally accompanied it had been squeezed out of him. Instead of fighting the urge to run and hide, he simply acknowledged the fact that something was not right and his posture became wary. That smile is wrong. He had no idea where the thought had come from, and he hesitated, confused by his own mind. Nothing had happened that told him the smile was strange or that the glint in the creature's eyes was malicious; it was a feeling that he did not understand. Briefly he shook his head as if to clear it, rubbing his eyes with the back of his right hand while he supported himself with his left. Right and wrong didn't matter to him, but he would be cautious until he was sure that he was safe.

"I am your friend. I will protect you. You don't need to be scared." The boy continued to stare at the cat, processing his words. For some reason the lack of a given name did not bother him, and he found himself believing in the cat's sincerity. He will protect me... 'Can I trust him?' suddenly popped into his mind, and he instantly dismissed the notion. Even though he had only been consciously exposed to Wonderland for a few moments, he knew that trust did not exist in such a place. The boy didn't have any motivation, and he doubted that the cat wanted to cause him harm, what with the pleased look he was giving him, so he relaxed his muscles and decided that it would be entertaining to go along with the cat; after all, he had nothing else to do.

The idea of being warm and safe appealed to his base needs, and receiving knowledge sparked something in the human part of his brain, the desire to know. He reached up with a trembling hand and grasped the cat's wrist, his eyes minutely widening in surprise at the warmth the other radiated. His body had been chilled by the descent, and he realized that his shaking was due to cold as well as pain and lack of balance. "My name?" he asked once standing; he was about the same height as the cat. His question sounded more like a statement. "I don't know." He didn't sound like he cared, and at this point his wariness had dissipated. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long for his previous ingrained morals to vanish as he became accustomed to his new way of life.

May 19, 2015

Maybe I had been wrong the cat thought, as the boy gazed at him.

He looked like a frightened rabbit, in the headlines of some great and terrible vehicle, or some poor mouse that had strayed into the cat's basket and found himself between its paws suddenly

Maybe the Rabbit hadn't wiped him completely

The human boy was tense now, scared, and the Cat inwardly fretted. He didn't want to break this most precious of gifts...

And then, as if a cloud had momentarily passed over him, blocking out the sun, then moved on again, he seemed, at least to the cat's eyes sto settle, rubbing his eyes, as though the momentary fear had been nothing but a bad dream he had now awoken from

False alarm. You're all mine

He was beautiful, those dark grey eyes blinking, soft.

His skin was like porcelain.

And his hand reaches out, grabbing his wrist

The boy was surprisingly strong, despite his lean frame, and the sudden touch surprised the cat

This boy truly had no fear.

And so cool-oh, he had the warmth of any other living thing, but it was as though he was truly made of fine china-the cat jokingly thought of pulling up his sleeve to check for ball-joint or wire, but, ah...the hand around his wrist was oddly comforting.

He's taken to me. He already touched me.

Like a baby bird, the boy was testing his limits, exploring the world around him.

After a few seconds, a new thought came to the Cat.

I should keep him warm. He's shaking from the cold.

He pulled his coat from his back, and placed it around the boy's shoulder, where the rich imperial purple clashed beautifully with black and white.

"There."

He helped the boy to his feet, and noted, with amusement, that the boy was almost his exact height, though a little skinnier.

As the boy spoke, confused, unsure even of his own identity, the Cat smiled indulgently, gazing at how his brows furrowed with slight confusion. The Cat slid an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his shoulder in a comforting, conciliatory way.

"Oh, round here, people forget things a lot; things like this place. But don't you worry. I'll give you a new name. You can stay...as long as you want, as long as you need. You're safe with me."

He let go of the boy's shoulder, withdrew the arm, and stood in front of him, affecting a little bow.

"But, dear boy, there are a lot of very bad people here. People who will lead you astray. People who will steal and lie and break you to pieces. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

The Cat frowned up at the Boy, then continued, without awaiting an answer

"Stay with me, and you'll be safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

He held out a hand

"You trust me, don't you? You want to be safe, right?"

Again, he didn't wait for a reply.

"Then, let's go home."

He took the Boy's hand, and, for the second time that day, the Cat together now with his new trophy, faded from this place, leaving only a ragged smile.

May 19, 2015

After having pulled himself to his feet, the boy released the cat's wrist; he didn't see a reason to hold onto it any longer, but a small part of his brain mourned the loss of physical contact. Idly he wondered why he craved such gentle touches, but he was more focused on the creature that was currently wrapping him tightly within a coat made of soft fabric. The pale pads of his fingers trailed across the trim, and he noticed that it looked different from himself. It took him a moment to realize that he had never seen a color other than black before. Color...what does it mean? He was curious now, and because contemplating something as arbitrary as color did nothing to strain against the carefully constructed fog that had been placed over his mind, he felt no pain. "What is color?" he murmured to himself, his eyes briefly losing focus before he was distracted by the cat's speech, the thought completely slipping his mind. His head was mostly empty--given time it would be composed of nothing other than the basest of instincts, as all traces of he other world were lost within the fog, left to float aimlessly throughout Wonderland--which allowed for anyone to become his maker.

The boy didn't flinch when the other took a hold of his shoulders; in fact, he welcomed the gesture due to reasons unknown to himself. 'Comforting' appeared in his mind's eye, but it was pushed away as soon as it had come, as he was now listening to the cat with the dull interest that was the only thing he could really express. So forgetting is normal... Instead of feeling reassured like most people would have when they learned that nothing was wrong, he only stored away the information for later. At the moment, he was too new to have any real emotions, and the principles of being normal versus being strange meant nothing to him; things were what they were. He nodded in response to the cat giving him a new name--he didn't feel the need to come up with one on his own--and he supposed that it would be beneficial to stay with the cat, especially if he was kept safe.

His head tilted slightly on its own accord when the cat bowed, the motion causing his bangs to tilt and cover his right eye, as his hair was uneven in the front. Such a movement was foreign to him, and he couldn't help but observe it closely. The frown appeared unnatural of the cat's face, and because of that the boy found himself paying closer attention. "I want to be safe," he agreed blankly, "but I don't trust you." However, he took the cat's hand and didn't once ty to pull away, even when magic completely unknown to him was being used.

May 21, 2015

The Cat held the boy as they travelled the spaces in between things; for maybe four or five heartbeats, the Cat and the Boy were alone in a small corner, a crevice between realities. His dark shape, warm and close and elegant, the coat adding bulk to his lithe frame, was the Cat's entire universe. And for the first time, the Cat sensed something that wasn't merely the Boy's touch, nor his appearance. It was his smell. A smell the Cat knew well. A smell he had remembered since the first...well, it must be a long time ago.

A name came to mind, a flash of blonde hair, at head height, dark blue...

It was not exactly the same, but similar, as though it had the same base element.

Soft lips, parted in a smile, mouthing the Cat's name

He reached out a hand, to smooth back the hair from the boy's face, to get a better look, to see, perhaps whether there was a resemblance, even if it was one artificially produced by his sender and the process. Just...a look.

And then, beneath blood-spattered boots, familiar dark carpets, the bookshelves on his left, the battered oak door to his corridor on his right.

Home.

He let go of the boy, hesitantly, and stretched. It was actually good to be back, and even if he hadn't had the Boy in tow, it was comforting to tread these familiar boards, know where every book, every curio, every weapon was, and have it within grasp in seconds. The Boy simply made this return the sweeter. He turned to him now.

"We're home. You'll be safe here. In fact, I daresay, my friend, these is the safest four walls in Wonderland. You may not trust me quite yet, but I promise on my family's honour"

Ah yes, this old joke.

The Cat had never known the brood he had sprung from, never met another of his kind. Besides, for all his airs and graces, the Cat knew his family had no honour, anyway, if he was at all representative of it. Still, if it humoured the Boy...

He stalked to the fire, crouched and kindled it, then stepped back, taking the coat from off the Boy's shoulders and hung it on a nearby hook.

"There. You should be warm now."

He smiled again, and then grimaced as his stomach grumbled. How long had it been since he'd eaten...hrmm...that was definitely a question. He supposed, even if the Boy didn't understand the idea of hunger, it must have been at least half a day since he'd eaten too...

He spoke softly to the young man, explaining where he was going, not really expecting much of a reply, then stepped out of the room, and down the corridor, the echo of his heels on the stone flagging.

The house formed itself as he willed; since, after all, a Gentleman's house doubled as his castle, so the Cat had a fearsome fortress of a home, beholding only to his will. Now, if only he could get the trust of this boy, just as he had gained the trust of the myriad elements that governed the space between these four walls. His four walls.

As he walked to the kitchen, there was but one thought on his mind.

What to do with this boy?

May 21, 2015

There was very little change in the boy's expression, even as the world around him was manipulated. A slight widening of the eyes at the abrupt altercation of the scenery, and a soft outlet of breath when the cat's hand brushed the hair from his face - that was all. Though the action had escaped his notice, during their brief touch, he had tilted his head, subconsciously pressing his cheek into the cat's palm. It was instinctual for social creatures - especially young ones - to seek comfort from their protectors. Despite having only been in the cat's presence for less than an hour, his mind had already latched onto the creature, as there was nothing, nor anyone, to tell it to do otherwise. As it was, the cat and the junkyard was all the boy knew.

When the pair reached their destination, the boy took a moment to observe the room, becoming faintly interested in the way the walls seemed to shimmer, as if they weren't actually there, before solidifying. He stared at the structure for several seconds, then moved on to the other things present. His focus was mainly on the fire, as his body yearned for the warmth, and he barely reacted when the cat reached up and slipped the coat from his shoulders. He blinked, realizing that the garment was gone, before turning his attention to the cat. His gray eyes followed the creature's every movement, and while he watched, he remembered what the cat had previously said.

"We're home. You'll be safe here. In fact, I daresay, my friend, these is the safest four walls in Wonderland. You may not trust me quite yet, but I promise on my family's honour."

The boy's mind instantly started storing away the information. This place is called Wonderland. 'Home' is the word for a safe place. He glanced towards the fire, then back at the cat; his expression was pensive as he struggled to find the correct words to express himself. He had the basic knowledge of communication, but he would have to relearn a lot of it. "I won't believe you if you promise on someone else," he stated. He vaguely knew what 'family' was; it was a group of people, he knew, but it held no other significance. He did not know what 'honor' meant, but he had a good idea of what the cat was trying to say. "Nothing matters except your own existence, so I will not trust you if you promise on something that does not exist." He did not yet have the ability to think abstractly, so he only relied on what was physical.

Once he felt that he had made his point, he sat down on the floor by the fire, his legs tucked neatly beneath him. He watched the cat leave, and did not move an inch from his designated spot; he had no reason to do anything else.

May 23, 2015

The Cat enjoyed the kitchen most of all his many rooms; whether it was the feline part of his nature showing through, or something about the room, with its well-stocked cupboards, hefty stove and the wicked array of sharp, deadly-looking knives that simply appealed to him. He crossed to the cupboards, got down two cups and saucers, and two plates, found the kettle and filled it, lit the stove and found the best tea. It felt nice to have a guest again...how long had it been since he used these cups and plates? There was dust on them, and he irritably flicked a small beetle out of one into the sink.

Treat this boy as though he were the Queen Herself. Her, all bloodsoaked clothing and soft tremulous voice and always so quick to anger, was hardly a guest he would want to annoy, not that she had ever darkened his doorstep.

He smiled to himself, enjoying the image of Her Majesty having to sit and drink tea...after all she hated tea, tried to have the entire concept of tea-time, and even the time at which teatime occurred banned...idiotic woman, mad...his reverie eventually broken when the kettle whistled. He poured the water, placed the lid back on the pot, and considered.

Ah, what to eat...

Something basic but filling. Particularly with the Boy in this state.

Ah yes. Soup

Several minutes later, he wandered back to the room, carrying a small tray, and pushed open the door with his foot. The boy still sat there, gazing into the fire, and the Cat was suddenly aware of how fragile his lithe frame was against the bloody light. He coughed politely

"Here. I made you food. Figured you must be hungry."

He placed a large bowl of soup, together with a couple of slices of bread, and a small slab of butter, in front of the boy, then poured him a cup of tea

He paused, smiling, watching the Boy for a few seconds, then sat down next to him, tucking into his own meal.

"Hope you like it..."

Blue...gold...That soft smile, that murmur of thanks.

I made you soup the first day you were here too...

May 24, 2015

The boy did not remove his empty gaze from the fire when the door opened. He had heard the cat's footsteps moments before he entered, so he was not startled by the seemingly sudden appearance. He continued to stare blankly at the flames until the creature spoke; only then did he acknowledge the others' presence. With an air of sluggish dullness the boy turned his torso to face the cat. The light from the fire reflected strangely in his eyes; it gave the gray orbs an oddly glassy sheen, as if they were fake, and the warm amber glow contrasted greatly with the paleness of the rest of his body. For a few moments he said nothing; he simply watched as the cat placed the plate of food in front of him. When the cat himself stared to eat, the boy blinked and turned his attention to the food in front of him.

The boy knew what was before him. He knew what food was, or at least what its purpose was, and he understood that his body needed it to survive. However, he did not recognize what it was that he was about to put in his mouth. Nether 'soup', nor 'bread', nor any other significant word came to mind. It seemed that the White Rabbit, in his excitement, had accidentally allowed the Hole to remove a bit more basic information than was necessary. While the Looking Glass wiped a person with clean, detached efficiency, the Hole was much more personal - and very unpredictable. It did what it wanted for the most part, so it is understandable why one as unstable as the rabbit is the only one who can control it; they understand each other, so to speak. The Looking Glass had gone missing soon after the original Alice's departure, and since then the only method of inter-dimensional travel was by the Hole and the White Rabbit. The Queen was especially interested in having that power for herself, which was why the White Rabbit was wanted in Wonderland. That was why Allen remained in the other world, with only the cat as his intermediate. Occasionally he popped in to say hello, but for the most part he was having fun with the humans.

Will I like it? he wondered, despite not knowing the concept of 'like'. He reached down and picked up a piece of the bread. For a few moments he studied it, turning it around in his hand as if contemplating its significance. Then, he brought it to his mouth and took a small bite. Just as his emotions were blocked by the fog, so were his more intimate senses. The bread had absolutely no taste whatsoever, and he only ate it because he knew that he had to. "What does 'like' mean?" he asked suddenly with his usual indifferent tone. He had finished a piece of the bread and had started aimlessly stirring the soup, almost entranced by the swirls that rippled across the surface.

May 26, 2015

That question wrongfooted him totally. Even before it, there'd been..something different in the boy's gaze, the glassiness with the feel of gazing into your reflection in thick ice replaced by something else...the boy was definitely thinking, processing information, but it was as though he had some of the pieces of a jigsaw or puzzle already and had now found additional ones to slot into place.

His mind turned briefly to the Rabbit. He and Allen were...partners of a sort, he supposed, but an alliance of uneasy mutual respect. That and they both loathed that bloody handed woman who sat, even now on the throne of Wonderland, aiming to bring her particular brand of heady chaos one day to the world where the White Rabbit had escaped to.

The Cat himself had facilitated that particular strategy, suggested the junkyard, at the very edge of the Queen's power, as a suitable location for dropping whatever morsels, whatever...possible new weapons against the Queen the duo could muster, into the world of Wonderland. Some the Cat had seen no potential whatsoever in; weakwilled girls, furious young men who broke easily...

Ah, but it had all been the first one's fault.

The blonde haired young man.

The first "Alice".

At least that was what the Cat had though his name was.

Alice had been a dangerous young man, but a charming one, his head filled with sensible ideas. Sensible ones! Not an ounce of madness at all. Oh, and violence. Lots of violence

Alice had stolen something, at least that's what the Queen had said.

Another route out of here.

The Looking Glass.

She'd coveted that weapon, fought a war for it. Stormed the Chesbord Mountains, taken Square by Square.

Killed a queen, slaughtered her bishops and rooks, and knights. Come at last to King's Square and checkmate.

Bloodiest of insurrections, and so much blood even the Cat was sickened.

But Alice had stolen it, escaped from Wonderland via and with it.

She'd held a Mocktrial, and it was judged, as Madness does, that the Cat and the Rabbit had been responsible for that.

Now, the Cat, he could fend for himself, but the Rabbit had fled, chased out of this existence to pick like a vulture at the minds of others in that other world. And here, the White Rabbit had sought out new tools, new weapons in the fight.

A new Alice was out there, Allen had said.

That was his conviction, and his mission.

He turned the boy's question over in his mind before answering.

"A long time ago...I had someone who was very dear to me. A person who was as useful to me as my left hand. And I was as useful to them as their right. When people...can rely on each other to that degree...to know if they look to their left or right, the other person will be there to do things with them...that I suppose could be regarded as "like"?"

Alice, smiling at him, the blonde hair falling into his eyes and across pale bare shoulders...

"But...I suppose it's simpler said as "something you want to have more of"? Like this soup, I guess? I want to have more of it at some point, so I suppose I like it?"

...Just like he had always wanted more...more hours spent not alone but in good company before a raging fire.

He blinked, and smiled again

"You'd better eat that up before it gets cold. I wouldn't want to have more cold soup if I lived another thousand years..."

May 26, 2015

The boy pondered the cat's words for a few moments, trying to make a connection between soup and another living being. If I 'like' something, that means I want more of it... He attempted to reach back into his mind and discover if there had ever been anything he had been greedy for. Only minutes passed, but it seemed like years before the boy finally spoke again, what with the silent, almost suffocating atmosphere of tension between the two inhabitants of the room. "I don't think I've ever wanted anything," he replied, glancing at the cat before turning his attention back to the soup. Even 'wanting' didn't make much sense to him. As far as he could remember, he had only ever searched for what he needed. "Do a lot of people want things?" he asked next, bringing the spoon to his lips and taking a small mouthful. The soup burnt his tongue slightly, but he didn't react to the sensation. Instead, he was more focused on deciding if soup was something he liked.

It tastes... He didn't know what it tasted like, as he had nothing to compare it to. However, it wasn't unpleasant, and he would be willing to have more if it were given to him. Does this mean I like soup? The boy let out a sigh; he really was too tired to bother thinking about such trivial things. He supposed that he would like what he would like and there was no reason to dwell upon the specifics.

Soon enough the soup in his bowl was gone and he had returned to staring into the fire. He came to the conclusion that he liked the way the warmth felt, so he must like fire. Or did he just like warmth? A headache was coming on; it was still too soon after his transformation for him to be regaining knowledge so rapidly. "Am I going to stay here?" he asked softly, resisting the urge to touch the flames, as some part of him warned him that doing do was dangerous. The cat's words made his head hurt, but the creature himself - talking to the creature - was a distraction that he had already come to appreciate.

May 28, 2015

"Do a lot of people want things, hrmm...that's an interesting question, alright. I suppose...everyone wants something, regardless of how meagre their lot is. Or how great. A peasant with one field will want two, a King with one crown will want two and so on. Everyone's always wanting...just a little more I guess...but sometimes that want isn't quite as great, nor quite as materialistic."

Here, the Cat sipped at his tea, and gave the boy a sidelong look. "You may say you want nothing now, but, then again, you may simply not have found what you deem worthy of wanting. After all, you've only seen, what? A place full of nothing but broken things, and four walls of my own humble little abode. It's hardly like you've seen the world and found it wanting, eh?"

Still, he eventually finished the soup, didn't he? The bowl placed down on the carpet, those osbidian eyes glancing around the room-how was it that they always caught the light just so-before his gaze landed back on the Cat.

"Am I going to stay here"

The Boy suddenly asked.

The Cat pretended to think about it, not to let the fully-formed thoughts fall from his lip. He gave the Boy another sidelong glance, before finally answering the question he'd been awaiting half the evening for.

"Do you want to stay here? I offer you everything I have. My food, my tea, my own services. It's a dangerous world out there, and whilst you recover, I'd like to help in any way I can. I'm not asking you to trust me straight away, but maybe I can help you find your place here. Would you like that? Is...that something you want to do more of, I suppose? Be here?"

He sat back and waited for the Boy's answer.

May 28, 2015

Now that he had eaten something, a sense of sated relaxation overcame the boy. He languidly stretched his arms above his head, finding that he did indeed like the feeling of being warm and full; he would be content to stay that way for the rest of his life. A soft sigh escaped through his nose, and his pale lips twitched with the ghost of a smile before he shifted positions, deciding that it would be more comfortable to lay on his stomach rather than sit. By the time he was settled, with his chin resting in his palms, his expression had become blank once more. He listened to the cat speak, his gray eyes never once leaving the flickering flames. "You may say you want nothing now, but, then again, you may simply not have found what you deem worthy of wanting." The boy pondered this for a few moments. What the cat said made sense. How could he know what he liked if he had never seen the world? I've seen this place...and I think it's a good place.

The boy rolled onto his side so he was facing the cat, staring up with the creature with his stormy gray eyes. His left cheek was resting on his outstretched arm, and his knees were pulled up towards his torso, making it seem as if he had curled into a half-ball. Once again, his hair almost covered his eyes. "If I'll continue to feel like this, then I want to stay." It would take time and patience for the boy to learn academics, but he would gain emotions very quickly if he was exposed to them correctly. At the moment, all the boy knew were surface knowledge and the feeling of being satisfied with one's base needs. There was much more for him to discover, and it was the cat's job to control what he learned and what he didn't. It was by doing so that the cat would make the boy his.

May 29, 2015

The Boy rolled over, facing him, and for the first time, the Cat saw something but those deep grey eyes like a lake reflecting stormclouds. He saw what, in essence, he'd been looking for for a good few hours with this boy. Interest. A sense of something learned, and learned indelibly. This boy now, at least tentatively, connected himself, the Cat, with this comfortable feeling. He was relaxed, curled softly into a small ball, not unlike a cat himself, but utterly relaxed,. Or at least appeared to. There was a short silence, as though both were working something important out.

Then the Boy spoke

"If I'll continue to feel like this, then I want to stay."

The Cat grinned softly, and softly laid a hand on the Boy's head, ruffling the black hair that fell into those dark eyes.

"Good."

Another soft pause, and the Cat let silence reign once more for a few moments, before stretching, yawning deeply as he did so.

"Well, then, if you want to stay, I should find you somewhere to sleep. We've both had a long day, and you must want to rest. Follow me."

He picked up both their bowls, noting with pride to himself that the Boy had eaten every last morsel of the soup, leaving the cups and saucers on the floor between them. Going to the kitchen, he placed them on the side, returned for the teapot and cups, and then smiled at the Boy.

"Seeing as you're the guest, and I've sadly not prepared a bedroom, you're welcome to my bed. I'll sleep on the sofa. I'll show you the way to the room, though. And if you need anything in the night, let me know, alright?"

He led the Boy out of the room and down the corridor, the house slowly adapting to the new resident, small lights flickering on of a design that the Cat was only dimly familiar with-after all, with his perfect vision, it was hardly necessary-but the Cat let them stay in place, rather than blink out of existence. He stopped before a door at the end of the corridor, then opened it for the boy, escorting him inside.

A large four poster bed with deep purple sheets dominated the small room, bookshelves reaching the rafters in pretty much every corner of the room, other than the far left, where a window looked out over a moonlit grassy meadow, and the far right, where a battered wardrobe sat. The Cat smiled

"Well, I guess this is goodnight then. Sleep well."

And with that, he closed the door gently behind the boy, and stalked off down the corridor, smiling to himself.

So the new game begins. My pawn against yours, Your Majesty...

May 29, 2015

The boy tilted his head forward when the cat ruffled his hair, attempting to determine whether or not he liked the feeling. He rubbed his head gently against the cat's palm, seeing if there was a possibility of the touch being unwelcome. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong with the playful petting, even if the cat's claws occasionally nicked his scalp when he moved too suddenly, so he decided that he would allow the cat to continue doing it. It actually feels...nice. There were no memories present of him ever having been handled so gently before, and his human nature accepted the sensation with open arms. I wonder why. It was a few moments before the boy stood, as he had been quite comfortable and reluctant to leave his place by the fire, but for some reason the idea of a 'bed' was very tempting.

The boy squinted for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even though there were lights scattered about, their presence was dim compared to that of the fire. He stayed close to the cat until he was confident that he could walk without tripping or banging into something. When they reached the bedroom, he scanned the area with curiosity in his eyes. He was sure that he had never seen this room before, but for some reason it seemed familiar. With near silent footsteps, he approached the bed. Just as he had done with the coat, he ran his fingers over the purple sheets. The word 'soft' came to mind. Soft things are nice. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he seemed oddly pleased when he spoke, as if he had figured something out. "You like purple," he said to the cat, and for a moment there was a spark of life in his eyes as his mind made the connection. He said nothing more, though, and was already lying on the bed when the cat closed the door.

The next morning - or whenever it was that he woke up - came as a shock for the boy. For hours he had been sleeping peacefully. Then, all of a sudden, he felt the bed dip beneath him. His brows furrowed, and with great difficulty he forced his bleary gray eyes open. He was still exhausted from the fall down the Rabbit Hole, and he did not appreciate being woken up. However, all drowsiness left him when he saw that it was not the cat, but someone else standing on the edge of the bed. The boy shot upright, pressing himself back against the headboard in alarm and confusion. It was an instinctual reaction, and it took a moment for the fog to settle back in and push away the emotions. He stared blankly at the figure in front of him, one eyebrow raised.

Standing at the foot of the bed, trying to balance on one foot, was none other than the

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. However, he was dressed much differently, and he looked far less human. His hair was longer, and he was dressed in tight black jeans with a studded belt, knee-high black combat boots with the laces undone, and a long-sleeved black shirt that exposed his stomach. There was a black belt-like choker around his neck, and white ears stuck out of his head, sometimes drooping and sometimes standing up straight. There was a silver pocket-watch with an exceedingly long chain in his hand, and his nails were painted red and black in a pattern. His tongue was sticking out as he tried to balance, and his fluffy tail, which stuck out from a hole in his jeans, was twitching excitedly.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up~" He chanted in a sing-song voice, his body twisting as he tried to spin. His foot got twisted in the sheets, and his arms flailed before he collapsed with a huff. The boy bounced as the bed shifted, but otherwise stayed completely still and silent. The rabbit laid there with a pout on his face for several moments, then noticed the boy out of the corner of his eye. His face lit up, and he got to his knees, crawling over to the boy and leaning over him, his arms trapping him in place. "You're awake! Finally, awake!" He giggled, then nuzzled the boy's cheek. The boy blinked in confusion as the rabbit hopped away from him, landing perfectly balanced on the floor. "I didn't get to see you when you were finished! I was so excited that I risked certain death by coming here!"

The boy had no idea of what the rabbit was talking about, and he simply watched as the other sniffed around the room, rummaging through drawers and cabinets as if looking for something. "Humph, that cat owes be big time for bringing you here!" His childish disposition had faded and had been replaced by an intimidating scowl. "Maybe he'll let me kill some more people? He said not to because that old hag's after me, but I'm so bored! Ooh, maybe he'll give me candy?" The rabbit laughed again, then suddenly spun around and leaped onto the bed. "Or maybe he'll let me have fun with you," he purred, staring heatedly into the boy's eyes. The boy blinked, and then the rabbit pulled away. "No, no, he hates it when people dirty his toys. I guess I'll just have fun watching what he does with you." The rabbit grinned darkly, and the boy's eyes widened as the memory of a forest and a white-haired man returned to him.

May 31, 2015

The Cat's sleep was fitful. Occasionally, he woke to the dark room, and the dying embers of the fire, watched them for a few minutes as sleep took him once more. Behind his eyelids, deep in dreams, Alice waited, with that soft smile, that soft voice... And other faces, ones that existed whole now only within his dreams. The Cat dreamed of these fallen people, and of Alice, the first Alice, oh so very often, but the dreams tonight...had a darker figure within them too, the Boy...his doll-like skin, those deep black eyes...and his smile...

Bare skin, pale, paler than his predecessor, and unmarked...the black clothes giving way to perfect whiteness.

And another figure, the ticking of a watch, sliding an arm around the boy's chest, a mocking laugh, and...

He woke with a start, suddenly knowing something was wrong.

Something else, someone else was here.

He knew exactly who.

Allen

There was no mistaking that scent, that odour his method of transportation made through the ether.

He pulled the coat he'd been sleeping under on, and got up, silently, leaving his battered boots behind on the carpet. The White Rabbit must have warped straight into the Boy's room, and something twisted hard in his stomach. What if the Rabbit had changed his...

Unthinkable. The Rabbit might be treacherous and slippery as a frog, but he'd not break a deal so hard-won.

Then what?

He crept out of the room, slipping with inches to spare, through the crack in the door, and down the corridor.

Unbidden, the image in his dream, the Rabbit's arm around the Boy's bare chest, an-

Voices.

Well, a voice, and one he knew well, though it had been years since he'd heard it this clearly.

"maybe he'll let me have fun with you,"

That horrible chuckle.

...Bastard.

His pace quickened, the House beginning to adapt to its master's fury. Weapons presented themselves, the corridor grew narrow behind him, spikes and traps and vicious things.

The Rabbit continued

"No, no, he hates it when people dirty his toys"

Damned right I do, Allen. I'll wring your filthy neck you scrawny...

"I guess I'll just have fun watching what he does with you."

Ah, that little game. That sadistic exhibitionist, that perverted White Rabbit...

He slammed his whole weight into the door, and the latch gave, half-surrendering to its master, half from his pure force, and a snarl slid from his lips

"Allen..."

June 1, 2015

Allen's blood-red eyes lit with a manic glee when he began to notice the changes taking place around him. The lights flickered and dimmed; the wallpaper darkened and began to peel; the furniture cracked and collapsed under its own weight; sharp, metal traps of all kinds seemed to grow out of the foundation like plants; and blood dripped rhythmically from the ceiling. Ah, so he's finally found me. The White Rabbit took a moment to make himself presentable. He dutifully fixed his hair and straightened his outfit - "How do I look?" he asked the unresponsive boy - before turning to face the door. A shrill squeal of false surprise - one that mimicked the cry of a rodent before it dies - tore from his throat when the cat burst into the room, his aura radiating pure malice. The two creatures' eyes met, and somehow the temperature in the room dropped.

"Oh my, Cheshire, what's got you so excited?" the White Rabbit asked, his ears standing straight up. The one on the right side of his head was marred with nicks and scars, and the one on the left side had an uncontrollable twitch. "I was only saying 'hello' to my creation!" The mock surprise that had been plastered on his face vanished, and was replaced by a sly smirk that held as much significance as the cat's toothy grin. "You've only had him for a day and you're already this obsessed with him?" Despite the circumstances, Allen had the audacity to giggle once again. He put his hands behind his back and walked backwards, neatly side-stepping all of the traps that sprang up to impale him without even turning his head; he almost seemed to be dancing. "I did a good job, didn't I?" The whitette stood on a pile of broken wood that had once been a table, preening with no sense of shame; he was now standing above the cat, looking down on him.

"You know, it's not healthy to be angry all the time," the rabbit scolded, wagging a finger at the cat and masking a tsk'ing sound with his tongue and teeth. "I heard about what you did to the March Hare, by the way. I stopped by the pub before I came here. You should have let me help!" He stomped his foot childishly. "Do you know how hard it is to kill in the other world? There are guards everywhere, watching you with these strange cameras!" He made a square with his fingers and mimed taking pictures. "I keep getting caught! Of course, I love a good chase, but they almost always find me before I'm done playing! Although," he tilted his head thoughtfully, "now the whole world knows who I am! I'm on the news all the time." The pout faded and an innocent smile replaced it.

"But I think I'll be here to stay for a while! Isn't that great?" One of the things that made Allen so dangerous were his mood swings. He was utterly unpredictable, though there were some triggers that almost always set him off one way or another. His sudden bursts of anger and violence; his bright smiles and naive laughter; his big, watery eyes and quiet sniffles; they were tools against his enemies just as much as his knives were. The cat and the rabbit knew each other so well, though, that they rarely caught one another off guard anymore. Of course, there were always exceptions...

June 2, 2015

That bloody rabbit

Bloody was right. If Cheshire liked hurting people, the Rabbit adored the action of stripping flesh from bone, was aroused by painstakingly breaking someone's fingers, joint by joint, and practically bathed in the blood he shed. Those eyes, scarlet...scarlet as the drops he spilled, flesh pale as a corpse's. Those mis-matched, battle-notched ears.

And yet, and yet...

There was something oddly...reassuring with having that creature, with having that ally that had fought and killed, and more at his side...

That high voiced carried easily, all the same, and the Rabbit's voice said something he wished it hadn't

I was only saying 'hello' to my creation!

This was bad. That idiot rabbit had always had a problem with keeping his mouth shut, and this was no different. He wished he could drag the Rabbit out of the room, push him against a wall, but he prattled on,

You've only had him for a day and you're already this obsessed with him?

...No, not obsessed. Protective.

"You sent me something precious, Allen...I think precious presents should be looked after, shouldn;t they? After all, I'm sure you'd be angry if I'd broken it already? Like you were...last time?"

But, yes. Even Cheshire had to admit he'd done a good job. More than a good job. He barely blinked as the Rabbit dodged traps that would have levelled a Blunderbeast, as he landed, perfectly, on a table.

He only half listened as the Rabbit lectured him, his lips twitching into a frown when the Rabbit mentioned killing people in the Other World, and finally asked the question that had been lingering, dark and foreboding in his head

"What of the Rabbit-Hole, Allen. Is it safe? Is it safe from her, Allen? Because I will not have that Woman ruling two worlds because you fouled up!"

He felt the anger he'd been holding back begin to test the dam of his restraint to breaking point, boiling and ferocious and growing

"And as for your indiscretions in other planes, they're not my problem, Allen. You shouldn't have been so bloodthirst-"

He hadn't been listening, and prattled on, that voice flicking at will between the soft voice one would use when asking a lover what they desired to a high, almost hysterical note,

But I think I'll be here to stay for a while! Isn't that great?

No.

No it wasn't.

The Boy, for one. If the Boy lost trust in him, if their plan began to go awry...

But then, the Rabbit had killed plenty of times before. Or might as well have; after all, no-one but the First Alice had ever got out of here.

"Why...did you come here, Allen? Really? Tell. The. Truth. I won't be angry. Promise."

He smiled.

And it was not a pleasant smile.

June 2, 2015

The albino rolled his eyes when Cheshire told him what he already knew. It was obvious that precious presents should be looked after - especially if he was the one who made them - but what was the fun in keeping them pristine? The best thing to do is break them slowly and carefully, then put them back together again! Of course, Allen would be devastated if one of his gifts were damaged beyond repair - at least, if anyone besides himself damaged them beyond repair - but he didn't make them so they would be treated like glass! He made them so they would be used! The whole purpose of gifts was to have fun, right? All of this went through the rabbit's head at once, and yet his fractured mind allowed him to keep talking as if his train of thought hadn't just derailed.

The White Rabbit did, however, pause to listen when the cat started lecturing him. If there was one thing the rabbit hated more than being ignored, it was being told what to do. His red eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He bared his teeth in warning, and his body started to shake with anger. "How dare you!" he shrieked, his voice taking on the hysterical tone that came when the voices were screaming inside of his head. "How dare you doubt me!" Both of his ears were twitching now, as if each one were having its own seizure. "The Rabbit Hole obeys me! Only me! It only opens when I tell it to! It won't open for anyone else! Never, ever! She'll never get it! Never! I won't let her have it! It's mine!" His red eyes had glazed over. "And I can do what I want! You can't tell me when I can kill or when I can't!" All of a sudden he froze. The voices came to a halt, and his body visibly relaxed. The fire in his eyes faded, and a gentle smile appeared on his face; after all, he would be staying there for a while.

His expression changed again when the cat asked why he had come. The smile became a smirk, and he leaned forward. his eyes playfully daring the other creature to confront him. "Why did I come? Oh, I don't know~" He hopped down from the ruined table and went to stand by the foot of the bed. His pale hand stroked the covered repeatedly. "Just for fun? Or, perhaps, for a job?" No one hired Allen to kill because of how unpredictable he was. He was, however, frequently asked to do surveillance and gather information, as he always has a quick escape and a way with words. "But don't worry, pretty kitty," he teased, waving his free hand nonchalantly, "I would never put my best friend in danger." Again he giggled.

June 4, 2015

He had expected the fury of Allen, but not this much; it had, after all, been many years, many thankless years, alone, separated by the barriers that exist, at least for most, between worlds. To see him...like this was something he'd rather not have borne witness to.

But now, the rabbit was here, in his house.

Dangerous as ever, but temper and sanity even worse.

He simply stood there, listening, as the Rabbit raved and shook, and glared.

And yet what he said, between the apoplectic twitches and shakes, was oddly calming.

She can't get to that other world.

The barrier is in Allen's hands alone

He smiled to himself. Allen may have lost some of his reason, some of that sweetness he used to have when they'd shared their rebellious plans beneath warm sheets, but he still had his spirit. Still had that dangerous devotion to the cause they'd started.

"That's good, Allen. You've done well. Protecting two worlds. It's a heavy burden, and you've borne it well."

Physically at least. His mind was becoming a mess more and more.

Worry flickered across the Cat's face.

And then like a storm, the anger cleared, blown away by new thoughts, and the Rabbit prattled on in his familiar, easy way. Cheshire's eyes flicked to the Boy momentarily, concerned. He...seemed to be merely absorbing what was going on, and who could blame him? This was a lot to suddenly take on, that was for sure. He turned back to the Rabbit, distractedly nodding at whatever he'd said.

"Sure, my old friend. You can stay, for the moment. But I think we need to keep your profile low. If one of her spies knew you were here...well..."

He turned to the Boy once again.

"And I suppose another person here to look after our young friend wouldn't be a bad idea...Right. Stay here. Both of you. I'm going to make breakfast."

He left the room, wandering back up to the Kitchen.

Things are moving faster...than I wanted them to.

He had not...anticipated the Rabbit turning up. Sure, he was a valuable ally, but he was also possibly a rival for the boy's interests. Two children could not share one beloved toy.

Back and forth, as he cooked, flicked one thought.

What now?

June 4, 2015

Allen was satisfied with Cheshire's answer. The voices were subdued for the moment, and this allowed him to regain some semblance of the person he had once been. He had not always been a raving lunatic, one who was out for blood and who found pleasure in the act of murder. Wonderland had changed him, just as it had changed the cat, but in a different way. He was the only one who could use the Rabbit Hole; he was the only one who could communicate with the Rabbit Hole; and he was the only one the Rabbit Hole could speak to. The creatures lurking within the Hole, the inky-black tendrils with clawed hand and soulless white eyes, had become attached to Allen the moment he first arrived in Wonderland all those years ago. For a while they coexisted in equilibrium; while he was with Alice, they coexisted. But after some time had passed - after Alice left, and the world plunged into chaos of a different sort - the creatures became lonely and desperate. They wanted Allen, and now they had wormed their way inside of his mind. To cure the rabbit would be to destroy the Hole. There was no way for Allen to recover.

"I look forward to your return, dear!" the White Rabbit called after the cat with a chuckle, and for a moment - for a split second - his tone shifted and the gentle way of teasing that the old Allen had possessed returned to the surface. But only for a moment. Then he was lost again, and he twirled and leaped over to the bed, plopping down next to the boy. Like the rabbit he was, he nuzzled the boy's side and curled up next to him, giggling to himself all the while. "I'm home, I'm home! Fun times, fun with Cheshire and me..." he sang softly to himself, his little tail twitching in anticipation. Meanwhile, the boy hadn't moved an inch. He was staring blankly at the wall across from the bed with an empty look in his eyes. However, this expression was far different that what was normal for him. Instead of showing a lack of interest, it was as if his mind was somewhere else.

June 7, 2015

The Cat cooked quickly; something a little more filling than the dinner last night-bacon, eggs, sausages, toast, and tea.

Allen had changed.

Irrecoverably.

But he couldn't worry about that now. The boy was more important. And the boy needed food. The Cat enjoyed cooking, though he'd never admit it, and cooking breakfast was one of his odd little luxuries The smell of meat cooking, in particular, was a smell he adored, and bacon cooking above anything else. Hopefully, the boy would like these new foods too. He kicked open the door, and, balancing the plates on his arms, wandered back to the bedroom, pushing this door open with his foot.

They both sat there, staring off into space.

He'd expected this, somehow-after all, the Rabbit had always been somewhat of a dreamer, the type who could happily look off into space, as hot cups of tea and freshly cooked bacon sandwiches cooled to room temperature, before he remembered he had to eat.

The boy...well, that was a different story.

He placed the food in front of the boy, and gently tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, breakfast. Hey..."

He needed a name. After all, "Hey, you!" sounded rude, calling him "Boy" just wouldn't work...

"Uh...do you have a name?"

He crossed to the Rabbit, and, leaning close as he placed a plateful of Full English breakfast in front of him, whispered

"Allen...does our young friend...have a name? I kinda...feel awkward not knowing...if he is going to stay here? You should know, after all..."

Wonderland [Tama and Koe-chan]

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