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Alice L. Whyte

"Some people say I hear voices. I ask them, 'Well, why else would I have ears?' They usually hit me then, but my contract with the Aether prevents me from sustaining permanent harm, so- Why are you looking at me like that?"

0 · 345 views · located in Phobos Academy

a character in “Phobos Academy”, as played by Tsukiakari

Description

Alice Liddell Whyte
Image

Age: 16
Gender: Female

Phobia: Actually, Alice's mental issues are just a mite more complicated than a phobia. She suffers from Insipid Schizotypal Personality Disorder, a psychological condition somewhat similar to schizophrenia, while not actually manifesting the main, most severe symptoms of that condition. This disorder, characterized by vagueness, social isolation, timidity, fear of other people, magical thinking and fantasies which sometimes can even lead to pseudo-psychotic episodes consisting of hallucinations, depersonalization and derealization, as well as a lack of self-identity, depression, almost obsessive-compulsive self-esteem and dependence issues, and intense paranoia, ended up getting her sent to the academy, largely due to the latter two symptoms. In Alice's case, it's almost as though what she's most afraid of is reality itself, if not simply humanity in general.

Hair Color: A vibrant shade of bubblegum pink. Apparently, it's actually her natural hair color, although how that came to pass is a mystery.
Eye Color: Dark blue.
Height: Five feet, five inches.

Relationship: Single and heterosexual, although this latter distinction is largely arbitrary rather than being given through any overwhelming personal preference. She just feels like, should she ever fall in love, it should be with a member of the opposite gender. To every Cinderella, there's supposed to be a Prince. That's just how it works. Consequently, other relationships are anathema to her, even though she has no real preference on the matter in regards to other people. However, due to her quirky nature, most people wouldn't think of approaching her romantically, and even if they did, they'd very likely be rejected for some strange reason or another, most usually something strange along the lines of a sagely shaking of her head and a bizarre explanation. "Your soul cannot connect to mine. Hence, you are an unsuitable partner. I apologize, but I must wait until I find my destined companion before I consider such an otherwise fragile and fleeting arrangement," is the usual.

Personality: Some would call Alice "unique." Others might call her "bizarre." Still others might call her "insane." In any case, there's seldom a person who doesn't agree on one fact: Alice is most definitely not normal, and her thought processes are no exception. Still, exactly how strange she is depends somewhat on how many times one encounters her. Diversity in situations helps as well, as it goes to show exactly how truly unusual her responses to seemingly normal scenarios.

Upon first meeting her, one will mostly find that Alice seems somewhat passive-aggressive and antisocial. Her face seems like a blank mask, and, while remaining uncannily calm, she has a tendency to prod other people with very uncomfortable questions, or remarks that might be sarcastic but, given the straight face with which she delivers them, it's impossible to tell if she's joking or not. Furthermore, she is tremendously cryptic and evasive, dodging any and all questions about herself and seeming very nervous in relation to just about anything in the area, especially loud sounds, nearby people, or suspicious and unexplained movements. In short, she seems like some sort of loner, but does her best to hide her paranoia behind a mask of composure and normality - or, at least, as close as she comes to it. In any case, there's no doubt that her speech and actions are carefully thought out before being performed. It's just that it's not always obvious where that train of thought begins or ends, and what steps were taken in between those two points. In short, her actions seem to be weighed on a completely different, but nonetheless methodical, basis from those of other people.

But, the more she's pressed into socializing, the more quirky and unusual she becomes. She begins to seem distant, staring off into space and doing her best to avoid talking at all, fading into the background of large groups. Oftentimes, when pressed to speak up, she'll start as though suddenly awakening from a particularly vivid dream. And, even when she actually does talk to others, she alternatively acts as though she's half-asleep, or like a cornered animal, frightened and confused. Even when calm, she does her best to immediately escape from any sort of human interaction, and people even getting close to her is enough to set her off, even if she tries to remain composed about it. Growing progressively more and more paranoid the more stress she's under, she begins to retreat within her own shell, and eventually goes so far that she snaps back into being calm again. Or rather, she becomes almost entirely unresponsive, her perceptions fading into a world of her own making. When she does speak up or act in any way, it's almost always in relation to bizarre and unreal concepts like magic, or in response to questions never asked or people not there. On a good day, these episodes of derealization simply result in her responding to most situations with magical or impossible explanations, in which she quite evidently believes wholeheartedly and unshakably. When she's particularly stressed or having a paranoid or depressive phase, however, it's almost as though she becomes comatose, or shell-shocked, and hides away from reality entirely.

Even when people grow close to her - a rare feat only ever attained through either a lucky coincidence that appeals to her superstitious nature, or through excessive and extensive kindness to her - there's a definite disconnect between herself and them. She never speaks about herself if she can help it, and always tries to avoid physical contact or proximity to even her close friends. She spares them none of her usual cryptic, subtle, and usually very, very convoluted bits of wit, often remaining just as enigmatic and confusing even to those she's willing to interact with by choice rather than only through gravest nessecity. Yet, in her own unique way, she shows her gratitude for the support of anyone willing to tolerate and to be kind to her for long enough to gain her trust. Interspersed amidst her usual vague, distant actions are brief flashes of emotion. Genuine, happy smiles, laughter at amusing jokes - those which she actually perceives as such, that is, as her sense of humor is somewhat disconnected from the norm, as previously stated - or, conversely, even rarer than shows of happiness, she will let those closest to her understand when she feels sad, although she never shows it outright, always trying to hide and keep her sorrows pent up so as not to bother those around her. Similarly, some of her quirks will be put fully on display, like superstitious practices implemented into the most fundamental of daily routines, bizarre and seemingly whimsical courses of action like "taking a right turn when I usually go left, because it's the third Tuesday of the month and it rained yesterday," or other such unusual displays like spontaneous, very earnest questions on philosophy or human nature, or randomly naming animals she comes across and talking to them as though they were both people and old acquaintances. And, if the person in question is a particularly supportive individual whose opinion she particularly values, Alice will show exactly how highly she holds their opinion, not through any direct action or statement testifying to such, but rather through her sometimes tremendous overreactions to such things' absence. She does not take criticism well from anyone, particularly those she holds dear, something which is just a symptom of her greater insecurities.

Hidden out of fear of these things being discovered, Alice is actually almost entirely lacking in self-esteem, and feels as though she is helpless and incapable of doing anything herself. Due to this self-loathing, combined with her overwhelming fear of other people, she believes that she's somehow inadequate in comparison to them, and will, without fail, always be hated because of this. Not wanting to be hurt or to be a bother to the other people she projects her idealized, competent self onto, she simply withdraws from social situations as quickly as possible, cutting her ties with others and retreating into isolation. Whenever she feels threatened, if she can't escape physically, she escapes mentally, withdrawing into a vivid world she's created inside her own mind. It's because of this fantasy that she believes so firmly in the supernatural - because, quite simply, she WANTS to believe. Reality scares her, since, in her own mind, it's something she quite simply can't live up to. And so, she runs away, rejecting reality and substituting her own as a means of compensating for her own perceived inadequacy. And, if it's some other person, her carefully crafted exterior, that is shunned and isolated, then that means, in some sense, she's not the one being hurt, right? But even through these means, she still can't get away from one inescapable factor of her personality: desperately, she also wants other people to care about and to respect her. She's willing to settle for just being tolerated if it means that someone will actually pay attention to her. Perhaps this is another reason why she initially took up her fantastical beliefs and her bizarre demeanor: as a cry for help, a plea for somebody to notice and care about her. But, because of this intense need for someone to look up to, for someone to hold her hand and assuage her fears, she's also particularly acute when it comes to just the opposite. Something that might be perceived as an insult, even one given entirely in jest, would be enough to terrify Alice into swiftly leaving, and, if it came from a person whose opinion she cherished, it would probably be enough to cause her to cry, although not in front of that person. And, if someone were to become angry at her, or to give her a tongue-lashing about some sort of failure, she'd probably break down. But worst of all is that most hated of stigmata: being called crazy, or insane. She knows full well she has problems. She doesn't need other people to point that out to her. When they do, it's like saying they've seen completely through her, and through everything she is. That prospect is terrifying enough to shatter her completely, to the point that, if someone she truly admired called her "insane," she'd treat it as a sign of abandonment, and of her own absolute failure as a human being. At that point, her mind would probably shut down completely, or worse, she'd plunge into a despair she would likely never recover from.

Aside from these more grave issues, however, Alice's self-esteem issues also manifest in an almost obsessive-compulsive devotion to her own appearance. She takes showers at least twice a day, if not more, and practices hygiene to the point of absurdity, cleaning - for a certain definition of the term - her room in a ridiculously frequent basis, washing her clothes several times before actually wearing them, etcetera. Any sort of blemish is eradicated before it can begin to form, and any flaw in her impeccable appearance is always corrected immediately. This habit is only overridden by higher-priority personality traits. So, for example, she'd be willing to jump off a rooftop into a pile of leaves or hay, mussing herself up in the process and probably getting latched onto by countless tiny insects, if she thought that doing so would allow her to learn to eventually violate gravity through willpower and learn to fly. There is one thing that this trait almost never gives ground on, however, and that is a series of pale red lines of varying length and size intersecting across her back and sides, forming a completely random grid of warped, wounded and then healed flesh. These cutting scars, numbering over a dozen, several of which are quite prominent, are a permanent blemish on her image that cause her no end of disgrace and anguish. They're one of her darkest secrets, and because of her fear that they'll be discovered, she never, ever reveals the sight of her scarred back to anyone, to the extent that she'd probably be less embarrassed if a boy saw her naked but didn't notice her back and sides than she would if anyone ever caught so much as a glimpse of even one of her scars. Although, this is perhaps a bad example, as her sense of sexuality is somewhat vague, and she doesn't really seem to observe much difference between males and females. In any case, her body is quite the shocking sight, to be sure. From just one look, one can tell that she must have been cut repeatedly, and in close to the same places, over a great deal of time, only to be allowed to recover, then wounded again. If it were assumed that all of her scars had been given her at the same time, then she most certainly could not have survived them, from blood loss alone.

On a few final notes, Alice's psychological condition also manifests in a few other bizarre ways. For example, her mind has a tendency to dwell excessively upon very morbid matters, such as personal failures or possible, albeit absurd negative outcomes to otherwise perfectly normal situations. Oftentimes, these paranoid fantasies are treated with a sense of apathy, despite the truly shocking, and often either violent or sexual nature of their contents. Actually, it's because of these strange imaginings, which she oftentimes repeats as though blissfully unaware of how grisly they are, that some people have her pegged as anything from a closet psychopath to an incredibly perverted, masochistic sexual deviant. In reality, the truth is made up by less of any of these understandable but incorrect conclusions than it is by the fact that Alice is just plain abnormal.

Another byproduct of her paranoia partially related to this first tendency. Due to her habit of forecasting possible bad events in her future, as well as her issues talking to other people, she ended up starting a diary that is just as strange as she is. Saved in a text program on her smart phone, it catalogs several different alternate strings of events in her future before they actually occur, listing countless, very thorough paths that the future might take. Oftentimes, these predictions can come days in advance, so that by the time the day actually comes, she has at least a dozen plans for how it might unfold, which she can then follow and jump between in accordance with predicted events from each "route" occurring. For example, if she predicted first that she would run out of drinks in her mini-fridge in one route, but then predicted that she'd crash into someone while walking in the hallway in a completely different route, then was crashed into on her way to get more soft drinks, she would jump over from the first predicted course of actions to the second, and follow through on her plans for that scenario instead. In general, however, her predictions aren't exactly what you'd call healthy. More often than not, there is only one "Good Ending" amidst all of her plans, while over a dozen horrible fates await her should she follow unwanted trains of events leading to "Bad Endings." Consequently, she actively uses her diary as a means of anticipating these usually illusory threats, and avoiding them as best she can. This leads to some interesting side-effects, however. For example, due to her fear of social interaction, if she predicts she'll run into someone, she feels desperately and obsessively compelled to plan out whatever interactions might follow, listing advice for actions and suggestions in her diary along with the prediction, according to how exactly she thinks things will unfold. Because of this, during conversations, many times she'll suddenly flip open her phone and start reading from its screen for advice when she feels overwhelmed or unsure of what to do, often resulting in very confusing situations.

Finally, for whatever random reason, she ended up taking in a random stray black cat she found one day. He's very healthy, and rather young, and lives in her dormitory with her. Although often the subject of many strange, although harmless experiments performed by his curious owner, he's well cared for, and a very valuable companion of Alice, who speaks to him like he was a person quite frequently, or, if she's bored, starts talking to him in meows for variety's sake. According to Alice, he gives her advice sometimes, and, if she's to be believed, it's always very wise council that should be followed without question. Admittedly, sometimes it's just an avenue by which she makes suggestions of her own, but the cat understands this, and isn't angered by it. As a reference in keeping with her own name, she calls him "Cheshire."

Likes

  • Reading books, especially fantasy novels. Her room is full of them, and it's a beloved hobby of hers. Oftentimes, she'll finish a whole book in a single day.
  • Drawing pictures. Another skill and precious pastime of hers, the sketches she draws are things she's very self-conscious about, but they're surprisingly good, albeit oftentimes rather surreal, and sometimes a little bit disturbing.
  • Cooking. This hobby isn't so much one she's unfortunately bad at as one made rather frightening by her own bizarre preferences and curiosity. Most dishes she creates are completely improvised, and, while prepared well enough, consist of so many bizarre ingredients and to result in something between "unusual" and "unspeakable."
  • Playing the piano. She's decent, and likes writing her own music, but, although her songs are beautiful once she can actually decide upon what it is she's playing, they oftentimes wander seemingly randomly as new inspiration strikes her, violating most rules of music theory several times in the process. But, as per usual, she's very self-conscious about her work, and doesn't like to show it.
  • Singing. This is another field in which she's surprisingly talented, and she sometimes makes up words for her songs, even improvising them on the spot on occasion, although she's not so good at this, as her words quickly tend to devolve into nonsense for the sake of matching her own convoluted beat, mood, rhymes, and trains of thought. Again, she rarely does this for anyone.
  • Quiet solitude, ideally shared with one, and only one person about whom Alice cares deeply, and who can understand her and assuage her fears like nobody else can. Since this fantasy is far out of reach, however, she'll settle for just sitting alone and imagining what she'd do if such a miracle came to pass.
  • Tea, as well as most other caffeinated drinks. Especially soda.

Dislikes

  • People. Actually, it's not so much she dislikes people, persay. Rather, she's simply terrified by them. Due to her crippling inferiority complex and paranoia, she finds interaction with fellow humans nigh impossible save in her fantasies.
  • Herself. Be it her appearance, her personality, her life, or anything pertaining to it, what she hates above all else is her own inadequacy when compared to other people.
  • The laws of physics. It's hard to live out your fantasies when reality keeps you down, and the world is really hard to ignore sometimes. Walking through walls is a lot more painful than it looks.
  • Being called insane. This is arguably what she hates more than anything else. She'd be less depressed if her closest friend literally put a knife in her back than she would if that same friend told her she was crazy, because she'd at least be expecting that.

History: Alice's life is the perfect example of a seemingly normal existence that was turned completely upside down, and broken down to its most fundamental pieces, then reconstructed in a caricature of what it had once been. From the very start, however, there were many things wrong that contributed to her problems later on in life. Her father was a very distant individual from her, to start with. Being a prosperous businessman, he ended up largely staying out of home life, spending an overwhelming number of hours either managing his company or traveling on a multitude of business trips. And, although he dearly loved his young daughter and would spend time with her when he could, he was still very often gone, leaving Alice all alone with her mother. This, as it later became evident, was a very bad arrangement.

Alice's mother, Namine F. Whyte, had several genetic traits that caused her to be naturally inclined towards several dangerous mental conditions that went unnoticed until far too late. Intensely, almost psychotically devoted to her husband - something she masked entirely too well - when he began to work longer and harder for the sake of their daughter, she felt like she was being cast aside in favor of Alice, who she felt was inferior to herself and undeserving of the attention she was "taking away" from Namine. And so, over time, Alice's mother came to hate her with an unreasonable passion. First she became dismissive, then she became derisive, and finally, she became outright abusive, punishing her daughter for the smallest infractions, and in entirely unreasonable ways. And yet, even though Alice became a terrified, paranoid, self-hating shell of her former self, her father rarely returned. This, finally, drove Namine to the point at which she could rightfully be called insane. For each day that her husband ignored her, she carved another mark across her daughter's back as punishment. Alice was too frightened of what her mother would do if she revealed what had been happening, and, being far too young to understand the situation, ended up coming to the conclusion that she deserved this, that even standing up for herself was wrong. Confused, afraid, and in constant pain, she simply tried to fake being alright as best she could, for her father's sake if not for her own. Naturally, this was far less than successful, and eventually, despite her attempts to hide them out of fear, her scars were discovered, reported, and the truth behind them was uncovered. Her mother was committed to a mental institution, while her father, who had failed to prevent the situation, and whose absentee parenting, also, was discovered, was fined heavily for neglect, and had his daughter taken out of his custody. Alice never heard from nor saw him again, no matter how much she wanted to stay with him, for she was forcibly taken away despite her protestations, and the man, left destitute by the charges imposed, and in despair from the loss of his daughter and the betrayal of his wife, committed suicide shortly after.

Alice was then left alone, at the tender age of 11. Although she was placed in the care of a stern, yet kind family, and set up for regular sessions with a therapist to help her cope with the trauma she had endured, it was too little, too late to undo the damage that had already been done. Her already active imagination spiraled out of control, and her low self-esteem simply faded from existence entirely. Although on the surface she was a relatively normal, if isolated and somewhat troubled child, both the abuse and neglect in her past, as well as her mother's genes ended up taking a permanent hold on her, turning her into the quirky, strange person she is today. Not helping things was the fact that, due to the publicity of her troubled childhood and the delicate treatment she was always given, not to mention her own abnormality, she ended up labeled as "the insane girl." When she wasn't treated with a level of pity that shattered what was left of her sense of self-reliance, or coddled into further cementing her belief in her own selfishness, she was avoided or outright bullied. Her adoptive siblings were the main instigators of this, who, growing angry at how she seemed to be spoiled in comparison to them, ended up tormenting her further when nobody was watching. Battered, broken, and bowed at last into submission, Alice ended up the tragic shell she is at the current date. Feeling like she was wasting the man's time due to her inability to trust him, she quit on her therapist, only to be forced to go to meetings with another, supposedly better professional. This turned out in much the same manner as the first, however, and bit by bit, Alice simply gave up on reality, isolating herself completely out of fear of the world. Locking herself in her room, she came out only to eat, then swiftly withdrew into the safety of her own four walls once more, no matter how much coaxing or scolding was attempted to get her out. Actually, these things just made her feel worse, as she was forcibly reminded that she was failing those who cared about her, but was too scared and powerless to change that fact.

Eventually, one of her old therapists, wanting to help the traumatized girl, suggested Phobos Academy, which she had done well enough in school - for a "crazy person," her grades were incredibly high due to her sense of needing to meet up to other people's expectations - to be given a scholarship into, and, to everyone's surprise, she reluctantly accepted. In her own reasoning, it was a school for people that were all afraid of something like her. A school for people that were "abnormal," or "crazy" by the rest of the world's standards. Being a faraway boarding school, it would allow her to escape from her current bullies, and, if she simply ran away enough, from anyone who might try to hurt her there, as well. And, being suddenly given this opportunity, she couldn't help but feel that it was fate at work. And so, she reluctantly left her home, traveling to a place that might very well change her life forever.

Others: Her dormitory room contains a piano, a large book of drawing paper, an easel and paints, as well as several other pieces of art equipment such as colored pencils and sketchbooks. Aside from this, she is also in possession of a mini-fridge and a small kitchen set. Her room's only decorations consist of two things: massive stacks of unshelved books of every size, making, and age, and a truly staggering collection of stuffed animals that expands wildly to cover almost every surface. Rabbits, bears, elephants, tigers... You name it, she has a stuffed doll or plushie of it, many of them seated in a bizarre fashion in fancy chairs and outfits, or at elegantly set out tea-tables. Many of them even have names and "personalities" of their own, most following a specific theme. A large, suited rabbit known as "Mr. White Rabbit," a ragged human-shaped doll in a suit and tophat known as "Mr. Mad Hatter," a second rabbit known as "March Hare..." Being named after its main character, Alice in Wonderland is her very favorite book, and she often blurs the lines between that fiction - a story about her, as she calls it - and her own reality, in exactly such a manner.

On a final note, Alice's voice is somewhat high-pitched, going rather well with her very mousy, nervous appearance, but she always speaks in low tones, making it seem surprisingly deep. This carries over into her singing, which is over a surprising vocal range.

So begins...

Alice L. Whyte's Story

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Character Portrait: Alice L. Whyte Character Portrait: Jacob Sorata Misaki
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"Like this," Alice repeated in response to the boy's confusion, as though this somehow explained everything, sounding almost condescending as she gave another would-be wise smile and hopped a few times up and down, as though to indicate the cobble path beneath her feet. "Standing. On the ground. In the same place. Forever." In quick succession, she began to add more and more descriptors to what was now quite obvious, and didn't really need them. Undeterred by this, however, she simply continued with her little tangent.

"How else would I become a tree? If I grew roots, I would have to stay still and let them sink into the ground, or else they wouldn't serve any purpose. Like legs that don't work. Oh, wait. That was probably offensive to crippled people. Are you crippled? You don't look like it. I suppose that means I didn't offend you. But you do seem to be the type to be offended easily. Or, at least, you're not very laid back. I would know. I'm an expert on being laid back. Would you like me to teach you how- Oh." Alice's usual monotone slipped first into a sort of sly manner that seemed to but might not have actually implied a joke, then to an attitude that might have been called "sage" - if it had been a little less half-baked. Finally, she simply trailed off into silence, since it seemed like Jacob was interested in other things at the moment, something even she, unfocused though she might have seemed, picked up on. And so, she remained silent, standing stock still as though she was trying to test her theory of treeification, and listening to her companion speak with a demeanor somewhere between innocent, vague curiosity and that of a sleepwalker.

"I think," Alice began at last, her expression shifting into one of intense contemplation, bearing an air of seriousness that bordered on distress. "That I should not like to become a tree, after all. Or maybe I already am one. Do I look like a tree to you?" This last comment was, despite the quiet, calm, yet somehow piercingly poignant tone of voice it had been delivered in, more so than anything else she had yet said, directed with an unprecedented level of earnestness towards Jacob. Alice's face bore a painfully complicated expression, and her deep blue eyes had fully focused directly upon his face, yet bore a sad look that might have been compared to the visage of a lost puppy. It was almost like the question she had just asked was some sort of convoluted call for help, or for reassurance. For reasons that would not be readily apparent to Jacob, it seemed that his depressing explanation of things had resonated deeply with the strange pink-haired girl, and, for whatever those reasons might be, it troubled her greatly.

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Jacob tilted his head at Alice, slightly confused by her question. "Do you... look like a tree to me?" He repeated slowly, as if weighing out just how deeply she wanted the question answered. All the possible answers, the literal and non-literal meanings swirling through his mind at exponential rates. His confusion only growing and his brow furrowing as he examined Alice. He had never actually tried to fully examine her, he understood that he had taken a few mere glances at her but they were based on normal reactions and Alice.... didn't give normal reactions. It was strange he had to admit, that such an innocent and random discussion, that lead to such an innocent and random question, would be what finally drove Jacob to try to attempt a full psycho analysis of Alice Yet here he was, his mind buzzing with all he knew of the girl up to that point, which admittedly wasn't alot, but it was enough that he had a very basic comprehension of the thought stream she worked on. So... he analysed her, to try and give her an answer he looked into her with eyes draped with a serious perception that gave them the visage of a sharp stare.

"Do you... hmm..." Jacob murmured, Alice was very different to people he usually associated with, her mind worked on different inconsistent pathways. While one minute she could be jumping up in place describing the purpose of roots while in the next she could be looking upon him with a face that showed deep and difficult complication, her blue eyes focusing intently on his face, wearing the emotion of sadness well. She swapped between reality and thought so fluently and unexpectedly, such as being in a daydream yet still snapping glasses from his hand with pinpoint precision. Sometimes she would emulate them both at the same time... following him intently and perfectly, yet staring into relative space as if her attention was somewhere else entirely. Jacobs expression became very troubled, the expression of someone who was seeing or realising something they didn't want to. He was tossing around ideas of Alices psyche in his mind, words and thoughts crossing and mingling as if desperately trying to put to words, to understand how she thought, to put a label on it, to anticipate her mind, her decisions, like he did with so many "normal" people. But he couldn't, he couldn't understand her, not yet, her mind was too unique, too different and strange to other peoples, it wasn't like what he usually analysed. It kept moving through topics, never staying in the one place for too long and... Jacobs thought process halted and for a brief moment he stared completely blankly into Alice's eyes.

Then he smiled. A wide smile and an earnest one to meet Alice's near desperate expression. He knew the answer to her question.

"Nope." He spoke cheerily. "Not one little bit. In body or in mind. You're not a tree, not to me anyway." He was very pleased with himself, to come up with even the smallest observation on such a confusing person as Alice. He didn't understand her fully... not even close, he thought that he maybe would someday but as of that moment he most certainly did not. However he had been overthinking it again and in the end, the answer to Alice's question was so simple that it brought a smile to his face.

"Trees are boring." He spoke plainly, yet his grin still remained. "They just stay in the one place all the time, focusing on the one thing... staying in the same place and while I don't know THAT much about you... I don't think you're like that. You're interesting. I'll admit, you confuse me greatly..." He trailed off for a moment. "But that's not a bad thing, it means you actually give me a nice, unpredictable, interesting conversation." He paused for a moment. "And it one hundred percent means that you ain't no tree." He stopped then, feeling that his sudden compliments made him look strange, though in reality he hadn't particularly meant to compliment her, partly yes, but he was mostly just speaking honestly.

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Alice seemed very tense in the moment of silence between her question and Jacob's answer. But, when he finally did speak, this expression gave way to one of barely-masked surprise, as though she hadn't expected such a response. In truth, his willingness to put up with her was enough to astonish her. Most people would have just said she was weird, or confusing, and left. But this boy... he enjoyed her company? Alice smiled again, a very small, slight thing that yet managed to be perhaps her most heartfelt, happy expression all day. She'd been frightened of Jacob, to tell the truth. She'd been scared he would just dismiss her, but, since he had requested she follow him, she had decided to go against her better judgement and do so, since he seemed very set on it, and it seemed as though he would be troubled if she refused. She didn't want to be a burden, so she'd accepted his invitation and come with him. And now... she didn't regret it. For whatever reason, she'd been brought here, and, by his answer, she became assured that the cause was nothing short of fate. This boy was someone special, someone who would accept her. That hope broke out, unable to be extinguished by her doubts, and instantly filled her with joy. This was exactly the sort of person she'd been longing to meet for so long.

"Interesting is good," Alice said, repeating her earlier words and breaking the silence at last, her previous expression of doubt replaced with a somewhat enigmatic, but nonetheless indubitably happy one. "Alright. I'll remember that." She smiled slightly, and then abruptly assumed a sort of contemplative air, as though wondering what to say next. Reaching into the pocket of her skirt as though it contained some sort of answer, she quickly withdrew a small smart phone and, turning it on, began to gaze intently down at its screen, tapping the screen several times as though browsing something. At last, she spoke again.

"According to the foreseen-yet-unforeseen future that is now the present, our conversation at this point can take three turns. Either you are real, and this meeting was one caused by fate, or this is actually all just a dream. Or a reality TV show. Or a reality TV show about a dream." Alice's speech suddenly began to devolve into several apparent non sequiturs, but she didn't seem to notice at all, and swiftly continued along a tangent that became disturbing very, very quickly. "Oh, or you just brought me here where nobody else is so you could knock me unconscious, drag my body into a shrubbery and have your way with me, but I think I can rule out that possible future. You don't seem to like trees much." As though this rather morbid thought explained everything, she swiftly tapped out a few commands, deleting whatever unknown prediction or chain of predictions had led to such an unprecedented and alarming consideration. Once this was done, she continued.

"And I think I can rule out the second option, too. I would never dream of somebody like you, because I like trees, and you're too much of a nice guy to be on reality TV," She added, swiftly deleting another route from her journal of predictions. With the air of a mathematician completing an equation, she concluded her little unintelligible speech.

"So, I guess that means that... You're real. In that case, I've managed to work my way onto the 'Good Ending' path. Hmm... I think this might be the first time that has happened this year." At this juncture, Alice seemed to be more talking to herself - or perhaps to her phone - and yet she was still, at least in her wording, addressing the now quite likely baffled Jacob. Yet, she didn't seem bothered by this unusual speaking arrangement at all, and just continued on with what she was doing. "Let's see... so, to achieve the 'Good End,' I'm supposed to... Oh. Well that's simple. And hard. Like talking to people. Very much like talking to people. Because it is talking to people. And talking to people is simple. And hard. Like a rock. Or rather, like skipping a rock. You see everybody else do it, and it looks so easy, but when you try, the rock just sinks to the bottom and everybody laughs at you. It's like that, but with Human interaction. It happens to me all the time. Everybody else manages to say exactly what they're thinking, but when I try, my thoughts turn into different words which change when I say them, and then everyone laughs. It's not funny. I'm underwater, and they're laughing at me. Would they laugh if my body was drowning as well as just my thoughts? Probably. People are weird. I can't understand them. I think it was some sort of German word or another. It involved shoes. And a psychologist. Or, wait, no, that was a joke about the word." Alice shrugged slightly, shaking her head with a somewhat regretful demeanor. "I get confused sometimes," she explained, as though this was something that had needed clarification.

"Anyway, the foreseen-unforeseen-future-present says I should say something, but I'm not sure how to. Let's see... Hmm, how to put it...? Since fate has... No, people usually misunderstand when I explain fate to them. Er... then maybe...? No, I can't use that either. That would be against my privacy. I'm a very private person. I'm private enough to serve in the armed forces... but then I'd have to make sense of what people were ordering me to do... That would be hard. There's a lot of slang involved. I'm not good with slang." Alice trailed off, as though she'd forgotten what she had been doing in the first place, but then seemed to collect herself, and began to speak again. This time, she was doing so much differently from her usual scatterbrained approach to conversation. It seemed like she was putting a great deal of effort into the words she spoke, as though trying to force herself into letting them pass her lips. Her expression was one of intense anxiety and doubt, yet also a level of focus and determination that made her look like she was speaking before the world rather than to a lone person.

"I... I think I've got it, now. I'm not sure. It's simple enough to make sense, but it might be too simple." She shook her head, as though trying to dislodge these thoughts before they hijacked her thought process once again. Then, taking a deep breath, she said something that was both very simple, and very meaningful.

"Er... You said earlier that you liked me. Well, I've made up my mind." She looked directly at Jacob once again, and gave a somewhat sheepish expression as, mustering her courage, she spoke her thoughts as best she could.

"I think... No, I'm sure of it. I... I... like... you... too?" She said questioningly, cocking her head at Jacob as though asking him if he approved of the sentence. "Or was that weird?" She asked, seeming a little discouraged by her failed attempt to convey the conviction she evidently felt in this opinion.