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Phaedra Brehon

If you play this game, you win or you die trying to win

0 · 181 views · located in Wonderland

a character in “Wonderland - Battle of the Deck”, as played by phoenixheart

Description

Basic Information;
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"You win the game, or you die trying. I intend to win."

Name: Phaedra Brehon
Age: 114
Race: Magician
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Role:Dealer
Faction: The dealers
Abilities:Telekinesis
Best Feature: Knowing when to be quiet and when to go for broke. Also, subtlety.


Appearance;
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Phaedra stands at 5'5 and has a far from intimidating physique. At the lower end of the ideal weight for someone of her height, Phaedra has a very narrow and slight build, particularly noticeable in her shoulders. She has dark curly hair which, on the rare occasion that she wears it down, reaches to her waist and green eyes. Phaedra takes great pride in her appearance and rarely has a thread out of place. Everything is intentional. Phaedra favours dresses similar to those seen on a medieval noblewoman. More material means she had more places to had supplies and weapons. Her weapons are often hidden in her sleeves or in the folds of her skirt. She prefers colours at the more gothic end of the spectrum and is never seen without wearing her choker. Make-up wise, Phaedra keeps things very simple, often wearing lipstains of varying shades of reds and dark pinks. The eye make-up is minimal, rarely going beyond a light usage of eyeliner.



Personality;

Manipulation is the game Phaedra plays best at. She is very good at bringing people around to her way of thinking. Many people who know of her question Phaedra's loyalty, but her true loyalty absolutely lies with the Dealers. Phaedra is rather aloof and keeps her distance from the Dealers in large gatherings. Phaedra isn't exactly a people person and barely tolerates the existence of most people, unless they can be of some use to her. To those not connected to the Dealers, she is superficially charming and flirtatious, all while trying to weasel as much information out of them as possible. Phaedra is a patient woman, and has a very long fuse, but woe betide the soul who pushes her too far. Despite her cool exterior, Phaedra has a fiery temper and violence wise, her hands are not the cleanest. While she's distant at best, when she's in Dealer mode, Phaedra is downright cold and ruthless. She's sees this whole thing like a game, and is playing to win, no matter who she stands on or hurts along the way. She rarely forms emotional attachments to people, because she knows that eventually she will have to cast them aside to further her own ambitions or they'll let her down. It always happens that way. In the rare event that she actually likes someone, they find Phaedra an altogether warmer person. She has a great deal of time for people with ambition, people who want to change the world, and has great respect for her fellow dealers and treats them with the courtesy she would hope to receive from them in return.

Likes;
Fine wine|| Full skirts|| The Dealers|| Autumn|| Ivy||Horses|| Daggers|| Chess

Dislikes;
The rulers|| Most people|| Roses|| Gardens|| Heavy make-up|| Being rushed

Hobbies;
Collecting ornate daggers|| Fine tuning her abilities|| Gathering information|| Reading|| Playing chess


History

So begins...

Phaedra Brehon's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares

0.00 INK

#, as written by Dead
☠ Cordelia Bellamont ☠

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The singing was driving her absolutely mad. Cordelia was simmering and writhing in irritation in the back of the gardens among the lush green hedge maze where red and white roses sprouted within the green leaves, her hands crushing one easily before taking in a deep breath and letting it back out. She hadn't slept enough again; she never slept enough. “Bloody flowers.” She muttered, letting the crumpled flower petals drop from her thin, pale hands and she slowly began to walk through the maze, struggling to block out all the laughter and the singing and the talking. A bloody party? Was De’laire mad? Of course he was mad, and of course she would never question their leader, but what was he hoping to accomplish with this? Getting everyone together; was he going to kill someone? Part of her jolted with excitement with that thought; but she hadn't seen him ever since the party started, and she had been trying to avoid every figure that came near, even the members of her group. She was always just so irritated, so uptight… she was only calm when she was practicing the dark arts, and her specialty… necromancy.

Just last week she managed to reanimate about 5 corpses at once, but controlling them was another story. The more she had raised, the less control she had over what they did, which could be anything at random and that was hard to maintain. Lox often teased her and goated her about it, always adding some smart ass comment that gave her blood the boil but she always tried her best to impress De'laire... she wondered how weak he thought she really was. She grinned to herself, licking her lower lip with her evil smirk before looking over the rings and chains adorning her snow white hands, a soft sigh escaping her lips in irritated contempt.

She combed her thin digits through her brown hair that glimmered with a hint of red from the bleak sun that was being covered off and on by her favorite color in the sky. Her gray eyes sifted through the various plants of green, her fingertips brushing over petals and leaves and thorns as her long, thin black skirt trailed behind her. The front was short, her black stockings with the garter belts to be seen along with her dark, black silk corset that complimented her thin figure. The top of the corset was adorned with white lace, along with the top of her garters that had white bows on them; each in sync, each matching perfectly as the black veil on her head fell down over the back of her hair and along the middle of her sharp back. She was the image of a beautiful death, lips a dark, pale red and eyes shaded with dark. But some thought she would break if you so much as laid a hand on her with her slender figure, but they would be so wrong if they tried.

But her shining jewel was the metal made head piece on top, a large tiara of dark gold with chains running all over, down the sides of her head and resting on her shoulders; the image of what she once was, and what she wanted to be; the Queen of Diamonds. But her past revealed how the King found out about her dark practices, and decided to give the right of rule over the Diamond Bloodline to the pure mages, casting her out along with the rest of her group. But she had taken over; she had become the queen through evil means, through dark ways only to be cast down again by that bitch; Iracabeth, the big headed oaf. How that woman had embarrassed them and insulted them, thinking she could waltz right in and take Wonderland for herself in such a swift mood. They never spoke about Iracebeth though, afraid that De'laire might kill them with their own pain if they breathed about it in his presence.

She was seething again, her jaw locked as she struggled to erase the memories. De’laire had a plan; they had a plan to take it over once again. She could see the Prince of Diamonds in her head so clearly, she wasn't going to deny she visited him often in the shadows through ice covered windows, struggling to put together his death. She imaged it silent, his scrawny neck between her long fingers with the might she had to squeeze him to death. She had no idea how her magic had gone so wrong… how it could of given him life, but not life? She sighed and sat down on one of the black benches, struggling to push these thoughts away; she had to get it out of her head! De’laire had mentioned to enjoy themselves, but all she could do was be anxious, tired, and utterly… bored.

“Parties.” She grumbled to herself, looking up at a well-dressed waiter who came by, offering her a glass of wine. Although she considered ripping his throat out with her sharp nails, she greedily snagged two glasses from the tray and watched him walk away as she began to sip her wine in silence with dark eyes drifting off into the fresh air. As soon as she downed the first glass she threw it against the bushes and slowly worked on sipping her last one, the burning sensation in her throat giving her a sense of feeling as the bitter sweet taste left her tongue tingling in delight and once again breathed in the smell of flowers and cake and tea. She preferred the scent of graveyards, herself.

She then eyed a blank chess board over at the right end of the garden, her eyebrow raising as she rolled her eyes and forced herself to get up, balancing herself in her black heels as she made her way over to one of the black chairs and sat herself down in front of it. "Why not, this party is dead." She said, and then she grinned to herself. "Or I wish it was." She let a small chuckle escape her thin lips as she pulled out the pieces from a black box underneath the board, lining them up properly away from each other and began to play against herself in boredom. She of course, was black.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon

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☠Lucien Agares☠

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Lucien was standing at the back of the party, near Cordelia but not caring enough to talk with her. He was in a black suit, a deep red undershirt buttoned to his neck, and a black bow tie. His medium length, wavy brown hair was flowing toward his back, seemingly slicked but really only naturally perfect. He had a lighter in his left hand that he kept flicking on and then snuffing, bored of the dull party he was forced to be at. He rolled his eyes and looked around, boredom pouring from him as he looked around for De'Laire. What's he up to this time....? Lucien thought to himself, unamused by their leader's secrecy as to why they were actually here. He began pacing around, his gaze moving from the ground to the sky and back and forth, his disinterest in this social gathering completely obvious. He watched as a Cordelia took two wine glasses from a waiter that was walking by. He caught the waiter's eye by waving his ungloved fingers in the air. As the waiter came close, Lucien grabbed a glass of wine for himself and requested that the waiter find him a bourbon or a scotch and to bring him both if both were available.

Lucien turned toward a hedge near him, staring as the roses. He plucked a red rose from the hedge and flicked on his lighter, holding it to the flower. When the flower caught, he closed his lighter, extinguishing the flame, and watched the rose slowly burn into a black and melting mess. He smiled to himself before dropping the charred, dead flower at his feet. As he turned back toward the party, he saw the waiter hurrying back to him. The waiter held out his platter, a bourbon and a scotch sitting on it, waiting to be claimed. Lucien picked up both drinks, shooing the waiter as he did so. He watched at the waiter scurried away and wondered what the waiter would look like if he were in flames. He chuckled slightly at the thought.

He downed the scotch, shaking his head slightly at the burn it sent down his throat. He licked his lips deviously and tossed the glass onto the ground. He held the bourbon in his right hand, swirling the liquid around inside the glass. He took out his lighter and lit the bourbon, blowing it out seconds after. He noticed Cordelia sit down at an empty chess table, playing by herself. He waltzed over to the table and sat down opposite her. "I'm white," he said, not waiting for her approval to join the game. He sipped at his bourbon, knowing he was probably getting on Cordelia's nerves. He looked around, downing the rest of the bourbon, still wondering why it was that De'Laire request they show up to this boring waste of time.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares

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Phaedra waved her hand through the air, wiggling her fingers to tighten the laces on her corset until it was pleasantly tight on her waist. Telekinesis was a wonderful gift, she thought. She pulled on her dress, a rather wonderful green number with enough coverage in the sleeves and the skirt to conceal a number of weapons. She knew that De'Laire was holding the party on neutral ground, but she didn't trust the rebellion not to start something at the gathering. She didn't trust any of them as far as keeping the peace went. She trusted them about as far as she could throw them.

Phaedra slid her weapons into place, making sure they were adequately concealed. In all honesty, she was not looking forward to this gathering. It was everything she despised. Gardens, flowers, people. It was a delight to behold. But De'Laire had insisted upon their attendance, so as his faithful cohort, she was required to go. Leaving her rooms, Phaedra stepped outside into the glaring sunlight. She climbed into the driverless carriage and began her journey to the neutral ground. On her arrival at the party, Phaedra was disappointed to find everything as garish as she had feared. For one, there were far too many roses. Phaedra opened out her parasol and painted a smile on her face. She was going to let no one know she was having an awful time.

Phaedra glided through the gathering, at least thankful for the wine on offer. If there had been just tea, Phaedra may have been inclined to breech the neutrality laws. She sipped the wine, De'Laire had the sense to make it a good wine, watching the crowd around her. She could see Cordelia and Lucien sat in a corner over a game of chess, Lucien cradling a dark drink, whiskey perhaps, Phaedra couldn't tell from this distance. Despite De'Laire's disregard for appearances, the other three dealers were surprisingly sharp dressers. Everyone here was remarkably well dressed. Well, there had been little to celebrate recently, so it was understandable that everyone dressed to the nines at the first available opportunity.

Figuring she had nothing better to do, Phaedra glided across the garden towards Cordelia and Lucien, watching their game with absent interest. They had clearly just started the game as few pieces had moved and neither player appeared to have the upper hand yet, "Don't mind me," She said, taking another sip of her wine, "Just watching," She smiled at her fellow Dealers, waiting for their game to continue.

The setting changes from wonderland to Center of Wonderland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Wendy Lapin Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip

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chapter i - treacherous rendezvous
center of wonderland


He found the center of Wonderland in a myriad of colors, flora blossomed in their sweetness and extending gangly vine arms, twisting, coiling around columns of refined marble, their leaves the most vibrant greens and toxic berries redder than the life blood pushing through needle veins. Princes and Princesses in the center of it all, the beating heart of Wonderland, and his eyes flickered, scoured the crowed tessellated in lurid colors, to the soldiers of chess and hatters swilling on honeyed teas, woman of leather textile wings and rabbit ears twitching at the murmur of hollow wind chimes. How very alive were they; guests of supple skin caressed by starshine, glistened by their vigor and mirth that composed the ambiance, and thus the occasion was a jovial one of peace, their minds bleached and liberated from paranoia that plagued common-folk and highborns alike.

He'd laugh too, the threads of his vocal cords melted and initiating their own tiny spasms at jokes told, the antics of jesters and a four handed woman who juggled apples, oranges, and a porcelain doll head skewed by the craftsman's penchant against the previous Bloody (Red) Queen. Charming creatures hailing from the West to the East, those that burrowed emerging from tunnels and washing grime from hair thinner than sheer fabric as avian singers perched on crystallized wires, and his lips remained upturned, pulled into cheeks pigmented a diluted moonstone, his pale skin mimicking the living, mouth grinning, talking, eyes reflecting streams of illumination that had been filtered through ice statues and the prisms of their angles. They existed marvelously, and his pupils oscillated between those imbibing on saccharine rose wines and the wallflowers murmuring gossip disguised as poetry into the ears of anyone that would sacrifice to them time.

However, it was the dead who possessed eternity in their caskets, be them made of wood, ivory, water, the living were predestined to wither with the years and decompose once their tenuous hearts ceased beating. A celebration of ephemeral characters simply could not transcend the boundaries of clocks, and ruled were they by mechanical ticking, waiting for the bells to ring and for the flesh to rot. Hymns of everlasting bliss were plucked from harps sealed in liquid gold, lemon cakes were served with miniature cherry blossoms resting upon the sugar dusted surfaces and his fingers turned, delicate motions twirling his parasol of teardrop lace and the snowflake's fractal elegance. He strapped not a rapier to his side because he was no fool, understood the meaning of being openly armed at a place purged of violence, and yes, he was certainly not a fool, no one would see the blade concealed within the handle of his parasol.

Memories of nothing, their minds were fated to drown in silence whilst he collected photographs which would never fade. Noir cravat tight around his throat and dress shirt he chuckled at a fable told by a stilt walker, a tale of witches that cursed pretty maidens to a life as insipid as their thoughts - and that's how butterflies came to be, he explained in a voice weaved with old, false magic. The man gifted the Prince a monarch enclosed in a jar and her wings fluttered alongside glass dented and molded into pellucid roses, and the mannerisms of these people were queer but endearing. He almost regretted not visiting these lands sooner, and Prudence's eyes waned into crescents, humor discovered in the notches of the celebration, enemies parodying friendship and admirers finding themselves bold in the afternoon's zeal. The beauty sustained here was divine, but the warmth in the heart of Wonderland was an unsavory antagonist, not quite a foe because with a breeze gentle and bounteous any fear for his wellbeing disappearing in languid whispers of wind.

Underneath the shade he stayed, donning the glacier glory of The North in attire white and silver, silk gloves devoid of color sheathing his hands and therefore when holding the winged insect’s transparent prison hoarfrost did not creep along the surface and only mere condensation spread, moisture congregating across the contours traced by skeletal thumbs. “Such a curious, feeble creature - why must you endure peril? How can torment be disregarded by any ignorance, or does purity make you naïve, little one?” He questions the limited sentience in hushed words, brothers to snowfall which made no noise in the night. The syllables born from his larynx were synonymous with instruments for dainty hands, a quiet aria striving for no vengeance and his voice is as ceramic and deceptive as the cold always has been.

“Perhaps you will live longer in Evangeline’s hands.” The woman’s presence was momentarily absent, removed from his line of vision when whisked away by all that he had not seen before, never had ventured beyond the North, but as small as she was he’d find her again, preferably sooner than later, lest the butterfly freeze and die like mortals so easily do. Still, he mused the possibility all the same, shards of light swallowed by his irises blacker than licorice, thanking the stranger who so kindly recognized the Prince of Diamonds, as very few could.

His palm cradled the container against his chest, attention wandering from the departing storyteller to the procession of attendees arriving in pairs and groups, very few alone as they entered the garden and even less isolated in a space where merriment sparked a labyrinth of infectious joy throughout the air they breathed. Lightning storms in his lungs his grasp on the parasol relaxed, became tenacious again, and he had traveled from a palace of winter not for frivolous socialization but rather - and his pupils twitched, jerking to a woman with a child’s marble eyes (hair red like candied apples) to her companion in the nimious waltz, and vision shifted again to a man with dragons tied into his long locks of dusk indulging in what was presumably tea - well, the corners of his lips quirked, thoughts severed, rearranging.

Prudentius meandered, his legs taking leisurely strides, walking through the crowd in an endeavor of abandonment, wind jostling the tails of his formal uniform, raiment tailored to the traditional style of the Diamond’s Kingdom imperial era. Folded collars, cuffs, fastened buttons of gray spinel and silver thread embroidered into images of Northern stags, his white trousers were much less elaborate, leather boots hardly denting the grass, which was astonishingly resilient, nothing at all like the snow. “In this age a Jabberwock is branded a marvel, my lady.” He reflects in the same tender tone, emerging from the warren of guests and their wispy faces of diaphanous paint, offering a smile to the woman of dark hair and grim visage, then to the albino hare quietly ingesting tea, nodding to her with a sign of respect.

“Notwithstanding the balance,and incongruous to our surroundings, I did see this young Jabberwock depart from company, drawn in by the carousal's rear end.” Lips curled, benevolence masked a story of musing. An individual's network of senses was their greatest asset when conjoined to neuro-pulsations, and he spoke of the woman caught in his gem of eyes, ensnared by observance, just as presently his attention drifted from the hybrid to who so curiously sought out a creature made sparse in Wonderland, so scarce that if incorrect of theory then the reality would be paradoxical. After all, legends and stories do spread as wildfire. “Would I be mistaken to think you are Princess Clubs?” Prudence asked, suspicion strong yet spoken tentatively, head tilting but centimeters to the left and the parasol spun, the butterfly fluttered her wings, and people sang their lighthearted songs all around them, dancing without a single nightmare within their empty skulls.

The setting changes from center-of-wonderland to Wonderland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares

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#, as written by conor
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"Tick.........tock. Tick........tock. It's almost time for the grand opening" The faint, muffled sounds of screaming was just barely audible. The cloth was doing it's job so well. A young girl, no more than 18 bound by her hands and legs sat gagged atop a tree branch. Try as she might nobody could hear her scream. Tears rolled down her pretty little face as she came closer to the inevitable.

De'laire slayer sat on the branch next to her, twiddling a small knife between his fingers. Unlike the rest of the people at the party going on below him De'laire was not dressed for the occasion. He simply wore leather breeches and woolen tunic with a leather jerkin on top. Simple attire for a simple occasion. Of course De'laire couldn't be seen at this party. It would ruin everything. He also trusted the other dealers not to reveal their identities either. To much planning had gone into all of this. It would be a shame to mess it all up. As the party began to fill De'laire decided it was time for the opening act.

A wicked smile cut across De'laires face as he gazed at the girl beside him. She broke down crying once more, grasping at her bonds desperately trying to get lose. She screamed as loud as she could but no body could hear her anguish. Grabbing her cheeks he pushed his lips against her ears. "It's time now for your part in todays party. Don't worry you will be the centre of the show." He laughed to himself, enjoying her screams. He pushed is tongue against her cheek and tasted the tears that rolled down.

Finally he pulled his face away from hers and stood up. Balancing himself on the thick tree branch he placed a thick rope noose around the girls neck. It was time to stir the party and shake the guests. One hundred years of waiting and he was now ready to make a move. It would take some time but ultimately his victory would be crushing and wonderland would be his to subjugate once more. The royals would be replaced by each of the dealers and wonderland would be ruled by chaos once more.

Kneeling down in front of a terror stricken girl he put the little knife in his hand. "Know I'd like to say this won't hurt a bit, but that would be a lie, it wouldn't be fun if it didn't hurt". Grinning he pushed the girl down against the tree branch and placed the knife against her forehead. Slowly he pulled the knife across her forehead and down her pale white cheeks. She groped and screamed begging for relief but it was no use. If she was lucky she would succumb to the pain and pass out. Continuing down her cheeks he turned the knife across her jaw, slowly cutting and outline across her face. Eventually it was done. "Time to start the show"

De'Laire pushed the girls body off the tree and sauntered off as the rope unravelled and suddenly became taut. Peering down he could see the girl sway in the soft breeze. She swung lifelessly above the party crowd, her white dress now stained with crimson blood and the outline of a skull carved around her face.

De'laire made his way towards the outskirts of the party, making sure not to be seen. Hopefully the others would be able to find him here. The time of the Dealers had come.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares

0.00 INK

#, as written by Dead
☠ Cordelia Bellamont ☠

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Cordelia sighed softly, about to move another piece until Lucien decided to take a seat and declare he was now her opponent. With a raised eyebrow she cleared her throat and leaned back in her seat. "Very well, Lucien." His name was almost a hiss on her tongue. She had to admit, Lucien was a self conceited jack ass sometimes, always walking around like he was high and mighty. When the dealers didn't give her the space she deserved, or looked down on her for her weak moments, it made her blood sizzle and her nerves twitch. She slowly moved a pawn across the bored diagonal on the very right hand side, her long bony fingers gleaming so pale as long pointy nails nearly chipped the wooden piece with a solid scratch.

She glanced up at Phaedra when she strolled over, her nerves starting to burn as she sighed and rubbed her forehead. She liked Phaedra but this party was giving her anxiety. She looked over at a waiter passing them by again, a sudden cry of screams making him jump and drop his tray as she darted over and caught it herself, her super fast reflexes giving her an edge as she took a large glass of whiskey and then dropped the tray and began to sip on it before inquiring as to what the screaming was about. "De'laire has struck again." She muttered to the others, making her way to peek behind the pushes at the bloody girl hanging from the tree. The chaos was mortifying, and she adored it, a tight smile finally coming to her lips as she leaned against a statue and watched in delight while sipping from the large shot glass.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter

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A few moments later, Thackery noticed that Hatter had arrived. He had almost missed Hatter's entry, not accustomed to seeing Hatter dress so simply. The bowtie, a garish explosion of colour, was Hatter to a T though, he thought with a small smile. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging his friend's arrival at the party. When Hatter joined him, Thackery was greeted by a gentle nudge on the shoulder, "Not your cup of tea?" the Hatter asked, before exploding into laughter.

Thackery gave a small chuckle, "It is and it isn't," was his answer when Hatter had calmed down. Thackery stood diligently as as Hatter scoured the tea selection for a suitable choice. Thackery watched as Hatter's face lit up when he found a tea to his liking. On Hatter's return, Thackery found himself being used as a leaning post, something he was completely thrilled about. No, really, he was. He cast a harmless glare at Hatter, who was happily drinking tea, peppermint, if Thackery's nose wasn't failing him. Hatter's attention was on the crowd, so he probably didn't even notice Thackery's look of disdain at Hatter's utilisation of his shoulder.

"How's the party, Thacky?"

Thackery did a double take at the shortening of his name. 'Thacky'? The last time he had been called that was when he was leveret and his infantile tongue couldn't manage the complete syllabic make-up of 'Thackery'. But, this was Hatter he was dealing with. His closest friend who was prone to moments of infantile behaviour, such as calling him 'Thacky'. Thackery had a feeling deep his gut that the name was going to stick as well, "Amazingly polite and well behaved. Everyone appears to be enjoying doing nothing," He sighed, "Our tea parties were much more fun than this," He said mournfully, "Perhaps we should go into the business of party planning," He mused aloud, not really taking the idea seriously himself.

Once again, Hatter was not paying attention. He was now eyeing the cakes. With all the delight of a child at Christmas, Hatter disappeared again. The relief Thackery felt in his shoulder from not having Hatter's elbow digging into it was exquisite. Thackery rolled his shoulder a few times to get some feeling back into the joint before Hatter returned. Once again, Thackery was used as a prop while Hatter indulged himself on cake and more peppermint tea. Despite his dislike at being used as a lean-to, Thackery couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him as Hatter looked at the cake and tea in utter wonder, "Thacky!" Yes, the name was sticking, "It's amazing!" Hatter exclaimed, eyes wide as if he had just discovered some kind of epiphany,"You've got to try the peppermint tea and angel food cake together! It's complexly magnificent!"

Thackery nodded as Hatter continued to stare at the cake, utterly transfixed, "Soon as I've finished this," He said as his ears began to twitch inside his hat. Thackery tensed. This shouldn't be happening. This was neutral ground. There should be no danger here, "Hatter, my ears and I believe something awful is about to happen."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the body of a young girl was swinging from a tree on the other side of the garden. From this distance, he could see her face was bloodied and she was very much not alive. Thackery looked around, slack faced and at a total loss of what to do, waiting for his instruction from Hatter, as he often did in difficult circumstances. A woman dressed in black moved towards the body, simply watching the girl swing while she drank. "Oh my," Was all Thackery could say, his voice barely audible.



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Phaedra frowned when Cordelia moved the pawn diagonally. It was almost a reflex action to protest that pawns could only move diagonally when capturing a piece, but she refrained herself. This was not her game, if Lucien had a problem with the way Cordelia was playing, Lucien could raise it himself. That, and the fact Cordelia was one of the last people Phaedra wanted to anger. Especially when she trying her very best to maintain the neutrality of the garden that she so despised. No, Phaedra was going to be on her best behavior today.

A chorus of screams rang out, causing Phaedra to jump slightly, and a nearby waiter to drop his tray, the drink being saved by Cordelia, "De'laire has struck again," She said, looking to a tree. Phaedra followed Cordelia's gaze and saw a girl swinging gently in the breeze. Her face bore the bloody outline of a skull and her pretty white dress was stained with patches of red. This secret show of terror was De'Laire's doing. There was no one else left in Wonderland who could pull off such a stunt with such chilling effect. Cordelia stood closer to the dead girl, her delight evident int he chaos. Phaedra rolled her eyes, feeling the need to distance herself from Cordelia, who was drawing attention to herself by being so thrilled. Phaedra subtly looked around the garden, her eyes searching for De'Laire. She saw a movement on the edge of the garden. A man dressed in dark leather. De'Laire.

Phaedra looked around her fellow party guests, their attention on one another or the macabre show of a dead girl. She silently slipped away from her fellow dealers, making her way to De'Laire. In the shade, Phaedra lowered her parasol, holding it like a cane. She cast another look back at the party, glad to be away from the festivities, "That was a pretty little show you put on back there," She said to De'Laire with a smirk, "Very interesting."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter

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☠Lucien Agares☠

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Lucien gazed at the chess table, uninterested in the game itself. He noticed Cordelia move a pawn diagonally, which wasn't really a move in chess, but he decided to ignore it, as he didn't actually care about the game in the first place. He also chose to ignore Phaedra, another Dealer, though she didn't seem too interested in the party either. "I hate this game...." Lucien said, flicking his King over, knocking over most of his own pieces and a few of Cordelia's.

As he stood, there was a chorus of screams.

"De'laire has struck again," said Cordelia, a grin forming on her face.

Lucien himself smiled slightly before removing the expression from his face, knowing that it may draw attention to himself if he were happy about all of the commotion that was going on. He cleared his throat before looking toward Phaedra and Cordelia, though Cordelia had already started walking toward the pandemonium that De'Laire, in Lucien's opinion, had so sloppily put together. Before he knew it, he'd lost sight of Phaedra as well.

Looking around, he couldn't see where she went, though he knew that she probably somehow found De'Laire. As he turned his gaze back toward the center of the garden, he noticed a man standing before the party. He had taken the girl down from the tree and was now demanding that De'Laire show his face.

Lucien smirked at the man's foolishness. He must be mad. Lucien thought to himself. He knelt on the ground, putting his palm to the grass, feeling the soft blades between his fingers. Time for some more fun. Lucien pondered, the smile on his face growing more sinister with every word in the thought. He wiggled his fingers in the grass, electricity building up in his fingertips. How I love electricity! he thought maniacally. He sent a wave of electricity through the ground toward the man standing up in front of everyone, shocking him with 10 milliamps of pure electricity. Though it wasn't enough to kill the man, it'd be enough to bring the man to his knees in pain. Lucien stood, satisfied with himself and still smiling as he turned away from the party members.

He pulled his lighter out of his pocket, flipping open the cap and lighting it. With a chuckle he walked toward the hedge near him and held his lighter to it. In a few seconds, the hedge caught fire and began to slowly go up in flames. He snuffed his lighter, smiled once more, and walked toward the very back of the garden, ready to watch this party burn.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon

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☠Lucien Agares☠

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As Lucien was walking away, he heard someone call him a cynical bastard. He turned toward the source of the comment and saw a Jabberwocky attempting to put out the flames. "You're missing the point, Jabber," he said, his lips curling into a sinister grin. He pulled out his lighter once more, lit it, and began walking along the hedges, holding his lighter to them as he did so. "Good luck putting it out now!" He laughed manically as all of the hedges around them were in flames, slowly engulfing more of the garden. "Run while you can! And don't let us catch you!" Lucien shouted, practically dancing in front of the burning hedges. The flames were reflected in his black eyes, his own madness coming through to the surface.

"Let's have a little fun, shall we?" Lucien said, directing the comment toward the Jabberwocky that was so ardently fighting his fire. He charged up his finger tips and shocked the tips of the Jabberwocky's wings, enough electricity to temporarily paralyze someone. Though he was unsure how much electricity that would take for a Jabberwocky. He turned away from the party and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed De'Laire an Phaedra. He ambled over to them, a malevolent sneer on his mouth. "Some party, huh?" he said, laughing slightly. "How I love chaos." He looked toward De'Laire. "What's next, boss?" Lucien rubbed his hands together, hoping that the next step would be even more chaotic than this party.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter

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#, as written by conor
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De'laire sat enclosed by trees. His body now exhausted from the work of magic he had just done, he sat to rest and regain some energy before the next step in the plan. Hearing now the fruits of his labour coming to life in the forms of shrieks and shattering tea cups he managed to let go of a little grin, before quickly suppressing it. Resting in his hand was the knife that had carved the young girls face, the traces of blood ran down the blade like veins in the skin. Trickling slowly until they hit the tip, then dropped down all the way to the forest floor, never to be seen again as they soaked into the moist earth.

His patience was beginning to wear thin when Phaedra finally appeared into the small opening. The youngest of the dealers she often seemed the most innocent. Not that De'laire thought it was a bad thing. A wonderful trait to have when trying to be devious. An innocent person is more likely to be accepted as trusting and used. An awful mistake for anyone to make with Phaedra. "That was a pretty little show you put on back there, Very interesting." "I am glad you liked it" he replied, "Now wes must move onto the next part of the plan."

In the distance De'Laire heard someone bemoaning his name. Already playing the blame game? he thought to himself. "Thats fine, but what until you see whats next". In the bushes nearby he heard the voice of the ever arrogant Lucien. And he was causing a commotion. "Bloody fool" he muttered, slowly pushing his body up with his hands. De'Laire did not dislike Lucien. He was a powerful dealer, but sometimes his ego got the better of him. Like now.

When he finally arrived in the clearing De'Laire was furious. He waltzed up to Lucien and pushed his face right up to him. "For fuck sakes Lucien what are you doing out there, you're going to get us all caught. Lighting things on fire and messing with a bloody Jabberwocky, using your magic publicly? You better be damn sure it didn't follow us back here and realise what the hell is going on or I swear you will regret it." Finally calming himself De'Laire stood back and took a deep breath. He was tired enough as it is, getting angry would not be helpful in the situation. Raising his arm to his forehead he wiped the sweat from his skin.

"Where the hell is Cordelia anyway?" he blathered. "Probably off wandering around as usual. Whatever, we don't have time for this, find her later". De'laire walked towards the back of the clearing and pulled away the trees revealing another young girl in a similar white dress. She stood silently, the only visible motion was the slow and steady movement of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled the oxygen in the air that sustained her. "We tried to take Wonderland by force before, it failed. It costs us dearly and here we are years later trying again. Except this time we will do things differently. We cut the head off of the snake last time. This time I want the heart. But to get the heart we have to mess with the mind. Wonderland needs a little bit of paranoia before we can introduce the madness. People already believe I .... we are back. Now we have to make them doubt. Question themselves and stutter in their stride. Make them lose whatever confidence they have. It will take time but we will break Wonderland and force them all to kneel and beg for mercy. We will torment them until they can take no more and then deliver the crushing blow. Then, then we shall take Wonderland, when all of it's leaders are destroying themselves from inside out we shall take Wonderland and rule it for ourselves!" De'laire stopped to take a breather, his enthusiasm only clashing with his fatigue. Once he regained his composure he stood up again and grabbed the young girl by the arm.

"I have wiped this girls memory clean. She doesn't know who she is, where she is or what she is doing. It cost a lot of my energy, an awful lot of energy. Phaedra." He turned to her and pushed the girl into her arms. "Use your manipulative ways and craft a new story for this girl. Give her this knife and make her believe that her goal in life is to kill the Prince of Spades and then set her free to find him. Tell her her name is T.D. I want that snooty bitch of hearts but it would be too obvious. The Prince of Spades has no connection to me. They will think that this girl is just a crazed murderer out to kill a royal. The blame will be shifted but the name De'Laire Slayer will rest in the back of minds. The seed will be planted." Wiping the girls memory had taken more effort than intended. Such magic was among the darkest of all the arts. He walked past the two dealers using their shoulders for support. "Don't mess it up, make it work, make her believable. Lucien I need you to observe everything that happens with the rest of the party. Make some friends, put your looks to work. And make sure Cordelia doesn't do anything silly. I'll be back at the lair, I need my energy back before we do anything more."

Slowly De'laire made his way out of the clearing. "Good Luck, all of this will be ours soon. Patience."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Wendy Lapin

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Thackery watched on as Hatter ran across to the girl, cutting her down from the tree. And this, Thackery thought, was the reason that Hatter was the leader of their ragtag group, not Thackery or any other member. Hatter was the loudest and most outspoken of them all.

"Listen! Everyone!" Hatter began, "I believe that De'Laire is behind this! I fear that he was the one that gathered all of us here today, to make some sort of statement! But De'Laire is a coward! He has refused to show his face here and has instead mutilated a poor girl!" Hatter looked toward the girl who was now leaned upon the tree. "If you think you're so high and mighty, De'Laire, why not show us your face! Come out and show your 'guests' your face, coward!"

Thackery's eyes widened. De'Laire? He was a story, wasn't he? His ears flattened against the inside of his hat. De'Laire couldn't be real. Thackery took a steadying breath, looking down at the ground. Losing it now wouldn't do, not when there was so many people around, especially De'Laire, assuming he was real. Thackery's eyes shot back up when he smelt an odd smell on the air, like a metallic burning. He saw Hatter on his knees and ran over to his friend, knocking Wendy out of the way, dropping to his knees beside Hatter, "Hatter?" He asked, his voice full of concern. Realising that his friend was just stunned, Thackery looked around for someone who might be responsible for Hatter's current state. He spotted a dark haired man dressed in black who looked very pleased with himself and was currently setting fire to the garden, much to the annoyance of the Jabberwocky present. Thackery would have loved to rip the man's head from his shoulders, but he had more pressing matters to attend to, "Wendy," He called, getting the White Rabbit's attention, "Help me get Hatter safe," He instructed her, hooking Hatter's arm over his shoulder.

As he lifted Hatter from his knees, Thackery looked down at the dead girl. The poor girl deserved better than this, a proper burial with her family in attendance. But Thackery had more pressing matters to deal with and he had no means of finding out who the girl was. Another girl, well woman really, dressed in black, was watching the girl with considerable interest. Thackery watched the woman for a moment, before silently leaving the girl to her care. He made sure Wendy had a hold of Hatter and began walking his friend away from the party.



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Phaedra could barely suppress a smile when De'Laire gave Lucien an earful about setting fire to the garden. While she didn't care much for the garden herself, it was always nice to see Lucien being put in his place. Phaedra's attention was then caught by a girl, similarly dressed to the one De'Laire had just killed, but her face was a different kind of blank. De'Laire pushed the girl towards her, allowing Phaedra a closer look at her face. She was pretty in a very conventional way. The girl was someone you probably wouldn't spot in a crowd.

"Use your manipulative ways and craft a new story for this girl. Give her this knife and make her believe that her goal in life is to kill the Prince of Spades and then set her free to find him. Tell her her name is T.D. I want that snooty bitch of hearts but it would be too obvious. The Prince of Spades has no connection to me. They will think that this girl is just a crazed murderer out to kill a royal. The blame will be shifted but the name De'Laire Slayer will rest in the back of minds. The seed will be planted. Don't mess it up, make it work, make her believable."

Phaedra wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, taking the knife from De'Laire, sliding it up her sleeve. Phaedra lifted the girl's chin slightly so she could see into her eyes. Phaedra smiled sweetly, "You must be tired after your long journey," the girl looked at her blankly, "There is nothing for you to fear from me, I have no intention of hurting you, T.D was it?" Again the girl looked blankly, "Yes, T.D," Phaedra confirmed for the girl, "Come my dear, you must be thirsty," She said, leading the girl, T.D, into the garden, ignoring the jaberwocky trying to douse Lucien's flames. Phaedra felt T.D resist her, digging her heels into the grass. Phaedra stopped and looked at the girl, "Something wrong my dear?"

T.D looked around the garden, lingering on the flames for a moment longer, before looking back to Phaedra, "What is your name?" T.D asked quietly.

Phaedra nodded. Her memories had been erased but she could still remember speech. Well that was good to know, "Phaedra."

"Well, Miss Phaedra," T.D said ever so politely, "I am very tired and would like to go home."

"Of course my dear, whatever you wish. If you wish to go home then we will go home."

T.D smiled at Phaedra brightly, "Thank you Miss Phaedra," She said as Phaedra escorted to her to the carriage. She looked around in amazement as the carriage began moving by itself, "How is this moving?"

Phaedra leaned forward, "Magic. All my friends can do magic. I'll explain everything to you when you've rested, alright?" T.D nodded her agreement at Phaedra's plan, "There's a good girl."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Wendy Lapin

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Thackery nodded at Wendy's suggestion. If Hatter was right, neither of their homes were safe. If De'Laire was behind this party and the stunt, then that meant he knew where himself and Hatter lived. The only connection anyone could see between Thackery and Wendy was that they were both para-humans. Wendy's house was safe. Thackery heard Hatter mumbling to himself, tears beginning to role down his friend's face. Thackery shifted more of Hatter's weight onto his shoulder, awkwardly wiping away the tears, "Don't worry," he comforted Hatter, "We know it was De'Laire. But right now, we need to get to a safe place, you're in no fit state to be doing anything."

Thackery hailed down one of the carriages, climbing in and lifting Hatter in after him, offering a hand to help Wendy up. Events may have taken a turn for the worse but that was no reason not to be a gentleman. He let Wendy guide the driver, his attention focused on Hatter, making sure he didn't deteriorate. Would all Hatter's forms be affected the attack? Thackery wondered to himself. When the carriage arrived at Wendy's home, Thackery guided Hatter inside, sitting him down before heading into the kitchen, "Keep an eye on him Wendy," Thackery called through, hanging his hat on one of the kitchen cupboards. He filled the kettle and began boiling the water, "Tea, tea,tea, tea,tea," Thackery repeated the word like a mantra as he searched through the contents of Wendy's kitchen, "Tea!" He yelled when he found the precious product.

When he reappeared from the kitchen he was carrying a tray with three cups of tea balanced on the top, "Not my best work," he said, handing the cup with several spoons of sugar in to Hatter, "But it's better than most," He watched Hatter intently, "So, what now?" He asked when he was sure Hatter could hold a conversation.



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T.D was curled up on one of the sofa's, lost in a deep sleep. Her eyes flickered every now and then, but beyond that, the girl had barely moved. Phaedra removed the pins from her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. Who had realised that having your memory wiped would be so tiring? The apocalypse could break out and T.D would be none the wiser. T.D's sleepiness did offer Phaedra a chance to come up with a story, a way to quietly influence T.D into hating the Prince of Spades. Death was always a good place to start, given the Prince's power over death. A story quickly began to form in her head that would turn T.D against the Prince. The greatest difficulty would be keeping it believable, without spilling into melodrama, but keeping it enough to persuade the girl.

T.D began to stir, her gaze all out of focus as she sat herself up. Her hair was slightly matted on one side. "Sleep well my dear?" Phaedra asked, feigning interest. T.D nodded, looking around the room, much like she had done at the party. Phaedra briefly wondered how Lucien and Cordelia were getting on at the party.

"Who were those people?" T.D asked.

"Which people dear?"

"At the party," T.D explained. Well, this was going better than she had expected.

"Well some of them, like the ones that were with me when I found you, they are my friends. And yours," She nodded to T.D, taking a seat next to the girl, "Then there are the citizens of Wonderland, they were most of the guests. The royals were there too, but we try to have as little to do with them as possible."

Picking up on the distaste in Phaedra's voice, T.D asked, "Why not?"

Feigning surprise, Phaedra looked at T.D with wide eyes, "Oh," She shook her head looking deeply saddened, "They've done some terrible things. They pretend they're better than all of us, but they are the worst of us when it all comes down to it," Phaedra said with a slight hitch in her voice, looking down at the folds of her skirt, "They treat us like toys to break and throw away. The Prince of Spades is worst of all, he kills for fun and then brings people back from the dead to laugh at their misfortune."

"He can do that?" T.D asked, shocked and curious all at once.

Phaedra nodded, her eyes welling up, "He can, and does. There are so many rumours about that man," Phaedra wiped away her crocodile tears, "Look at me," She said with half a smile, holding her hands up in disbelief, "Filling your head with these stories when you've only just woken up. Would you like something to eat? Drink?" She asked, beginning to fuss over T.D, "Tea perhaps?" The girl was probably still too young to properly appreciate wine. No use wasting the good stuff on people who didn't appreciate it.

"That would be nice."

Phaedra smiled, "You just wait here, I'll be back in a moment." Leaving the girl, Phaedra thanked her lucky stars that things were going so well. Already, she could see the cogs in T.D's head beginning to turn, mulling over the Prince of Spades. That was the trick. Little tidbits of information here and there, just enough to plant doubt before the final blow came. And what a blow it was going to be.