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Snippet #1862329

located in Down the Rabbit-Hole, a part of On the Wings of a Dream, one of the many universes on RPG.

Down the Rabbit-Hole

You are standing in a large hall, so large you can't see the walls or the ceiling.

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Belca ... ? That sounds about right ....


Belca had been sitting quietly on the floor, trying to get her bearings back. She had been walking for so long without any idea where she was - even the goddamned walls weren't there!

"Wall scum." she snapped at no one in particular, slumping a little more.

"Hello my dear,"

Belca snapped her head around so quickly she could hear her neck crack a bit. Massaging it, she scowled heavily at the woman that had appeared beside her all of a sudden ... how did that even make sense?
That's right, it didn't.

"What the fuck? Where did you come from? And what the hell are you wearing?" she barked, taking in the woman's weird attire. Who the hell wore a dress nowadays anyway? Was this person mad or something?

"My name is Duchess Sophie Vespre but you may address me as the Duchess."

"The heck do I care for your name." she grumbled.

"This here is my son."


Belca appraised the 'son' who had his face buried in a book and smirked. Somehow it seemed familiar ... the pose, that is. Not the boy.

Speaking of which, wasn't the woman too young to have a son?

"There is a game about to begin and if you want to have any hope of surviving then you'll need to form a contract with me, I'll explain more once we get to my home, by the way, what's your name dear?"

A game? She had been right. This woman was a psycho.

"How about you tell me what's going on before that? Lets lay aside the name business for a second and get this out into the open. I think you are an insane person who somehow managed to give me amnesia and get me here. And I highly doubt this 'game' you are talking about is a normal, healthy one. You are probably going to whip out a knife and propose a game of Hide and Seek as soon as I say yes." She vaguely remembered something like that she had read in a book sometime, and although the memory was very faint, like trying to remember a dream you had as a child, it bothered her somewhat that she could remember trivial things like this and yet nothing about herself. She glared at the woman, hand tightening on her sword. It gave her familiarity and comfort - not to mention confidence. She felt that she could take down anything as long as she had it in her hands.

It might have been that added confidence that gave her enough power to snarl at the woman rudely. Who cared? If this was the person responsible for her predicament, she was going to tear her apart, slowly and painfully.

"Also, don't call me dear, you psycho freak with a costume fetish."