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Prudentius Diamond

"The snow is warm."

0 · 127 views · located in Wonderland

a character in “The Deck - Wonderland”, originally authored by coricidinForte, as played by RolePlayGateway



So begins...

Prudentius Diamond's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: BanderSnatch Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Andy White Character Portrait: Claudia Marie Clubs Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip
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The setting changes from Wonderland to The Center of Wonderland

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Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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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. 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 delicate 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 and hair red like candied apples, 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, 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. “Ribbons of fire would be ever so envious, my lady.” He remarked in the same tender tone, offering a smile to the woman holding a lollipop crafted in the likeness of a heart. nodding to her with a sign of respect,. “Would I be mistaken to think you are Princess Heart?” 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 The Center of Wonderland to Wonderland


Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait:
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Thackery delicately fastened the buttons of his waistcoat, gently tugging the material down to smooth out the creases. His hare ears were twitching, as they often did, searching for any signs of danger. His human ears remained still as they always did unless someone tugged at them to get his attention. He exhaled deeply, staring at the letter once again. It was folded so the contents could not be seen, but he knew the contents by heart anyway. Whoever this T.D was, it unnerved Thackery slightly that they, for he was still uncertain as to anything relating to the gender of their host, had found not only himself, but also Hatter.

He felt the soft weight of his ears as they fell back against his head. The hare had obviously realised it was safe, something his human instincts had told him long ago. Regardless of whatever the letter meant, Thackery was in his home. Home had always equated to safety, no matter what state Wonderland found itself in. Not for the first time, Thackery wondered what it would have been like had Alice never saved them all from the Red Queen. Thackery and Hatter would still be hosting tea parties and unbirthday celebrations. Those days had been much easier but felt like another lifetime now, and in a sense they were. Times were different now. Yes, Thackery was still an outsider of Wonderland, no less odd than the other citizens, but as a member of the rebellion, it was in his interests to remain outside. But he was no longer trapped in himself. Thackery had achieved an autonomy of sorts and was no longer as ‘mad’ as he had once been. That had been Alice’s mark on him. The regaining of some semblance of sanity.

Thackery snapped his cufflinks into place. They were nothing particularly fancy, but they were a teacup and a teapot, so naturally his heart had been stolen by them. He pulled on the jacket of his suit, leaving the buttons open. He picked up the letter and slipped into his inside pocket. Why was a raven like a writing desk? The question sprung into his head as he had taken the letter, his friend’s voice echoing the words. It was a question Hatter had often posed to people. He would have to ask him the answer one day or go mad wondering what the answer was to the riddle. Why was a raven like a writing desk? Thackery dismissed the thought from his mind, gathering his hare ears into a tophat. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his para-human nature, it was just easier to blend in when no one could see your hare ears. All people saw was a well-dressed man among many others who dressed well. He was hiding in plain sight, and it was glorious.

The journey to the neutral ground was short enough to walk. The air was warm and a gentle breeze played through the trees. The flowers were bright, swaying gently as though they were dancing. If he listened carefully, Thackery could hear them whispering to one another, the same idle gossip they had engaged in since he had been a leveret boy. Feeling lighter than he had done in years, Thackery stepped into the gathering. It felt strange to be surrounded by so many people that, in any other context, he would be fighting, or Hatter would be annoying greatly. There was always the chance that Hatter would annoy and provoke them anyway, depending on which form his mercurial friend chose to take. Thackery nodded to himself, Hatter was the master when it came to hiding in plain sight.

Making his way to the central table, Thackery sought the teapot containing Earl Gray, and poured himself a cup. Taking a sip, Thackery decided that it was drinkable, but not quite perfect. He had had years to perfect the art of tea making, given that all he had done for those years was host tea parties. It was amazing what murdering time could do for you. The whole party was reminiscent of summer, from the way the food was laid out, the colours, down to the smells and the ambience around him. Despite the rebellion, everyone seemed to have their guard down and was talking openly, mingling with the crowds that would be enemies tomorrow. Keeping to the edge of the party, Thackery kept one eye out for Hatter and the other he kept on the people around him.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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Evangeline Pip

A bed shared for business is a bed shared nonetheless. But a morning in bed is rarely for business, and her departure from the sparsely furnished bedroom spanned a mere moment, especially since she wanted no further recollection of the disappointing, and short-lived night she was leaving behind. He remained in the bed, out cold, quite possibly due to the slightly too powerful sedative that was penetrating his bloodstream at nearly fatal rates, or merely from the hangover he fully intended to avoid. His black hair was slick and messy, not from product but the combination of sweat and natural grease. His body odor lingered in the musty stillness, the thick blanket not quite covering enough for Evangeline to bear looking in his direction longer than was required to grab her black leather satchel. A shudder overcame her body as flashes of the previous night captured her attention. She had to get out.

Evangeline knew better than to share the location of her own quarters or the quarters of the Prince, inviting the shady man into a small abandoned house just beyond the village outside the castle to "do their business". Although she knew of his name, Kemis Trie, status, an amateur alchemist at best, and the contents of his pockets, he knew very little of her besides the view he caught down her dress while slightly intoxicated. As they had conversed in the tavern, Evangeline convinced him to reveal the contents of his briefcase and allowed her to inspect the key to his shop long enough to forget that she had it. A few drinks later and she convinced him to come back with her, although no convincing had been necessary. A sly pass at the doorway and the man's key was in the hands of another, his shop being ransacked as throes of ecstasy coursed through his body, obviously an experience he rarely came across based on the time it took to reach such a state.

The return to her own bedroom was a return of relief. Although she now had access to chemicals for her own experimentation and a location to prepare, the mere thought of Kemis' greasy body against her own was enough to give her a headache, grateful for the alcohol that blurred her judgment only twelve hours prior. The room was simple, lined in white linens and the corpses of blue-gray trees transformed for utility. Her bed was made, the pillow cases adorned with the slightest bits of lace to promote the classiness Evangeline felt necessary to mask her other endeavors. As the adviser to the Prince of Diamonds, she had to appear as if her life were nothing but luxurious and organized, rather than the amalgamation of chaos and trickery she catered to.

"Your dress is here, Miss," came the knock on the door; she recognized the rough voice immediately.

"Come in, Val," Evangeline sat before her mirror, brushing her evening activities out from her chestnut hair.

A thin, skeletal woman entered, donning a white dress too short and frilly for her figure. Across her thin arms was a tea-length lavender dress, childishly small compared to its carrier, who towered at least a foot over Evangeline. Valia stood in the doorway, passed on the dress to the shorter woman, and stared at the plush cream carpet awaiting another order.

"Could you put on the kettle for me? I'm feeling some ginger pear chai..." Tea would be necessary to fully wash away the remnants, and Evangeline had to focus on reaching the Prince's level of fashion, at least to some extent.

"Of course, Miss."

"It's Evangeline."

"Whatever you say, Miss." Valia disappeared.

Evangeline slipped into the gown. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. Valia knew better than to bring a dress without first adjusting it to Evangeline's exact measurements. After only two years, Valia adjusted to the Prince's adviser, seemingly eager to follow orders, despite her undead status. She had been born into a family of privilege, and her death humbled her to an extent that befuddled Evangeline, resulting in a perfectly obedient servant where none was required. There was no reason to question the service, nor reject the companionship, and thus their relationship blossomed.

The frame of the mirror was opalescent and spanned from the floor to the ceiling, although Evangeline took up less than half of the length. She admired the curvature of her calves, exposed below the dress, spinning the dress to explore the consequences of twirling too quickly. All appeared to be in order. Her hair was brought up into an elegant bun, pearled pins holding it in place, her bangs draped across half of her forehead. A smile cracked across her porcelain face, and the need for make-up became instantly apparent, ruby red lips soon contrasting the green in her eyes and amethyst sparkles skating across her eyelids. Evangeline knew better than to draw too much attention to herself, however, and adorned her neck with a silver and opal pendant, simple enough to avoid the flash of light that was certain to hit her eventually.

Footsteps outside her door made her increasingly aware that the Prince was leaving soon. It was going to be a long ride.


Wonderland's center was warmer than Evangeline remembered, only ever having visited once as a child with her father. He had brought her around in a large tea pot, adorned in purple and gold paint, faded after several years of wear. He sang her a song, of silly things, but important ones nonetheless. Her heeled feet walked among those of the royal families and their regimes, her hands brushed against the sides of her dress, her lips exploring the words of a memory.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:"

Evangeline attempted to block out the blur of voices around her and find a drink. She had completely forgotten about her tea and required something to help her body adjust more quickly to the heat. After several years in the north, one grows accustomed to the frequent tundra, the snowflakes across the window pane, the heavy coats required for travel, the constant desire to sit by the crackling fireplace. In the cold, there is always a way to gain warmth, but the warmth does not offer quite the bargain. In the sunlight, coolness is temporary, and the frost melts away. Evangeline was curious how the Prince of Diamonds, undead as he was, was coping in the warmth of day.

"Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--"

The buzzing surrounding her increased in amplitude as more guests arrived by carriage, their monotonous vanity both intriguing and annoying, fascinating and boring, the superlatives beating against the boundaries in her skull. A waiter, clothed to mimic the image of a penguin, carried a tray of a bubbly pink wine. Evangeline snatched a glass, sipping as she stood at the outskirts of the crowd, merely observing, curious as to the ulterior motives of this gathering. Surely something else must be up. A war was always lingering above them, especially since the power struggle became more obvious and desperate. It was imminent, but Evangeline knew better than to instigate a battle over the right of kings. It was curious, how each royal addressed those from other lands, a wary feeling thicker than hot wax forming a viscous tension.

"And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

It was impossible to be certain of what was going to happen, but with each sip of the wine Evangeline became more and more aware that it wasn't going to be good. She supposed the point of the party was not to know, but knowing what one does not know could prevent overreaction, could prevent the boiling over of the pot, but not the revenge of the boiling sea.

Before Evangeline could sing the next lines to herself, it began. She heard the screams before she saw the body, the corpse releasing a few drops of blood before stabilizing above the crowd. Evangeline almost swore she heard the crack in the girl's neck. Immediately, she scanned the crowd for Prudentius, the Prince of Diamonds. How he reacted could determine how every other royal saw him. He was near the Princess of Hearts, the ditziest of the royals, according to Evangeline. With her around, the Prince's reaction would never be enough, but perhaps a reaction at all would suffice.

She exhaled sharply. The sea had begun to boil.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Nemaren Spadille Character Portrait: Valentine Vitriol Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait:
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Image Spadille was easiest to find the moment she had walked into the area. He sorta felt a bit more at ease when she found him through the sea of people. He had just finished his tea, when a body had fallen from a tree swinging from a rope. Sure anyone else would have panicked and lost there heads over this, but Spades found it a work of heart, someone just wanted to show off, not for the fun of art, but for the fun of the show. This displeased Spades deeply.

When Spadille reached him, he reached out with his free hand and took her hand that held the knife. Pulling her into him closely, he turned the blade so it wouldn't stab either of them, but it was hidden from the people behind his clothing. "My dear, this is not how we handle things. You know of this from I." His voice sharp, but calm.

The sight of the dead body didn't faze him, he was more concerned about image. He was a Prince and she was his Adviser, to him this is not how they should act in front of others. Putting his tea cup down, without the clank of the cup hitting the saucer, he took the knife out of Spadille's hand with a gentle touch. His face calm and composed he bent down and put it back into her boot, where she had put it. But he made it look as if he was fixing his own shoe.

Without the other's seeing much he fixed her gown, taking cloth from his own he made a bow out of it around the blood spot on her gown. To cover up the mess. Now he looked her straight in the eyes, sliding his finger down her hair, fixing it back into place. His long pale finger slid down her jaw and stopped at her chin. In a way it was how he tried to calm her. Dropping his hand he looked over at the body, bored with it already. "Perhaps if we stay there will be more to the little show." He tilted his head just slightly, letting his long hair shift over his shoulder.

Image Val's invite to the party came in about a week early, mainly because no one ever knows where his next location would be. So he was given it at the first chance anyone had got. To find his shop's location, you'd be considered very lucky and it was fated you be there. It was a simple Victorian style home. Shop at the bottom and his home at the top. Everything was filled with fancy items, some older than you like to think. There was even a spot filled with nothing but books and a little place for you to read them at.

Val is a many of many mysterious, only few know about him and of him. From his shop, only a couple dare to talk to him. But as for today things might change, this was a good chance for him to get to know others and find some great traders. This was a rare opportunity and one that he will take hands down. Deciding what he would wear, it was a black victorian suit, with a few ruffles here and there. It was clean and fit his long body perfectly.

After he had decided that he looked perfect, he made his way out the door and onto the party. It took him a while before he got there, it seemed that when he did, the crowd of people was left in screams and shambles. A light chuckle slipped through his lips. "Talk about a scream of -" The scent of a dead woman surrounded his lips and nose, the scent was fresh and it had cut his words clear off.

His was green eyes turned into the color of copper. The blood on the body was fresh, it made his skin slightly crawl in excitement. Before he could find himself walk towards the smell, he was already standing next to the body. His fingers already touching the poor dead girls body. But there was another smell, a smell of a man covering her scent, it wreaked. It made him step back and cover his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. "It would seem, my lady, that your death would be save from I, my dear."

Val wasn't in the slightest worried about whether people would think of him as the killer. Mainly because it wasn't his style of killing. To them he was only a Trader, that was all. Only a few knew of his secrets, but also knew he was a decent man when it came to his, choice of meals presay. Moving away from the body, he could help but feel like something was missing from it.

Once his sense because clear from the body, a new scent made his body shift. It was of someone he knew very well, but hasn't seen since the man was a boy. Prudentius. He knew the Prince was alright, he couldn't smell any cuts or bruises, he was perfect as always, but still his nerves want to be 100 percent sure. Slowly this time, he made his way through the crowd and over to the Prince. With a bow of his head he smiled kindly. "Pardon my instructions." Though the Princess of Hearts was before them, his attentions was set on Prudentius. "There is something that I must check, it would only be a moment."

Without a word, without asking. Val, only overlooked the Prince from head to toe. Making for sure he was fine. He wasn't trying to be a parent to the boy, nor was he being a friend in care. The two always had a bond with one another, that no one could explain. It wasn't what one might call love, but a bond much more than that. It was something they had always had, from the moment they first met each other. With another smile, but this smile was of relief, he nodded satisfied and bowed once again. "Thank you and do excuse me. I believe this party has become over exciting."

People started to shove in panic, and just before someone could get shoved into the Prince, Val had shifted his body right behind him, a slight grunt slipped from his lips. But he caught hold of the Prince by the waist, in a graceful and polite way, so neither of them would fall. "Forgive me Sire." He smile slightly as he spoke, his words near the Prince's ear.

There he was protecting him once again, it was as if the past years had never happened. It was like it was back in the older days. It felt a bit nice, but he didn't want Prudentius to be uncomfortable. Slowly he started to let go and step back, helping the woman who had fell, back to her feet, turning his attention away from the Prince, only for but a moment. "There you go Miss. All is well."