Akuma Kei

"Watch the skies; I will surely be there."

0 · 142 views · located in Wonderland

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


Akuma Kei


{ "You f o r g e t that I am d e a t h." }

Just the little things.

Akuma Kei

Female, obviously.


Woman or man, it doesn't matter.

Jabberwocky. (Offspring)

She has large wings, razor sharp claws and teeth, and deadly venom that can liquefy insides.

She is loyal to clubs, and to herself.

Currently Single.

What does my reflection show?


Akuma stands at the intimidating height of 6 feet and 3 inches, with a slender body allowing bones to push clearly against snow white skin that resembles powdered porcelain. Her bones are strong though, muscle hiding underneath flesh as her long limbs are always covered in dark colors that illuminate a more Gothic aura; she also adores wearing dark robes with various patterns to blend, as well as chains and jewelry on her long fingers. She adores dressing herself in the bones of her kills as well as the feathers and other little trinkets she finds or gets from a kill. Her nails are long and sharp, more like claws if you felt them rip your skin, and her teeth are like razors with pointed ends that can easily rip flesh and crunch on bones; and they also drip with killer poison that numbs and slowly burns the victim alive. But even with her terrifying abilities, claws, and venomous teeth, Akuma has an innocent yet mysterious look about her. Her hair is almost the color of freshly fallen snow, laying in messy layers down past her shoulders. Her eyes are the color of blood, with silver around the iris, a terrifying gaze held deep within to see her troubled soul.

But the most extraordinary physical attributes Akuma has are her animalistic ones. Her horns are long and curved backward, the tips seeping with black and slowly blending into blood red. Her wings are black with red bones around the edges and vicious tips at the top, sharp enough to stab if hitting something around her. They match each other perfectly, and her horns are quite sensitive, and sometimes if stroked right, she purrs like a cat. But that's if you can even get close enough. With her mysterious and terrifying demeanor, Akuma resumes a role of something to admire but never to touch.

Look a little deeper.


When someone says "Their bark is worse then their bite", you can also be sure her bite is far worse then her bark when it comes to Akuma. Mysterious and cold, she comes off as a statue at times, her graceful movements giving off a cold aura when she walks by. Even though she is often very silent around strangers and sometimes even "friends", Akuma is always thinking; all the time. She handles situations well, usually giving quiet warnings of terror instead of bursting out with anger like her father would. She refuses to be arrogant, knowing even the smallest of enemies can take you down one way or another, and never under estimates anyone she comes into contact with. Trusting Akuma can be hard, therefore she has a hard time trusting back when judgment falls on her so harshly. She would not consider herself wholly evil, even though she would have no problem killing someone, she does not plot to destroy anyone and she certainly does not take orders.

When she does let down her dark wall of storms, Akuma can be quite helpful. She gives blunt advice, and has the maturity of someone who has lived far too long, even though she would still be considered a baby to her fellow species. When most Jabberwocky live to kill and to mangle, she prefers to study the things not known enough in Wonderland, like the chemistry of potions or the tales and facts found in thick books on various subjects she can memorize with ease. And even though her practice in the dark arts has seeped into her bloodstream, she was born with a cold heart, and therefore the dark magic does not turn her against herself like it has the dealers. Power is not in her goals of life, and she proceeds to gain knowledge and live a life of mostly solitude within the southern reaches of wonderland. The only person she will ever do favors for is the princess of Clubs; because being fair and the relationships that are strong and true, mean something to her, even if she never shows it.


☠ Potion Making & Chemistry ☠ Reading Books ☠ Flying over Wonderland ☠ Blood & Raw Meat ☠ Cold Weather


☠ Chatty & Arrogant Individuals ☠ She does not get along with other animals ☠ Immature Behavior ☠ Sweets (Drinks and Food) ☠ Bright Colors.


My many chapters.



So begins...

Akuma Kei's Story

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


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Valentine Vitriol Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett 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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"How cruel of you Vitriol. coming and going just as you please. Why can't you just stick to one spot? It'll make things so much easier on the rest of us." A woman with a huge sun hat on and a victorian blue dressed covered in white ribbon, had walked in placing her items onto Valentine's counter.

His serene self put her things into a nicely gifted box. Tying it with ribbon he chuckled softly at her choosing of desire of words. it flowed freely out of her mouth, you could tell she was both angered and unsatisfied.

"As I say to all of my customers, my dear lady. 'If you find this place it is meant to be.' It means that whatever it is you desire or wish to trade is true enough, you will luck out and seek what you need. But if your desires are falls and your trades are not true enough, you will fail in seeking this place." His smile was light as he handed her the box while she traded it for a silver charm made of pure silver that was in shape of a locket.

"Well, whatever. Oh and one more thing. There is a party going on. It's location is in the Center Gardens of Wonderland at 3pm." With that she left. All that was left was the sounds of her shoes walking down the graveled walkway and into her carriage.

Once she was in the clear, he let out a short huff of a sigh. Closing his eyes as he locked away the charm that he made the trade for. Out of no where the air about him started to shift, he could feel the strong powers of magic floating about the room. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked over to the side.

"You can't do it Cat, stop trying. Can't you use the door just like everyone else that comes for a visit?' He smirked turning around, leaning himself against the shelf behind the counter, to see his unwelcomed guest.

"Heh heh heh, someone as mad as myself, can not become like everyone else." Slowly the Cheshire Cat made himself known in the room. First his eyes and smile had shown, than his head and slowly his body. He chose to come in cat form today.

"Yes yes, you are mad, but use the door." Turning around he took off his gloves and switched the open sign to closed.

"Going to the party I see. This should be one night that everyone will always remember, unless they are mad, in which every night is worth remembering." The Cheshire hissed his chuckles. The pun was intended to make one laugh, but not to Vale.

"Maybe you should go, cat." Walking up to his room he got a change of clothes suited for the Party. It was a simple outfit with a few ruffles here and there.

"Don't worry, I am there even when I am not. I wont miss a thing." Vanishing he left behind the echos of his hissing chuckling.
=end flashback=

There he stood near the entrance of this mysterious party. Who could have started something such as this and not explain why? But who wasn't the biggest problem that stood about, the more of the question, was why, why invite all of these people? there was bound to be no good about. He shook his head as he thought.

His thinking was cut short, a familiar smell to him came about to him, once a lady had passed by leaving the party before anything was to happen. She had probably just got there and already drunk off of tea. "Shameful thing" He chuckled to himself. "Now now, what is my precious master doing here, I wonder? Was all the royals invited? This makes things all the more interesting..."

Now having a spark of interest in his eyes he slowly made his way into the garden, enjoying each step as he got in, taking his time to look about the area. It was fairly decorated, it had teas and foods of all sorts, something for everyones liking. Many people were dressed up, but one could tell no one knew what to dress up for, they just wore their best outfits. The sounds of whispers and loud talking flooded the Center Garden of Wonderland. It was bigger than it had looked and everyone here made it seem even bigger.

As he looked around his eyes noticed a few familiar people. The royals of course, but one in particular caught his eyes. Diamond, his old master for now and ever. The one he would always be faithful to. Politely he kept his distance, he was in a conversation. "It would be rude if I shown my face now." He thought as he walked over to the shadows, keeping an eye on the party. If anything was to happen, he kept the Prince in his view.

"Vitriol, I see that you did take my invite, I am glad." The woman from before smiled walking up to him, offering her hand in his direction.

With a gentle nod to his head he bent down and kissed the knuckle of her hand. "Of course, my lady, after all you did take the time to seek me out. I should at least, pleasure you with this." His smirk like smile made her blush instantly, even her eyes seemed a little surprised.

Clearing her voice he yanked back her hand and started to fan herself with her hand fan that was designed out of peacock feathers. It matched well with her blue and green gown, but for the occasion it was a bit too much.

"my lady, do you know whom and what this party is about?" Placing his hand on his walking stick he glanced around them at the sea of people.

"Uhm, I wouldn't know, I didn't think much of it. Someone by the initials of T.D sent out the letters to everyone here." His question did not faze her time of fun. She had waved him off as she walked over to her crowd of friends, leaving him in his thoughts.

"T.D, huh...?" He question the situation even greater than before. Only this time he slowly looked over each person, not trying to miss even one of them. Maybe there was a thing or two out of place and a few people to question, but in order to know what is going on, one must stay to find out. So that is what he did.


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☠


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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Nemaren Spadille

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Nemaren didn't turn up to the party until quite late, and even then, she spent a good quarter of an hour in the gardens.

The flowers were very bright and gaudy for her taste, and she often scrunched up her nose in pure distaste as some of the brighter flowers caught the corners of her eyes. She scowled at a group of pretty yellow and pink roses before continuing on her journey. As she continued to walk, a beautiful white rose caught her attention, and Nemaren smiled. With elegant fingers she plucked the rose from it's stem, and pricked her left index finger on a thorn. A red drop of blood formed and dripped onto the hem of her own dress, at which she made a noise with her teeth in disgust. Blood dripped onto the petals of the white flower, and turned it's pure white petals into a dappled red. She dropped the flower from her fingers, and walked away, back to the party, leaving the flower to lay and rot.

As she made her way back, she realized that a lot of others were also late. More and more brightly coloured dresses and suits had appeared, including who she recognized as the Hatter, and Ruby Hearts. She made her way over to the tea table, blood still running down her fingertip, and delicately picked up a teacup and saucer. Tea made in the Kingdom of Spades was the best, and Nemaren hoped, for the Prince's sake, that the tea was to it's usual, excellent standard.

She was sipping at her tea when she saw the Prince. She was trying to stay away, to not draw attention to him. She could already see that they were admiring him, even if it was from afar. Something twisted inside her stomach, something that made her want to go over, but she stopped herself. She couldn't let herself bring more attention to him. She stood around, sipping at the tea, when everything went wrong.

Nemaren didn't notice her at first, but when the screams came, her eyes widened in fear and surprise. A young girl, with a lovely white dress, had a red skull carved into her flesh, which dripped down onto the collar of the pretty white dress. The teacup slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering into tiny fragments.

Nemaren hated red.

She retrieved the dagger from her boot and began to push her way towards the Prince, on the opposite side of the crowd, at first not so slowly, but then more hastily. The surge of women in dresses and frightened men, trying to get away, was crushing, and Nemaren struggled to fight her way through. The sight made her feel quite sick, and it upset her to see the pretty white being overtaken by the red of the girl's blood. But she forgot about that, for now. She had to get to the Prince. She pushed her way through frantically, feeling that it was imperative she got there to help before something happened to him. She had no doubt that he could look after himself, but if he got into trouble, Nemaren would blame herself.

Finally, in what seemed like centuries, Nemaren burst through the crowd and hurried over to the Prince. A fire was now burning, lit by a very handsome man with dark hair. She scowled and sniffed in distaste, before walking over to the Prince. "Are you alright, sir? You're not hurt?" She kept her voice steady and clear, but she let the fear twist inside her stomach. She knew exactly who did this. It was the Dealers. It had to be. Only they would ruin something in such a gory way. The Hatter was shouting, now, for De'Laire, just who she herself had suspected - and Jabberwocky was putting out the fire. "We should leave." She muttered, hiding the dagger she had in the curve of her forearm and the folds of her dress. "Or do something." She looked up and bit her lip slightly.


Characters Present

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

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☠Lucien Agares☠


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.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Akuma Kei 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

Hares were always the most skittish of creatures, created with anxiety tied into their limbs, and as destiny would have it the girl is gone, scurrying into the crowd to no longer hold his attention, not now. Focus is taken by the woman of carnivorous nature, underneath the woven material shielding the entirety of her feral anatomy were muscles made to cripple bones. The Princess of Spades suited the portrait whispers had painted her to be; a warrior with earth caked onto her skin and gravel in her throat. There's the delicate twist of a smile and his fingers become moors, uncurling so the glass jar obeys the law of what is forsaken, slips from the lax grasp and plunges to the ground below. The butterfly cage of transparency rolls past his feet and those mosaic wings beat as a drum against the boundaries of the container, and Prudence does not bat an eyelash to the gift, mouth a marionette that curls and lifts as the screams of humans sing in a symphony around them.

"Lady Atcha, it's a pleasure to meet you." His words are caramelized honey drops compared to the shrikes of adrenaline horror, the human's cries breaking ravines into the atmospheres, dismantling harmony in an impromptu of discord. A string tugs inside the brain, and it's the tolerated pain of curiosity, though seeing can wait when in the presence of royal blood not terribly unlike his own, the woman cradling power that simply cannot be disregarded. Her hand is taken, the cloth of his gloves slick against her flesh and the appendages slide in gentle strides, a river the bends to the shape of her mountain, and the cold spreads as he know it does, a chill of winter murmuring against her warm body. "Oh, it'd be an honor if my name is anything more than another story in your memory." Musing in the midst of pandemonium a woman stumbles, heeled shoe sinking into the dirt before she falls beside them, clutching her hand as he bows in less than a right angle, polite without groveling, respect without tarnishing his name.

"I am Prudentius Diamond, crowned Prince and active monarch of The North. You may call me Prudence, if you so wish. I've been told it is easier on the tongue." They separate, the winter returns to him and settles in the crannies of his joints, and the limb rests by his side as the parasol spins, perhaps in tribute to the fallen woman as she scrambles and dashes for the exit. Ah, what may have happened? Surely there was bloodshed, the excitement in the air of violence and mortality, what fools fret about, caterwauling into his draconian skull. "I thought it was time for us to meet, and it does sound that my presumption was right - my, can you hear them panic? You'd think they've been told to lose their heads." It's a carefree jest but his hands wish nothing more than to sew golden thread between their lips, close them for eternity so he need not hear their idiotic screams, each one more vapid than the last and the cacophony crawls underneath his skin - he wants to liberate them of their sound. His visage however remains composed, if not pulled into quirks of concern characterized by amusement, and he turns his head away from Atcha to finally be a witness to the drainage of life, pomegranate juice soaking into the roots of grassling plants.

There are many curious sights to see, and time is always hasty in madness, yet he stores away their faces in his museum of recollection; the morbid woman that will haunt him as she disappears, the Hatter shouting of a man turned fable, the corpse bride torn from her pedestal. "De'Laire?" The name had been heard before, in history books and retellings, warnings and teaching to mold his strategies into perfections and sharpen the scenery of the world, but he hadn't expected the name to be attached to an accusation now, not at a party, not even if dead girls and boys rained from the sky. "...Could this lunatic be right? Anyone possessed by fear and ignorance will blame their monsters and make scapegoats, although...Why, isn't this an interesting development?" The contemplations are drawn away, do not require to be spoken and he scrutinizes flames that caress the flora and fauna, the dragon winged girl and bastardized man beside the creek of red and watches the curious, suspicious fall of the hatter.

Prudence's heart won't beat again, will not pulsate and he is himself a structure of ice, bereft of life and therefore he stands without fright corrupting his sanity. An observer is who he will be for the time being, will transfigure information into weapons and defenses, and the parasol again rotates, knows that if it comes to it he can disembowel any enemies by directing the concealed blade within. "Lady Atcha, I have spotted your Jabberwocky kneeling across the late celebration. You should go tend to her, it seems as if she has been wounded. I would also suggest there is psychological trauma, but Jabberwockies don't lead typical lives...neither do they do typical things." The suggestion merges with his examination, raindrops descending from the heavens and onto the planes of infinite transience, and the parasol is lowered, closing inwards and tied by a string purified of all color. That body, he must get to it somehow, utilize this earache of a tumult and steal the cadaver.

"I must find my friend as well, but we will speak again soon, I promise you that." He speaks with a guarantee, a smile, monochrome light drifting into the crypts of his pupils as not a single lie passes his meticulous lips, for he does need to find Evangeline after all, vaguely wonders if she happened to stab anyone during the course of this party. Albeit, as important and precious as she is, she is not a priority, not when she could dismember anyone daft enough to attempt strangling her breath away. It's the body, that is what he needs before there is notice or righteous acts of appropriating her for burial. With a nod to signify end of conversation his regard for Atcha depletes, another opportunity will come, and he walks forward, pushing and sliding through the invigorated crowd as they stagger on their feeble legs, bruising his shoulders in their brutish escape. No, he will not permit her to rot in the ground - she will rise from death, and she too will walk.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Valentine Vitriol Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Pheadra Brehon Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: Ebony Olivia Clubs Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Wendy Lapin Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Nemaren Spadille

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Vale, watched as the scene unfolded before him. Something about this whole thing, made his insides tickle with laughter. The panic of the people, a dead body, fire, confusion, just all of it was the cherry on top of a perfect party.

"Haha haha haha haha!!!!!" He held his stomach as he laughed so loud that most of the people quiet down to stare at him. 'Haha! Forgive me for laughing so loudly! Talk about a dead part before, it sure did light up fast! Hahaha!" He breathed in and sighed with a smile on his face.

People looked at him as if he was mad or crazy. Sure maybe he was, but he wouldn't be here if he wasn't. "Do forgive me, once again. Thy name is Vitriol, Valentine Vitriol." He bowed ever so gracefully.

You could hear already that people have heard of him as the Mysterious Shop Keeper. Many have thought him to be fake. But that was surely untrue.

Apart from that he went on with what he had to say. "Wonderland sure has gone down over the years, or so I see. It seems that the new rulers to this place, have nothing to rule over, if the madness has gotten this far out of hand. It's a shame really. I am disappointed." He placed both hands onto his fancy walking stick with his poster perfect and his head facing down as if he was ashamed. "I guarantee that alot of you will most likely die, if not tonight, along down the road. It's best to take care of the problem while it is in hand. And from the looks of it, there is more than just 'De'Laire' behind it all. But before that, maybe none of you should point fingers at who it could be, for all we know. The culprits is the Royals. Or it could just be one big show!" He threw his hand up and started to laugh. "But in all ends seriously, it seems that someone wants the Royal's attention and we all know that everyone hates every last one of you. So it could have been anyone hear." He spoke nothing but the truth, just as how he saw it. "Well, most of everyone. Haha."

Normally he was a very kept cool type of guy, but this was over the top even for him. But he couldn't help it, he was just so entertained that it broke him, turning his laughter into madness. It had made his compused side vanish and there was a slight twist about his eyes. That only those who know him, knows what it means. He was excited to the point that he wanted to be involved of whatever is going on. Even if the was the accused, he wanted to be in. This had interested him and nothing could get him out of it.

"There is but one thing that I know, if you want to know who is behind all of this. We must find the Cheshire Cat. He sees everything. He is the eyes and ears of wonderland. Find him and we get our answers."