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Prudentius Diamond

"Why not embrace death?"

0 · 377 views · located in Wonderland

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




Name: Prudentius 'Prudence' Diamond

Age: Twenty-Two

Race: Undead Humanoid

Ethnicity: East Asian

Orientation: Blind

Relationship Status: Desolate

Role: Prince of Diamonds

Faction: Bound to The Perpetual Winter and The Spectral Ballerinas

Abilities: Born with hypothermic axons, hoarfrost larynx, toes of blue and arteries coagulated with crystallized blood. Prince of archaic knowledge purged from the universe, reclaimed in the breath of frozen adolescence. He is the cold, the inert heart harsher than any blizzard, his hands of paralyzed decomposition gifted with the necromancer's touch of winter. Spiderwebs of ice tessellate with the brush of his hand, and corpses inhale snowflakes subsequent to ginger kisses, who wakens the dead.

Best Feature:When experiencing severe hypothermia the muscles will contract peripheral blood vessels become exhausted, relaxing and leading to a sudden surge of blood (and heat) to the extremities, fooling the person into feeling overheated.

Sinking into the abyss, lead by a voice saccharine, sewn from sugar silk, the paresthesia fades with despair and desperation, woes of the life before elapsed in his necropolis, and they call him warm, mercifully warm.


A body of crystal splinters, his pale skin is taut across ivory bones shaved into a thin, frozen skeleton. He's skinny, the dainty corpse Prince with long, gaunt fingers and veins of diluted blue peaking through the diaphanous flesh.

Like an antique doll he has become scratched, paper cut scars lines drawn over him in thin stitches, there whereabouts unknown, phantom marks from years of silence.

But there's a luminescence emitted off him, a glow like moonbeams reflected from stagnant water, and he's a disquieting beauty, eyes black and soft hair topped with threads of silver. His grin is wide, exuberant, and his glare devoid of all warmth like the land he reigns over.

With poise and grace he strides across the world in rhythms reserved for ballads and his lithe stature of five feet, six inches seems impossibly tall to some, a tiny giant when poetry departs from his tongue, tinted blue.

Or hers, if one is mistaken by dresses and iridescent pearls from The Black Lake.

The north does not discriminate, temperatures plummeting into arias of lost life. The winds as severe as snowfall, and they know the cold that seeps into bones, makes itself a home within the marrow.

Yet although he wears coats lined with dense furs and boots of fine leather his wardrobe isn't of the north's common folk. His elbows are sharp, jutting angles and periodically exposed, knees and legs occasionally bare to enjoy the land's sweet nothings.

Lace, frills, ribbons and wigs fulfills his taste as often as trousers and jackets, straps and uniforms of military and royalty. Each tailored to fit he wears art crafted from exorbitant materials whether they swathe or hang off his body, and adorned in exquisite ensembles he extends his ceramic hand, offers a dance dedicated to the long midnight.

His touch is cold enough to burn, heart never palpating and his exhales leave pruina on lips unscratched. Those that don't know of him lose courage in the face of uncanny, eyes always wandering, smile quirked up into his cheeks, and he's a vivacious corpse talking amongst mortals.

The living dead.

They perceive him as composed at a distance, when literary verses enchant their attention, and he has a way of making everything seem beautiful, posture straight and steady as if he could hold the world with pretty little words and laughter. A fan of conversations and gatherings of creatures large and small, he's the outgoing type, talking and listening, stating what needs to be said and memorizing the puzzles people create. A disposition of nobility doesn't hinder him, smiles coming easy as dominance slips away with polite speech and mannerisms once engraved into their doctrine. So at many times he's perceived to be the laid-back type, having a taste for art and spender and for the world to be in an eternal bliss.

But something is wrong - malfeasance flickering in peripheral vision, calculation and chess pieces commanded in the comforting obscuration of shadows. He is altruistic, yes, the Prince of Diamonds knows no stronger love than that for his kingdom and its citizens. He had refined the land and given it a new city of steam and black ice, broke tradition for opportunities, would feed the starving without a price, would kill and make chaos for the future of peace envisioned in his dreams.

Maddened laughter, a gaze staring into nothing, murmurs and a rapier treated as a paintbrush. Prudence severs the air and blesses as brutally as he punishes, but held together, his equilibrium is structure, knowledge, his reverie transformed into a timetable and goals. He is one of hidden agenda, macabre thoughts righteous and charitable, and they are often fooled by the kindness in him, lights twinkling like stars, and he strings them up for parties and connects each person that pledges their lives to him, just as he pledged his. It will come together, he believes, conducting meticulous procedures along with his carefree nights, nights that will one day never end, and the specters will dance in winter evermore.

After all, why would one find vapidity acceptable and allow death to be a silence slumber? Death is perfection, euphoria and the beginning of utopia, and they already dream of heaven - he's only here to bring heaven to them. Death knows, he knows; doesn't function like a living thing, with no heartbeat and no need for food or sleep, a cold corpse prince whose very presence drops the temperature, possessing a touch that can freeze, his caresses leaving trails of frost and how does he love winter. Heat on the other hand is unfavorable, the bane of his existence.

But the nature of his magic isn't of charming snowflakes and gentle chills, but of those touches, kisses for the dead, and like him they find lives in death, a new race of animated carcasses with thoughts, feelings, their memories a blur, losing touch to find themselves once more. It's not a habit, his blade or his arrow piercing their throats, and it's his court and knights who do not need the breath, don't age, and they won't die again, not easily.

He, however, does age, growing older and perhaps that will come to a standstill or maybe he is destined to become nothing more than a statue in memorial to the new dusk, and it's for heaven he continues on, eating hearts of the innocent ones, and if it will be forever or not, no one can tell.


♦ Balls and masquerades helixing forevermore
♦ Ornate elegance; armories encrusted with diamonds, coattails embroidered with sea nymphs,
the netherworld's cherubs carved into marble
♦ Weather of the Godforsaken, colds that antagonize mortality, snow and ice that varnish an ugly world
♦ Companionship, the sound of footfalls and voices echoing in his skull
♦ Licorice blacker than the most dreadful poisons
♦ Preserved cadavers, the reanimated dead and their quiet hearts
♦ Fermented ambrosia, burning the throat until fires ignite within stomachs
♦ Orchestrated excellence and songs sung from angelic bards and ghastly sirens
♦ N i g h t f a l l

♦ Those without depth, lacking any flavor or personality, the shallow insipid types
♦ Mundane routines that plague lives, boring events disguised as sophisticated hated most of all
♦ Heat from flames and the star in their sky, how it rots him and melts the snow
♦ Cacophonies and dissonance, deprivation of harmony in colors that clash from unrefined tastes
♦ Apathy and indolence and the sloth sinners that only know of sleep
♦ Spicy foods which burn his tongue
♦ Cowards, those that fear the dark and death alike
♦ Wailing laments, he ties nooses around their throats
♦ F i r e r a i n

♦ Hosting infinite parties, raptured in extravagant nights that last for centuries
♦ Art-form of fencing, archery, embodied in swords and arrows
♦ Ceaseless conversation, debates on the world's end and discussion of sweet tea his Achilles heel
♦ Bottling corpses, taxidermy of various sorts, stitching them wings and horns
♦ Donning attire designed for feminine frames, dresses with frills, stockings and wigs for cross-dressing indulgence

prologue. Their land is silent, encrusted with shards of the fallen moon. The monarch of the diamonds builds his city underneath the unyielding ground, powered by coursing blistering water, the hot springs manipulated to surge throughout the mining city of lanterns and its diamond castle. They are solemn rulers, the King and Queen, taciturn individuals fabricating hierarchy and honor to the lost souls of the north where everyone has their place and duty, and they uphold peace and order beneath blizzards and hailstorms.

The City of Diamonds endures and survives, the word hope seared out of existence by winters that have stolen newborns and their precious little darlings. When forbidden magic coils in their minds and shatters what they know, no one weeps, not a soul.

i. In the glory of the sempiternal winter the Queen gives birth only once, a tiny child forced from her womb weeks too early. The prince's body is like glass, and when cold fingers trace his flesh condensation clings to the translucent skin. He doesn't cry and has naught of a heartbeat. He doesn't open his eyes.

Loyalists drill an aperture in The Black Lake, a portal to the underworld as they call it, and the emaciated Queen christens her departed heir Prudentius, drops his body into the loch, and the babe falls down, down into the void.

By the next evening the grave is frozen over, the King and Queen of Diamonds gone, vanishing with their pride and the frigid northern winds.

ii. Porcelain fingertips brush alongside the gelid mirror, black as night.

Chasms break across the surface, and he lifts himself from the crypt, bare and rimed with frost. A head blank and filled with nothing, automatic in motions turned sluggish from years at rest, metamorphosis. He walks, meandering throughout the north for days upon days, the sun radiating in fury, illuminating the abomination. Footprints link his path, curves of his toes imprinted in the mountains of snow, and when that dreadful ball of fire sinks into the ground and the moon whirs her sweet lunacy the cataracts in his eyes clear, irises dark as the sky. He sees a city of candles dusted with the sand of diamonds, sees his people, inherited from the departed.

He's alive. And dead.

And no one wonders how that could be.

iii. They dress him in black and jewelry studs the fingers of the child of The Black Lake. The Apex Brotherhood fills the empty cranium with stories and knowledge, text read from brittle scrolls and gem tombs, runes carved into opals and emerald tablets. He's told that he's been gone for seven years and accepts their endless sentences as truth, allows himself to be guided, puppeted by the masters of arts and wise men who pledged oaths to his parents, and they feed him annually the one thing that will sustain himself, he doesn't question it.

In an underground castle, rusted and barren beneath the howling snowstorm he sweats, pushes blankets off and dreams of raucous whispers and their florid poetry, wakes with their hymns gnawing at his sentience. He doesn't utter a word for years, silent as the city thrown into calamity, but grasps the hilts of rapiers and directs a blade forged in volcanic fire as if it's a pin, and how they croon for his delicate and deadly swordsmanship.

Crimson soaks into the dirt when he accidentally severs a hand from a sparring partner, they bite their lip not to scream although their knees buckle, appendages clutching the gory stump. Prudence holds his head in his arms without sympathy passing from his lips, and his fingers twist in the man's hair as he dies slowly, painfully, and from echoic memory arises the instinctual impulse to infect. Gossamer strings of frost crackles over the man's skin when a chaste kiss evokes elixirs from the esoteric, and his eye's open, black like the lake they've abandoned, and he's never felt so awake.

iv. With the bloodied rapier he kills all in his court, slits their throats and drains them of their life like animals waiting for slaughter.

And every last one wakes, rises from the clutch of death.

v. They leave the ancient city, crawl out from the catacombs and fissures; Prudence, his court of walking corpses and the citizens forsaken by the malice of corrupted magicians, war and winter's wrath. Owls of white carries messages across the north, the insignia of his kingdom stamped into a wax seal, and muttering people venture from villages tucked away from the sight of the moon and sun. They come in caravans painted in gray and indigo, pulled by horned beasts with furs thicker than the cold, their maps stars and lives sparked by, for the first time, hope.

vi. A new castle is built, constructed from the hands of loyalists and himself, brilliance from crystals and diamond deposits, ice their mortar and alpine drakes trained to reach peaks and roar icicles onto window sills. Woven alongside The Black Lake the castle looms as years are consumed in labor and replenished life, a city of ores and riches spun in ringlets and wide circles. Districts follow patterns of their inheritance, the land that only supreme beings can flourish in, harvesting gemstones and building their home around geysers and hot springs like the founders had.

He oversees his Kingdom and leads himself, books and councilmen friends and advisers but no longer goblets of unquestionable wisdom. Prudence discovers secrets in chiseled archways and in reflections of The Black Lake, uplifts and bestows voices to the voiceless so poverty and shame shrink in the wake of his benevolence. Harps are plucked and the wires of pianos reverberate throughout the city, echoing off of amethysts and garnets, saturating into their walls, and he dances the waltz of swords, learns the Saut de chat of a bow and arrow.

vii. They say it's ethereal, the beauty of the Castle of Diamonds, as are those that reside within it. Tapestries hang in corridors along with mounted heads of Dæmon Elk, Wyverns and Mammoth Hares, vines of gold curled around their heads with droplets of silver rain glued to strands of their fur. The chandeliers act as prisms, the sinks made of kaleidoscope metal and statues whittled from ice that never melt. Seats of velvet and curtains of thin silk silhouettes the grandest of its halls and it's so very empty, Prudence finds, when solitude poisons his fantastic delirious mind and puts spiderwebs in his lungs.

He opens the doors with a thought on the tip of his tongue - what is the purpose of an empty castle? And he hosts the most sumptuous ball, plebeians and dukes alike invited to grandiose parties of dance and music, food and merriment, warming and feeding the common folk in the coldest of nights and harshest of storms. Here, in the castle, they're generous with their food, because the court and sworn knights of Diamond never seem to need to eat.

viii. He is beloved, their Prince of Diamonds, King of the Perpetual Winter and Child of The Black Lake. His people thank him, and they are ever so dear to him, he thinks, cradling a newborn with its half-eaten heart in his hand. Sacrifices are to be made, and these sacrifices will never wake up.

epilogue. And it isn't enough.

So begins...

Prudentius Diamond's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Gray Spades
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#, as written by Dead
Ruby Ophelia Heart


Rays of golden sunshine spilled down from the partially clouded skies of Wonderland, gleaming over sparkling jewelry, different shades of hair, and elaborate clothing that were bustling around the center garden; laughter crying out from around the white gates where the behemoth talking flowers sang soft songs of lovely music. Many citizens had come to this party; and apparently where the hosts had not yet revealed themselves, but who in their right mind would give up the opportunity of free drinks and snacks and a place where no violence could occur due to the ancient laws that had been intact for centuries? Ruby Heart was not going to give up that opportunity, even though she had heard rumors the other royals of Wonderland were going to be attending. In fact, she enjoyed parties so much, she had pretty much gone ecstatic and hugged Andy so tight she thought his eyes would pop out as she had squealed and twirled around. She was quite charismatic believe it or not, and as soon as she jumped out from the carriage and stepped onto the white brick road that led into the lush green centerpiece of this beloved Wonderland, she felt her blood pumping with excitement. “Jack! Come on! Come on!” She cheered in her sweet voice, her movement so fast you could smell the scent of fresh roses and tea masquerading her form. She pulled out a piece of soft, white paper real quick, making sure for the fifth time, this was right place and the right time scribbled in neat cursive on the parchment.

Dear Princess Ruby Ophelia Heart,

You are cordially and honorably invited to an outdoor garden party that will be located in the Center Gardens of Wonderland this Sunday precisely at 3 pm.

As you know, this is a neutral zone so no violence of any sort is permitted. But we would ask you come and help yourself to wonderful treats, fresh drinks, and charismatic conversation. This party is open to all, so bring as many guests as you’d like; we encourage as many people to come as possible, the more the merrier!
We hope to see you attend.



Ruby squealed inside at the thought of it all. She couldn't get enough of parties, and she was hoping this would be even grander when the tea parties she threw, but her parties could become quite wild and she had a feeling this would be much more formal then her own. That’s why she had planned accordingly.

She was even wearing one of her best outfits; A tight corset with red hearts running up the front and lined with golden thread, the outside covered in gold and black stripes and gleaming with every movement when the sunlight hit it just right. She also wore a ruffled red silk skirt that was shorter up the front, giving a full glimpse of her legs covered in white stockings that overlaid another pair of white fishnet, the outer stockings covered in red hearts as well with dark red heels that adorned golden hearts on the clips across the front of the foot. Her sleeves were long, ruffled at the edges and ruffled at the top with gold and white pearls lining them like stripes with more hearts forming an organized vertical pattern all over the puffed out sleeves. But you could clearly see her sharp collarbone and gleaming skin; she wasn't that modest, and she took much joy in swinging the longer back of her skirt around. But one of the best accessories she could have asked for was the pearl collar necklace that ran in six circled around her neck and dangled down the front in between her collarbone, giving light to a pure ruby cut like a heart, literally glowing as if it were alive itself. Her crimson red hair fell in perfect curls down her back, bouncing softly with each step while her soft gold crown with the diamonds overlaying the rim shined on her head, perfectly balanced with her hip swaying stride. And her makeup; she had gone simply crazy over her makeup. Dark colors shaded her upper and lower lids of her eyes, her lips colored in dark red and the ends in black; and under her right eye were four little ruby red jeweled hearts, giving her smile an even sweeter disposition as she pulled a red , heart shaped lollipop from one of her skirt pockets with long rounded red nails, and then giving it a small lick before glancing back around before heading into the bright gates; sure that Jack would follow after her soon. Sometimes she was too fast for him.

As soon as she walked through the front gates, heads turned to catch a look at her, some happy and some not so pleased as she paid no mind to any of it; she was staring in wonder at all the beautiful plants, the wonderful music, and the amazing outfits moving before her crimson eyes. She couldn't deny that her immaturity was somewhat apparent when she became too excited in a setting, and would set people's nerves off but it is not like anyone had the guts to stand up to her and tell her that. No, some called her a spoiled brat behind her back, but she was so tuned out with so many thoughts running through her head, rumors barely affected her as some loved her innocent, child like state that was somewhat... abnormal for her age. But that was hardly Ruby's fault; her mother had abused her and locked her away in a dark tower for most of her life, had given her mortal scars across white flesh and bone, had made her cry her eyes out and even tried to kill her. Oh the night with the Jabberwocky venom had been more painful then anything she ever experienced, where she felt like her bones would melt inside her body. But somehow, by some miracle, things had turned and Ruby now had magical abilities that none would dream of having or expecting to receive in such a way. The trauma that Ruby had suffered was one she had shoved into a dark place, locked it tight, and then threw away the key for no one to find... ever. But she had friends that she relied on now, people who helped take care of her and guide her in the right direction even though she herself was not on the right track at times. The only person who fully knew her was Jack; he was the only one who fully understood the trauma she had been through. How she was thankful for those thoughts when she had a moment to sort them out inside her head.

She then spotted the desert table, and her eyes lit up like stars, her heels moving with no ill will as she made her way over and looked over the many different cakes, cookies, and candies that she just wanted to engulf all at once. But with a deep breath she sighed and took another soft suck on her lollipop, licking the edge before she continued to walk around and admire the different tables set up with different drinks, like lemonade or the different wines or- OH! Ruby’s eyes popped as she spotted her favorite drink; raspberry tea, sitting there in a beautiful magenta pot with the label neatly etched into the side. With an excited purr coming from her throat she quickly poured herself a cup and breathed it in, rolling her eyes slightly before taking small sips and then glancing back around at some of the eyes staring at her. She simply smiled at them, oblivious to judgment and continued to sip her tea and stray around the garden with interest as her heels stabbed into the dirt, her thoughts playing out scenarios of how this night could actually go.

The grass was just so green, how could it be so green? Her mother had never brought her here, and she had no idea the plants were so rich and full of life in this neutral circle. How she wished her gardens grew this wonderful; she had tried to repair the damage her mother had made on their lands, so desolate and bearing, and she thought she had done a pretty decent job at it too but it wasn't like this. The magic here was strong, so pure and wonderful, making her own blood zing as she took another sip of her tea and another lick of her lollipop. Her eyes then wandered over to a large, square white bricked floor where she saw couples dancing in beautiful sync, her head cocking slightly as her eyes glistened with admiration and her lips finished off the cup which she proceeded to bite down on and chew. Of course all the cups in wonderland were edible, at least most of them should be, made out of a material as hard as glass but melted in the mouth beneath the teeth. She grinned a bit and continued to finish off the cup before she wandered over towards the dance floor to stare.

Every now and then she glanced around for the other royals and other citizens of Wonderland, excited to see them. Of course this was a war and she was supposed to hate everyone and want to take over Wonderland and blah, but Ruby wasn't completely mature yet; not mentally, anyway. She’d rather have fun, do make overs, and have never ending tea parties. She sighed, rocking back and forth slightly in her heels as she waited for people she knew to arrive, and continued to wear down her heart shaped lollipop.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Gray Spades
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Jack of Hearts


Jack stepped out of the carriage after Ruby. He was wearing a black suit with gold lining. His coattails came down to the backs of his knees, and his ruby red vest had a white rose adorning the pocket. His white undershirt was buttoned up all the way, a black tie with gold hearts down its length around his neck. The lapel of his suit jacket was lined with red hearts. His shoes were a glossy black, small gold hearts rimming them just above the soles. He watched Ruby as she shuffled away, her petticoat swaying behind her, heels clicking softly on the white brick pathway. Jack ambled on behind her, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to catch up to her as she whisked herself from table to table. He saw her daintily pick up a cup of what he assumed was raspberry tea, as it was her absolute favourite. He made his own way to one of the drink tables and quietly poured himself a cup of peach tea, his favourite, after removing his white gloves and stashing them in his coat pocket, the fingers hanging out. He held the sugar-glass cup delicately between his fingers and thumb, the handle easily breakable.

He watched as Ruby walked towards the dance floor. Many of the guests were dancing, and he knew that Ruby would want to dance at some point during the party. He stepped up beside her at the dance floor, carefully nibbling at his tea cup. He watched with her as the guests danced to the splendidly selected music. When he finished eating his tea cup, Jack returned his gloves to his hands and turned to Ruby. "Would you care to dance, my fair Ruby?" he inquired, his voice velvety and soft, his right hand held out toward her and his left arm folded behind his back as a courtesy.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett Character Portrait: Gray Spades Character Portrait: The Mad Hatter
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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: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs
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Image Gray was never one for parts, especially ones that involved lots of people, people being well everyone. The most he ever does at parties, is just stand there bored out of his mind, hoping it will get over with. There was very little people he could ever find himself having a mild decent conversation with and that wasn't his choice to speak to them first. Yet still, he would accept those little people. This event was different though, everyone was expected to come, meaning he would have to look his very best at all times.

Parting some of his hair up with silver dragon chopsticks in his hair. He had completed it with a black and silver hanfu. This was something he always wore, but in the colors of mostly blues or blacks, sometimes red, it all depended on his mood or occasion. This was a party, the black held background as for the silver either held power or elegance, it wasn't too flashy. Of course this went along with his black and silver geta's. Sure this might seem odd to you, it may seem odd to most people, but in his land, the land of Tea in Wonderland, it was tradition to dress in old japanese styles.

It wasn't long before he was reminded that he had to attend the party. He would be arriving there by carriage, it's not like he chose this, if he could get away with it, he'd walk instead, but it was a far walk and in the process of trying to walk through wonderland, one might get lost and end up somewhere they wish not to be or wish to be, depended on which path you took. When the carriage had stopped, Gray took a look out the window of it behind the thick black curtains. Earlier that day he had told his Adviser to meet him at the party and not come with him, something inside him told him that it was probably a bad idea.

Without a word the driver helped the Prince out of the carriage and drove off once he was a good feet away. Valentine, was one person he was looking forward to meeting. He had never met the guy in person before and was told many things about him from the Cheshire Cat. What he had told him spiked his interest. Valentine was a Trader of Goods of all kinds, he was also a man who had live longer than any lives that had been given to him. The picture he had in his mind was of an older man, maybe holding a cane or have a white beard that dropped to the floor, who knows. But there was something else that spiked him even more. Valentine was special and the one who knew more about this was Diamonds himself. Supposable Valentine had been working with him for a very long time and suddenly quit?

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he had made it custom that he'd try the tea at the part, to see if it was fit enough to satisfy the people. If it tasted bad, that looked bad on him and his land. Without a word or glace to anyone, he made his way slowly over to the table that held all the foods and drinks, he kept his attention down onto the ground, making it seem as if he was walking around with his eyes closed and his face proud. Some would say almost too proud, others might say he was like a dragon, beautiful and mighty, one would only dare to stab it. Contact with someone wasn't a bad thing, but he wasn't really in the mood for conversation with anyone.

Taking a cup of the tea, he moved his way over to a spot where less of the crowd was, this time he closed his eyes and stood there, sipping his tea in a polite manner. From the spot he stood, he could hear almost everyone speaking. A few lady spoke about clothing, some people spoke about the royals and how exciting it would be to see them. A few gawked over Prince Gray, especially once he walked into the area, all eyes was on him. As if he was some kind of fancy art piece that was about to fall down and shatter to pieces. They always stared at the Royals like that. As if they was something special to be stared at. Well ok, they are, but that isn't what the point was about.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett
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Hatter arrived at the party just on time, as himself. He was wearing his signature black hat adorned with its goggles, and he was in a bright white suit. His coattails dragged on the ground behind him as he walked, and his black coat vest along with his white shirt were buttoned all the way to their tops. His bow tie was large and had an array of colours, almost looking as though paint had been splattered all over a clean white bow tie. It had been white when Hatter bought it, but he found it boring that way and spruced it up. He had on black gloves and black shoes. Besides his bow tie, his outfit was very plain, seeming a bit off for something the Hatter would normally wear.

He sighed deeply before entering the party. He noticed Thackery awkwardly sipping a cup of tea by himself at the edge of the gathering. He stepped over to the hare, nudging him in the arm softly. "Not your cup of tea?" the Hatter asked, bursting into a fit of laughter over his clever words. He stepped over to the tea table to pour himself a cup of tea. He stared at all of the choices, unsure as to which he should choose. He finally settled on pouring himself a cup of peppermint tea. He returned to Thackery, sipping his tea and laughing at the delightful taste as it hit his tongue. Though it wasn't quite perfect, it still tasted nice, apparently more so than Thackery's Earl Grey. He put his right elbow on Thackery's left shoulder, leaning on him slightly. "How's the party, Thacky?" the Hatter inquired, giggling quietly into his tea cup. His eyes danced around on all of the people at the party, feeling glad that he'd been invited.

Something ticked at the back of Hatter's mind however. Who was this "T.D" that had put this gathering together? Hatter rattled his brain for anyone he knew with the initials of T.D., but all he could come up with was the fact that he desired cake and more tea. He walked over to the dessert table, his steps more like little hops than steps. He poured over all of the desserts, trying to decide which he might like to try. His eyes flicked from one dessert to another, all of them looking deliciously scrumptious. His eyes stopped on a piece of lucius-looking angel food cake. He plucked it from the table, carrying it in his left hand. He moved to the tea table, refilling his tea cup with more peppermint tea, and he wondered if the tea and cake would go nicely together.

He propped himself next to Thackery once again. He sipped at his tea and took bites of his cake, delightfully surprised when he found that they happened to taste quite appealingly wonderful together. "Thacky! It's amazing!" Hatter exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. "You've got to try the peppermint tea and angel food cake together! It's complexly magnificent!" His eyes stared at the cake and tea in amazement, his mind unable to waver from thinking about how pleasant they tasted together.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Jack of Hearts Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs Character Portrait: Thackery Earwickett
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Wendy was bouncing up and down in her carriage, almost certain she would be late. Three O'clock! Three O'clock! she thought to herself, hoping the repetition would help her arrive on time. She looked at the time on her Clock Stave, which read Four O'clock. She knew that it wasn't right, but she couldn't help wondering if it was. She pursed him lips and furrowed her eyebrows, angry at her Clock Stave and wishing that it would just tell the right damn time. She was constantly being inconvenienced by her perpetual tardiness, hoping that one day she'd be able to arrive on time somewhere.

As her carriage pulled up, she glanced out the window, and it looked like almost everyone was already there, if not everyone. Once her carriage came to a stop, she stepped out and brushed herself off. She was wearing a plaid suit with a white button up shirt and a black tie. She was wearing black, heeled boots and her signature goggles were on top of her head. She didn't bother with hiding her ears, as she didn't feel the need to, knowing that she probably wasn't the only parahuman at the party. Though as she looked around, she didn't notice any right off the bat. She felt somewhat awkward and underdressed for such an elaborate party. She saw a waiter walking by her as she entered and stopped him. "Excuse me, but could I trouble you for the time?" she asked awkwardly, smiling and wishing she miraculously wasn't late. "3:15 PM, ma'am." Wendy slumped slightly. LATE AGAIN! she fumed inwardly.

Feeling out of place and ashamed at being late once again, she ducked her head slightly and made her way to the tea table, scrunching up her nose in disgust as she passed the sweets. She looked over all of the different teas, trying to determine which she should try first. She smelled the air, but all of the different tea smells were mixing together, making it impossible for her to smell each individually. She closed her eyes and moved her hand around above the teapots, and taking her index finger, she planted it down randomly onto a pot. Lemongrass and honey tea. She smiled to herself and poured her cup of tea. She moved to the edge of the party closest to the entrance, staying out of the way and out of sight, she hoped. She gently sipped at her tea, the taste delectable on her sensitive tongue. The smell of her tea was rich and warm now that she was away from the other teas. She inhaled the sweet scent and sighed contently, happy to sip her tea in silence and solitude.

The setting changes from Wonderland to Center of Wonderland

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Phaedra Brehon Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: Lucien Agares
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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: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Valentine Vitriol Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond
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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: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs
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#, as written by Psst
Atcha wrinkled her nose as the little woman flinched and turned to face her timidly. She kept the teacup held up to her chin as if she were dreaming of diving into it. She stuttered something in the negative into her cup and then tripped off towards the back of the party. Atcha watched her go, her gaze steely. What... a disrespectful little gnat.

For a few blissful moments, she entertained the idea of following, let the scene play out in her mind. The girl was looking for solitude. Atcha could tell by the way she held her shoulders up around her ears. So, she would follow behind, camouflaged by her fellow guests' desperate attempts to pull attention. She would slink into the shadows of some secluded corner, out of sight, but within distance. The one thing she couldn't decide was whether she would attack like a snake in the grass or a battering ram. She loved the instant gratification of the straight-forward approach, but there was something just so delicious about sliding her power around her victims ankles, inching the sensation up from a quiet tickle to a sense of dread to a dagger to the heart. There was something beautiful in the answering panic, in knowing that she did that.

“In this age a Jabberwock is branded a marvel, my lady.” Atcha blinked a few times to clear her head of imagined headiness and a frail-boned young man stood before her. She sighed, feeling more bored and restless than before. “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. Would I be mistaken to think you are Princess Clubs?” This, finally, pricked her interest. She'd heard her title pronounced with disdain, with fear, with anger, with defiance, even with a fakey kind of non-chalance. But this young man pronounced it with only mild curiosity. His voice was straight and bare like the naked limbs of a dead tree. It was oddly appealing amidst the crashing, multicolored, over-perfumed bouquet that the rest of this rabble presented.

"No, not mistaken at all," she said and offered him her hand. "I am Atcha. And I find myself at a disadvantage. May I know you?"

Vaguely, she registered the sudden upswell of screaming from the back section of the party, but found herself barely interested.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Akuma Kei Character Portrait: Lucien Agares Character Portrait: Prudentius Diamond Character Portrait: Atcha aux Clubs
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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: Ruby Ophelia Heart Character Portrait: Valentine Vitriol Character Portrait: De'Laire Slayer Character Portrait: Cordelia Bellamont Character Portrait: Evangeline Pip Character Portrait: Akuma Kei
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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."