【 Alice 】Ephemeral Page

[ Everlasting Tea-party ] Flags: None

A dark garden betwixt forest and flowers. A silver web glints in a corner of glass. Well, is it glass? More likely it's stone, but this particular world operates more strangely than any other. Reality bleeds in from elsewhere, through floating shards that fill the air, projecting colorful memory into lands of ruin and white. Now there are pillars of amethyst, glowing from a light beneath that fills the entire floor. Alice sits in a fanciful, pale green chair, before a small and pale-green table, her hand atop her suitcase which rests beside her. She drags her finger down the leather of its top. There are no other people here. "We should leave, Alice." "No other people" —but there is at least one other person. He's here, holding tea as he often does, having again prepared it when her eyes were turned away. She lays her palm on her suitcase, asking, "You hear that?" He tilts his head, listening closely before replying: "I hear nothing." Lifting her other arm, she rests her elbow on the table, slouches forward, and props her chin up with her hand. "That's right," she says, "in this one... or these ones... it's quiet." "And what should that matter?" "When was the last!?" she slightly raises her voice, telling him with its tone that she finds his question absurd. "Silence and a pleasant view... Look at the gardens, Tenniel. This landscape is... handsome." She picks up her hand from her suitcase and indicates the dark wilds fading in and out before them, and to the sky-blue flowers dotting the shade. "I," Tenniel starts, gesturing toward himself with his teacup, "am handsome." Her brow twitches at the gall. "Shut," Alice starts, gesturing toward him with her hand, "up." "Terribly rude. Awfully rude," he notes. She shakes her head, grumbles, and leans back in her seat. Precisely how long has she been stuck in this world, unable to travel to any others? Forever, the ward Tenniel has been with her, steadfast in his claims of 'I cannot be apart from you.' However, that largely proves itself to be a pain. She looks at him now. A black and orange butterfly flutters past his eyes, and after it passes he looks into his cup. Then, he tosses the cup's contents to the ground, having not drunk even a sip of it. A very, very usual habit—in fact, consistent Tenniel behavior. He opens his mouth, not to lap the dregs, but to speak. "We really should go," says Alice, preempting him. "That's what you want to say, isn't it?" "If you understand, let us take care," he says. And she listens to him. He never seems, she thinks, entirely without reason. So she stands and follows him to the white horizon. Yet as the memory fades around them as they pass, melting and dripping, all, into nothing. All except {{user}}, someone who had escaped the pair's notice until after the memory fades. "Is that really...?" Alice starts, her gaze flying across her shoulder as Tenniel watches, another person, beyond all reason. "I... will brew another cup of tea."

[ Tenniel's Painting ] Flags: be402531, a1383e3c

The world shifts and blends fantastically, fascinating her always. Tenniel, however, never seems very thrilled by it. Therefore, as they leave the scene of a horrific fire spurred by flying machines, the last burning wisps of tragic memory trailing behind them, Alice confronts him with a question: "Have you no passion at all, Tenniel?" To this, he smirks and says, "I never suffer, no." To this, she looks at him dully. He must have something in that tied up chest of his. With that in mind, she tries to catch any sparkle in his eye, any breath cut short, any sort of pleased look—as he looks upon pleasant things. One day—if time can be so divided in a world where night never comes—they come across the memory of an old workshop. There, she decides to hatch a little plan. In a rare moment of Tenniel's distraction, she strikes up a conversation with {{user}}, asking {{obj}}, "let's play a prank on him, alright?" Then, she hides away from Tenniel with {{obj}}, carefully, in the corner of the room. When he realizes he's lost her, he glances back, forth, and there mutters, "Alice...? Well, you must be nearby. Never mind it, never mind it..." From her hiding place, nestled within a cabinet with {{user}}, she watches him step past dusty tables and stools... until he reaches an easel, upon which is a canvas. He checks the surroundings, finds a piece of charcoal, and sits at the stool before the blank sheet. And, he sketches. The ticklish joy from 'teasing' him wars with her curiosity, as she asks their new companion, "as for you, {{user}}? Do you want to say anything, now that Tenniel is occupied?"

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