[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLmMyZTUxZi5VbTl6Y3csLC4y/zenone.demo.png[/img][/center] Synapses firing. Colors of blue, and red. Hallucinations associated by the words spoken. Elsewhere. Elsewhere. Elsewhere. I’ve never been here before. It fades. I should go there someday. Convulsing back to life. Revitalized. Vision of all white. A woman in a gown of white, her hair snow white. Was this heaven, despite all that he done? All that he had done to reject God. Perhaps God hadn’t abandoned him. Silhouettes. Voices of the unfamiliar. He’d eventually have names for everybody who helped him the day he came here. He still has no reality to grasp at to associate what this place is. They call this paradise Wunderland like the stories his Mama use to read.Yet, it seemed highly impossible. This was all a death like hallucination conjured by his brain to put his body and spirit at ease. The White Kingdom of Wunderland was run by one White Queen Mirana Blanc. He remembers her being very beautiful to him when he woke in this strange delusion. If he were to consider what an angel would look like, she was not a bad vision of an angel. In fact he prefered this vision of an angel than the demure divine ones he saw in murals and old fashion paintings. There were twins as well, a boy and a girl. Indigo and Percival though they were also known as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. He wondered if they would be insulted by the renditions of them in the books. They looked nothing like how he remembers them in the pictures in his books. Two, large, boys, often of a meaty physique. Being a strange here he didn’t want to insult those who had helped him, so he said nothing nor asked them how they became Tweedle and Tweedle Dum. Alistair, the March Hare, he had also met was not like he had expected him either. A doctor. Not a messenger. Not a king’s aid. A doctor. It made him nervous to say the least, his calm demeanor gave him more anxiety than it gave him comfort. Again he sounded ungrateful and he hated that about himself. He hated that he embodied ungratefulness. He shouldn’t complain about a person’s occupation, when that occupation is the one that helped him when he was in need. He should be more grateful of the White Queen and those he had met in this White Castle. He asked and tasked with helping out in the castle as much as he could. He took today to dust every nook and cranny of the castle. It kept him busy. He didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind what felt like an ordinary task in an otherwise unordinary circumstance. His other jobs consisted of helping out the workers, tending to the garden. He didn’t know if he deserved this kind of forgiveness. He also wasn't so sure if he were alive or dead at current. He couldn’t ease this guilt. Or shame. This escape didn’t feel much like an escape and felt more like a prison. You’d think he be more happy about being in Heaven or Wunderland. But the reality of the situation is he couldn’t shake this unease. Whatever this was, a conjuration of his mind, the afterlife, or really a different world. It didn’t comfort him in anyway. It only made a squirming sensation develop in the pit of his stomach. It’s calm only made his guilt nestle deep inside of him. He tried to distract himself with a spot of dust. As if he could bury himself away in an ordinary task in an extraordinary situation. [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjUzNTU1NC5RMmhsYzJocGNtVSwuMA,,/vtks-friaka.regular.png[/img][/center] [u][b]Kat’s Garden [/b][/u] Elsewhere in Wonderland, a man sat in a meadow of flowers. A meadow of watercolor delight as colors blended together like an artist palette to work with. Cheshire twirled a flower in his hands, he had sat here every morning in the hopes she might come back. He had never had a feeling for another before and only understood what the Hatter experienced with Alice with Kat. Yet, she was gone. Vanished. Not a trace of her anywhere. As if her existence had faded completely. He had always fade, but he also ended up somewhere else.He could travel anywhere he liked in Wonderland, not constrained by travel or movement, no lock, no doors, or gates could keep him out. Yet, here he sat feeling a deep sense of melancholy. That was an unusual emotion for him. He experienced many things, but melancholy was not one that he had experienced. At least not for so long. He kept twirling the wilting candy rose in his hand. He’d wait here for as many days as it took to conjure her soul back. They use to sit here. She’d bring a basket of goodies. The garden seemed dead without her. Cheshire sighed. He’d just sit here a little longer. Maybe this morning would be different than yesterday. He probably knew it wouldn’t. Is this what Hats felt when Alice disappeared? He could tell right that girl was not Alice? Probably not. So many new Alice’s in Wonderland over the week. He had experienced something else, animosity towards them. Because they were not the one he was waiting for. Each day they came. Some through is twisted maze. None of them were her though. Curse the new Alice’s who came. He’d just sit here for a while longer. [center][img]http://txt-dynamic.cdn.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjE2OTQwYS5SWFZuWlc1bC4w/freakshow.regular.png[/img][/center] [u][b]Hatter’s Tea Shop- Mercury Cafe[/b][/u] Mercury Cafe had been described by patrons as a bit twisted. He had to admit the chairs had seen better days with twisted spines and legs. The wood floor had seen better days, as panels created zigzags in the floors. Tea on the tab, they said he had a problem though he wasn’t so exact on what that problem was. Behind jars of all the oddities he had found that were foolproof tested to make great tea. Side effects were various and Alistair had taken down a few of the jars, quoting them dangerous and poisonous. Though none of his patrons had died during the consumption, so he thought Alistair is being overly worried. There was much to celebrate these days. Alice’s came from their world to this one. One of them being his Alice from so long ago. He had many things to share her, give her, tell her. If hearts could skip, his would be doing so. Now he had reason to take this out. Dusting a jar off and placing it on an empty spot on the shelving behind him, he set out his very own leaves known as [i]Alice’s Brew[/i].