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Every knot was once a straight rope| Open

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Every knot was once a straight rope| Open

Post by Amelia Rattigan on Thu May 21, 2015 12:49 am

That golden glow that touched her fair skin felt divine, this warmth that spread over surface and seeped down to the bone making her shiver with a sensation that was nothing short of breathtaking. Amelia wondered how much darker it might make the copper dots on her body, those freckles that she had spent so much of her isolated childhood parked in front of a mirror connecting like they were stars to form constellations on herself. There had been a Snark, Mandrill, and Grampus painted on Amelia with these small wonky-dots that as she’d gotten older popped up more and more. How strange and yet fascinating it had been for her young mind to explore!

Her march had been swift, lofty too. So very many things to see in the woods, all the greenery, all the tall lumbering trees that seemed to groan a hello to her when the slightest breeze touched the sky, and Melly, she answered back. Smile wide and a curtsy ready because wasn’t nature the true royalty? Or perhaps that was merely a thought seeded by all the time she’d spent watching Hatter worship his plants and nourish seedlings to bloom. The wind wanted to greet her too, it’s cool fingers sweeping across her bare legs and making the skirt of her dress twirl around her thighs. ”Hello to you too. How do you do?” Her musical voice responded spinning in a circle to help.

Then just like that, strings cut from a dancing marionette, Amelia fell. It felt like forever- this constant descent into blackness but in the distance there was light once more, the dreamy kind that she embraced as an old friend, first out of necessity and then from fondness. There was a bear in a suit stood on hind legs with a frog whose neck bulged with a resounding ribbet, a cue! Music like so many tinkering elves and hum of baritone filled her ears and pulled at the corners of her mouth. A ball and she was the guest of honor. Everyone was waiting they’d said and who was she to disappoint. The floor was clouds and up above some mirrored image of Wonderland, Melly turned topsy-turvy . In the middle of the collections of clouds she could see a human-shaped man, tall, dark, and handsome though there was nothing distinguishing about his features. Amelia just knew. It was in the way he stood, confidence abound, and the kindness that she could see glowing from that spot in his chest where one’s heart would be. Was it Hatter come to join her? But no, this man was unfamiliar- the charmer she hadn’t met yet.

Why did some things end? So others could begin. Amelia couldn’t tell how long her slumping body had been laid out on what little beaten path there was in the wood, but the sun was in a different position in the sky, an inch or two further toward sunset by any calculations and the sounds of the forest were becoming sleepy. Early crickets rubbed their legs together to chirp and birds were flying home to nestle. Snaps of twigs and rustle of branches all around, Melly might have let her mind wander to darker places, menacing ones where nightmares might have begun to slip through the shadows, but her pulse was steady even as she groggily stirred, stretching like a cat from its afternoon nap, a deep yawn cutting through the foliage. As she stood, her head darted in the direction of the larger presence around, seeing in those creeping shadows another human-like form. ”My dream!” She excited bounding over to the as of yet unidentified person, skip in her step and wholly unafraid. ”The most marvelous of meanderings with dancing bears and-“ Amelia looking down at her pretty dress now dirt smudged in places and sighed. ”Quite the mess you are, My Dear.”

Notes: Wearing this
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Re: Every knot was once a straight rope| Open

Post by Dumas Tweed on Wed May 27, 2015 2:19 am

(OOC Note -- This can get a little confusing, because Dumas sometimes thinks Devon is with him.  But he’s not.  It’s just Dumas.  And when Devon talks, it’s just Dumas talking to himself.)

Dumas Tweed had very mixed feelings about Wonderland Woods.  The place filled his heart with amazement, its size and diversity far beyond what any mortal gardener could ever create.  Yet its wildness also frightened him.  He’d heard stories about the creatures who dwelled here, so shadowy and rare that they’d never been named.  Initially, Dumas glanced over his shoulder every time he heard a rustle, expecting to see a hungry beast emerge from the undergrowth behind him -- eyes glowing and fangs dripping with saliva.  But time passed without producing a mouse, much less a monster, and Dumas began to relax a little.  It also helped that he’d found a large branch to carry with him like a fighting staff.

Now, as Dumas strolled amongst the towering trees, he chatted with his brother, pointing out any interesting specimens they passed.  Dumas knew that Devon didn’t really care about the local vegetation -- plants had always been too passive to capture his restless imagination.  But he listened with polite interest.  And, more importantly, he helped keep Dumas focused on his mission.  With so many new ferns and vines and shrubs to examine, it was easy for the younger twin to get distracted.

“Tell me about this mushroom again,” Devon requested, in a voice that was almost Dumas’s -- but not quite.  “Why is it so special?”

“A Bubble Shroom.”  Dumas’s brown eyes sparkled with unusual brightness as he embarked on a favorite topic.  “You know most mushrooms reproduce by releasing spores, right?  Well, Bubble Shrooms do that too, except their spores are carried in large iridescent bubbles.  Hundreds at a time when the specimen is healthy.  I’d love to get one for the casino garden.  But they’re very rare and a very fragile.  I don’t think a Bubble Shroom has ever been successfully cultivated in captivity.”

Before Devon could reply, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches cut him off.  This was no minor rustling.  A jolt of dread shot down Dumas’s spine as he spun toward the noise, his branch raised in a feeble attempt to fend off whatever horror was charging toward them.  Instead, he found himself facing a petite girl with freckles scattered across her pretty face.  Was she running from something?  The smudges on her white dress seemed to suggest a struggle.  But she didn’t appear at all alarmed as she greeted him.

“Um…I haven’t run into any bears today, dancing or otherwise.”  Her innocent manner made Dumas feel slightly foolish, but he still didn’t lower his branch.  “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a mushroom?  About the size of my head with pink and purple spots?”
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