Wonderland Ambiance: a playlist
Form
Name and/or nickname: Harriet Moore, also listens to Hattie, Hetty and Harry
Age: 19
FC: Diana Silvers
Occupation: Associated with the White Rabbit
Personality traits: Self-Sufficient, Hard-working/Persistent, Romantic/Dreamer, Curious, Sensitive, Graceful //Absentminded, A bit of a pushover, Anxious, Foolish, Withdrawn
Interests: White Rabbit; The Cheshire Cat, The March Hare
Locations:The Study Room, The Edge of the Forest, The Shroom Village; Marketplace or Bookshop, still undecide
Joining the battle/accepting the task
The White Rabbit's Funeral // Sneaking into the Red Palace Dungeons
XIX. What is it but a dream?
“No, no,” Harriet muttered, head tossing from side to side. While her body lay in bed, her mind was drifting.
The world turned upside down. In the dream she is running through the Upside down forest, once again she is running through the forest. Towards and from? Against and away? Always running. Trying to catch something. Yes, that’s it. Something she never quite can get a grip on, always slipping through her fingers. Slipping through her fingers, like sunshine or water. But there is no sunshine anymore, the dark twisting roots block it completely. Behind them she knows the sky is completely grey. She can’t see it, but she knows. No, not grey, it grows brighter and angrier. Red and white battling for power, blending into pink. Pink, what was it with pink? No, keep running, her dream mind urges, whatever you do keep running. What keeps running but never goes anywhere? She had no clue, but her legs keep beating onto the ground, pressing her forwards – wards – towards? Now that she can breathe again, she can run but the blistering headache keeps her from thinking. Think, it is of the essence. What is? These damn riddles. Is she’s the one who keeps running but never goes anywhere? Keeps moving but never arriving? Her mind keeps raising but never land. Land, passing through underneath her feet. Feet is not of the essence, but hand are – and they are spinning, wise or anti wise? What does that even mean, who is wise, what is wise? or not? All while she keeps running.
She skids to a halt at the edge of the lake, suddenly she’s just there. Slipping through her fingers like sunshine and water. There is no sunshine here. But there is water. The surface is black, letting no light through it is more looking glass than water. And as suddenly as she arrived, he’s there! Sitting on his hindlegs before her, eyes piercing red as always. The rose red in the snow white. “Time is the essence of it all, miss Harriet,” he says, the now so familiar frown visible on his brow. “I don’t know what to do!” Harriet cries. “What keeps the time?” He asks her. “How can else can you go forward and backwards?” And then, as suddenly he his gone. Forward – backward. She shakes her head and kneel by the edge of the looking glass. Finding her reflection, as expected but not as expected she’s a child, cheeks full and rosy. The child reflection leaves to go back – but why would she go back, why would she leave wonderland? Because you have to, something pipes up inside her, a tingling. It’s weak. No. The reflection of the moon eats up her vison, but it is no moon – it’s a clock. A face with no smile, hands that can’t feel – but they run, time is spinning, and Harriet reaches for the hands – Time is the essence! – she much catch it, must she not? Instead, she breaks the surface, in no rain of glass shards, only water wets her fingers and she falls, head first into it and –
She woke with a gasp, grasping for the pocket watch she kept under her pillow at night. Everything has faded from memory except the form of the White Rabbit telling her, the words echoing through her mind. Through the window the moon brightened the night at its fullest. Its face one’s of a watch, hands ticking away. The face of the pocket watch in her hands still wore the crack- down the middle. She had to fix it. Time was of the essence after all. Somehow she could hear the seconds ticking away.
XX. Mourning brings another morning
Tears were streaming, icy down Harriet’s cheeks. She held a white rose in her hands, trying not to sob loudly she gripped it tightly, the thorns digging into her palm – presenting some clarity. The cold had seeped into her bones, deep the sorrow had taken root. Through all the confusion it still cut through like a knife.
Had she known when she left him that he would not live to see the next sunrise, she never would have. She would have thought by his side, very clumsy and probably would she have ended up very dead beside him, but still to have left him at such a time. He had left her with a precious thing however, and she kept it close and hidden at all times.
It was beautiful, in the bittersweet and heart-breaking way funerals usually are. The body was covered with flowers, pure white in comparison to the red rose he had been found with. Harriet had vowed her vengeance on the Red Queen, which was quite unlike her – but then she couldn’t remember who she had been, only who she was now, so did it matter what was like or unlike herself?
Not that she could have taken on the red Queen herself, with all her red guards. But Harriet had to do something. But not now. It would have to wait. Right now they would mourn. Because even if he had constantly told her to hurry up, had a worried frown on his brow and shaken his head disapprovingly, he had been the closest thing to a family down here. The closets thing to a family she’d ever had, right? Now he lay still under a cover of sweet-smelling flowers.
That the White Rabbit’s monocle had been buried under the snow, Harriet hadn’t paid too much attention to it as it happened, wrapped up in her grief and all she barely even heard the yellow canary’s song. But then there was a strange noise, and the moving snow drew her attention. From a whole in the snow something emerged – a bunny! And wearing the monocle. Harriet looked from the bunny to the White Rabbit’s body, which was nowhere to be seen, and then back to the bunny again. She had no idea what just happened but then she also just knew. Her tears started coming more violently, but they came with a smile. All was not lost, not yet.
XXI. Battle preparation or dental hygine?
“What on earth would we need this many toothbrushes for?” Harriet sighed. Once again she was tired, when wasn’t she tired lately? Since the White Queen announce the upcoming attack the preparations had bee never ending, or so it felt like.
Between sneaking away on the special mission Harriet had been given there was collecting to be done; red roses, brooms, mirrors and toothbrushes. For a battle she had expected swords and arrows and whatnots. Least of all toothbrushes.
She had direct the question to the Cheshire Cat but he had his head close together with the White Queen’s son, planning and strategizing, and wasn’t listening.
“I could use them to brush away that usual smirk of yours,” she muttered. Her stomach was rumbling again, perhaps she could sneak away to the kitchens – but the Cheshire Cat noticed her then.
“I’d tell you little Hattie that toothbrushes can be used to brush much else than teeth – “ he stopped then, focused his full attention on her, and came that uncomfortably close again, sniffing her, narrowing his eyes at her. She never thought him threatening but he sure could get her on edge.
“What?”
“There’s something odd,” he drawled. He sniffed her again, then took a step back, eyeing her.
Without thinking she put her hand into her pocket, feeling the pocket watch securely against her fingers. She could tell him, couldn’t she? But there were too many eyes about. And ears. She shook her head.
“You’re the odd one,” she said defensively. Yes, that was quite a lame response but no better came to her in the moment.
“If you say so,” he still eyes her.
“I do need to get going,” she blurted and then turned on her heel. It wasn’t untrue – she did have a beast to feed.
XXII. The key is the key
Cloaked in red Harriet had made her way into the Red Queen’s palace for a few times now. She hardly thought herself brave, because she was scared to death at every minute of it. But she did it. Because she had to. The White Queen had told her how important it was to get the golden key from the imprisoned beast in the dungeon. And if she was able to befriend it, all the better because they would need all the help they could get for the impending battle.
Harriet had with her as much cake she could carry while still be able to sneak around. She also had the special white cake with her that the White Queen has provided her with, in case the beast remained hostile – giving it the white cake would make it fall asleep.
More than once did she have to throw herself around a corner as not to be seen by red guards marching by. Battle preparations were afoot in the red palace too, but many of the red guards were also out in the forest, painting and pillaging. She could not let the whole of Wonderland end up either painted in red or painted in blood.
Her heels echoed down the steps to the cellars. The other prisoners were used to her visits by then, she shared what she could spare with them too, before she headed through the back door to where the beast was kept.
Before entering, she always took a deep breath and tried to find some calm, relax those nerves and ease the tension. By this visit the beast didn’t growl at her upon entering, instead it looked expectant. She produced the colourful cake and the beast waited for her to place it on the ground in front of it.
“There you go,” she said stepping back and watching it gobble it. “You seem to have as big appetite for cake as I have myself.
“If I could take you away from here, I’d promise to give you as much cake as you’d like, beastie. As long as you’d promise not to eat me. Or my friends. I’d release you form those chains too. Chains never do any good, whether they are iron ones like yours, or mental ones.”
She talked while it ate and when she didn’t find any words she hummed instead. It was too dark and damp down here for anyone to thrive or be happy. She had tried for the key on one of her first visits, and had been lucky to leave with her arm still attached to her body (or with a body at all). As it had snapped at her, it was a fine thing that her reflexes weren’t lax. Since then she had treaded more slowly. After some time she had been able to stroke the edge of its wing, earning her a sceptical snort at first, but then as she scratched it a bit a more content rumble. She could stroke its snout now, perhaps it was just biding its time so she would get close enough to get swallowed whole – but she didn’t think so. There was some sadness in its eyes, as with all the prisoners.
The cake was gone, the tongue had cleaned up away the last of frosting of the floor. Then she continued the ritual they had build up, a scratch at the wing and then coming closer to stroke it’s snout, it even laid its head to the side so she could scratch it under the chin (its eyes closing into small slits as she did). The golden key dangling around its neck was taunting her, within reach.
“Do you trust me, little beastie? Would you allow me to take it? Would you give it to me?” There was no confirmation that the beast had understood her but she reached for the key – the metal cold in her palm. Somehow she managed to get it free, all while keeping scratching.
“Thank you, pal. We need that to fix everything to the way it should be.” She pulled out a last bit of cake for it. “I need to get back now, but I promise you – you won’t have to stay here for much longer. You’ll soon be able to soar the skies again.”
XXIII. Tick tock goes the clock
Going back to the Shroom Village, it was apparent nothing was what it had used to be anymore. Wonderland was no longer the dreamy place she had arrived in. The place was empty. Harriet had hear about the red guards harassing the land, she even had had to jump out of the way and hide from passing soldiers on her way to the village – either way it was a sight that felt like a pang of sadness to her heart.
The only thing which still stood pristine was the bookshop as Harriet approached it, the March Hare popped out her head through the front door.
“Oh, a visitor! How delightful to see you Hattie, come in come in! I have tea! I have cake! I always have cake as you should know by now!” She laughed, waving frantically. Harriet accepted the invitation, she had time for some tea.
The March Hare babbled as she prepared and then poured the tea.
“You should’ve come and visit poor me more often! Yes, it has been so dreadfully dull here, you see, the Hatter barely has time for me anymore! Too busy to visit an old friend, I dare say that has become the trend lately.”
“I’m sorry Jill,” Harriet apologised, “there has been much keeping me busy at the castle. It’s very empty in the village these days –”
“Yes! Alas, people are scared, red guards and mad diseases!”
Harriet shook her head, the images from their visit to Shoeshine Village resurfacing – the mad the disease was mad indeed. “It’s a horrible sickness and why, there seem to be no cure!”
The March Hare leaned in closer. “I know something of it, if you want to know.”
“Of course I do! Please tell!”
“I’ll tell you what you know about the White Rabbit’s pocket watch – the two of you were somewhat close were you now? Yes you were, I saw you often together! I’ve been looking for it you see and you’ve seen what it can do.”
“The po-pocket watch?” Harriet stuttered, its weight in her pocket almost burning a hole. “I have no idea about what happened to the pocket watch, only that they say it’s gone.
“I’d thought to see you come by the White Castle more often,” Harriet changed the subject quickly, “but I have not seen you, how come?”
The March Hare was silent for the first time, when she spoke again she sounded down. “The White Queen is cross with me for some reason and won’t let me come near.” The she regained her vigour. “It is just something silly I am sure, but perhaps you can take the cakes back with you! Yes of course you can! But first you should have some yourself.” She laughed a put a large piece on a plate for Harriet.
Harriet looked at the cakes laid out with the tea – pink. She remembered the pink crumbs in the Shoeshine Village and how the White Queen had paled when she had mentioned it. All of a sudden she wasn’t as hungry, she forced a smile. “I’m not going back directly I’m afraid, but perhaps I can come and pick some up another time.” Perhaps, very much perhaps. “Where have all you books gone?” She asked to change the subject, around them there were precious few – read none – for it to be called a bookshop. Instead, there were cake and hats and more cake.
“Oh I burned then,” the March Hare laughed, “I burnt them all in the fire, I only want sell cakes now,” the laugh was growing into madness, “and why wouldn’t I? When my cakes are so delicious!!”
Harriet put her fork down, she had played with the frosting up until that point but now she couldn’t even do that. “I think I must get going,” she said timidly and in a rush she managed to get out the door despite the March Hare’s pleas, between the laughter, for her to stay.
Although she had walked the same path before, she could barely recognise it. What once had been alive was dark and twisted and rotten. It was a relief that she could still find her way to the lake of reflection. The waters lay dark and still.
She sat down by the water’s edge; her stomach was growling since she had refrained from eating the March Hare’s cake, but she could go for a little while longer without it. There was something she had to do. As she reached into her pocket to pull out the cracked watch, through the corner of her eye she could see there was something beside her. Something furry. Someone furry.
“By my whiskers!” Harriet called out in surprise, it was the Cheshire Cat, she never seemed to get used to his teleporting.
“Your whiskers?” He said dryly. “I hope you are holding on by something more than your whiskers because they are non-existing.”
“You surprised me, that’s all,” Harriet said collecting herself. “I though you would be all to busy to come here anytime soon.”
“I am too busy.”
Harriet waited, but he said nothing more.
“So, I came here as a child.” The White Queen had told them only days before – it was not the first time down the rabbit whole for either Harriet or Lyra. It was strange she had no recollection of it. Then she didn’t have much to recollect at all these days. Something said that should bother her – it did not. “We met then? Before.”
“Yes, we did.” His tail was swishing back and forth.
“Who was I, as a child?” Harriet had wrapped her arms around her knees.
“You were a nuisance, much like you are now.”
Harriet looked at the cat, who grinned widely. Harriet couldn’t help but to laugh.
“I wonder why I ever went back to the above,” she shook her head, “who could ever want to leave Wonderland?” A little something inside her chimed, you should.
“I guess I can trust you then,” she said pulling out the pocket watch, showing it to him. “Mr. Jones gave it to me, before –“ She trailed off.
“I knew it was something you were hiding from me,” the Cheshire Cat sniffed. “I guess that shows you have enough wit left not to show it off all willy-nilly.”
“I haven’t told anyone – except you that is.”
“You need to have it fixed – you know that don’t you?”
Harriet nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Good. And then you need to keep it safe until the time comes.”
“When will the time come?”
“You’ll know soon enough.” And then he was gone. Typical.
Harriet sat for a while alone staring out over the water, enjoying the quite – there would be quite some time before there was quite again, wouldn’t it? But when her eyelids started to sag wearily, she figured it was time to get it done. Leaning in over the water, she dipped the cracked watch into the lake. The water was cool and when she pulled it out again, it came away golden-gleaming, and most importantly, whole.
A little rushed, but done!
Last edited by tricole (11/02/2021 at 16:57)
