Chase "Chess" Thomas 19 Years Old College Freshman, Studying Literature [Chase is a member of When the Smoke Clears RPG] [Tracking the tagschessthomas and wtscchasethomas]
A daydream spills from my corked head
Breaks free of my wooden neck
Left a nod over sleeping waves
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
Floating flocks of candled swans
Slowly drift across wax ponds
Branches like cobwebs intertwined above, mushroom caps and moss dotting the ground beneath. He was somewhere in between the two, though not there at all. Mostly. A smile hovered in the air where he should- shouldnât be. It didnât make sense, just like it shouldnât. But to Chess, everything made perfect nonsense. It was beautiful, the reason why he loved his home. His tail, the only part other than his smile that wanted to show itself, was straight up in the ear, quivering every so slightly as he wove between low hanging branches and signs. Even the darkest thickets in the midst of the Tulgey Wood were brighter and lovelier than any part of any other realm. From the signs carefully crafted by the birds and bugs, to the luminescent fungus on the ground below, everything was odd, horrifying to the lost. But to the mad, to people like him, there was nothing more exquisite.Â
A purr escaped his lips as more of him appeared, the pink stripes that made their way down from the top of his neck to the tip of his tail. The sudden appearance shocked a few of the bread-n-butterflies that had been resting on a nearby branch. For a second, he darted after them, purple fur appearing as he darted under a branch, to paw at the buttered wings. His claws were sheathed, however, and with another purr and a wicked grin, he darted away again. Heâd bested the butterfly, faster and fiercer. But he wouldnât hurt one. The residents of Wonderland were mad, not malicious. The unaligned ones werenât, anyways. They all left that to the Red Queen and her court.
Fluttering down to the ground to land silently, Chess watched as the mushrooms under his paws grew brighter, and as more of them, oneâs leading deeper into the forest, glowed as well. The perfect way to get hopelessly lost. And for a moment, the Cheshire Cat debated following them, certain of the way in and out, before deciding against it. There was nothing new in the Tulgey Woods, and that was what he had been craving when he'd set off. And with that, he lifted himself up again, disappearing as he went up. His grin flickered in and out of existence as he flew, but otherwise only the air was disturbed.
Chess flew without meaning forward for a while, then back the way heâd come. But no matter which way he flew, he seemed to travel away, following directions that would only make sense in the most twisted of minds. Lucky for the cat, he had one of the most marvelously mad mind of all.
The Red Castle⌠His head flickered into view, seemingly dismembered. And, with his body nonexistent at that moment, it was. Iâve lost my head⌠His body reappeared, head gone in that same moment. A wild giggle escaped, seemingly out of nowhere, before everything but his grin disappeared, his favorite way to fly. The Tea Party? 'Twas a shame that heâd already had more than his share of tea, and for the time being his invitation had been revoked. Forbidden⌠The March Hare would invite him back soon enough, the madmen were all more than fond of their favorite Cheshire. The Ocean? Heâd played a prank on the Walrus, leading the oysters to disappear. Probably not the wisest move. And the cat had a particular dislike of getting wet, anyways. The Garden? The flowers werenât particularly fond of Cheshire, considering him a pest. It seemed that he was stuck floating, for a while, unable to decide where to go.
But the clouds were as good as any place on the ground. Wisps of fluff hovered, just as Chess did, but suspended in place. They tasted like nothing when they got caught in his smile, but he didnât doubt that it was his present lack of a tongue that rendered them flavorless. No one else in Wonderland flew this high, leaving the exploring the sky a freedom that only Cheshire got to experience. Only the dormant Jabberwock and Absolem, who was currently in his larval state again, could fly this high. Substantial air meant nothing to a creature who half was, and half wasnât, Cheshireâs delight.
The sky was his, even the sun beneath the catless grin. Nothing more beautiful could exist, nothing more thrilling, not even in Wonderland, than the sun and moon, both looking up in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Cheshire Cat.
 âIââ Now she kind of seemed rude; Tucking some hair behind her ear she shook her head. âI wasnât trying to be rude I mean, you can smile all you want,  change from people trying to do that weird fashionable pout thing..â Grimacing she furrowed her brow at him.Â
 âI know, I take English literature..â She stated absent-mindedly. Weird, that description although she was hesitant to admit it was probably a little accurate of her. Green hues stare into his as she finds it so strange that in a few minutes she made a person well, he didnât seem to dislike her, but almost on the verse of discarding her as if she were a chew toy. âOh, sorry if I offended you.â It was genuine, although she did not wan to meet his eyes; perhaps she was a coward like he said.  Brushing out her dress she for some reason wanted to keep talking to him, although he might not want it.Â
"I do whatever I want," his features broke into a scowl, just for a moment, before the grin returned. Chase had always smiled when he wanted, he didn't need the girl's approval to do what he'd been doing for years now. Then he tilted his head, confused by the sudden grimace, "Is there something wrong with the pout?" He didn't see anything wrong with a choice. Any choice, really.
"Then why do you disagree?" his brow cocked, the grin still tugging on the corners of his lips. The definition was accurate. And he seemed to be a good judge of character, judging from the fact that she was being affected by his words. If they weren't true, they'd be met with little more than an indignant huff and his victim walking away. "Don't apologize. Say what you mean, mean what you say, and if I'm offended, that's my problem." She shouldn't apologize for something that wasn't her fault, anyway, he'd been the one to point everything out, "Figure out what you are and what you aren't. Then fix the flaws. That's the proper order of things, isn't it." Of course, in his world you had to fix things before you learned what they were, but in his world everything was what it wasn't. It didn't apply to Storybrooke.
"Yes.. you do kind of smile at people like a serial killer you know that?" She raised her brow. Okay, granted this guy doesnât seem like person to kill people, but how did he make friends very often if he smiled at people like that? Â
 Eyes shot up to his from the carpeted floor of the library as her brow furrowed. âI can promise you I might be afraid and skittish around strangers but iâm no coward.â Her sentence ended with a kind of harshness, if there was one thing she disliked being called it was that, and also he seemed to pin-point her one weakness within meting her.. not many were observant enough to see that.Â
     âI guess; but not really a pity seen as how you donât know me..âÂ
"I smile from ear to ear," Chase's eyes met hers, unblinking for the time being, "and sincerely. If passion makes me a serial killer, so be it." Passion and insanity were never that far apart, and he was proud to be both. So her comparison didn't bother him, not in the least.
"Coward. Noun," the English major grinned, the definition falling from his lips, "'AÂ person who lacks the courage to do or endure dangerous or unpleasant things.' Apparently strangers are either unpleasant or dangerous. IÂ should be insulted." He was convinced of cowardice, thus far. Not very muchy at all. "You're lucky I'm none of those, at the moment." But Chase could be volatile, so he wasn't making any promises about the future. "A pity seeing as I might have wanted to. Seems I don't anymore."
Wait. was he writing about, no.. she inwardly shook her head.. of course he wouldnât, why would he ? She wasnât that interesting at all.  Tilting her head she stood up and then picked up her book. and warily, like she was a little bird afraid to get close to a cat took a look as she stood in front of him. Clutching her book to her chest she curiously took a glance at the pages.Â
Swallowing she tucked some hair behind her ear. Before furrowing her brow at his question. âMaybe I am afraid, walking near you feels like walking into some kind of trap.. â Brave? She was not. âSorry to let you down.âÂ
"A trap?" his brow quirked, Chase's expression becoming a wide, almost malicious grin. She'd piqued his interest suddenly, making him wonder why she felt trapped. And if he should show her what trapped really felt like. Just to see how she reacted. He was curious now.
"Cowardice isn't very muchy," he warned. If a trap did horrify her, then he couldn't like her much, despite being curious about her. There was no point in liking someone who wasn't strong enough to stand up to fear. It was the simplest thing to stand up against, only existing in the confines of the mind. Once it was gone, it was all too simple to face any horror that existed to scare one in the real world. "Such a pity."
Sinclair had noticed the man who entered the police station without a word and was waiting for him to speak up about what he needed, as people generally did upon a visit to the Sheriffâs Office. However, her ire blossomed to an extraordinary level when he sat, not in the chair provided for guests, but upon her desk.
âExcuse me?â she barked, her voice firm. âThere is a chair on the other side of the desk. Your ass does not belong on my desk, sir.â The last word was spat into the air as she restrained herself from jumping out of her chair and replacing his ass with his face. She was already on edge and this stranger was testing what little patience that remained.Â
Chase glanced down, shrugging slightly, expression completely nonchalant. "My ass belongs in the best seat in the house," he announced with a grin, pulling his legs up to sit cross legged and comfortable, to glance over the work she had been doing with an idle curiosity, "and the seat with the best view." Seeing as this woman was the only one in the station doing anything, and therefore the only thing of interest to him, an unobstructed view of her desk was what he wanted to see, and the paperwork free corner of it where he wanted to be.
Though heâs no longer a smile without a cat, Chaseâs grin still has a way of horrifying people or captivating them. The boy has a tendency to cause mischief, chaos, fascinated by the world when itâs governed by illogic, not manâs order. His Cheshire grin appears whenever he sees something that fascinates him, any time he starts driving people mad. Though it canât just be his grin which has an eerie effect. According to some, it isnât the smile himself which makes Chase look wild and mad, but the look in his eyes when he wears it. Apparently he has a tendency to stare, to stop blinking when he grins, and coupled with a grin that stretches from ear to ear, it horrifies the sane.
Leaning back in a chair, Scarlet closed her eyes and placed her combat boots upon the desk. The blonde carried the scars of the night before â dark circles under her eyes and a persistent hangover. It had been a long time since she cared about showing up to her job as an officer sober. Nothing ever really happens in the quaint town of Storybrooke, Scarlet thought ruefully, grimacing.
Part of the officer wished for some call to come in, some deviant behavior. Anything. She needed someone to verbally harass today; if she was lucky, maybe even physically. What Scarlet wouldnât give to interrogate someone again. It was days like this one where she found herself regretting leaving Portland PD. Oh hells, she even missed the academy.Â
Bringing her elbows hard to meet the desk, Scarlet resigned to working on paperwork. âNothing like hitting rock bottom,â the woman muttered to herself, rolling her eyes at an empty room.Â
Chase had this problem in the winter. It was as followed: it was too cold to be outside. When it was too cold to be outside, he got cooped up. Stir crazy. There weren't enough places in town to visit, and he could only stay in the library for so long before he got thrown out for disturbing people. He liked Belle, so though tormenting people was a great game, bothering her brought him less joy. He enjoyed driving people he didn't like out of their minds, the ones he did were already usually at his brand of insanity.
So on days when the library wasn't an option, his muse dragged him allover town. Mischief, inspiration, amusement, it didn't matter to him. He just needed a place that was both warm and interesting. Chase usually avoided restaurants, though cafes, especially CuriosiTea, were places he'd frequent. But that day he wasn't in the mood for any of them, and so had gone through all of his usual list, and walked in and out of some stores. Nothing caught his eye.
But then he passed the police station, and that prompted his interest, somehow. He'd never found himself curious about this building before, but now that it was, he figured he might as well explore. It was indoors and new. Maybe there'd be something fun to do. So the boy wandered in, eyes wide and searching as he looked around, taking everything in as he walked in. Then his eyes landed on a blonde woman, sitting behind a desk, looking as frustrated as could be. Her expression prompted a grin to spread over his features, and Chase pranced over, sitting on the far edge of the desk before speaking, "Such fun."
Chase's nose was buried in his worn copy of Wuthering Heights that day. He always found himself going back to reread classics. All the classics. That wasn't to say he didn't read new books as well, but he had a particular fondness for things that had lasted over time. Something he hoped that, one day, maybe his writing would do as well. He'd gotten towards the climax of the story when he suddenly heard a voice, one that was seemingly directed at him, and had to look up, eyes narrowed slightly due to the annoyance of the interruption.
"What you always do," he answered vaguely, lips pursed, though he usually could have fun with situations like these, he hated being interrupted while reading, "What you never do." It didn't matter to him which she did.
Vanâs brow rose a bit higher at the short answer. Probably one of few things shorter than her temper today. She stood back slightly, crossing her arms across her chest and gave a half attempt of a shrug. âStanding,â she answered back as simply as he did. After a momentâs pause, she looked down at the notebook that was clutched to his chest. âWhatcha writing about?âÂ
"Obeying my muse in a painting that speaks," he purred, quoting Plutarch's words, "Writing a rhythmical creation of beauty in words," Edgar Allen Poe's being added. "Paying homage to Calliope." There were more allusions dancing along the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back, not wanting to completely give away that he was just writing a poem. As he should, being a literature major. But instead of speaking others words at her, he moved the notebook from his chest, holding it out to the girl, if she decided she wanted to look, a grin stretching over his features.
Dorian hated nothing more than when he was left alone in the cafe. Being left alone meant no nap time, it meant no snacking and it meant having to deal with all the people. People made his stomach twist into knots. They were mean, they were rude, they yelled at him. It wasnât easy to do his job. He had to remember lots of things and make lots of tea, he had to stay awake for a lot of it. It was a rough life. People didnât seem to understand that. They just wanted tea and to tell him that loudly. He stood watching as people settled into a table, trying to work up the courage to go and talk to them. He tapped his pen against his note pad, finally starting to move over there, not moving all that fast. âHello.â He said softly, never meeting the eyes of the person sitting at the table. âWhat would you like?âÂ
Chase had decided to go to CuriosiTea in hopes of bumping into Maddie. He hadn't seen her in a while, for some reason, but he'd written a poem, one about Wonderland, that he wanted to see. It wasn't necessarily likely, but he'd brought his notebook and himself to the cafe, wanting to see his friend, but knowing he could at least get a good cup of tea if he didn't. That as enough of a reason to go in and of itself. Besides, it didn't hurt to take a walk, get some exercise. Cold didn't bother him, neither did heat, so the Maine weather wasn't a good enough excuse to keep him home. And he'd made the right choice, his usual table in the corner being vacated just as he arrived. Snatching one of the seats, he glanced around once, not seeing his friend, before flipping open to a new page in his notebook, finding himself writing about a couple on the far side of the room, an endless description filling the page. He liked noticing details, people watching too. It was inspirational, a hobby. But he was distracted from his game when Dorian spoke up, a bit surprised that the other man didn't recognize him. He'd been in and out of the cafe a lot over the years. "Dorian~" he grinned his signature grin nonetheless, "unless you can get me Maddie, a cup of Cheshire Cat would be wonderful~"
Sometimes Harrison wished he was a dragon. Why canât people understand the ideal of it? Most dragons, at least in European mythology, would stay in caves and sit on their pile of gold and treasureâaway from humans. Those are life goals that Harrison, in vain, achieved for. Heâll stay content with doodling his dragons in his notebook for the time being. Maybe he can pretend that their fiery breath could warm him up a bit.
In the middle of outlining its tail, Harrison jumped slightly when some guy was talking to him. Drawing his eyebrows in confusion, Harrison gaped like a fish out of water. Heâs never met him before, so why was he talking to Harrison? Was this a joke? Did someone put the guy up to this as a prank? He reeled in the words and made the connection of it being a riddle. His mind couldnât help but to solve the riddle no matter how suspicious he was. The first thought that came to mind was the sun, but its not in a corner. That strikes out a satellite and the moon as well. A globe could be it, but it still didnât work with it being a corner. Thereâs four corners of the world; four continents in each direction. Something that can travel to those cornersâwaitâŚ
"âŚIs it a stamp?" Harrison answered quietly; waiting to be told wrong. He didnât wanted to get his hopes up; even if he thought he was right. Stamps allowed letters to be delivered any where as long you put it on the corner. He would feel a little better if the guy wasnât staring at him like that.
A almost purr like sound escaped Chase when the man got the correct answer. He was pleased. Very pleased. So far, he'd rarely met anyone in town that could play a game of riddles with him. Most didn't frequently enjoy riddles, it had been out of practice for a very long time. But he still loved them. And maybe the man had a few of his own.
"Your turn~" Chase grinned at the other man, quirking an eyebrow. Then he remember something, and for a moment he launched into a brief monologue, not leaving himself time to breathe until it was over, "I'm Chase. Thomas. Chess." He responded to his name or nickname, it didn't matter to Chase. "You got it right. No one gets it right. So it's your turn now. Loser..." He didn't know what the loser did. They didn't have a One Ring to be gambling on, so it didn't matter. But there should always be a prize, something to motivate the competitors.
Lucia wasnât exactly sure how to respond to that. Worried she did she pulled the compact mirror out of her bag checking to make sure there wasnât. and there wasnât. So the guy was just joking. Now that she thought about it, it was pretty funny she thought giving a little giggle. She looked back over at the man and he was back to his writing and being the curious girl she is she opened her mouth to speak. âWhat are you writing?â she asked quietly.
"A poem." He didn't deign to look up when she asked the question, always the mysterious man, not even making a conscious effort to succeed in that anymore. Eyes tracing along the strings of text, he read his work over another time, going word by word, trying to catch anything he might have missed. It was better when he had Maddie or someone to edit for him, but his few friends were busy, and he didn't exactly trust others to catch what he couldn't. Or follow his thought process without judging him for it. People's opinions mattered less, but he needed his audience to understand. Most people just... didn't.
 His grin stretched; although slightly afraid she yet could not tear her eyes away from him; it was like he was from another worlds..  Something weird, but I donât know what he wants either. Her jaded orbs moved towards his free-flowing hand, and in some strange moment of courage, taking in a deep breath and then asking  a little loudly.Â
    âWhat is it?â Heart pounded in her chest, as she only realized as sick doubt curled upon her that this guy may very well be dangerous. The long smile that reminded her of the devil did that.Â
  Her body was frozen. âWhy do you keep staring at me like that?âÂ
Chase looked up at the girl when she asked, quirking an eyebrow, but turning the notebook around, holding it up to her so she could see the the scrawled words all across the lines of the page. It didn't have to do with the girl, not directly, more of just inspired by another person existing. There was no description of her, physically, no name, not that he knew it, and nothing else to identify her. Just the feelings that Chase got.
"Afraid?" he asked, eyebrow perching higher on his forehead at her question, only prompting his grin to spread wider, "Not very brave of you."
Lani kept her eyes forward without looking back or even remotely acknowledging his presence. Though her movements were tense and annoyed. As his hand moved down her spine she clenched both of her fists against her side. debating turning around and taking a swing at his pretty little face. She ignored it though, as best she could. Her teeth clenched, when he took the brief moment of reprieve and just followed her. However when her hair was tugged again she spun around and slapped his hand away from her. âDonât touch meâ She was just annoyed at this point because she was annoyed. She was actually a fair bit over being started but now he he just wouldnât go away. She wanted to get rid of him. But the only ideas going throug her head simply wouldnât do.
Chase would have purred, had he been a cat, but a smug grin grew on his features regardless, amused by the reaction when she all but spat a command at him. Pointed anger should intimidate most people, but all it did was trigger an impish chuckle, and prompt him to step even closer to her. Almost nose to nose now, he reached out to trail his finger down her arm, now, eyes glimmering with a mischievous glee. "And if I do?" He could still push her further, he knew that he could. And Chase wanted to find out what that further was, as much as he wanted books to read, or tea to drink. Reaching the end of her arm, he brought his hand up, trailing his fingers over her cheek, knowing that the face was a very personal area, one that would trigger something, if anything more could occur. He always had been too curious for his own good.
Lani waved off his idiotic babbling that made her head hurt. She signed, staring at him with annoyance burning in her eyes. Wanting to slap him, or perhaps hang him with his thread. That would be amusing. Her thoughts might be morbid but when you were so unaffected by death it didnât really take much to push someone like her that far. She wouldnât act on it but the annoyance manifested itself quite easily. âShe wouldnât.â She stated simply. Shrugging his hand off she slapped the back of his hand. âClearly. Touch me again and youâll lose your hand.â She hissed, turning, sliding the book back on the shelf and leaving the aisle. Turning to leave the library she was glad she didnât get anymore books. She was done dealing with The Cheshire Cat. And wondered if a pair of Cheshire colored gloves would look good.
"I have two," Chase followed, a wicked grin on his features. He fell silent for a few steps, but he'd found a better way to bother her than through words. Reaching out, he traced a single finger along her spine, from the top of her neck to the small of her back, a completely innocent smirk on his features. Maybe it was a death wish, maybe it was his being a nuisance, but he loved seeing how far he could push people, how mad he could drive them. And she was very obviously affected by his presence, his words, his touch. Maybe it wasn't specific to him, maybe it was. But this amused him either way. The wicked grin had returned to his lips again, and he continued to follow, only a few steps behind the woman, reaching out to tug at a lock of hair again, waiting to see how far he could push her before the reaction changed, for better or worse. Hopefully a step closer to insanity.
She nearly hissed as he just kept at it. Ignoring most of what he said. She wasnât sure she cared enough to bother. He wasnât worth it she was just feeding his amusement. Which was precisely what she didnât want to do. However, it wasnât in Laniâs personality to just let him go either. She stepped back, not wanting him even remotely close to her personal space. âI do quite like the idea of you losing your head.â Despite it not actually being possible. âJust off with yours, Chase. Not even the queen of hearts would dare touch me.â It would be a lot more menacing in her past life⌠She was now annoyed at the stupid reference sheâd made.Â
"I'd take it off for you if I could," he all but sang the words, "but it'll pop right back on when I get bored of being headless." Maddie had told him on many occasions that he was absolutely mad, that he seemed to have lost his head, but the best people were absolutely bonkers, so he never minded much. "But there are only a few screws loose, not enough to have my head rolling." The grin on his features only stretched when she alluded to his favorite tale, that of Alice's adventures in Wonderland, and he stepped closer to the woman. "If the Queen commanded it, who am I to protest." Of course no one would succeed in actually getting his head off, he was adamant about being the only one able to do that to himself. There was a way out of everything, even a guillotine, or an executioner's block. "Perhaps she would, perhaps she wouldn't," a wild, mischievous look appeared in his eyes, complimenting the grin, "but she's always been a cowardly bitch." Chase stepped closer to the woman once again, hand coming up to tug rest on her neck, before he tugged at a strand of hair, "And I don't seem to have the sense to remember to fear things."
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