wonderland

Alice Liddell blogger, voyager, mystery solver “Little Alice fell d o w n the hOle, bumped her head and bruised her soul” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

[curiovser-blog]

stolencrowns:

DATE & TIME: JUNE 25, 12:00PM LOCATION: NPC’S HOUSE STATUS: CLOSED FOR @curiovser

It’s a common thing to have friendships born out of questionable decisions.

But this? Well, this was new.

Waiting for the tell-tale click of the door, with the very blogger who could land him behind bars, was very new. Let alone, him having taught her how to lock pick. Toying with death, one might call this. Fraternising with the enemy, another could argue. But when earning her trust could secure his safety, and for Alice, treasures ( secrets ) behind locked doors – was this not a win-win situation?

“Nice,” he commends her, not a hint of nerves to his smile. “This guy’s usually not back till five. We’ve got heaps of time.” And plenty of area to cover too, it seems; an almost quirky sort of clutter to the open plan house, as if this man had plenty of stories to tell. Or hide. But Alice would know better, so he turns to her. “So, where to first? Snooping around for information is a little, ah, new to me as you know.” ( at least the two are experts at their own chosen form of sin ).

A rush of exhilaration passes through her, sending a shiver up her spine. Alice has long been one to toe the line between law and chaos, but this firmly pushes her one side of it. Breaking into someone’s house. She knows, objectively, she should care - but she doesn’t. For the first time, in a long time, Alice feels as if she’s alive. And if it comes at the cost of befriending this (rather admittedly, charismatic) thief, she’ll take it. The pop pops open and she grins, pushing the door open. “Gentlemen first.”

They step inside, one after the other - and her eyes expand inside of her, looking around in awe.

Catching his words, Alice chuckles. “You’ve robbed this guy before? Well, I guess that explains why we’re here for me. You’d think he’d update his security.” Adrenaline coursing through her veins, Alice steps in further, shutting the door behind her. She doesn’t know the houses occupant very well - but by the end of the night, she will. It’s an overpowering sensation. “His study, of course. People do love to keep their dirty little secrets in the most obvious places.” Extending an arm, she offers Kingsley the lead. “You know the way.”

[curiovser-blog]

ofkingsandshadows:

Dismay clung to Ramón’s features, only to leap up into a thankful smile when Alice offered her aid. He nodded, eager. “Please.” Leaving a small handful of flyers on the side, Ramón began walking, gesturing for Alice to follow as he handed out the posters to anybody who would take them, every now and then interrupting himself with a quick ‘thanks’. 

He described Goose in great detail, from the superficial quirks that were evident in the posters to the feline’s behaviour. He noted that Goose was lazy; a little overweight, and thus would avoid doing anything too strenuous. He wouldn’t climb a tree less there was a tasty treat awaiting him. Despite his size, too, Goose always managed to sneak into the oddest places.  “I was going to go to Tiana’s after this, just in case he’s gotten into the kitchens or something. I just… I guess the earthquake freaked him out.”

As far as mysteries went, it was hardly the most complicated Alice had ever heard, not so much a ball of knotted string as it was a single one - which had momentarily moved out of sight. A cat, unique as they come, went missing. A distressed owner who would do whatever it took to track them down. She supposed it was the sort of puzzle supposedly endemic of a small town. Far from the normal pace of Hermosa. But there was always room to sharpen your skills.

“Trust me, if there was a cat in Tiana’s kitchen, we would know about it.” That had been her first job after rolling into town, eighteen years old with no skills to her name. Tiana had taken pity on her. She had regretted it not long after, when Alice spent more time interrogating the customers than serving them - and poking her nose in where it didn’t belong. “I think the earthquake freaked us all out. Natural disasters are called that for a reason.”

But no one had died. Or really been hurt. Funny that way.

“Okay, well - we know that Goose needs to eat. I would try dumpster diving first. Free resource of food.” Behind Tiana’s wasn’t a bad place to check first. Studying her company curiously, Alice decided to probe. “So I guess he means a lot to you, huh?”

[curiovser-blog]

ofkingsandshadows:

time: 14:23 location: Moonlight Plaza status: open

It was undoubtedly because of the unbearable fuss that he’d kicked up that morning, but, nevertheless, the police station had agreed to put up a MISSING PET flyer on their public bulletin board. Ram had left the station feeling a pinch more hopeful; unbeknownst to him was the fact that it would soon be covered by other, more important cases and announcements. Despite the remaining dull throbbing in his left arm, Ramón had whooshed his way through Hermosa, pedalling at a punishing pace to get to key places as quickly as possible. He’d littered streetlights around Windsor, store windows in the town centre and poor, poor tree trunks in Little River Park with posters. 

Now, he wandered through the Moonlight Plaza, bothering idle eyes with the sorry sight of his panic as he went up to person after person, offering them a sheet of printed paper. 

He tapped on someone’s shoulder. “Hey, have you seen my Goose?” Consequently, Goose was his cat. Thankfully, the photo on the poster cleared that little detail up. 

The joy Alice took in the art of choice outweighed her mistrust of places like this, all squeaky clean and uniform. Every shop entrance was like the one before, even down to the people inside of them. Clones of one and other. A few even reminded Alice of the family she had left behind, across the pond, gilded and greedy. It was one of the best places to people watch in Hermosa - and the odd pop up shop or two made the rest of the cliches worth it.

 Meandering through the center, pretzel in hand, Alice would have been perfectly happy to remain in a state of complacency, simply seizing pleasure from the small everyday acts of brilliance. But then, a boy had to break through the wall of mediocrity, flyers in hand, desperation etched across his face. Taking the poster with a welcoming smile, Alice’s excitement jumped up a notch. Even mysteries of the smallest kind were worth investigating. And who knew? Maybe missing cats were part of the puzzle. “Nope.” She replied, shaking her head and handing back the poster. “But I’m willing to offer my services as amateur detective.”

[curiovser-blog]

princeoladele:

when: monday afternoon ( july 23rd )

where: hermosa public library

who: @curiovser

Miles was looking for something new to twiddle his thumbs with. Working at a university during the summer months was incredibly boring. The social scene at the institution was incredibly student driven and with most students busy enjoying summer vacation, there wasn’t really much to promote on social media. Miles had spent his workdays trying not to fall asleep and queueing up cheesy motivational quotes on the HU twitter page. He rarely read, but a supreme boredom and consistent summer loneliness dragged him to the library. 

He wore his prescription glasses today. Though he only made this fashion choice to avoid fighting with his contacts, he appreciated the sophistication boost the frames gave him. His fingers ran across another row of books, which were a bit too crusty for his liking. He couldn’t imagine how many hermosans had placed their grubby fingers on each piece of literature. His journey led him out of the young adult section and toward the aisle of romance books. He had never read a romance novel. It certainly wouldn’t help to learn from example. 

As he scanned the rows for a title that peaked his interest, he hummed the tune of “the love boat” to himself. This distraction led to him turning face to face with someone very familiar. Out of shock, and utter joy, he immediately shouted, “Alice!”. This enthusiasm was met with immediate disdain as a passerby librarian shushed him. He turned to face the old woman and mouthed ‘sorry’, and then back to face his ex-girlfriend. 

He still felt like a douche for cutting her off right as they were getting so close. She was a beautiful as she was curious and though the former drove him wild….the latter was too worrying.  With her around, there would never be any hiding from his past. He didn’t have the heart to consistently shut her down when all she wanted to do was help him deal with his baggage. “Funny running into you here. Thought you were more of the audiobook type.” He whispered, attempting to quell the inevitable awkwardness with his lax charm. The irony of this comment wasn’t lost on him, he barely even read the mandatory texts in college.

Alice was beginning to think that the library was engineered to pose as many obstacles as possible. She had come seeking texts on the town’s history, driven forward by her conversation with Markus and the problem the Creator proposed. If you were going to understand someone, you needed to know them. Researching his history seemed like the most logical place to start. But given that no one had ever seen the creator, let alone held a conversation, it seemed unlikely there would be a biography of his lying around. Hence, the town’s history texts. As a bonus, she was sure to get some more insight on what made the town tick - and when all the fucked up unexplained shit began to occur.

Of course, the books wouldn’t be in a logical place.

Because that would have been too easy.

After pushing for more information from the (unhelpful) librarian, Alice finally found her way to them, shelved in the romance section, of all places. One strange thing after another then. Hugging the book close to her chest, Alice beamed as she prepared to leave, a new spring in her step. Oral history was one thing, but this book would allow her to travel back in time.

She wondered what she would find.

That good mood, naturally, came crashing down as she ran head first into her ex. Never a fun situation, but one made all the more awkward by how they had ended. Her: probing into his past. Not, it should be noted, for fun - but because she had wanted to know him, sensing there was something unspoken deep within. Him? Not here for it. Things had fallen apart almost as quickly as they had come together - and she would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t bitter about it still.

“Yeah well, sometimes I like to go retro.” Swallowing uncomfortably, Alice bounced on the balls of her feet, wondering how long the pair would have to stand here and pay homage to civility. It was awkward - and usually, her instinct was to cut through bullshit tension. “And you’re...looking for a romance novel?” She raised a querying eyebrow. “Earthquake give you a new lease on life or...?” 

[curiovser-blog]

huntsgirlrose:

“Ooh, or what, will you you tell everyone who listens to your podcast?” She grinned, but she hoped Alice understood she wasn’t mocking her podcast. It was a little funny to see how passionate she got and it was definitely a lot cute. Maybe in a different lifetime they could properly date, but she liked her company (and her talents) and for now that was enough. Plus, Rose had bigger fish to fry and bigger dragons to slay. “Oh yes, he’s sitting in my evil lair where I’m hoarding him and everything else in Hermosa that goes missing. He’s next to a few missing spoons right now.” She laughed, shaking her head. “But in all seriousness, I don’t know what happened. Poor Belle.”

Poor Belle indeed. She tapped her recorder and raised an eyebrow. “Did anyone else confess anything juicy? I’d love to hear it. Could my uncle sponsor your next episode?” She grinned yet internally shuddered at her own joke. The Huntsman sponsoring some conspiracy theorist’s podcast was a little hilarious to her. “Ooooor we can find newspaper clippings and connect the dots with red yarn.”

“Wow. That sure was easy. Guess I’ll have to get my handcuffs out and lock you up myself.” Sardonic, Alice kept a straight face throughout the entire interaction, more pissed off that Rose was knocking her podcast than making light of a disappearance. That was just...Rose. Her sense of humour was whack. But that wasn’t what Alice was fucking her for, so she’d make do. The next part she found slightly less amusing. Things that might have been fun and games to Rose were deadly serious to Alice. Something was going on - and indifference made the cover-up all the more difficult to expose. Lowering the recorder, Alice covered it with the cuff of her sleeve, knowing the quality would be muffled as a response. “Sounds about right. At this rate I won’t be giving you anymore orgasms anyway.”

[curiovser-blog]

m-hadley:

He doesn’t drink, she knew that. Everyone knew that. 

It was part of the madness of his allure, of his business. The crazy bartender that served vices to others but refused to indulge himself. Why, you ask? Because the words suddenly started to make sense, the act slowly breaking character. Perhaps he’s not as strange as people perceived, perhaps there’s normalcy lacing inside of his bones. However, there’s always a RISK of letting people see that duplicitous side ( to see bits and pieces of the boy that had been forced to change ). 

Bang, bang, the body had dropped dead. 

And just like that, the old Markus faded, dying alongside with his father. A phoenix had risen from the ashes instead, but one that started to confuse. To puzzle. To riddle. A coping mechanism of sorts, a punishment from the Creator. And suddenly, Markus felt as if he barely knew his true self. He stared at Alice, eyes darting between the bottle and the curious soul. 

Tonight, they were breaking all mirrors. Trespassing all unspoken truths that hid in every corner of Hermosa. He pulled out two glasses, pouring their drinks. It was a game of Russian roulette, except guns were not weapons, only words. 

“Ah, but you didn’t ask,” he started, “because you assume I’m afraid.” I am. 

“The Creator is powerful, Alice. The Creator controls everything, everyone. Can’t you see it, can’t you see them falling perfectly into place, like dominoes stacked neatly together?” 

He doesn’t drink, so she takes his portion, figuring that she’ll need it more than ever by the end of their conversation tonight. Some things require a clouded mind, not a sharp one. She’s never been one entirely guided by logic anyway, but nor can she see between the panes of worlds like he can. Not without a little liquid help anyway.

The whiskey doesn’t burn anymore, long having trained herself to become numb to its taste. 

“Hey, you’re no coward.” Sometimes, Alice thinks he might be the braves of all of them. It takes courage to see the world as he does and to refuse to be shaken from that notion, even when the rest of the world brands you with the label crazy. If you believe in your perspective, does that make it a truth or not? 

Something pulls inside of her, the moment Markus mentions the creator, painting him like a deity they are all bound to worship. As if he isn’t a man at all. She doesn’t doubt him, not even for a moment. “Like...a God?” The thought sends a shiver up her spine. “I want to see it.” She whispers, because she does - always willing to believe in the impossibility. “But...it’s not perfect. There’s no pattern to these unexplained circumstances. Or...to the people missing. It’s like...” She can’t put her finger on it. “It’s like it isn’t intentional.”

Not like the game dominoes, but like a seismic event which just so happened to knock them all down.

[curiovser-blog]

selfishlyunkind:

As he pushed through the crowd of people, all of them bright eyed and oohing and ahhing over a spectacle of cheap displays and shoddily put together rides, Adam rolled his eyes internally. He tried to remember the reason why he’d even made the decision to come, considering how it seemed everyone had forgotten their common sense when it came to something sparkly. 

It was supposed to be for a good cause, he reminded himself - something about the guy who went missing? He didn’t care all that much, but it was a good chance to be seen - to have people see him associated with something positive. It was far too crowded for his liking, though, and as soon as he could, he tried to find the nearest patch of empty space, getting out of the throes of people. Letting out a breath, he stood for a moment, wondering how many people he’d have to push through to get to the exit. 

And then - Think you could answer a few questions?

Immediately, his stomach dropped, practically bracing himself for whatever could come next. He didn’t even know what questions were going to be asked, and yet - his reaction was already preparing for the worst possible thing. Considering the amount of times that he always heard that question, it still managed to grate on his nerves. People who resorted to this were nothing more than leeches - parasites. They pried into business that wasn’t theirs, and sucked up all the information that they could to bolster their own success and profitability. What a waste of space.

He was determined to not make a scene or draw more attention to himself than necessary, as was his goal with almost anything he did now. There were far too many people around that could say something to him, it wasn’t worth it no matter how his temper flared. He took a step back from the person in his path, before letting out a hollow laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He met her eyes, hoping it’d be enough to get her to move on, before sighing. “Bother someone else, I don’t have time.” 

The beast bore its teeth and shook its mane. The monster growled. The girl in front of him merely blinked, indifferent to his show of anger and rudeness. Adam was hardly the first person to tell her where to shove it. The trick was not giving up, arching your back stubbornly and planting your feet in the ground. Alice had it perfected into an art form, finely tuned from years of no’s she hadn’t been able to overturn. Lifetimes ago, youth had forced her to bow to authority. Hermosa had aged her. Like fine wine, or so she’d believe.

Refusing to be put off, Alice beamed brightly - all sunshine to his shadows. “It’s important to support a free press.” It wasn’t an argument made to convince. It was simply to let Adam know she could match his step with one of her own, word for word and all that. “And yes, obviously I’d like it - since I asked you to in the first place.” Some people needed honey, to be buttered up until they could be guilt-tripped into saying yes. This was not one of these circumstances. Call it a war of attrition. “It’s just three questions, promise. For a good cause.” Motioning a hand on heart, Alice met his eyes, her own twinkling.

[curiovser-blog]

yveolaluz:

“m-my .. name?” gemma repeated, words stammering out as she looked at the girls with lips agape. answering a strangers question had suddenly become a lot more difficult as she looked down at the phone in the girl’s hand, numbers counting up as she watched it recording. that wasn’t the first question she had expected nor it was one she was sure how to answer. whoever she was, whatever she was recording for, gemma couldn’t risk her name being quoted on something. the more people who were aware of the blonde, the more likely her chances of getting caught were. she seemed friendly enough, someone gemma could easily trust but knowing she was being recorded brought out a sense of paranoia in the blonde. “um—it’s, uh,” gemma stalled, eyes wandering around as she searched for something to help her come up with a name, “—dulce.”

her eyes fell on the cotton candy machine a few feet away as she let out a sigh of relief, having an answer to give. “i’m dulce,” she nodded, chuckling nervously as she hoped it was convincing enough. “it’s, uh, nice to meet you too,” she laughed, giving a small nod as she shook her hand. “whoa. really? a town blogger? that sounds really cool!” she gushed, “so do you know everything about everything that there is to know about hermosa?” gemma knew she was suppose to be the one answering questions but her curiosity always did get the best of her, “like you know, the best spots to see? the people? secret places to explore?!”

Tick tock. Alice couldn’t help the shift in her face towards skepticism as the seconds mounted - and still, the girl hadn’t given her a name. Unless they were letting amnesia patients out for a night at the carnival now, this girl was lying. People didn’t just stumble over names. It was ingrained in your existence, a part of who you were. Internally wincing as she stumbled and stuttered over her words, Alice nonetheless remained patient. Sometimes, you could catch more flies with honey. And besides, there was something endearing to the stranger, an odd sort of appeal you found rarely replicated. “Dulce?” Arching a quizzical eyebrow, Alice repeated what she was sure had to be alias. Still. she didn’t question it outwardly. “Nice to meet you.”

Alice was sure she had made the correct decision when a torrent of questions left the brunette’s lips, one rolling after the other. A smile tugged the corner of her lips. It was almost like looking into the past, watching a younger version of herself. (That, she knew, made little sense, considering they had to be around the same age. But nonetheless, Dulce appeared younger, as if life hadn’t quite left its mark). “I don’t think anyone knows everything there is to know about Hermosa. But I’m giving it my best damn shot.” The enthusiasm was catching. “I think what you’re looking for is a guide book,” She quipped, still playful. “But - I could be persuaded to divulge.” Pivoting the questions back to the subject, Alice pressed for information. “New in town?”

[curiovser-blog]

stolencrowns:

Normally, he would be rebuked by now. By a simple answer. A simple black and white fact, that stealing is wrong regardless of who it affects. So it’s to his amusement ( and one might argue, luck ) that Alice nods, throwing a playful insult his way of all things. “I didn’t realise I was dealing with Nancy Drew, so I guess that makes both of us,” he quips. Joking, of course, a roguish smile to match.

At the mention of exposing secrets, his pace slows out of his own accord, less of a distance between them. A greater sense of trust. Understanding. 

( She was doing something immoral too, was she not? Even if under the guise of justice or harmless curiosity? )

Cue an arched brow and a sense of knowing to the curve of his smile, as he chimes in, “I guess we’re both snooping around where we shouldn’t then, huh? I just hope the whole Nine Lives thing is true.” And honestly, if she were to trust him, Kingsley imagines he would do the same in return. A life for a life. A secret for another. 

He cocks his head, and though his words say otherwise, the mischievous spark to his eyes suggest that he has an inkling of what she’s hinting at. It seems she has an affinity for it as much as he – scheming. Perhaps he’ll survive tonight, after all. “Such as?” 

Fuck it, Alice thinks, deciding to go all in on the mysterious rogue that is Kingsley. Normally, she’d continue the dance for a little longer, waiting until absolutely sure to make her decision, fretful about the depth of layers. But when instinct tells you one thing, sometimes, you just have to throw caution to the wind. Besides, they’re both cats of sorts, Alice will land on her feet - no matter from where she’s dropped. “Nancy is way too PG for my tastes. But, there’s always an opening for a Shaggy in my mystery gang.” Her lips curl as she nods towards him. Hell, he even has the hairstyle. 

“I like to think I’m doing the world a public service. Everyone deserves to know the truth.” It’s a compelling cover - and parts of it might even be accurate. There’s no need, at this stage at least, to reveal the deeper compulsion that drives her forward, a personal - rather than a public - stake. Such affairs are messier - and too ugly to bluntly behold. “But occasionally, that service may carry jail time. I’m sure you can relate.”

They are light-footed beasts, born to prowl the midnight skies and dance under stars.

In reply to his question, Alice poses another riddle. “People keep their most precious secrets in their most intimate spaces. And my lock-picking skills are a little rusty.”

[curiovser-blog]

rosierbelle:

❝ I always enjoy the carnival. I look forward to it every year. ❞ She gestures to the half-eaten chocolate on her plate and quips, ❝ Clearly. ❞ It was hard to get frustrated with Alice; when she wanted something, she went for it. It was an admirable trait, and a necessary one considering the field she worked in. And besides, Belle loved stories, so how could she not appreciate a storyteller? But Belle always wanted to be the author of her own story, a story that was set far away from Hermosa.

Belle’s fully capable of giving a few comments about how thankful she is and how much she hopes her father will return. It’s the least she could do, and she’s been doing it all day, anyway. ❝ There are no words to describe how grateful I am to the town and all the support everyone’s given me. Papa always loved coming to the carnival with me, so this really means a lot. ❞ Belle meant every word, but right then all she really wanted to do was get back to her deep-fried feast, and maybe have an actual conversation with Alice. ❝ Are you working all day, or do you get to have some fun while you’re here? ❞

Sympathy. All Alice felt was sympathy. But strangely enough, it wasn’t due to the desperate plight of a missing relative, the kooky man who might never be found. (Another one of Hermosa’s mysteries, another name to rot). It was for Belle’s pitiful position as a walking, talking doll - nodding when bid, giving off a practiced spiel, all the pretense. For sure, it was well-rehearsed, near perfect in nature. But instinct informed Alice that it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. How could someone stand there and roll off a mantra about how happy you were at the town’s support, munching carnival snacks along the way?

Either the girl was seriously covering up some deeply embedded shit, or she was a sociopath. Only two options on the table.

“Wow. Really rolls off the tongue.” Then, a little softer. “I can tell you’ve had a lot of people asking that question tonight.” No doubt, everyone had their own motivations for doing so - some pure, others nefarious. “You don’t have to cover shit up. I can make this off the record.” They weren’t exactly friends, not precisely, but Alice knew she needed Belle, needed to figure out a way to bring her into an inner circle of conspiracy and loose threads. She might be the only one who could figure out how to help her solve it. “This is fun, to me.”

[curiovser-blog]

witchycoraline:

“Of course you would,” she said. “They go everywhere they’re not supposed to, and are impossible to get rid of. You’re practically their mother.” Coraline couldn’t say why, but she bristled at Alice’s thinly veiled suspicion of Ms. Lovat. The woman was one of the good ones, even if her grandson was more annoying than a kick in the head. “Ms. Lovat’s good people,” she said, slipping into her father’s familiar phrase. She could see the eye roll she’d surely earn from her mother for repeating it.

“If you’re looking for mysterious, ask Mr. Bobinski about Chernobyl,” she said, recalling the forty minute answer she’d gotten in response to an innocent quip asking what the eighties were like.

Amused by Coraline’s irritation, Alice let a smirk flutter across her lips, a quip ready to roll off the tongue. “Don’t forget that they’re always the last ones standing.” It would come to the surprise of no-one that Alice was rather enjoying herself here. Puzzles of any nature, even riddled words with double meanings, deserved appreciation  And in Coraline, Alice found a maze. Refusing to allow herself to be distracted by sentences that made no sense (although, sometimes, those were the most remarkable of all), Alice kept hounding. “For someone who supposedly has nothing to hide, you’re acting awfully evasive. Just a little tip.”

[curiovser-blog]

m-hadley:

CLOSED: @curiovser LOCATION: The Lucky Leprechaun  CONTINUATION OF THIS: (x)

The smell of funnel cake faded into the distance the further they walked away from the carnival. Away from all the fun, the remembrance, the perfectly crafted event for a lost soul. However, the tone had immediately changed the moment Alice started to question the Creator. The mirrors still flashing inside of his mind, warning him. He’s here, he’s everywhere. Watching, always watching. 

It fueled Markus to pick up the pace, entering the bar that had been meant to be closed for the day. Instead, his hands worked past the locks, sneaking inside with his curious friend. They were safe here, he wanted to believe they were safe here. It wasn’t too public. Wasn’t too private. Just two people inside of a bar. 

Deceptive of everything. 

His fingers tapped against the bar stool, his eyes looking directly at her. Would he tell her the truth? Would she pull it out of him? Anything was possible. 

“Cat got your tongue, Alice?” You may speak freely now. 

Like shadows, they creep, an extended, pregnant, pause having taken hold of them. It’s funny, how quickly life changes. One moment, you are chasing your own reflection - the next, you are wrapped up in a conspiracy, afraid that you might be spying on yourself. So you run to the empty, to a place that is wholly yours,  far far away from prying, peeping eyes.

Except, for the Creator, who can be everywhere at once. You don’t know about that yet.

Either way, it wouldn’t change Alice’s actions in the slightest. What is a girl to a God? No. What is a God to a girl? 

Sliding the bolt across the door behind her, Alice pads across the wood silently, footsteps light, almost as if she floats. She reaches the bar mere moments after him, comfortably sliding onto a stool. Time, she senses, will escape them here. 

A sly smile, yet warm. “I could ask you the same thing.” She teases, but gently, sensing there are depths to this she hasn’t yet penetrated. Then, reaching over the counter, she pulls out a bottle of whiskey, unscrews the cap and offers it to him. “For courage.” Leaning back, Alice taps two fingers against the counter, waiting. 

“I do believe we were in the middle of discussing impossibilities, mysteries and puzzle pieces with a single connecting strand. The creator.” 

[curiovser-blog]

d-amerons:

“Would a little anarchy really be that terrible?” Poe said with a bit of a chuckle. Was it a joke, or did he really mean it? Even he wasn’t exactly sure anymore. It felt as if they needed to do something. The fair was a bandaid, the offering of money to Belle little more than an acknowledgement that something bad had happened. He wasn’t sure if it would do much of anything, but he was still here, like every other person in this town, because they didn’t exactly have much else to do. His eyes flickered down to the phone, the obvious way Alice turned it off. “Should we really be talking about this here, hmm?” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “You never know who’s listening.” He wants to say more, and knows if he looks up at Alice that her eyes will be screaming for more of a story. He just doesn’t know how much he wants to say at such a public event. 

Laughter was a mask. The lighthearted tone was an illusion, half-jokes contained within. The pair of them may have been situated among screaming children and smooching couples, but they were in their own world - one filled with webs of deceit, lies without trace and more conspiracies than was healthy. Having long thought she (and Markus) were alone, it was comforting that someone else didn’t think them half mad. She needed to know more. But he was right. There were too many prying ears here. Privacy was everything in a town as small as Hermosa. Arching her chin, Alices gives a stern nod. “What are you doing the night after tomorrow?” She asks, boldness triumphing over caution. “My place has surprisingly thin walls.”

[curiovser-blog]

huntsgirlrose:

“What, was pillow talk not enough?” Rose grinned, amused by Alice as usual. She liked to help solve some of Alice’s conspiracy from what she knew as Thorn, but always tried not to give too much away for the sake of secrecy. Alice’s nosiness usually would be something that would bother Rose, but they ended up good friends and then into each other’s beds. Not that Rose was complaining. “Whatchu want, doll?” She asked, an eyebrow raised as she steppes towards her.

She had a feeling it’d be about Maurice. She also had a feeling Alice was this close to finding wherever the damn Sentinels are and asking them herself. “Before you ask though, no I wasn’t close to Maurice and yes, I feel sad for Belle. What other burning questions you got for me?”

They were not, it was important to stress, dating. Neither one was cut out (be it choice, the circumstances of life or a broken heart) for committed relationships with a shot of lasting. Still, a girl had her needs. All that was left to the pair of them were casual flings - a mess of tangled limbs, lips that refused to make promises, never hanging around long enough to watch the sun rise. And, simply put, it worked. It achieved what it needed to. A clinical way of approaching the situation, but given messy histories, she could be scientific for this.

“I’ve got to get you on the record, doll.” Alice shot back, Rose’s own pet-name rolling off the tongue in a teasing manner. “Can’t be compromising my integrity now, can I?” There were a few things Alice demanded in her lovers - total commitment to the moment, someone who appreciated equal giving and taking and depth. You couldn’t fake that. Determined to rise to Rose’s challenge, Alice nodded in response. Jokingly, she cocked her head. “Did you kidnap Maurice?”

[curiovser-blog]

lincolnikenna:

For a sheer moment, Lincoln could not remember where he had seen her before. It was clear to him that she knew who he was, held a certain sort of familiarity for him that didn’t just verge on knowing who her congressman was. A flicker of recognition tugged in his mind, raking through his brain to place the face with the name that he was sure he knew. After all, what kind of a man would he be if he didn’t know the names of his constituents in a town as big and small as Hermosa? A good man would know, even if he never claimed to be one, but the role he often played was of that: a good man with a good heart.

It was almost laughable how easily they all played into his hands.

“Alice,” he greeted warmly, finally connecting the dots. “I think that I owe you at least dry cleaning and a meal for dumping my water all over you.” Even so, he graciously took the napkins she offered and began to dab at his own shirt. As annoyed as he was, Lincoln was more than glad that it was only water and not something that would stain his clothes too much. Her words prompted a laugh from him, meticulous in how real it sounded as he finally pulled his attention away from his clothes and back to the girl before him. “Now they’ll only accuse me of being clumsy and add in something about how I don’t care about my voters as long as I have a drink in my hand, when in reality, I was just thirsty.” He pouted for a mere moment, sighing sadly. “Help me protect my reputation when they ask you for an interview, will you?”

The first time she’d tasted liberation, Alice had sworn she’d never allow herself be drawn back into the life she’d left behind, the one that imposed shackles on her wrists and silenced her tongue. Money, elitism, power...no, those things weren’t for her. Even now, Alice would like to think she hasn’t been tempted back. But can a veteran of two election campaigns truly claim that? Yes - if you don’t allow yourself to fool for falsehoods? Yes - if it’s pure curiosity and not a career goal? Everyone knows the juiciest secrets come from politics, but with Lincoln, Alice genuinely wasn’t digging. He had too much to offer, so many lessons to teach.

She intended to take advantage of them all.

“Seriously, it’s fine.” Stressing the final word, Alice hoped he’d get the hint. It really wasn’t a big deal - and the fact he was making it out to be was setting off some alarm bells in her head. What sort of human felt this bad? No functioning - intellectual - adult, to be sure. Grateful they were moving on, Alice tapped a finger on her chin, a mockery of consideration. “Or -” She continued, tone playful (he was a mentor, not a boss) “- the opposition will run ads about how you’re a raging alcoholic. Water and vodka look the same.” She wished they tasted it. Pretending to consider his question, she screwed up her mouth in concentration. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

[curiovser-blog]

jakelcng:

“Ugh, I know they’re rigged,” Jake said, definitely not pouting, “but like…” Did he have a reasonable excuse? Not really. ”Look, I’m sorry I have enough faith in humanity to actually hope for genuine tests of skill. Maybe I wanna take the blue pill on this one, y’know? I’m just out here for a good time.” 

He also certainly didn’t pout at the mention of their current skee-ball standings. Ten points. Alice was winning, yes, but by ten fucking points. “You might be beating me now, but wait until next shift,” Jake promised, any real weight cut by the teasing note to his voice. “I got a new trick shot. It’s gonna be sweet!” …if it worked. The last attempt arguably landed them in their current standings. But that was beside the point. 

As Alice continued, Jake felt a brow creep up his face. “Whoa, hang on there, Buzzfeed. Dangerous? I mean, questionable, sure—I think it’s well-intentioned, personally, but I could see it sorta coming across as insensitive. But what could make this—” he punctuated his point by flailing his arms, “—dangerous, or whatever?” Sure, he had his personal hypotheses to his own question, but he actually had a vested professional interest in Alice’s answer. It was well-known that the girl fancied herself a mystery-solver. If she knew anything about Maurice’s disappearance, it warranted a certain level of consideration.

Alice snorted, visibly and audibly amused by his response. She had to admit, his faith in humanity was sweet, if not a little naive. Another night, she might have considered a full-on rant and lecture about how humanity was terrible, with examples. But tonight, she had bigger fish to fry. Besides, there was a part of her that didn’t want to dim the light in his eyes. So, instead, she patted him on the shoulder. “Your idealism is a credit to you.” Weirdly enough, in that moment, Alice meant it. Ying and yang and all that. For every cynic, there needed to be a dreamer. Matching his playful tone, Alice cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, so does this mean you’re finally going to be real competition? I have been waiting.”

Certain things, some people and the odd relationship were easy. Jake was one of them.

Batting off his buzzfeed comment (please, trash), Alice nodded earnestly, beaming through his skepticism. “Well, as soon as it was announced that the carnival would be dedicated to Maurice, the entire town flocked here.” Not that it was saying much - Hermosa was one of those ‘all-american charm’ places, defined by its intimacy. “Which probably means there’s a kidnapper among us.” Or a murderer. The thought sent a shiver up her spine.

[curiovser-blog]

m-hadley:

She’s painting a picture – erasing and redrawing the little lines, making them overlap, making them intersect. His could see the scatter, the odd patterns that fell into place, the details that everyone had managed to miss. He was a living reminder of it; killed his father at a young age. Yet, nothing happened, except the slight twist of his mind ( of his act ). 

Had the Creator forgiven him? `

Had the Creator punished him?

Markus had been pondering the question for years, wondering if the moment his word started to make sense, if all reality would shatter. However, regardless of his past, Alice had a point. A brewing theory that could challenge the whole system. The fragility of things, red strings shaking the closer she got to the truth. 

And madman wanted front row seats to the finale of it all, the undoing. 

“I’ve never seen him,” he admitted, fingers still burning against hers. Could she sense his guilt? His crime? His innocence? His entire persona littered in the lines that marked his palms. 

“But we feel him, in every corner, in every space. Watching. Always watching, waiting.” 

Watching. Always watching, waiting. His words, even with the volume compressed, even as they stand alone, are enough to send a shiver down her spine. It’s the implication behind them that chills her the most. The idea that the Creator is...here...now. That no place is safe. You are a bug - and these are his games. It’s an ugliness, the sort she’s fled from her entire life.

Markus’s picture reminds her too much of her parents to feel safe and secure.

But now, more than ever, Alice is sure that there is a layer deeper than public discourse will have you believe. There is more than meets the eye. She only has to dig hard enough to find it. With that final piece, maybe it’ll all come together...a grand vision of...whose design?

The Creator’s. But who is that? 

Never the type to scare easily, Alice perseveres. “When did you first hear about him?” Casting her own mind back, she can’t point to a definitive moment. As soon as she came to Hermosa he was...there. She never questioned it. She never wondered why the town paid him such reverence. He simply...was. 

She clings tighter, tethering the two of them together. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever met him, you know.” And I’m not sure if I want to.