& sнε's ʅσʂƚ, 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱, ˡᵒˢᵗ

written by maia

[mindlcst-blog]

   && sane. like this for a lil thing called a starter!!

[mindlcst-blog]

&& sane. teen wolf verse alice in eichen house tho.

[sinclaireee]

[mcststellar-blog]

     THE WORDS of a fanciful person shouldn’t keep leaving him surprised by now, but everything that comes out of a mouth is something new, something largely unexpected that deviates from the norms of what he hears nearly every day. There was someone whom he needed to see, and that person was highly important to be spoken to for the day, yet there’s the fact that he has the whole day indeed – there is no rush. She stands firm, she gives good threats; perfect tone, even disposition, and he gives in.

     “I’m joking,” he smiles. “I won’t tell on you, of course. I’m actually here to see someone else. I was about to see the mistress of the place, but it’s certainly not for you, do rest assured.”

[mindlcst-blog]

   alice is wary of smiles; she has seen too many, most of which were not friendly. there are the tight-lipped ones of annoyance, the ones of condescending mirth, and slight mocking ones when they say they believe but don’t ( those are are perhaps the worst ). and so when the boy so readily agrees not to tell with a smile upon his face she doesn’t believe him. there is nothing she can do, though, besides narrow eyes and clasp her elbows in her hands. ( the confession he is here to see the mistress earns no favors with her, words sending lips into the downward curve of a frown ).

    “ what do you need to see her for? ”    at least she has definitely come to the conclusion that he is not one of the children in this special --in all the worst ways-- home. the wealthy weave of his clothing tells her that clear enough, now that initial panic has settled.

[kingsleigh]

                ‘’ members of THIS crew are strictly                 ordered to sign papers of their employment,                   as rule of the  c a p t a i n.  I don’t happen                  to recall you being a part of this ships assignment.                   A stowaway perhaps? ‘’

[mindlcst-blog]

   tangles of red hair obscure most of her face ( a bit of pale skin, the hallow of one cheek marred with a bruise ), blue eyes peering through the snarls as she remains silent but gives a slight dip of a nod. why she’s on this ship --well it’s simple really. it was a way out, a way to escape people telling her what to believe. didn’t the stories say those who went to sea were free?

  alice had not planned very far, the patter of feet in worn slippers more spur of the moment than considered plan and evidenced by her blank silence now before this captain.

  she had not expected said captain to be so young nor so female.

[mindlcst-blog]

   && sane. you know what you can do? poke the lil heart for a starter!!

[mindlcst-blog]

   “ you do know how late it is? ”    not that the redhead really has a right to inquiring such things --after all, is she too not out with only the sun slipping behind the end of the earth and the stars uncovering their faces? but she asks all the same, despite the fact she is the mad one with no shoes and ragged clothes half-heartedly mended with crooked stitches.

@ofjournals

[mcststellar-blog]

     HE HADN’T meant to look at her direction, since he was here for a particular bit of business that he simply must take care of by the day’s end. Leveled tones command her otherwise shaky words; probably, she thinks that he’ll tell on her, and that a threat would scare him off, but it had not scared him off just yet. It didn’t mean that he thought of her as uncapable of carrying out a threat of her choice – quite the opposite, he knows that she is more than capable, but he spares her a genial smile.

     “What will you do, then,” Arthur inquires gently, “if I tell?”

[mindlcst-blog]

   alice stares almost blankly in response, blue eyes hovering the line between focused and unfocused. she has little in ways of strength being a rather frail looking creature with little muscle and too many bones visible beneath her skin ( it’s the unhealthy product of years: stress and spite and just not caring about this world at all ). and so, perhaps a threat had not been the greatest idea she’d ever had, but panic has a way of stealing one’s voice and shouting in the silence left by its absence. fingers wind briefly around each other --perhaps she could run away now-- before stubbornness sets in, chin set in firm angles.    “ the jabberwock and the red queen would certainly have a brutal end in store for you, but mine is a bit more subtle than bloody things. ”

[mindlcst-blog]

   “ just because you can’t see what i see doesn’t make it any less real. ”    alice is all thinned lips and crossed arms ( blue eyes unnaturally focused on the figure before her and filled with a keen light ). she hasn’t been having a good day. first there’d been the fiasco with at the market where she’d gotten turned around coins snatched from her. then there’d been the subsequent lashing at the house for both taking too long and for not bartering low enough. ( and of course, after that, she’d been locked away after that for spiteful words of retaliation ). the house couldn’t hold her for long, though ( it had been her prison too long for it to properly hold her ) ---just a slip through the window and a clamber down the trellis and she was more or less free.    “ nevermind ---i’ll just be on my way. ”   to where? she isn’t sure.

@unusuallygifted

[mindlcst-blog]

   they tell her that sewing to good to calm the mind, to tame her erratic behavior and make her a productive part of society. in reality the only thing sewing does is bore her to death ( oh boredom, the very thing that sent all this off --a warm afternoon with her sister where laziness and boredom couldn’t seem to cancel each other out ). and so, it’s no surprise when she stops making her line of uneven crooked stitches and rises from her place at the window, a wary glance at the cook bustling away in the kitchen before she slips from the side-door-----

   ----right into another in her haste to get away. alice takes a hasty step back, eyeing the boy with a sharp eye. does he live here? she doesn’t know; the girl hardly pays attention to the bodies around her, preferring to dream of the creatures people tell her aren’t real. arms cross over her chest, tone firm even as words stutter out.    “ tell the mistress i’m gone and i’ll--- i’ll---- ”

@mcststellar

[mindlcst-blog]

   alice has long become accustomed to the whispers of ‘mad girl’ and ‘aloof alice’ and ‘the insane one’ falling upon her ears that they hardly phase her in the least anymore ( indeed, long ago when skin was not so impervious to such things as it is now, tears would well in crystal eyes and temper rise with the salty drops ). maybe they speak the truth. now she merely ignores them, drifting more like a ghost --not part of this world-- through the crowd with no true objective. she has better things to believe, than the whispers of strangers who do not understand.

   perhaps this general daze and disconnect with her surrounds is what catches her slipper on something --an uneven cobblestone or apple fallen from its cart ( or someone’s foot rudely placed before hers ). whatever the reason, down she tumbles to the ground, basket going one way and hands skidding over rough stone.

@winterprince liked this

[mindlcst-blog]

   && sane. you know what you can do? poke the lil heart for a starter!!

[chcssur]

Eyes light up wickedly, the Chessur’s already stretching grin widening to meet both ears. His reputation precedes him as his name is addressed with  familiarity, and a smug and yet pleased expression overcomes soft features of blue and grey. A humming purr of approval follows.

                                                      —–   ‘ THE Alice? ‘

He has come close, v a n i s h e d from his spot upon the tree to materialize before her, swiftly in a fog.  The  Auburn hair and light eyes give her  away to him, and he remembers  years before when a girl ( younger than  she ) had appeared before the tabby in a similar fashion.  Still, there is  something off about her gaze, as though her place in time has been altered.

                          ‘ you’ve grown up, my dear. ‘

[mindlcst-blog]

   “ i’m the only alice i know, if that’s what you mean. ”    she drinks in the cat’s appearance, all crystal clear and sharp around the edges ( it’s different than when she usually sees him, slightly blurry like he’s constantly in a state of half-fading ). alice has long learned to not question such things as the unexpected, and stares unflinchingly at the the rows of sharp teeth.

   “ perhaps, but not many think so. ”    lips press into a solemn line at the confession, the echoes of her parents’ disappointment and children’s taunts ringing in her ears. arms, now empty of their burden of a basket, cross close to her chest, hands grasping elbows as she hugs herself.    “ it is so very good to see you, chessur. ”    more than the cat can know, really.

[mindlcst-blog]

   “ i’m not crazy or mad or anything else you say. ”

open to all

[chcssur]

@mindlcst liked for a starter

          ‘’ its DANGEROUS to be wandering                these woods  a l o n e,                                                        you know. ‘’

Chessur gives a low purr at the  end of his statement, pupils  widening briefly with excitement as he studies the young woman like a funny new toy.  She’s definitely a curious one, and with a sharp grin, the tabby vanishes  from his perch on the far branch, and appears before her, head spinning to observe her.  He crosses his paws.

                              ‘’ TELL ME, what do you call yourself? ‘’

[mindlcst-blog]

   she is not wandering, persay, hands clasp around her basket like the little girl clad in red in the bedtime story of the her and the wolf. alice is not so young as her though, not anymore --time has weathered her mind and sanity into the kind mothers try to shield their children from. a gasp escapes from her lips at the sight of the feline, however, rough weave of the basket slipping between fingers to a pillow of kingsmeadow and clover.

   “ CHESSUR! ”    slips the exclamation from chapped lips ( gnawed and pink from hours of worrying teeth ).    “ it’s alice, don’t you remember. of course, i probably don’t look much like her anymore. ”

[sinosc]

[mindlcst-blog]

   she has been told to stay here in that very firm tone of her mother, gone down the street to do who knows what ( all alice knows is her mother most likely did not want to bring along her embarrassment of a daughter ). and so now she sits at one of the grimy booths at ninos, utterly alone as she sips cold lemonade ( the best in town! ) and kicks converse clad feet at the legs of the table. oh, she is so terribly bored --it makes her want to run out just as she had run away from her sister and her dreary book all those years ago, only alice now cannot do such things so she amuses herself with sliding her glass along the table, condensation making a shiny path across plastic between her hands. only one push too hard and the drink goes toppling over, lemonade and ice splattering over pale fingers and blue t-shirt. a gasp escapes lips.      “ why did you make me do that? ”      she asks accusingly, blue gaze focused on the seat across from her ( there’s no one there seated there on the cracked vinyl stained with coffee, but perhaps to alice there is ).

@cokeshirt