Picking up the Pieces (Closed w/ ask-the-dormouse)
@ask-the-dormouse
It was as if he had been dreaming. A very long, freakishly absurd dream on top of that, but a dream none the less, and only now did the March Hare stir from his previously blissful nap, sitting upon his chair in what used to be the Mad Hatter’s office. But with him out of the picture, even with Alice Liddell helping him to ‘reclaim’ his asylum-turned-factory, it was now all in the possession of himself and the Dormouse. And yet, even as he knew it was theirs, it still felt as if had all happened yesterday. How the Hatter had suddenly turned on them, his closest friend. How he--
“Ach!” he’d grunt as his right arm bolted up and pressed into the shoulder of his left, robotic arm, his bladed weapon thankfully being replaced by an actual arm and hand. A spare part, more or less. A fit of phantom pains washed over him, but he’d just bite his lip and endure it in soft, silent whimpering. But then, his nose would twitch as he smelled the scent of a very familiar beverage; tea. Lavender tea, to be precise.
His head turns a bit, and he spots the Dormouse rolling in on his wheels with a tea-cup and saucer, along with an Eye Pot from which the aromatic steam of lavender tea was puffing from its pipe. “Ah... well, ain’ tha’ a smell fer a sore ol’ sniffer like me own.” a brief smile flashed by the obviously pained hare’s face, as he’d just turn to at least pretend focusing on his blueprints again, doing his best to hide the fact that he was instantly reduced to frowning again. “Y’can pour me a cup if y’like, laddie-boy.”
