"I'm late!"

Alice shouts as her body pops up from the bed like a corpse with rigor mortis, rigid and alert. The raven-headed girl looks around with her chest fluttering, worrying that she's overslept and is running late for work. She looks down when the emptiness registers and her eyebrows furrow in confusion: Rabbit isn't clutched in her arms like he normally is every morning.

She isn't in her pyjamas either, though the black satin, feathered robe she is wearing could very well pass for the same thing. Alice can't help but chuckle at the absurdity, feeling incredulous and confused, and a little exposed. Why does it almost feel... tantalizing? The thought makes her shiver, goosebumps raising along the exposed, velvety skin of her inner thighs.

Her demeanor shifts back to concern suddenly as her head snaps up, vibrant green eyes blinking in the details of the vehicle (a very beautifully crafted vintage one, but not a horse and carriage like she's used to) that she's woken up inside. Is this a vivid dream or has she begun hallucinating again? It has to be one or the other.

The set of eyes blinking back at her from between the two front seats look like they're wondering the same thing. "Hi," she manages breathlessly, her pale skin darkening with a red sheen as she realizes she's in company. One look out the window confirms this isn't Wonderland, but one look at the watch wrapped around her wrist informs her of everything she needs to know.

"So," she starts again once the reality (maybe) of the situation settles on her, catching her bottom lip in a lick and tug as she looks up from her watch to continue, "Wake up in a... strange vessel half naked and confused often?" Alice's tone is dry and sarcastic, but the curve of a playful smile gives her intentions away.

"I wish I could say it was my first time."

Modest despite her striking features, Alice prefers to dress purely for herself. Tonight's outfit isn't flashy or as luxurious as many of the gowns in attendance at the party, but for an orphan who once wanted for nothing until that's all she had left, a simple satin dress could easily make her feel like a thousand bucks regardless.

Her hair is sleek and half of it is tied back with a matching silk bow, her glowing green eyes a bright contrast to the rest of her monochrome outfit. Miniature versions of the same ribbons were tied at the back of her supple thighs, marking where her sheer nylons end just beneath her skirt.

Her nails have been manicured and the rest of her has been thoroughly groomed, a sort of ritual she'd started indulging in at home as a means to take care of her mental well-being more than anything. It didn't hurt that her dedication meant she finally felt ready to jump into whatever suitable opportunities came her way over the course of the night.

"Don't tell anyone, but I'm usually already asleep by now," Alice confesses to the other lost tourist at the Twig bar, both of them there in an attempt to ensure they don't pass out before any of the fun starts. Who cares about getting a mind splitting headache when FOMO is already achingly real? "I'm hoping this works something like cocaine and I won't be knackered for at least another twelve hours."

She looks down at the strange smoking apparatus (cigarettes are a few decades away from existence in her timeline) with a curious smile before she plugs it between her lips, leaning over and into the stranger's personal space just enough to indicate she needs them to light it for her.

Her eyes are piercing when they lift to stare up at them, a sweet lilt to their wideness, begging for their obedience in her indulgence.

A game of questions? The thought of answering anything about her past was enough to set Alice in the opposite direction, but just as she pivots to slip away somewhere else, a ghost hand decides they know better.

"Do you mind?" She snips at the magical air, gesturing wildly as she pushes at the invisible force that drops her back off in front of the game room door. She has a sinking feeling that attempting to walk away again will be met with endless resistance, so she sighs in vain and cautiously enters.

Fearing a choice will be made for her, Alice quickly scans the room in search of someone to take pity on her. This was about to be uncomfortable: Who wants a trauma dump while they're on vacation?

She catches the eye of someone who smiles back at her and nearly feels guilty when she watches them approach because of it.

A few minutes later, Alice is strategically drawing the premier card ("Prettiest should go first," they'd said) and feeling very positive when the house stays intact and the question is harmless. If we were a band, what would our name be? "Flat of Letters," she jokes, playing on the wording of the game as she discards the successfully retrieved ace of spades with a mildly embarrassed shrug.

"Go on, then. Let's see what you get."

Alice wakes up in the wee hours of the morning, then proceeds to try and make out the features of the woman she'd stumbled into bed with the night before. She also tries remembering her name, but the effort to do so knocks her back into her dreams and she falls asleep a mere hour after she'd stirred awake.

It's the smell of breakfast that drags her out of her slumber awhile later. She expects to find her companion having left without a goodbye, but is pleasantly surprised when sauntering into the dining area reveals the truth: She's just been waiting for Alice to join her.

"What day is it?" She asks with a hoarse laugh that transitions into a cough — all the smoking the night before has coated her lungs and throat in itchy residue. She wonders briefly whether the strange package labelled "Hangover Kit" on the island counter has anything in it to help with that.

Alice sits down with a shy smile, unsure of how to verbalize the relief she'd felt when she realized she wouldn't be spending the morning alone. So she doesn't, instead reaching for a scone, cream, and jam.

"How did you sleep?"

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— Alice is a true switch who enjoys topping, bottoming, subbing, and domming regardless of her partners' genders, so there's not much she isn't into trying. Muse chemistry will always be #1. Full kink list TBA.
— I assume prose generally but am happy to match your preference if it's brackets.
— I love writing cross-canon (though I'll take a Cheshire kitty boy for her if you're offering) and against OCs as well, so don't hesitate to initiate with them!
— If you think you'd have fun playing with her: I need an invite ✨