Nothing or no one is normal about this place, Alice thinks, and that's strangely what makes it so familiar to her. Instability is a common theme in the overarching motif of her life, and the consistency in which it shows up could easily be praisedâif mental fracture is a secret admirer's kind of thing.
So, a woman who is also some kind of wolf hybrid? Piece of cake for her, truly. Not even enough to make her hesitate. In actuality, it only causes her head to tilt for a second as she considers Texas' likeness to Cheshire. As far as she knows, wolves descend entirely from dogs and not felines, but both of them possess a self-assuredness that Alice always secretly resents. Texas' stoic energy doesnât make her uncomfortable, but it does make her slide into herself a little more, cautious about coming on too strong.
Alice listens to her speak as she chews around her scone, lathering cream and jam like she hasnât eaten in days. Before she'd arrived at this place, that was very much the case. After a week of indulging her hedonistic desires, however, Alice finds it easier to forget the barren life she had been plucked from and fall deeper into the game. It isnât the first time sheâs played it, in a sense. This is just yet another version of Wonderland to her: strange and wonderful all at the same time.
âOh, wait...â Aliceâs eyebrows furrow as she registers the implication that this is only her first time experiencing the Golden Peacock. âYouâre not new like me?â It hasnât dawned on Alice yet that this place isnât necessarily meant to be the glorious reality they make it out to be. Sheâs still sipping drinks from the mirage water.
She reaches for some juice to wet her mouth, striking eyes studying Texas from her perch across the table. Sheâs suddenly parched, but itâs her unmet curiosities on the tip of her tongue that cause it and not so much the consistent use itâs seen over the last 168 hours. âHow... how long have you been here?â Alice asks with a twang of empathy to her tone, but it conceals a concern that the woman wouldnât still be here if she had the choice.
âTell me about home,â she continues as she seeks out the perfectly fluffy eggs and smoky, salty bacon waiting for her next to Texas. In an attempt to show warmth, she offers her companion another piece of bacon, but holds it in a way that suggests she doesnât intend to let it go. âWant a bite?â
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So, a woman who is also some kind of wolf hybrid? Piece of cake for her, truly. Not even enough to make her hesitate. In actuality, it only causes her head to tilt for a second as she considers Texas' likeness to Cheshire. As far as she knows, wolves descend entirely from dogs and not felines, but both of them possess a self-assuredness that Alice always secretly resents. Texas' stoic energy doesnât make her uncomfortable, but it does make her slide into herself a little more, cautious about coming on too strong.
Alice listens to her speak as she chews around her scone, lathering cream and jam like she hasnât eaten in days. Before she'd arrived at this place, that was very much the case. After a week of indulging her hedonistic desires, however, Alice finds it easier to forget the barren life she had been plucked from and fall deeper into the game. It isnât the first time sheâs played it, in a sense. This is just yet another version of Wonderland to her: strange and wonderful all at the same time.
âOh, wait...â Aliceâs eyebrows furrow as she registers the implication that this is only her first time experiencing the Golden Peacock. âYouâre not new like me?â It hasnât dawned on Alice yet that this place isnât necessarily meant to be the glorious reality they make it out to be. Sheâs still sipping drinks from the mirage water.
She reaches for some juice to wet her mouth, striking eyes studying Texas from her perch across the table. Sheâs suddenly parched, but itâs her unmet curiosities on the tip of her tongue that cause it and not so much the consistent use itâs seen over the last 168 hours. âHow... how long have you been here?â Alice asks with a twang of empathy to her tone, but it conceals a concern that the woman wouldnât still be here if she had the choice.
âTell me about home,â she continues as she seeks out the perfectly fluffy eggs and smoky, salty bacon waiting for her next to Texas. In an attempt to show warmth, she offers her companion another piece of bacon, but holds it in a way that suggests she doesnât intend to let it go. âWant a bite?â