Keys to Wonderland

So, I'm 'the most peculiar kitty', now? Peculiar... I like that word.

Words are such funny, fickle things, are they not? I bet, if I wrote a word right now, no two people would look at it the same. That's the lovely thing about words, is it not? They can be everything and nothing all at once, and all because you -- the person reading this, that is -- has already made up their mind about what it is or isn't.

Reasons like that are why I don't like when people try to define me, since who are you to decide what I am, even if it's just what I am to you. You're nothing, that's what. Not from where I'm standing... but none of that matters, right, as you've already made your judgments. Maddening, that, but then again what isn't? Not that any of you lot seem to care.

Oi, Hatter, there's something I've been wanting to tell you. It's about your hat. I.. I've always admired that hat... Give it to me, would you? Bah, I know you won't, but I still had to ask. Honestly though, I really do love that hat. I would wear it to all the finest occasions...

[People of the Rebellion]

As I inadvertently kicked off this whole farce of a competition do let me know if there are any Oysters out there you feel are in need of an Invisibility Token-Charms. These will be given on a case by case basis and not for free, so be willing to offer me something in return.

[Billy (aka Caradoc)/Darius] (separate filters to each)

I've set aside some Invisibility Token-Charms, if you feel a need for one or two.

[Scrawled very nonchalantly in the corner of a napkin.]

Oysters, oysters everywhere
and not a drop to drink.

They're all the worst sort, too.

I'm writing on a tree and seeing words coming out of other trees, so I guess this is going to be seen by other people? I mean, it's crazy but I guess that's about right when you consider this is a totally realistic (in a way) hallucination, product of me falling into some stupid hole and probably breaking my neck or something. So now my brain is stretching my last seconds of life by giving me some chance to make peace with the world or something via ridiculous hallucinations.

I've seen it, there's at least two TV shows of that. With the cops and stuff. Sure, one guy gets run by a car and ends up in the forties, and I fall down through a hole and get...Lost meets Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, with Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds as the setting. Way to go, brain.

What's up with the roses, anyway?

[Private AWAY FROM the Queen]

AtTeNtIoN EvErYoNe --
I... am in a mood. All this red is bothering my delicate psyche and making want to do... things. Therefore, it would be wise to stay out of my way unless you're confident in your ability to deal with a me. Now then, I would like to find my new friend Caradoc, and then I... want to get what the TaRtS refer to as drunk. Who, not you Hatter, wants to help me with this?

Oh, what a time this is. I think I should extend this celebration into the next week, I'm feeling just that generous. Your Queen does like to see her people happy, after all.

All of this red, the scent of roses, the crumbling edifices of former, useless factions overcome by the purity and distinction that is the red rose. Ah, it's all so very delightful.

And the duck, of course, was as delicious as I expected.

[private to card allegiance]
If any of you lovely little things set even an eye on any Oysters that have gotten all washed up,

I should like them killed. They cause trouble. Like cockroaches.

Cut their heads off for me, and you can have your choice of rewards and accolades, I assure you.

This is not the first time I've woken to being soaking wet from random swims, but to wake up in an entirely different country seems strange. Or this doesn't look like any part of the United Kingdom I know.

Oh and to find a pen tucked into my skirt and writing scrolling by on a piece of wood. Maybe those pills were stronger than I thought.

'His eyes are wild, psychotic slits that bat-dance in your soul looking for good things to crush or bad elements to identify with.'

Sand. Sea. Sand.
Sea.
Sand.

I've never felt like a lobster before. Trapped in a net, caught in a cage. I've never had someone try convincin' me I'm dead, neither.
At least, not until today.
But. I'm all for new experiences. Like cake, with extra herbal ingredients.
I'm wet and the sand's dry. It's uh... yeah, confused. I'm dreaming. It's alright. I'm dreaming.

(OOC intro tomorrow)

My lovely sister is fluttering about the house tossing dresses about the room in a tizzy. A delightfully bouncy dizzy.

(Images of said bouncy tizzy can be bought and purchased later for those who may want the... visual splendor. The more bouncy the more coin you'll need though.)

However, this also means shopping. I don't mind the dress shopping. It is kind of nice being fitted and pampered.

It's the expense. Two of everything. Two of the same dresses, the same shoes, the same unmentionables.

Ah well. There's bouncing to enjoy and profit from. I wonder if I can convince her to do this in less.

Ah, what a day. I was speaking with someone -- can't remember who, mind you --about the latest crop-picking innovation we've come up with, when it occurred to me that in the three years I've taken over the farm I've done more to increase our profits and output than my father did in all the time he owned the place. I'm not one to toot my own horn, but sometimes I feel it's warranted.

Now then, I think I should go into town and see if I can't commission some new finery for me to wear out and about. Have to keep myself looking good, on the off chance I meet the next Duchess of Dumpty.

I'd like to file a complaint with whoever felt it was a smart idea to tie a red ribbon about my tail while I napped in a tree. I do realize there is an expression having to do with letting sleeping dogs lie, however I feel it's high time to campaign for one about not bedecking sleeping cats in ribbons. This is highly annoying -- not only can my paws not get a good enough grip on it to untie it, but I feel a compulsive need to attempt to catch it when I see it swishing arrogantly from my tail.

...and since I don't have any clothing nearby I can't shift to my furless form, as the locals don't seem to like a naked Cheshire lounging about. Their loss, really.

Now then, who wants to do this cat a favour? Or... should I keep my tail beribboned, to give it that more festive look?

[Storm's handwriting is thin, and flowing, with looping script and very little pressure on the pen itself. His handwriting dances between elegant and illegible, with generous spacing between words, and a large letter space. His message takes up almost half a sheet of parchment by itself, despite it's relative shortness.]

I'm under the impression that it may not rain for the next week. There's still a chance- if some ambitious tendril of hot air decides to ascend a little too quickly, there could be the smallest of rain showers. But it would be quick, and warm, and gentle. Little ambitious warm fronts usually make the sweetest little showers.

But after that, I'm not sure. I'm feeling positively torrential. I would hope no one's festivities are ruined, but that all depends, really.

I wouldn't take my forecasting too seriously, but I would get an umbrella, if you're the sort who becomes bothered by a little rain.

It is terribly rude to disguise one's self as a saucer and remain as such, even when asked to return to a form that includes a mouth.

They are trying to tell me that the saucer is just a saucer, but I know better. The saucer is yellow you see. That is very suspicious. Very suspicious indeed.

I want to smash it, but I already broke three plates last week. Yesterday is last week.

So. I am adding that saucer to my list of people I DO NOT LIKE. I am on to you, saucer.

People I DO NOT LIKE
- All cats.
- All birds that eat rodents.
- Anything that eats rodents, for that matter. Savages. Terrible savages. May your teeth fall out of your head and be replaced by jelly.
- The man that was wearing green striped trousers on the eighteenth Tuesday of four years ago.
- Whoever ate my aphid and honey scone three months ago (it was not me, I have it on very good authority).
- The man who dumped a pitcher of water on my head just because I fell asleep in his bed. IT WAS THERE and also, that water had lemons in it. The seeds got stuck in my hair.
- Barbers.
- The old lady who hits people with her cane.
- That saucer.

[Little's handwriting is sketchy at best, the words just a smidge bigger than they really ought to be, the letters oddly spaced, sometimes great distances away from each other, or varying in height. He doesn't write much. He can't. It's one of the things that eludes him- even though the words are there in his mind, his miserable vision- plus the late hour and the fading light leads to just a few short sentences. He hates it.]

[PUBLIC]
woke up,

everything looked red

it ' s slightly disorienting. everything sort of smells the same but
- some places finally don't reek like they usually do.

some people, too.
i think i could apprecia_te this for a week or t^wo two.

[PRIVATE TO PIXIE]
think you could spare me a visit, miss pixie?