Re: Log: Iris/Hatter
There were moments when it scared her that Hatter made so much sense to her. She knew that Wonderland was created to be nonsense, the characters withing it just as strange as the setting. But his words, even though they sometimes twisted around, always seemed to settle into a picture that she could understand. It left her, on certain days, wondering what exactly it meant for her and her own sanity.
"I always worry. It never really stops. Sometimes it's quieter, but sometimes..." Her brows drew together, worried about worry as she looked at him. Too much of it (of worry, of anxiety) had led to trouble in the past. Or at least to more medication. Higher numbers of pills that - for so many years - she couldn't avoid, handed over to her in little cups that she wasn't allowed to refuse. It had been so different since she'd left the last hospital. Since they'd told her to leave and she hadn't been able to find anywhere else. She'd still had the prescriptions filled until she'd been pulled into Gotham. And then she'd stopped taking anything. And it had been strange and some things were painfully sharp and awful. But it had been somehow more real and less disconnected.
She knew it wasn't healthy, not really. She knew that medication had its place. But she also knew that right now, she'd rather step into Wonderland than to open up a bottle of pills.
Maybe she didn't want to be Everywhere Iris all the time. The thought that she could be different in different places was a seductive one, even if it was unhealthy. The opportunity to step into Wonderland and just be a version of herself that didn't have to worry? She wanted that. "It likes me?" The concept seemed strange - being liked by a Door, being liked in general. She glanced around as Hatter gestured, offering the scenery a very small, uncertain smile.
The change in mood, the sudden movement, caught her by surprise, and the uncertain smile slipped quickly into a breathless laugh, her feet stumbling for a moment before she found a pace she could keep. She knew she couldn't keep it for very long, still in no shape to spend a long time running around, but she did her best to keep up. Her skirts brushed past grass and flowers, and she tried not to step on anything as they ran. Her fingers were tight around his, as if clinging to him would keep her from falling behind.
And surprisingly, it did. She was panting, breathing hard by the time they stopped, her cheeks a shade of pink that was past what might be considered a 'glow', and some of the gently curling sections of her hair had slipped out of their braids. But she was smiling, even as she tried to catch her breath.