MDNI

warning: author DESPISES using capital letters on her phone

here’s the lore yall wanted

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i am working on the desecration of the manor, but homegirl is TIREDDDDD

however

anyway, here’s a piece of the newly updated window scene from the old freakerbox discord. <3

“the walls of circia manor were high, meant to keep people out, and the monsters inside. the old stone walls had seen better days, but the magic imbibed by them keep the manor alive, fed to the point of protection. the estate was sprawling, full of lush trees, and a fountain with daily up-keep. eddie took pride in his surroundings, building most of the garden himself. high above, he could see the window leading into his and volt’s study. it was gorgeous, high stained glass windows that reflected like church sunlight upon their pages. it felt holy to be in there at high noon, signing papers and making sense of numbers.”

OHHH SHIT WE ARE RETURNING TO OUR ROOTS FOR THIS NEXT FIC!!!

Make sure to like, comment, repost, do all that sexy stuff <3

Let's get into this <3

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The city of London was exhausted, its people on constant alert. One Hundred and Fifty-Nine days of being underground, and the rattling in their teeth when the explosions dropped, still terrified them more than the night before. They tied themselves up in Tube stations around the city, making a new makeshift city at each stop. The Bond Street line of Mayfair had a train at a station, with makeshift beds made out of worn blankets. The line was made up of families, orphans, and those who were ill. 

The red sweater Alice had worn for the past few months had truly seen better days. Each button snapping into place reminded her of the sweet smell of her mother’s cooking, her father reading the newspaper, and her brother playing in the gardens. She swept the memories aside, picking up her tattered cover of Alice in Wonderland. Pulling back the sheet of her canopy, 

The curtain to the bedding chambers opens, tufts of auburn hair poke out of a fading yellow blanket, slate-faced with a bright nose, the boy lies, counting his breaths by the second. The stopwatch sits in front of his face, and each millisecond marches him forward towards his death.

“Alfred,” Alice sits at the edge of his bed, pushing the hair out of his face to check his temperature. She tsks at the temperature, “My dear white rabbit, I know what will make you feel well again. We’ll go to Wonderland, you love it there-“

“Alice. I‘m fading away, you can’t just-“ a bone-rattling cough cut him off.

“Chapter one.. Alice found herself growing tired of sitting by the bank.”

It was the hands of the head nurse, Alfred’s executioner,  who ripped the book cover from the weeping girl’s grasp. “Are you… Are you reading to him?” The anger flowed through the lady as her eyes met the wet ones of the younger girl, “We’re here, clinging to what’s left of our lives, and you… You want to read to him? So what? You can die that same death?”

The torn covers of the book fell to the floor with a spatter, and pages spun across the platform. Alice fell beside them, in a pit of tears, hot and angry. First, her family, then her Alfred, Wonderland would not follow suit.

“This won’t matter. I know it all by heart. I’ll show you.”