BLUE.

that all being said, her expenses are still being totaled as we just got home, but have been quoted anywhere from $500-$600 usd, that of which i can only partially front myself. if anyone could spare even a dollar, all of it would help. i can also do graphics commissions (examples @sniktgfx) or anything in that vein. even sharing would really help.

cruz roja (red cross)

❛  well, this is hell in a dream. so your mark is probably not far off from the bullseye, is it?  ❜  she scoffed lightly at the pretty threat, knowing this girl could not be even a quarter bit as foul as the tall petunias who were routinely out for blood and scandal. ❛  careful now, my pretty flowers have ears and far more eyes than four boys and a girl stitched together.  ❜  although one of them wasn’t here she felt. there were enough phantom patrols in wonderland that another of their making wasn’t so easily welcome. where are we? alice felt the urge to retreat, to let cheshire have his fun & the card guards draw their blood. what better peace could she find than by digging her head under the dirt like an ostrich? yet however weary she felt, however close to dejection, she could not bring herself to fade away.

when she did fade, it was to. there one moment, gone the next in a bush of blue butterflies. she glided towards the girl until she was flesh and bones again, the vorpal blade materialising in her hand, the very sharp tip pressed just beneath the girl’s chin. ❛  i ask the questions here. foolish girl, are you lying to me?  ❜  her eyes squinted with her suspicion, narrowed and terse; that their entrance was accidental could not be true, and she reasoned that even in the event that it was, their lack of total mental collapse & fright was a sturdy indication that they frequented oddities and dreams. ❛  i can smell it on you, all nineteen years of magic.  ❜  alice lowered the knife an inch, but didn’t move it away completely. her face was as young as blue’s, and yet her manner and speak was virtually ancient.

blue couldn't unsee it now; aspects of an unnamed being echoed in unseemly ways. the hue of her dress, its vividness shared by the water below. the way the linens of her dress flowed in the same manner as poppies swaying to and fro. even her tights, when curved along the natural line of her leg, it, in some lights, mimicked the teeth of a nearby feline, one whose mannerisms and beady eyes surely gave her the creeps, but that was an issue for later! " i ain't too shabby with guessin' games, " spoken with the cadence just shy of a taunt, still unabashed, party-crashing aside, and a naiveté that had yet to comprehend the reality of their dwellings. posed threats were taken in stride. to her untrained eye, while out of sorts, this land spoke to nothing but an unstable mind at its worst, and an eclectic one at best. hardly could she feel the undercurrent of malevolence, brushing away the concerns of the others, particularly adam, whose hand clutched her own in a mark of concern the moment he'd hoisted her up onto the boulder.

she glanced back, merely a second, checking on the huddled group behind, only to be met with a sudden edge. it didn't press, its contact hardly more than contact with the surface of skin, but the definition evident in craftsmanship, human or magical, was enough to nick at her complexion, a micro-tear unseen but surely felt. teeth grit and a neck keened backwards to ease proximity, " what the hell would i be lying about? all this magic 'n you can't even sniff out a group of lost folk? we're shabby actors, surely ain't even made for the worst high school production of cats —" her voice was strained, knees locked and fingers flexed at her sides to resist any movement. despite the natural penchant for combativeness, fear was evident in her tone, all-encompassing even through the slung quips.

⟡ random acts prompts, 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.

brooding, pensive alice : a mishap of cut black hair curtains her eyes like a downed damsel. she speaks with a seething fatigue to her body, not quite at her wit’s end yet with the troublesome bunch of intruders that have found a pocket into wonderland’s slow-rotting demise, but damn well near it. they thought themselves quiet invaders but to the ears of her daydreams, they were a rather ill-mannered freight train paired together  [beelining for the selfish lake no less! where fish-tailed marauders waited to chop off their heads.]  the girl is the most interesting of the bunch. from the distance alice imparts, seated at the top the stones of a curving waterfall, she looks down at blue sargeant clumsily navigating the green lush of the vale of tears.

from there, she squints her eyes down at the spasms of charged magic, in a neat radius around the dark haired girl, ones only she can see. delicious, the cheshire cat purred at her shoulder, his snake tongue curling around his lip. more absurdity.

a perched hand rested at her hip, now, one characteristically jutted to the right. for some reason, blue could never perch themselves completely upright, with a standing posture that veered alongside the earth's natural tilt. would those same laws of physics apply to realms that are dreamt, too? " i ain't much of a singer— i've heard the way i could carry a tune, or way i can't rather, is basically hell on earth. might make your pretty flowers rot down to the root. " blue's voice strains, nearly screaming to make up for the rush of the downpour and its eventual crash upon the riverbed. " do idioms exist in— here... whatever, wherever we are? hey, can you tell me where we are, anyway? " they only wished she were closer, now, teetering the line between concern and recklessness. she couldn't read their face, not in a way that was indicative of the true nature of their tone. a threat? a warning, even?