#jbberwck

no bbq chips for you

@jbberwck

She was only good at creating one thing: hats. Not destroying, but creating those. Her mastery was something that can never be achieved. The personal touches, the fine materials, the wonderful designs. And so, she created a hat for Jabberwock. She created a hat for someone who had been interesting to her, a man whose face never changed and if it did… it was so important not to miss. So, with that said, Hatter was quite proud of her hat that she created for the young man before her. The color scheme fitted him, and she made sure to take into account that he was a Baskerville’s chain, too.

The small crown, feathers, golden lining and some bright light blue gems to fit the fact that he could fly within the skies where the darkness will not touch him. The design was complicated yet simple. The details were essential in her work and so she did her best to make this a masterpiece just like any other hat. 

Rosetta nodded happily as she clapped her hands together. She was a child right now, bubbly and enthusiastic about receiving his feedback on the hat that she presented to him. 

@jbberwck

Something in his words sounded familiar yet not. Hatter could feel her cheeks burn as her feminine side woke up, puzzled by his genuine and honest compliment about her name. Her true name. Her human name which left her lips without her noticing. Yet Jabberwock noticed and commented even though she was not asking for compliments. No, she was no longer a female who longed for someone’s affections, right? She was no longer asking for compliments, right? And yet, he still said how beautiful her name was. How it… suited her? What did he mean by that? Wasn’t he sure of her insanity by now? Didn’t he see what monster was standing in front of him?

    “… You must have gone insane, Jabberwock,”  her words quieter than usual, she stepped away from him to the right, looking away in shyness. Why was he say that? Jabberwock was not a fool, and he wasn’t a liar. He was too honest, too good, too… no, he must remember that she was nothing but a killing machine. A mad woman whose powers were far above anyone’s reach and control. The one who could tear him apart with the sweetest smile on her face.  “A beautiful name that suits me? Haha, you almost sound like...”

And he called her name beautiful, and the proceeded to say that she, too, was beautiful? Perhaps, he didn’t say it like that and Hatter understood merely it like that, but still. Her heart raced, her breath stuck in her throat. Something in this situation sounded familiar. Somehow, these words seemed familiar. Someone told her that before, right? Someone called her name beautiful back. 

Who, who, who said them? Who are you? Why can’t I remember his face? Why can’t I recall his exact voice? Why? Why? Why? 

    “Who are you...?”  She suddenly asked while staring at him. The red eyes shined brighter than usual, yet there was fear in them. Animalistic fear that hit her suddenly, making her hug her shoulders. 

Someone said something like that before, but she forgot who. It was someone who she knew, right? It was. It was... It was.

It hurt. Her heart suddenly hurt. She did another step away from the man whose name was Jabberwock. He was, right? His name was Jabberwock. He was nothing more and nothing less. He was real. Yes, yes, yes, he was, right? The color drained from her face. The madness was returning slowly due to her loss of thought, loss of understanding, loss of herself. Wait, no. Her name, she must remember her name. Her name was Rosetta. Rosetta Dupre. She was the mother of two children... But who was the father of those children?

Ah, maybe that was it. Maybe she was indeed going insane once again. Sometimes, memories that you carried from your previous life were even more of a curse than a blessing. In her case, her mind was a curse now, making her take a deep breath in and then out. 

    “Jabberwock... You are Jabberwock... You are no one else, right?”  She laughed now, but it was broken laughter. An empty one. A scared one. She was happy yet sad. She was glad yet cursing at her own madness. It hurt yet it felt pleasant. That compliment. She was scared.   “Ah, that’s right. I did so many bad things. I couldn’t even protect Lisette and Nicolas... My sweetest children. My little treasures. How can I... How can my name be beautiful when my hands are tainted with blood? Haha, you must be joking. Surely, you are... How can wickedness be beautiful?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Where was Break? Where was her contractor? She needed to hear his voice. She needed to hear Alyss’ voice. It hurt, she couldn’t help it. Jabberwock was too close to uncovering too much. She spoke too much already, right? No, she must not talk more. Her head will explode. 

    “My name... beautiful... suits me? I want it to... I want... but it does not. Did you say that to mess with me, Jabberwock? Is it fun to see wretchedness fall beneath such mighty state as yourself?”   She raised her voice, but not in anger. More in pain. She wanted him to stop talking but also answer her questions. Why was that sentence turned out like this? Why did something from the past had to approach her mind so fast?

Where were those who calmed down her insanity and those voices in her head? 

Madness is forgotten when the children like these are involved. Hatter couldn’t help but feel happy when she was looking at them, hearing their voices, holding their hands when telling the strange stories. Her motherly side was showing the strongest at these moments. Perhaps, it was her own selfish desire to see them. Her own selfish wish to remember those who she treasures so much. Her own children. She sees them here and there among these little kids who were running around and getting gifts. What a wonderful time of the year. How glad she was to drag the other chain with her. Though... it meant too much. Her name called here and there, “Ms. Hatter! Ms. Hatter!”. What a cute bunch. 

    “They certainly do,”  the Hatter looks more like a human now, surrounded by happy kids who were laughing and smiling. Yet there was melancholy in the too. She missed them. She missed her children. Their laughs, their smiles, their calls out to her. Mother, mother, mother...

She suddenly twitched, thinking that she just heard someone calling her just like that. But no, children were talking all around, showing gifts to each other. Jabberwck was right next to her, looking around at the kids. Did he notice? She hoped he did not, but who knew. 

     THE SMALL bird kept flinching in Jabberwock’s hands, one of its wings bent at an unnatural angle. No wonder it was in so much pain. Leo looked down at it, and it briefly gazed up at him. He had never loved animals much, but only someone with an icy heart would not have been moved by the bird’s struggle to survive its pain. A memory suddenly pulled him back to the past. A black-haired child running to his mother and showing her a bird with a broken wing he had found in the forest. The woman taking the small robin in her hands and gently placing it on the table before doing her best to fix the wing. Leo’s memory was vague, but maybe it would be enough. He would try, at least.

         There, it was those chosen words in which seemed to strike Jabberwock towards the conclusion that he was truly, indeed, using this pot wrong. He had set it upon the warm spot had he not? —— Why he had even bothered to ask the other how to cook … was well beyond him. As the best he could do was watch as the water boiled with a look of indifference, finally he lifted shimming blue hues && looked towards Dodie, his expression said it all.

   «No I do not. Now shall you stop staring upon my failure or shall you correct my wrongdoings?»