Aʟɪᴄᴇ Pʟᴇᴀsᴀɴᴄᴇ Lɪᴅᴅᴇʟʟ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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eachdraidh2014-07-15 07:02 pm
digophelia) wrote in eachdraidh2014-07-15 07:02 pm
Entry tags:
004 - memory and open to both courts
Trigger warning: Victorian asylum, self-harm, suicidal ideations, abuse, and violence
It's dark now, the evenings set an unsettling, frightening light in the library. It's through the eyes of a child, with a hushed murmur of fear that she glances through the library, everything so tall now, ridiculously tall. She is smaller than usual, more than she recalls. Through her bare feet, she turns on the hardwood floor, suddenly cold letting out a shudder. She's turning down the hallway now.
"Papa?"
Her eyes fall down on the worn, white rabbit stuffed animal, with a button eye on the right side about to fall out. Her chubby little hands thumb over it with a hushed whisper. So she tries once again in the dark hallway because she's been a stubborn child, "Papa?" She she timidly continues forward, clutching her rabbit underneath her little chin, hoping to find her father.
Father, mother, and her elder sister, but her father especially, to hear his gentle voice lulling her to sleep. She'll rest her head on his shoulder as he carries her off to be, because he does so, so often. She follows him, eager to hear his stories and see his photographs. She has always though they were pretty. She calls for her father in the dark, her feet pattering further and further down, until she's following him, the white rabbit!
"Please, rabbit!" Her pace breaks out into a run, still a child, running after the rabbit, "Please stop! Can't I go home, now? I want to go home!"
She follows him, as he squeezes through the hole, the very rabbit hole, crawling further into it, until the ground beneath her palms and legs is nothing more. Air fills her little lungs, as she screams, watching the light above dim and dim, into the rabbit hole again.
Not again!
It is not the same, and it will never be the same. The scent of burnt flesh has never left her mind, nor the stinging pain of her burns against the cold air. She's cried and cried, until her little mind cannot take it more. Her body is riddled in burns, the lines between reality and dreams are not even worth distinguishing anymore.
How doth the little crocodile
Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
On every golden scale?
Hours are days and days are weeks. Weeks are years.
Years, years, and years! There is no point in keeping track of the years, now, eyes fixated on the wall of a desolate room, confined in a small space with nothing more than a knife. It makes no difference how many years there are, there is no one else aside from imaginary friends. She cannot hear them well enough, for she has just come back into reality now. Was it real? Was it a dream? As soon as she hears them come closer, her eyes snap to the rusted door. Blisters and bruised hands grip the cold metal in her fingers tighter. In nothing more than a nightgown, she begins to crawl on all fours, underneath the table of the kitchen, as it were, for where else would she acquire a kitchen knife? Their voices become closer now and she is nothing more than caged, feral beast.
Why not? They had told her from an early age that she was never to be cured, she will be here forever. Her breath becomes tense as the come closer and it is without warning that the door bursts open, a slam against the wall as adults come pouring in.
They were supposed to help and they never did.
"Put it down, you fucking brat! Get over here!"
They're tall and she is so, so small. They've hurt her and tormented her, these men in the white coats and after the two of them come in, so does an older man who gestures her to put it down, put the knife down. She's almost forgotten how to talk, violently flipping a table, despite her little body barely manages to stay standing after being strapped to a bed for so long and left to starve.
"PUT IT DOWN!"
She's screaming at them, pushing further, and further to the wall. In the moment where they have her cornered in this damn kitchen, she attempts to bolt, only to be pushed down to the ground. SHe's screaming her lungs out, thrashing violently, refusing to let go of the knife, for it is her only way she will ever get them away
"GET OFF OF ME! GO AWAY!" She begs, she screams, throwing her head side to side. She hates to do it, but he has no choice, a small girl thrusting the kitchen knife up to his mouth. She rips it halfway open and why not, he deserves it, she hates that damn mouth. And suddenly, her cold skin on the ground is warmed by the touch of his blood as he staggers back. They're clamoring for her now, more men in white coats pouring in. But she seizes the opportunity to bolt out, slinking away like the cornered, feral child that she is. In her grief and despair, she's beside herself, covered in his blood that she finds herself laughing. Laughing since it is the only way she can cope with the fact she has seriously harmed another, for the first time.
As frightening as it is, why does it feel so good. She feels herself stumbling back against the wall, still laughing as she finds herself slipping against the wall. As much as she laughs, there's tears in her eyes.
I don't want to be without them anymore.
It is not without the cat's grin flashing in the dark, beckoning her closer. In his mangy appearance, she finds peace. Well! I've often seen a cat without a grin, but a grin without a cat! It's the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life! Slumped against the wall, she's about to take the knife unto her own skin, closing her eyes to hear the faint words of her own. How can you think so lowly of yourself? She finds herself closing her eyes, into darkness once again, although it is not without the cat, beside her, of course. She is no longer that little girl and the world is not the same scary place she has feared, it is one that she's grown to hate and despise.
She is herself again.
"You can't content yourself in watching the suffering of others and yet you're so quick to inflict it on those who anger you. Now what will you do? Go to war? Irrational as always, I see."
The cat is gone, as always. So typical.
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[ Maglor hesitates a long, long moment - what can he say to this? So cruel, to a child, and something in her madness sparks with familiarity. ]
I am glad you chose differently, that day. [ Is all he says, in the end ]
1/ ?? - apologies in advance for her not being coherent
Still and silent as death, she freezes when she hears that voice. This has been a secret she had been hiding since she arrived here, her mind being so vulnerable to vivid hallucinations and delusions. Considering her past, her track record so far has been relatively good. But now he can see that his words earlier had more of an impact that he had initially realized.
In between catatonia and despair, she had floated between that fine line for years. She was too young and had suppressed plenty of what had really happened. Alice says nothing, her eyes grow wide as she holds her breath. But somehow his voice becomes distorted into something or someone else. Alice has fought very hard to keep her mind, but now that a hallucination blended with a memory has gone out, it feels as if it's about to be invaded all over again.
No, no, no! ]
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She didn't chose differently, she tried and she failed. Not that he knows, anyway. Thankfully there was no serious damage, unlike the orderly. At least they didn't torment her so, as serious as they used to, that she could sleep at night. ]
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Suddenly it's hard to breathe and no matter how much she chokes to breathe, there's not air in her lungs that her breath becomes hitched and labored. A small, agonized sob escapes her lips. She could burst into tears then and there, openly cry in front of a stranger, but she will not, she refuses. She's that cornered girl trying to hide underneath that kitchen table with the knife again, that her rage seems to overthrow her despair. Anyone in the station can likely hear how Alice suddenly screams at the top of her lungs. ]
SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!
done sobbimg
GET OUT!! GET OUT! STOP IT!
oh Alice, I am sorry
"Alice, calm down!" It is command, and a powerful one at that, like a shock of cold water on a hot day.
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She covers her ears. ]
STOP IT!
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Alice, Alice, they are not here.
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Stop! Stop it!
[ The grip on her hair grows tighter as she covers her ears, shaking her head side to side. Alice starts to stagger forward, believing that if she moves or leaves, that would fix it entirely. ]
...somehow I feel we have done this before lol
They are not here, Alice.
laskfjas i am so sorry
Leave me be!
lol /pets
Look at me, Alice. You are not there, but here. There is little safety in the Drabwurld, but at the least your tormentors are not here.
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[ Alice takes a fist. She would like to say you aren't supposed to see that, she wants to know how. ]
No. I don't want you! I want to be left alone!
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1/2 action;
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video.
So, this young girl does not get something written, a cheating way of communicating. She receives something purer, more natural, just a white wolf softly tilting her face in the screen of the locket, emitting a quiet whimper. Her eyes are gold and compassion. ]
video.
This has to be a hallucination, too, doesn't it? ]
You're a strange looking wolf, aren't you?
video.
Her face does a tilt completely to one side and she gives a little, high-pitched whine. Wait, it means, and then she's standing to trot away from the locket. In little time, she returns with one of the maps and tosses her head to unravel it and hold it up to show her.
Where is she? is the translation of this gesture. ]
video.
She's not that far from the dinning area in the station. Alice was planning on a lunch before any of this, but that may not happen now. ]
action.
Those triangle ears are folded back with a passive gentleness, a mama wolf coming to a pup out of her litter. It's true that she didn't give life to any of those in the Drabwurld, but she still feels the same sort of affection for them, as though she easily could have given life to the first of them, allowed them to copulate and make more.
Wanting very much to press and nudge against her, she has to sit a foot or so away, hold herself back. Some are averse to touch, and she oughtn't push them. Instead, she whines a bit, and paws the air at her, asking permission to come nearer. ]
action.
It's hard to turn an animal away, and such a beautiful one. Her white coat almost brings tears to her eyes.
Is she asking to come closer? She seems friendly, oh, yes, she does. And she loves animals. Alice lowers herself, almost at her eye level. ]
It's alright.
action.
An embrace, with tail thumping on the floor. ]
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[ Alice chokes back a sob. Most of the people in her life have been cruel to her, so it's only natural her preference lies in animals. Easier to speak to and easier to touch. White as snow, much like the white rabbit and Snowdrop in her childhood. She only hopes this isn't a hallucination as Alice doesn't hesitate to rest her head atop of hers. ]
action.
Eventually, she's wriggled all the way down to merely lie sideways in her lap. Likely leaving bits of white hair to cling to her dress. Not the traces of a hallucination but an actual, tangible being. Her tail is still going. Such a happy creature, trying to give away some of its gladness through closeness. She peers up at her, all love in the eyes, ready to listen to her. To be there for anymore tears or holding. ]
action.
Why couldn't she have something like this so long ago. She could shed all over her, it didn't matter, it's what she means. ]
If I didn't know any better, I'd say you needed a hug.
[ A fairly lame attempt at joking, followed by a sniffle. ]
action.
An incessant parent, almost meddling. ]
action.