jacqueline & maixent
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Posted: Jan 20 2015, 02:14 AM
Fintan Jasper Travers
these new flocks are nothing but vultures
conflicted — sociable — headstrong — quiet — enigmatic
he still has the friendship bracelet judas made him that one drunken night
It’s a bleak winter’s morning, the trees cold and the wind pushing into his bones, asking for shivers and whistling disappointingly when he doesn't respond. The nicotine’s bite keeps him alert, the chill of the stone wall he leans against seeing through his black, wool coat. Few people are on the street and even less give him any passing looks. He flicks the ash off his cigarette.
Across the street, church bells chime, giving way to the small gathering of people that trickle out. She’s in the thick of group, her dark hair pinned away from her face and black dress immaculately tucked under a pea coat. They’re still in London, technically, though they’re far enough out to almost be considered a suburb. For someone who didn’t want to travel far from Wonderland, it was certainly a smart move on her part, hiding out on the city’s edge.
She sees him as the group parts way for the pallbearers. His chin rises in acknowledgment, laced with an edge of try me and see what happens. He watches her wait long enough to be respectful, listens to her carefully excuse herself, quietly promise to meet the rest at the cemetery. As she crosses the street, he finishes his cigarette and stubs it out with his shoe. For all the amusement he derives from dressing up for London, the formal look is his least favorite.
I can’t keep my promise anymore.
No, it’s not that.
I had every intention of forgetting your existence, but things have changed. The Queen is locked away, somewhere unknown, and her sister, Jacqueline, the Princess, has taken over.
This was a while ago.
It matters to you because she’s changing the game. The portals are being sealed off. The Looking Glass has been shut down and—
Yes, you have to come back. I’m the only one allowed here.
No, it’s Her Majesty’s decree. Do you think I’d fabricate a story to drag you back there? I’m aware of your disdain for Wonderland.
This has nothing to do with our parents. I know what happened with them. I've moved on.
You have no say in this, sister. You can either return today, quietly and without complaint, or you can stand trial in front of the Queen for high treason.
She’s declared London fugitives to be traitors. To fraternize with London on a permanent basis is to publicly declare disloyalty to her and to Wonderland. It’s in the proclamation.
So? What will it be, sister dearest?
A dark, gleeful smile.
Fintan, stop. You're near pacing a hole in the floor.
He stops for half a second to assess Alice. She's perched on the chair in front of her vanity, carefully placing her curls in a seemingly complicated pile atop her head. Purple and white pinstripe fans around her, a matching, small hat resting on the vanity's surface. It's early enough that the sun is still struggling to reach over the horizon and grasp the day; Fintan is sure the handful of candles lit by her bedside are for decoration.
I take it Cheshire is visiting today, he says after careful consideration.
You both are lucky I'm on my own these days, she says, giving him the answer he already knows. Do you know how my parents would talk if they discovered strange men were visiting me at all hours of the day?
He resumes pacing.
Caoilainn will be fine, Fintan.
It's only the second litter. And last time . . . He trails off, the scent of a mistake hurriedly cleaned up overtaking his thoughts.
You'll be able to get home to her soon enough.
He tries to nod, his shaking forcing him to pause again, fear quite literally wracking his body.
Here, she says, finishing her hair and standing, gently pushing Fintan into her chair. How long until she's safe?
Probably . . . probably . . . He checks his pocketwatch, unable to concentrate on the swirl of colors and numbers. It takes him a moment to decipher out the calculation. She would be alright I were to go back now.
Alice smiles softly and clasps his hands tight. If it's safe, then you should go. Your travel will give her a bit more time.
He sighs, his breath harsh and forced out. His anxiety seems to leave his body and he takes a moment to slump in her chair, suddenly weary. Yes, you're right. Cautiously, he stands and presses a light kiss to her cheek. Thank you, dear Alice, for tolerating me this early morning.
She smiles, nose quirking like Caoilainn when Fintan admitted defeat to her on troubling matters. It makes him crack a smile. I'll see you soon, she says. There's a knowing smile on her face. There are usually several years on her end between his visits to London. The human city is still unsettling in some ways to him, faster and louder than Wonderland.
He nods and takes leave, his head a bit lighter and his heart a little less worried.
Mother took tea with the Queen this afternoon.
He looks up from the parchment in front of him. The air between them, dry and warm, has thickened with tension. His brother looms in the doorway, annoyed with this news. Fintan can feel the ghost impressions of wood pressing through cotton against skin. The sun is still high enough in the sky that candles placed around the room remain unlit.
But I'm sure you're already aware of that.
I know. Mother never gets anything by us.
He drops his head back down, feather quill gently grasped between thumb and forefinger as he dips it in the inkwell again, tapping excess ink off before resuming his written thoughts. There's something calming in the scratch of quill against parchment. His brother shifts, stands, moves in closer to approach Fintan at his spotless desk, spotless as the rest of the room he's currently working in.
No, I don't know what they discussed. All my source told me was she saw Mother and the Queen met at the castle’s entrance and disappeared inside together.
There’s plenty to worry about, brother dearest. I'm sure you've noticed the Queen has been . . . wary, lately.
We don't know what Mother's up to.
I doubt the Princess or the Duchess would know, but I can certainly reach out, see if they've heard anything. You're aware we don't necessarily need to know what their secret meetings are about.
Yes, I agree, it would be a risk, but there is also a risk in waiting. Better to move now.
The guillotine doesn't ask questions. She's happy for the blood soak, no matter who's neck it is.
No, I think it's best if you do this. I have my own exploration to attend to. There's . . . not long ago, something happened to my rabbit hole. I'm curious to see what's happened.
An eyebrow raises. I have much more to lose. Better if I'm not here at all. Besides, I'd like to see where my rabbit hole ends up. It's not Wonderland, that much I can gather.
Yes. In any event, curiosity killed the cat, not the rabbit, remember?
I a m s o s o r r y .
The words ring in his ears.
The scent of blood, too much blood fills his field of vision.
W e t r i e d b u t -
He shoves his way in.
It's everything he feared.
Everything Alice promised him just hours earlier wouldn't happen.
F i n t a n.
S h e ' s g o n e.
I ' m s o s o r-
He tears out of the room.
Caoilainn was gone.
And so was his light.
You probably don't know about me, but I've been told you may be open to meeting.
I am your daughter. The only surviving one. My name is . . .
asya — 18 — gmt -5 — pm/skype — eleanor, jaq, payton
Posted: Mar 5 2015, 02:00 PM
poor fintan :c he sure has lost a lot but i am very intrigued by how his story develops now, so i am not going to keep you any longer. :)