Alice stared back and forth between the two creatures in her study. A boy, decidedly human -- or at least moreso than most she'd encountered in this place. And in his face, if she squinted and cast far back in her own mind, she recognized elements of her own fine features. The sharpness of eyes and high cheekbones inherent to the Liddell line.
Combined with that of a man she did not particularly care to remember.
"I think I would remember giving birth." Alice said scathingly, knowing full well and true that it was a lie. To the contrary, there were wide gaps in her own recollection, voids in her life during which she remembered nothing but Wonderland and the battle she fought within. If she had truly birthed this whelp, she would have been a mere slip of a girl. And still, even with that knowledge, she had to admit it was possible.
"And what am I to do with a child?" She asked, crossing her arms as she stood once more.
"Hell if I know! But you're the last vestige of safety in this place, and I can't take him back with me."
Alice frowned deeply at Dormy, then turned her gaze back to the child. Hard green eyes though Alice had, they softened considerably, and she sighed as she knelt on the floor beside the boy.
This home was no place for a young boy. Fashioned in the hollowed trunk of a great, dead tree and strung high with tattered lanterns, the place was protected by scads of the lingering magic crafted from Alice's own mind. Nevertheless, it was very much Alice's home, and the walls and shelves were piled high with murky jars of expired oddities, skeletal remains of creatures unrecognizable and long-since dead, and all manner of metal implements whose official use didn't bear thinking on.
Alice gently took the boy's face in one hand, staring hard into his eyes.
"I will care for you, if you choose to stay with me. But the choice is yours."
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Date: 2012-08-09 04:20 am (UTC)Combined with that of a man she did not particularly care to remember.
"I think I would remember giving birth." Alice said scathingly, knowing full well and true that it was a lie. To the contrary, there were wide gaps in her own recollection, voids in her life during which she remembered nothing but Wonderland and the battle she fought within. If she had truly birthed this whelp, she would have been a mere slip of a girl. And still, even with that knowledge, she had to admit it was possible.
"And what am I to do with a child?" She asked, crossing her arms as she stood once more.
"Hell if I know! But you're the last vestige of safety in this place, and I can't take him back with me."
Alice frowned deeply at Dormy, then turned her gaze back to the child. Hard green eyes though Alice had, they softened considerably, and she sighed as she knelt on the floor beside the boy.
This home was no place for a young boy. Fashioned in the hollowed trunk of a great, dead tree and strung high with tattered lanterns, the place was protected by scads of the lingering magic crafted from Alice's own mind. Nevertheless, it was very much Alice's home, and the walls and shelves were piled high with murky jars of expired oddities, skeletal remains of creatures unrecognizable and long-since dead, and all manner of metal implements whose official use didn't bear thinking on.
Alice gently took the boy's face in one hand, staring hard into his eyes.
"I will care for you, if you choose to stay with me. But the choice is yours."