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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 26, 2014 11:04:29 GMT -5
Setting: 241 ADO @snow
It had been some time since Winnie had found some kind of shelter. The trees were thick but the heavy rainfall was hardly stifled by the trees. Her bag with her makeshift shelter had been stolen a day ago and Winnie found herself with no other choice but to keep walking in search of shelter. She was not the best navigator but she would have had more successful if her map hadn’t also been stolen. For the first time since she started on this journey, Winnie found herself regretting leaving home. Though most of the journey had been pleasant and rather fun, the past few days had not been kind to her. She was drenched from head to toe, her hat doing nothing to keep her long blonde hair from clinging to her skin and her clothing was practically a second skin, her coat doing nothing but feeling as if it weighed her down more, being so drenched. The worst part, though, is Winnie was quite certain she was seriously ill. Her head ached; in fact every part of her body ached. Her nose was running and she was shivering so hard her teeth chattered. Stopping didn’t seem like the right option, though, because if she stayed in the forest longer, in this weather, her condition was likely to get worse. The world spun and she stumbled, her slim body slamming into the trunk of a tree. She barely felt the pain of her cut cheek and palms, not through the haze. Pushing herself from the tree, Winnie managed only a few more steps before she collapsed to the ground. She didn’t even try to get up as she knew she couldn’t, but merely turned onto her back to stare at the sky she could see through the trees. Rain fell onto her face, mingling with the tears. “Take me on your wing, together we will fly,” she sang, though she wasn’t sure if she was actually making sounds. It was a song her father used to sing to her and even now it provided her some small measure of comfort. There was no way for her to tell how much time passed. She drifted in and out of consciousness, jerking awake as her body convulsed with painful shivers. At some point, she curled onto her side as she felt as if she were drowning, only to realize she was emptying her stomach. It could have been hours, days; she had no idea. All she knew was she was alive when she became aware of someone lifting her up from the forest floor and for a moment she thought it was her late father come to save her or to take her away to Heaven with him. “Daddy?” she murmured as arms wrapped around her body. She curled into the warmth, crying softly and gripping the warm, dry clothes she felt under her hands. Again, time passed with an unaware Winnie. She wasn’t sure how much later it was that she woke up but she felt much better when her eyes fluttered opened to see the inside of a house, small but the shelter was a welcome sight. Winnie sat up but immediately regretted it when her vision swarmed and she sank back against the pillow. It had been a long time since she had been in a real bed and while she hadn’t missed it while she was traveling, it felt heavenly now. She sighed lightly and opened her eyes once more. “Hello?” she called out. She was a little nervous but whoever had taken her in had clearly taken good care of her, so she thought that was promising. The Mad Hatter
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 26, 2014 20:47:06 GMT -5
It had taken him longer than it probably should have to decide upon whether or not he was just going to leave her there.
He'd spent a few good minutes standing and observing her from a distance. When he'd finally drawn near, it was only to poke her stomach a few times with the end of his toe. (Bad idea; she spit up following that. Thankfully she missed his shoe, otherwise she unquestionably would have been on her own.) He had nearly turned and left her at that because it would have been messy to clean her up and bring her home and, more than that, he didn't know who she was or where she'd come from or what sort of forces of hell she might bring down upon those around her. One had to choose their friends wisely, he had learned. The wrong company could be a death sentence.
His wife's only real crime was that she had picked him to be the man she loved: poor choice in company. She'd put her head on the chopping block as soon as she let him slip the ring on her finger.
And it wasn't just Jefferson himself that he had to protect from ill-intentions and simple misfortune these days. If he took the woman home, she would be beneath the same roof as his daughter. It was safer, he thought, to turn a blind eye and keep walking. He had enough mushrooms and basil in the basket to satisfy the week's requirements. He could go home now.
He made it perhaps three steps before she called out. "Daddy."
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose because now he was standing still again and wondering what Grace would think to know that he had left a woman to die in the woods. That was the pitfall of being a parent; there was no margin left for error. Every millisecond of every moment, one had to be weighing if they were worthy of their child's love. If Grace had been along, she would have insisted upon helping because she was small and soft like that still. The world had yet to sit her down to tea with things like deceit and disappointment. The death of her mother had not hardened her, and thank his lucky cards for that.
Wincing, knowing there was a high possibility he would regret this in the hours to come, he stooped and gathered the limp body up against his chest, balancing the handle of his basket in the other hand as he wove his way back towards their cottage.
--
"Was starting to wonder if you were even still alive, frankly," he announced, appearing in the doorway. "At least, in the ways that count." Jefferson tapped his head twice as if to cue her. Braindead. He looked her over, decided she still posed no threat and then nodded once. "I'll put a kettle on for tea." And he disappeared again.
When he returned, he was carrying a small plate with him. Fruit, cheese and bread sprawled across the tiny porcelain sphere; it was unclear if Jefferson had prepared it or, more probably, Gracie, one last act of insistence, curiosity and kindness before she was sent off to play with the neighbors' children while Jefferson tended to their potentially conspicuous new guest. He set the plate down beside the bed and took a few more steps back, always leaving a buffer of space and time between them just in case he should have to flee.
Leaning against the door frame, blocking her only exit, he crossed his arms over his chest, eyes studious and intent, a common expression for the portal-hopper. He said nothing more; just watched her. Possibly his social skills when consulting other adults had declined somewhat since he had stopped travelling and settled down with his child. Then again, Jefferson had always been a conservative man when it came to sharing his thoughts. Plenty of men liked to steal things like that, and claim them for their own.
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 26, 2014 22:20:56 GMT -5
Anxiety tightened in her chest as she waited for someone to appear. It was a little nerve wracking to wake up in a strange place. She could barely remember arms around her form, but nothing more, so she had no idea who had brought her here. There were all kinds of people in this land and she didn’t know what kind of person’s house this was. Winnie’s eyes fell upon the master of the house, a man with dirty brown hair and peasant’s clothing. She didn’t begrudge the man that, as she was a peasant as well and her dress was similar. She was pleased to see that he didn’t look particularly frightening, though he didn’t look particularly friendly either. Winnie would allow some time to decide. “I am,” she said with a grateful smile, though it wavered somewhat as the dizziness washed over her. It was unlikely she would be useful on her feet for another few days, but she knew she needed to be prepared to move on. She took the moments of his absence to glance around the bedroom. She didn’t like to pry or be invasive, but it would serve her to see what her surroundings held. “Thank you,” she said. A part of her wanted to scarf down the food, but she knew it wouldn’t be good for her stomach nor very polite. Winnie had always been the one with the most manners in her family and she didn’t want to show any disrespect to someone who was so kind to her. Instead she took a piece of bread and tore it into chunks, which she slowly chewed. She needed something in her stomach before she conversed further with him. Her stomach was sore and at the thought she realized her cheek and her palms were also somewhat throbbing and she pressed a hand to feel a bandaged against her cheek. Vaguely she remembered the hard slam of her body into the trunk of a tree. Winnie chewed through a piece of fruit and downed some of the tea before she spoke again. “I must thank you for your kind care,” she said, genuinely though she had trouble meeting his gaze. She was not known for being the most outgoing, having grown up as the middle of a large family with three boys and one other girl. The rest of the family had gotten the gregarious genes and Winnie the more reserved in most matters. “I’m certain I would have perished if it weren’t for you.” She knew that trust could be hard to come by in these times and he had put himself at risk by allowing her to stay here. “I don’t have much money or much of anything really, but in any way I can repay you, I will. “My name is Winnie,” she said, finally realizing she had yet to introduce herself. “I come from the Kingdom of Amare, near the western hills. My family name is Flinder, but we’re just farmers, so I don’t expect you have heard of us.” Winnie forced herself to stop talking, smiling down at her lap. “I apologize. I talk a lot when I am nervous.” She had some right to be nervous as he did. After all, she was in a strange man’s house. He had showed her a kindness, certainly, and Winnie was the type to believe in the good of others, but it wasn’t indiscriminate. She was quiet for another moment before she looked up at him with a smile, shy and sweet. “I know it might not hold much value for me to say, but I mean no harm to your or any other who lives here. I will be on my way as soon as you wish it.” The Mad Hatter
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 26, 2014 22:55:03 GMT -5
"I doubt that," he said crisply to her theory that she would have met her demise without him. "Humans are a remarkably resilient little race. We tend to cling to life rather too vehemently, if you ask me. Don't know how to let it go. Even when it's the wiser, kinder option." He shrugged, apathy sitting heavily enough on his shoulders that they barely moved. It was painted subtly in the lack of a crease-line between his brows or the relaxed state of his jaw. He was often a blank canvas when left to his own devices. It was Gracie that was the painter, all color and giggling brush strokes. He stayed silent through her introduction and her babble; it didn't bother him. Jefferson enjoyed sound, he just didn't always feel so inclined as to make it himself. The world had a music all its own most days and even when it was drastic or breath-taking, he liked to listen. Again he bobbed his head just the once at her introduction, an acknowledgment that he had heard her; but he offered no title of his own in response. It was better to play one's cards close to their chest still this early in the game. "I'm not looking for any sort of payment," he assured her. "Just to get you on your feet and moving again as soon as you're well. Where are you traveling to? I'll be in town in the morning to make a little coin at the market. I'll ask around if anyone is headed in your desired direction." There was a formal undertone to the offer, no warmth or welcome. For all of his cool airs, one might think that Jefferson was a member of the aristocracy, over-looking his worn-and-weathered clothing and the minimal space of his home. She might as well not have made any assurances about the safety of the house's inhabitants; Jefferson found words to be empty, coming from strangers. And from plenty of the people that he knew intimately as well, truth be told. Grace's absence from the house helped to soothe him and he had removed all traces of her from the room (save for a pair of pink ribbons on a dresser that he had missed in his quick sweep while Winifred slept); still, the sooner they were left a small, fractured family unit again, the better. "--You called out to your father, back in the forest," he allotted after a moment and tilted his head a few degrees to the right in curiosity. "Are you on your way to visit him, then?" Tinkerbell
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 27, 2014 10:13:16 GMT -5
Whether he was simply being modest or didn’t accept his impact on her still being alive wasn’t clear but it was important to Winnie that he knew how deep her appreciation ran. Even so, she wasn’t one to push and so she merely smiled until he continued on and the smile quickly vanished. It didn’t sound as if he was pleased at all that he had saved, almost as if he wished he hadn’t and she didn’t know what to make of that. There must have been a reason he would go through the trouble it must have taken to carry her here and then keep her alive through her fever and shivers, but she couldn’t think of what it might be besides kindness. For now, she decided not to dwell on it because she knew it would only feed her anxiety and that would do nothing to speed her recovery as he wished it. “Well, not nearly as resilient as some creatures in the animal kingdom. Camels can go up to six month s without a meal and many months without water. Of course, there aren’t many camels in the Forest, but Agrabah is said to have a lot…” Winnie had never been outside the Enchanted Forest, of course; it wasn’t easy to travel between lands and Winnie had no desire for it really. Her adventurous spirit didn’t quite extend that far. Still, she had read a lot about the other worlds and knew quite a bit about them from an intellectual point of view. For all the things she knew, Winnie hadn’t seen or put into practice much of it, but that was what reading was for. To learn about things that weren’t always readily available to learn in person. Her smile reappeared as she looked up at him because he was still a man that had saved her. “Regardless, I am very grateful.” Again, she found herself struck by his silence and perhaps complete apathy towards her. He did not offer a name or anything else, and while she again couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t disappointing. She would have liked to know the name of the man who had saved her and cared for her, but she didn’t begrudge him the omission. At the mention of her father, her gaze dropped once more, falling sadly upon her clasped hands. It had been only a few years since his death and she still felt the pain of it deeply. On the farm, the family had been reminded of it every day due to his absence leading them on their chores, but even in the forest he was never far from her mind. Her eyelashes fluttered to hold back to tears. “No. My father passed away several years ago,” she said. “He was a supporter of Snow White.” It wasn’t clear whether she supported Snow as well or not, but it was clear that she deeply respected and missed her father. Winnie bit her lip and fell silent for a few minutes, doing her best to recompose herself, threading and unthreading her fingers to abate the anxiety. She let out a slow breath and looked back up at him, her eyes still shining with tears, though none had fallen and she smiled shakily, somewhat embarrassed by the show of emotion. “I do not have an intended destination. I was participating in…a walkabout, I suppose you could call it, a journey of my own,” she said. She smiled without humor. “I suppose I was in over my head a bit.” In actuality, she had done rather well for much of her time on this journey, though that was not without help of other kind individuals that she met. “Certainly I can find my way again. I’m sure I will be on my feet soon.” She didn’t dare try to sit up again, though, and she felt as if she knew she would be up before she really should be, but she couldn’t outstay her welcome, which she wasn’t sure she had to begin with. The Mad Hatter
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 27, 2014 12:54:38 GMT -5
His brow raised at her mention of camels. Briefly, something akin to respect flitted through his eyes and then hid itself away again. When one found a woman, especially a pretty one, lying comatose in the middle of the woods, it was hardly expected that she turn out to be educated. Pretty women, in Jefferson's experience, had less by way of motivation to feed their minds. They lived in a society that worshiped beauty likes its own religion. Gods had no need for libraries or classrooms. "That's correct," he said finally, fingers rapping against the door's frame in a casual, thoughtless pattern. "Agrabah is rife with camels. --Not entirely pleasant, frankly. Lends a pretty rank odor to the air, especially in the summers." His nose crinkled minutely and relaxed again. He wanted to ask her if she'd ever been but the question didn't need answering and Jefferson was not one to waste words idly. From the moment he'd seen her lying there listlessly, he'd known that she was not a well-traversed individual. Experienced wanderers would never have let themselves get to such a state out in the wilderness. They knew where to stop, the sort of things to always carry with them, when it was time to stop and make camp for the day. And when she'd woken up, it had all only been confirmed; that shyness, that sweet uncertainty stated plainly and deliberately that the girl had probably rarely left her farm. "My condolences," he murmured and he sounded almost sincere. Being a father now, Jefferson often wandered what life would be like for Grace if he were to be snatched away as cruelly as her mother. He had spent countless nights staring up at the ceiling and fretting over who would take care of her, teach her, love her as soundly as he had. Back in the woods, it had occurred to him briefly that if Grace had been alone and frightened and spitting up all over the tree roots, he would have hoped somebody would stop to save her. Maybe, in part, that was what had prompted him to pick her up and bring her here. Daddy, she had called and he'd imagined it was his own little girl mewling for him to hold her. "Snow White has lost a great many of her supporters these past few years." And who is to blame for that? some part of him mocked. Who helped to turn the Evil Queen onto this damning road of hers? A cowardly spinner, a simpering doctor and a man with a hat. It had been a long time still since he had touched that hat but he thought of those days and that particular week of his life often. Every time another body was felled by Her Majesty's men, he wondered if he shouldn't head straight to market and purchase a pair of gloves to hide the growing red stains on his hands. "A bit" he inquired, arching just one brow as the corner of his lip twitched in what might have been a smile. (Forever enigmatic, this one.) "I'd hate to encounter someone who is entirely in over their head, in that case. Probably wouldn't be much left to save." The morbid streak in his sense of humor reared its head sleepily from where it had been lying dormant due to all of his time with his daughter. Grace did not find the macabre especially amusing and he would hope she stayed that way for as long as humanly possible--her whole life if that were an option. He didn't say much about her impending departure, he only pursed his lips in mild deliberation then nodded at the plate he had set beside her. "Eat. You'll never get any better on an empty stomach. If you finish what's there, we have more in the kitchen." Not much more, of course. He would be rationing off part of his own food supply for her but if that was what it took to make her healthy and send her on her way, he could be a little hungry some nights this week. (But not Grace. Gods help him, his child should never want for anything he couldn't provide for her.) Princess Winnifred/ Freddie
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 27, 2014 17:16:32 GMT -5
Winnie’s face list up with interest when he expressed familiarity with camels and even Agrabah. Part of her yearned to ask questions but he had not shown himself to be particularly loquacious or friendly, so she kept her lips sealed tight. She had never met anyone who had been to Agrabah or any other land other than the Enchanted Forest, though she had met some who had fantastic adventures within the realm of the Enchanted Forest. Though she resisted the urge to ask, the interest was clearly written on her face and shining eyes. “Yes, that’s what I’ve read,” she said with a light huff of laughter when he mentioned their stench. “Growing up on a farm, though, I’ve always wondered if I would mind it very much.” Even that mild amount of excitement had sent her head spinning again and she let her eyes flutter shut for a few moments in hopes o f sending the dizziness off again. “Thank you.” She merely nodded her head noncommittally at the further talk of Snow White because it was difficult to tell where his loyalties lie and there were many consequences to supporting the wrong person in any household. For some, the Evil Queen would be their true queen, but others did still support Snow White. After her father was killed due to his support of Snow White, the family still held those loyalties but were much less likely to openly choose either side. They had already lost so much for it and were not interested in causing further damage to their family. Perhaps she should have been offended by his assessment of her ability to travel, but she couldn’t. For one that just wasn’t part of her personality, but he also knew very little about her journey and what she had been through so far. “I have been traveling for six months and this was my first major mishap,” she commented, softly. “But my brothers would certainly tell you, I am not meant for traveling, but none of us have done much of it. My brothers left for a short time to set up their own families, but that wasn’t much travel at all.” She realized she was rambling again but couldn’t help herself. Winnie was actually quite a good listener but when there was too much silence, she felt the need to fill it, even if it was obvious that the master of the house wasn’t so inclined to chatter. He didn’t seem to mind hers much, though, at least she thought. “I suppose it takes some practice.” Her family, knowing this incident, would definitely put more pressure on her to return home but she would simply avoid discussing it with them and make sure, when she left here she became more prepared. He was right about that at least; she couldn’t let something like this happen again because there might not be a kind gentleman to nurse her back to health again. “Perhaps you think me a fool for traveling but I think sometimes one needs the escape, whether it be in their nature or not,” she said, though it was perhaps too personal. He hadn’t even told her his name and yet now he knew about her father’s passing and her reasons for traveling, even if in a vague sense. Winnie had developed anxiety over tight spaces when she was young but when her brothers and their families moved back into the farmhouse, it had been too much for her. She had gotten by for some time with merely escaping into the area around them but something pushed her out further in the world and here she was. Perhaps she would never be known as an adventurer but she wanted to find her place in the world as well and she was fairly certain it wasn’t staying on the farm, as much as she loved her family. Winnie took several more pieces of the fruit and chewed them slowly. The food was making her feel much better and the warm tea kept the shivers away. “I would like to provide you with some money to pay for my food. It’s the least I could do. And I know that times are difficult for many in the kingdom. I will insist if you protest,” she said with a gentle smile, never one to come off as too aggressive or pushy. “Was my bag with me when you found me?” The Mad Hatter
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 28, 2014 21:39:21 GMT -5
"...I could never think anyone a fool for traveling," he murmured. "Too many of us so rarely leave the nest. Clipped wings. If you don't use them, one day you may wake to find them gone all together. Adaptation and all that." He nodded grimly. "I think exploration is brave. It just...also has it dangers. The world is lovely and lethal any day you wake within it." He dreaded the day that Grace turned her eyes up on him and asked Papa, what else is out there? Jefferson knew; he figured he had been most everywhere. Any place you went, there was bound to be beauty. But he had never visited a land, either, in which everyone was all that trustworthy. From Agrabah to Neverland to Olympia to the dozens of realms in the Enchanted Forest; across the board, humanity was both a magnificent victory and an agonizing failure. "You don't have to--" He began but she overlapped him with insistence before he could get any more out. Pursing his lips, he nodded shortly and then retreated again, returning some moments later with it in hand. Tentatively, he crossed the distance between them and held it out for her to take, at least an arm's length from the rest of him. "I kept it in the kitchen with me. In case there was anything that might prove dangerous in it," he explained, and he hoped that she understood what he was trying to teach her. Do these things. Follow my lead. This is how you stay safe. He could be direct with his own little girl as to how to address the world. But he had no right, no real grounds to tell another's daughter how she ought to conduct her survival. (He might have felt a little bad for her; she seemed like a young doe, wandering too close to glades staked out by predators and open fields behind the hunter's house. Certain creatures in the world required a bit of extra protection. One had to remember how domesticated many animals had become over time.) When she had the satchel in hand, he backed up again, leaning back against the wall beside the door, still studying her. "Why did you leave?" he asked, the words coming too fast for his mind to catch up and scold why are you asking? why do you care? "You seemed to feel a need for escape. A dire one, at that. I would not say that venturing outside what's known to you is something entirely in your nature." Maybe it was a little curt of him to confess as much, but, again, certain social skills were lacking these days. Or maybe he just didn't care. Apathy was no stranger to him, except when it came to his child. "So clearly you had reason to go. What was it?" He could have been suspicious, or just curious; it was hard to tell when he remained so stoic. Princess Winnifred/ Freddie
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 29, 2014 9:55:01 GMT -5
Again this man spoke from experience, Winnie could tell and she was just as fascinated by the stories she knew he must have. “Some are meant for being settled, I suppose. I think most of my family is and likely I am too, but for now, here I am, and I do not plan on returning home any time soon, despite this…setback,” she said. “But I will definitely be more careful.” She didn’t want him to think that his care for her would go to waste after she recovered. Winnie looks down at her blanket covered knees. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it sounds as if you have had your own journeys. There are many places I will only ever read about, but perhaps, just maybe, you would talk to me about some of the places you’ve been?” She looked up at him hesitantly with hope in her eyes. “Forgive me if that is too forward, but not many have been to other lands. It’s certainly acceptable if you’d rather not. I do not want to put you out more than I already have.” Winnie peered around the room again. It was difficult to tell if this was the master of the house’s room or perhaps a spare bedroom. Her eyes fell upon the dresser and that’s when she saw the hair ribbons. They were bright pink, the kind that only little girls would wear. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that discovery. She whipped her head back towards him when he entered the room once more with her bag but fell hard back against the pillows with a wave of dizziness. Winnie smiled tightly and nodded her head. She understood why he was being careful and she didn’t blame him, but she hoped that she could show him she would be of no danger to him, not now as she was covering nor once she was on her feet again. Winnie had never hurt another person in her life, aside from the playful (and sometimes not) roughhousing between siblings when she was younger. She could wield a weapon, at least when it came to slaughtering the farm animals but she hadn’t brought anything with her, which was probably a mistake but her journey was her own. The question was rather invasive and certainly would tell a lot about who Winnie was. Winnie toyed with the straps of her bag, gazing down as her slim, clean fingers wrapped around the dirty strap. “When my father passed, my brothers moved back home to help with the farm so we wouldn’t lose it. They brought their families and it became crowded. I don’t…like cramped spaces.” The way she spoke, made it clear there was more than a simple dislike for closed spaces. Winnie had been uncomfortable, certainly, but her anxiety levels had made many aspects of her life difficult. Even talking about it now, she felt the painful squeeze in her chest of anxiety creeping up. She could hardly stand to be in the house with her own family. Looking up at him, she gave a tense smile and a shrug of her slender shoulders as if to make the matter seem of little consequence even though it clearly wasn’t. It had brought the little farm girl out of her comfort zone and into a world of the unknown. Winnie let out a deep breath that was clearly meant to be calming to her. Digging into the bag, she found her coin purse and removed several pieces, nearly all of it, though it was not obvious in her features. She didn’t need much, as she was quite good at scavenging the plant life for food. “Please take this along with my appreciation and gratitude. It certainly is not enough to repay the debt of my life, but I hope it can ease the burden of my care somewhat.” She had noticed his hesitance to get close to her, so she placed it on the now empty board which he had brought food in, so he could take it away when he felt comfortable. Not wanting to look at him again, she found her eyes going back to the hair ribbons. Her sister still wore those in her hair. In a moment of boldness, she spoke. “Do you have a daughter, sir?” The Mad Hatter
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 29, 2014 19:44:43 GMT -5
"Claustrophobia," he agreed. He wouldn't expect her to know the formal term for it; she had grown up on a farm, after all. (Maybe that was a little prejudiced of him to assume her so uneducated but in his experience, the vast majority of rural citizens had no need for textbook analysis. It made sense; people did what kept them alive, what pertained to their survival. Farmers farmed. Doctors diagnosed. Jefferson traveled about collecting things.) "I imagine that must have been uncomfortable." He noted how she had fallen back against the pillow and his hand twitched. He took half a step in, then thought better of it and moved no further. "Keep drinking the tea. It will hydrate you. You'll feel a little stronger," he suggested instead. Having traveled through Agrabah more times than he cared to count, he knew the importance of a solid water supply. Some days in the desert, it was the difference between life and death. And maybe if she knew things like that, he would not find her lying in the woods again any time soon, he reasoned. He watched her putting the coins on the tray and thought smart girl--clever in her own way, for certainly it was an act of respect on her part, showing him that she understood the boundary between them and would not push him to cross it. He appreciated that. Where to start? he wondered, silently musing through the places he had been throughout his life. She'd seemed interested in Agrabah and she knew a bit about it, that might be good common ground to break. Alternately, he could tell her about Neverland, The Land Without Color (or that was what he called it), the kingdoms surrounding them in the Enchanted Forest that she might encounter if she kept walking in the direction he'd assumed she was headed in. There were a million stories to tell and Jefferson was not sure that he favored any all that high above the rest. He opened his mouth to start closest to home, in the lands that she would soon see for herself so that she knew what to watch out for and what to seek as she continued along her way. But she glanced to her side before he got the first word out and he followed her eyes as she asked him the one thing he had hoped not to answer. His shoulders stiffened and his mouth snapped shut. Stupid, he chastised himself. How had he missed the ribbons? "...No," he answered finally, keeping his voice level so that she would have trouble discerning if he was lying. "A family is an ill-suited idea for someone in my line of work." And it was, oh it was. He had learned that the hard way. "Too much traveling. Those belong to the little girl next door. She spent the night here while her parents traveled a few towns over this past week. She must have left them." The near-warmth, the willingness to share that had almost crept out from him recoiled and he pushed himself to stand straight. "I'll get you another glass of water. You should try to rest. You need it." He turned his back on her without another word, leaving her alone yet again. Princess Winnifred/ Freddie
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 29, 2014 22:25:06 GMT -5
Little had changed in the few days since she had been here. That first day she had thought there could be a change, but then the master of the house had clammed up and Winnie hadn’t been able to do anything to warm him to her. He didn’t spend much time with her, though, and she spent a lot of the last few days sleeping and working through the aftermath of the fever. Today she felt much better, though she could still feel the effects of her near death experience. Perhaps she looked better, as well, because the master had declared he was going to town and that she could fend for herself for the day. She guessed he expected her to continue to keep to the bed, but Winnie had several things she planned to do in repayment to him for the kindness and hospitality, even if he wasn’t particularly warm to her.
That was laid to rest early in the day as not long after Jefferson left, there was a knock on the door and Winnie hesitantly opened it to see an older couple with a little girl. All three looked surprised to see her and Winnie stared back with wide eyes. “Is Jefferson at home?” the woman asked and Winnie couldn’t help but smile. Ah, so that was his name. He had kept it a spectacular secret, but she was glad to know the name of the man who had cared for her the past few days. It didn’t seem right, not being able to thank him with the proper use of his name but that had seemed to be how he preferred it. The woman poked forward, peering over Winnie’s shoulder into the house. It might Winnie a little weary and she pulled the door shut somewhat so they couldn’t see into the house.
“He’s not in at the moment, but I can tell him you stopped by,” she said, trying to keep a hard edge to her voice to not seem week.
“No, that won’t do. This is his daughter and we’ve been watching her but we have been sent word of a family member on death’s door and we must leave at once. We need to leave her with you.”
“But-“ He said he didn’t have a daughter, she thought, but it quickly dawned on her the truth. He had lied in an attempt to protect his daughter from her. “I don’t think he would like that.”
“Well, girl, we either leave her with you or alone at our house.” Winnie looked at the little girl, who looked terrified and frightened at the prospect.
“Of course. I understand. She should stay here. This is her home,” she said, opening the door to indicate the little girl should come inside. The couple smiled in relief and let Jefferson’s child enter the house. “Thank you for bringing her here. I wish you luck with your journey.” She bid the couple goodbye and shut the door, letting out a deep breath to ease her nerves. She had not been expecting this, but it was only a child and Winnie was used to children; she did well with them. Turning around, she smiled at the girl who gazed at her with half weariness and half curiosity.
“Hi. My name’s Winnie. What’s your name?”
Several hours later and Winnie was certain she and Grace were on their way to becoming best friends. Grace was smart, sweet and had a zest for life. She had a curious nature that Winnie appreciated and when Winnie had asked if she would like to help her set up the garden, Grace eagerly agreed. That was how they ended up both kneeling in the dirt and using their hands and several small, rusty gardening tools that Grace had produced, to till the dirt. The sun was setting in the sky but there was still plenty of light left and they were having too much fun to really notice how much time had gone by, giggling and sharing stories. Grace was the first to see Jefferson and Winnie didn’t realize until Grace was jumping up from her spot, yelling ‘daddy’ and rushing up to him. She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her features as she watched daughter and father reunite, the obviously close relationship between the making her ache inside.
The brightness on her face dimmed somewhat as she caught his eye. Winnie swallowed tightly because she knew Jefferson hadn’t wanted her to know about Grace and certainly hadn’t intended for Winnie to meet Grace, and even more so probably wouldn’t be pleased that not only had Winnie met Grace when he wasn’t around, but she had been the sole caretaker of Grace while he had been away. Winnie rose to her feet, only then realizing how much energy she had exerted and how tired she was. She wobbled slightly but got to her feet to greet the master of the house as he approached. “The neighbors had a family emergency so they had to bring her here,” she explained before Grace chattered on about what they had done for the day, from the tea party to the baking to the start of the garden to the new vegetation they had collected that was edible. Once more Winnie couldn’t help the smile that spread onto her features, contagious as little Grace was. She hoped that Jefferson could see that Grace was in perfect condition, besides the dirt smeared across her face that Winnie shared, and that he wouldn’t be too angry. “I’ve done my best to care for her, Jefferson. And she's been quite a helper. Look, I started a garden." She stepped back towards the area she had tilled, feeling suddenly certain he would hate it. "And I found some plants that I know are edible that might provide more food for your...your family." She looked back at him hopeful.
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Mar 30, 2014 19:06:37 GMT -5
He hadn't been thrilled at the prospect of leaving the woman (alright, yes, Winnie--he knew her name) alone in his house but he'd had little choice in the end: the proverbial rock and the hard place. The money Winifred had offered in penance for her stay was more than he had seen all at once in some time but he had set it aside in a small pouch, meaning to return it to her bag silently before she left. With any luck, she would be several miles from their home by the time she realized it was there, and too tired or determined to turn back. The sentiment had been nice, but Jefferson was a little too proud to accept hand-outs. He and Grace had managed just fine without help from anyone thus far; he didn't see why they couldn't keep it up. And he hated feeling indebted to anyone. The threat seemed always to loom over his head. So he'd found himself hauling the week's stock of mushrooms and scattered herbs into town, the hole in the heel of one old shoe irritated constantly by dirt from the road. They'd sold their horse a year back to afford food for the winter months, when crops were harder to come by and the price at market of most anything was bound to go up. He wondered sometimes if the frost ate away at more than just the agriculture--if it might have found some means by which to burrow into people's hearts as well. He preferred the spring, when everything was colorful and people stopped in the town square to chat when they had finished selling their products. The chatter always excited Grace. The sun was nearly setting by the time his little cottage came into view in the distance. He was worn from the journey and from haggling with some of the newer customers and the promise of Grace's smiling face in the window was absent this week, as she was with their neighbors, only fouling his mood all the more. But as he reached the top of the last of the little hills separating him from his house, able now to make out the figures in the front yard, he was struck suddenly by the sound of her laughter and the realization that the tinier form was, in fact, his girl. For a solitary moment, he wasn't sure he recognized her. It wasn't to say that she wasn't cheerful around him, for most of their time together was ripe with mirth, it was just that it had been a long while since he had been allowed to watch that sparkle from a distance, and something about the way she giggled was the tiniest fraction different than before. There were moments he felt guilty that there wasn't more of a woman's touch to be found in their tiny, eclectic home. He had learned how to braid her hair (he was good at it, too) and he had the aesthetic eye for helping her match dresses and pick ribbons but there was something about a mother's soft hands he was certain Grace sometimes missed, even if she didn't realize it. He turned his head slightly and some of the euphoria ebbed at the realization of who she was with. He glanced to the west, where their neighbors' home was visible in the distance but there was no smoke billowing from the chimney and he understood at once that they had evacuated for one reason or another. A little panic made a mad dash through his veins; it was unlike them to up and go so quickly and without any communication with him. They had always been responsible when watching over Grace before. Then he heard, " Papa!" and caught sight of her running towards him, dispelling the fears from a moment before. He dropped his bag and stooped to his knees with a grin, opening his arms for her. (It was likely the first time he had appeared anything but apathetic in Winifred's company.) With his girl in his arms, he stood, spinning her around twice as she shrieked and then settling her on his hip. He dreaded the day she would be too grown for him to carry about so easily. Using his foot to kick the empty satchel up, he caught it gracefully in one hand and climbed the last of the path to their house, listening contently to her jabbering on about her day. When they reached Winifred, he glanced at her, still looking skeptical, though far from angry. "You're filthy, you little mouse," he murmured to Grace and he set her down, kissing her cheek and turning her, nudging her towards the door. "Go wash up so we can make supper." He waited until she had left them before he gave Winifred a second-over. He might have looked a little appraising this time around. "She's fond of you," he observed and then peeked down at their handiwork in the earth. It was an unexpected gesture, maybe a little presumptuous on her part and yet he found that he was oddly touched by it. After a beat of deliberation, he nodded and headed for the door, pushing it open and holding it for her. "Come along, then," he said simply, and a little more warmly than in days past. "You'll need to wash up too. We keep a clean house, here. Hard enough to do with one mud-happy girl, I don't need two trekking dirt everywhere." Princess Winnifred/ Freddie
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Mar 30, 2014 20:59:19 GMT -5
Winnie positively beamed, pleased with Jefferson’s assessment of Grace’s feelings for her. It was the most fun she had had in a long time. “She’s quite charming herself,” Winnie replied with obvious fondness for the little girl. Winnie loved her family, but wasn’t particularly close to any of them, mostly due to her having a much softer nature and being less outgoing. “I know it’s not quite what you wanted, but I am so glad to have met her. I feel so much better having been around her.” Despite all the exertions she had put herself through, she really did feel better, even if it was just morale.
Winnie was hardly surprised that he didn’t offer words of thanks. He had proven him to not be generous with words, but Winnie thought he was pleased, or at least he wasn’t angry. He didn’t shut down on her as he had other times. She didn’t expect anything harsher than that, not only because he had yet to show himself to be cruel, merely cold, but also because she suspected his daughter changed his behavior quite a bit. The nod he gave her warmed her though, because it was probably the friendliest thing he had done since he carried her limp body out of the rainy forest that day. “I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so kind to me. I hope I didn’t overstep,” she said with some concern written across her features.
She found the basket that they had collected some root vegetables and other edibles from the forest, mostly things that she hadn’t seen in the house, so thought perhaps Jefferson didn’t know about them, though he was clearly well settled here so she could be mistake. Leaning over was a mistake but she used the tall, stiff handle to keep her balance as the world tilted somewhat.
“Of course,” she said, kicking some of the dirt off her shoes before heading towards the door. Her own family wasn’t as concerned with the house being in tiptop shape, merely because they were often in and out and had six times as many people coming through it. Winnie paused in front of Jefferson as they both stood in the doorway, the basket between them. “I’m very sorry for overstepping. I’m not used to doing so little during the day.” She really had wanted to do something nice for Jefferson, but when Grace had come, she supposed she had gotten a little too comfortable in the house. Using more of his food resources was rude of her, but there was little she could do of it now. She smiled up at him, less tentative than it had been the past few days but not as wide and certain as when she was playing with Grace. “I’ll gladly restore anything as you see fit.”
When she entered the house and toed off her shoes, she was glad that she had made certain that they put away all the things they had used throughout the day. The pastries they had baked were neatly covered by a towel in a basket on the counter but otherwise there was no trace that the kitchen had been used. Grace’s tea supply wasn’t completely put away, as it had been hidden out of site when Jefferson had left, but it was neatly tucked. Grace was already at the water basin, washing the dirt off her fingers. Winnie settled the basket on the counter and went to join her. She giggled with Grace as she helped her clean the dirt off her face. “You did get very dirty,” she teased. They both did their best to clean up and Grace headed towards her room, but paused, turning back to look at them.
“Will you come play with me in my room, Winnie?”
Winnie looked to Jefferson but shook her head at Grace. “Not right now, Grace. I think I’ll help your father with dinner, if that’s acceptable to him,” she said, hopeful. Grace shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into her room, the room that Winnie had been using. Winnie let herself lean against the counter lightly, peering down at the floor. “I hope your trip to town was fruitful.”
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Post by The Mad Hatter on Apr 2, 2014 17:28:22 GMT -5
"She does tend to have that effect on people," Jefferson agreed because, certainly, everywhere that Grace danced through life, the world was left a little brighter in the trail that blazed behind her. He turned his eyes back towards Winifred, watching her stand and move to the basket. "Asking permission might have been the more polite thing to do. --But you meant it in kindness." Honestly, he was a little impressed with her handiwork in the garden. Grace had helped in some measures, but he knew his daughter well enough to be aware that her green thumb needed constant guidance not to turn brown and dirty with no crop to yield, either. He watched their house guest as she steadied herself on a spicket. His hand flexed and curled at his side but he stepped no closer. He entered the house after her, eyes momentarily snagging on how slender and soft her little bare feet looked. Jefferson had stomped the majority of the dirt off of his own boots but he kept them on as he tread through the hall and towards the kitchen in her wake. "You probably should be doing less for a while, at least," he half-scolded, another moment that seemed to mirror kindness. "You're still recovering. You don't want to relapse." And whereas yesterday, the words might have sounded pushy and unwelcoming, today they were closer to sincerity. Cleaning the kitchen had been a good call on Winnie's part, as the majority of the panic he felt at seeing everything not quite where he had left it ebbed to know that it was, in fact, probably cleaner than before. The sweet scent of the pastries wafted faintly past him, mostly hidden by the towel tucking them neatly into the basket. He thought he detected a hint of blackberry, which might have been Jefferson's favorite. Probably Grace had made the suggestion. He crossed to stand behind her, ruffling her hair affectionately and grinning a little at her disapproving glare. The coin from market felt heavy at his hip but he didn't dare put it away quite yet, uncomfortable as he was carrying it about with him. Even if Winifred had started a garden and sat to tea with his girl and baked a batch of fluffy, crisp pastries, it did not mean that was his cue to hand her a key to the front door. Or even hint at where he might have kept the little money that they had. Jefferson had known plenty of men who could fold their napkins neatly in their lap, play a wilting ballad on the harp like an angel or make a child topple over, a tower of giggles. He'd watched those same men when they signed an order for execution mechanically or gouged out a poor man's eyes because he picked an orange from their garden. He did give pause at Grace's request though, turning to look at her, quick to shield the hurt in his eyes. It had been a very long time since she had asked for anyone besides him. He'd forgotten how very poor he was at sharing her. Clearing his throat, he turned to gather spices from their cabinets, nodding once, a little colder, to signify that Winnie could stay and help in the kitchen. Better than to have her out of sight, alone with Grace. He might have been a little mad but he had flashes now and then, sweet as she seemed to be, of finding her kneeling, covered in his little girl's blood. He flexed and curled his fingers around one of the jars of dried oregano, setting it down harder than he meant to. He took a moment--collected himself, breathing deep into his stomach so that the tension left his shoulders and he could return to appearing stoic and untouched by the world, save for little Gracie. "It was as fruitful as it usually is at this time of year," he replied, not so much as looking her way as he gathered three bowls and plates and set them out on the table for later. "The crop is slim for now. Bad climate. Not as appetizing to the eye, this time of year. But it all sold." Some of it at markdown, but he didn't tell her that. "We'll get by. --Grace behaved herself? It's...strange that Marietta left her so quickly without speaking to me. Usually if something arises, she has her eldest boy walk Grace into town so that she's not left here alone." Princess Winnifred/ Freddie
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Post by Princess Winnifred/ Freddie on Apr 2, 2014 20:43:06 GMT -5
He was right that it would have been polite to ask first and normally Winnie was the type to be polite. In this situation, though, she felt as if what she had done was right. He didn’t seem to take well to the kindness of others, even if he was in the midst of performing kindness for Winnie. She hummed thoughtfully. “It might have, but I feel certain you would have said no,” she said, looking at him to see if he would deny it. “Besides it was meant as a pleasant surprise. It can hardly be a surprise if I had asked to begin with.” He was difficult to read, she was quite aware of that, but she did think she was getting slightly better at it, though it likely wouldn’t matter as by the time she really was able to read him it would be time for her to leave. He was pleased, even if he wouldn’t say the words and that made it worth it. Not to mention Grace. Winnie smiled to herself as she remembered the joy the tasks of the day had brought her and Grace. She couldn’t regret the actions because of that, of seeing the little blonde’s face light up. Winnie got the feeling that she was a bit lonely. “At the very least, Grace will enjoy it, I think.”
She knew that tomorrow, at the very least, she would have to take it much easier, but she didn’t respond, though she did note the tone of his voice. There was concern and she held happily onto it. In terms of morale, the break outside had been wonderful for her. Winnie was an outdoor girl, even if not what most would consider an adventurer. Living on a farm, though, one had to be outdoors a lot and Winnie had always enjoyed it. Outdoors was her escape, even before she had left the farm. But certainly she knew she should have taken it easier today, but it was over and nothing could be done now, except to rest easy tomorrow.
Her gaze kept on his face, trying to pick up any micro expression she could. She felt a jolt of sorrow for him, not pity. Clearly he and Grace were living here alone, without a wife. Winnie knew from experience that families could get through that, but her family was so much larger and she felt like that made it easier for them. Jefferson would have so much more on his shoulders and she was suddenly incredibly glad that she had given him her own kindness, even when he seem reluctant to let her. She wanted to do more for him and his daughter, to show him he didn’t have to be so alone. It was a huge task to accomplish, though, and she didn’t know how much time she would have to do it, to help him open. Winnie found herself wondering what else he had been through. His less than welcoming acceptance of her help in the kitchen didn’t dim her smile this time, but she did let herself sink into one of the chairs at the table, needing to let her shaking legs take a brief rest.
The slam of the spice on the counter was one of the more obvious tells of his feelings, but Winnie didn’t focus on it. Today hadn’t gone as he had hoped after all, something she had almost forgotten. “They seemed in quite a rush. A family member has taken ill is what they said, and they were forced to make haste,” she said. That knock on the door seemed like days ago, even though it had only been hours. “I’m sure if they had any other choice, they would have taken it. I do hope their relative turns out okay.”
Winnie fell silent with contemplation, watching the master of the house as he moved about. Despite her claim of helping, she remained at the kitchen table. Now that she was sitting, she wasn’t sure she could get back up without falling over. “Perhaps it would be best if I, too, left. It does not feel right to put you in the position to be apart from your daughter,” she said, gazing down at the table and running her fingers along some of the scratches on the surface. She knew she still needed at least a week or so of rest, if not more, before she was fully recovered. “Perhaps at the market I could find some accommodations.” Winnie strongly disliked the marketplaces; they were entirely too busy and crowded for her. When she was young, her mother had forced her to go along until finally her panic attacks grew too strong and disruptive, and her mother had finally allowed that it wasn’t the right place for her. She had very rarely ever made it back since she was young and would gladly keep it that way.
She didn’t have money for an inn or any other accommodation, it was likely, at least not for long as it would take for her to recover, nor did it sound like an appealing option. As weary as they both were of each other, Winnie supposed she did trust Jefferson to some extent. If he had wanted to kill her or do anything else unsavory, he surely wouldn’t be waiting until she recovered to do so. And seeing now that he had a daughter, many of his mannerisms and hesitation made a lot more sense. Winnie stood, taking a moment to gain her bearings before she moved to one of the drawers of the kitchen, bringing herself close to Jefferson, turning her body so she was facing him. “I would rather I didn’t outstay my welcome and I’m fairly sure the moment I woke up, I already had,” she said with some semblance of a joke in her voice, though the crease of her brow showed her displeasure. “Knives, forks or spoons?”
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