Perhaps less tragic (to most) was the absence of one Life Trainee, who had apparently been consumed by a painting, if the sight before them was to be believed. Mimsy had no knowledge of the disquieting visage that those who remained were experiencing, but she had one of her own to handle.
And she was ill-equipped.
Sitting neatly at the tea table, more an oversized doll than any semblance of a scientist, she surveyed the spread provided by her generous host, eyes wide, lips parted just enough to indicate that she truly wished that she could find any series of words to say at this moment. Her blank stare slowly transitioned at first to confusion, then to silent distress. A tightness crept into her chest, coiling within her throat until she didn't want to breathe any more, and everything was grey and it was coming for her, wasn--
With a startled gasp and a rattling cough she was anchored in reality again, if this could be considered as such, her host's spoken worries pulling her back to the table and gently replacing her in the chair. She seemed so eager to please that Mimsy could only nod in response, though it was unclear whether or not the girl was paying her any attention, or if she spoke to some transposed vision of someone she once knew.
The piles of fog-based confections upon her plate grew and grew as the girl spoke--
'Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Hatter's remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English.'
--and she realized that she must have begun to shake her head at some point, because the gesture was becoming more and more insistent and more and more plans spilled from their mouth, her excitement like a rolling fog in fast-forward, stinging at her skin as a sprouting pity tried to coax her to agree. To try the cookies. Maybe the cake. Didn't she remember what it was like to be alone with empty palms that grasped for approval? How could she decline, or say she was too busy; couldn't she see how hard they had worked?
As deep as her regrets ran, they must not have worked quickly enough. She was still shaking her head when grey-eager became grey-disappointment, and there was no time to return the unwanted dessert before she blinked again, and this was reality, wasn't it, commotion in a gallery and too many questioning looks?
Svensyl giggled.
Recalling the parting gift (which had been more a crown than a cake, hadn't it), Mimsy hastily stretched her fingers and turned her hands until her palms faced upward. No 'cake' there. None on the floor. She held nothing that might appear like a stolen gallery piece, but the glances she caught indicated that something had happend.
What had she done?
Panicked eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next, but she had no time to gauge what the most beneficial option might be. She chose instead to leave with the rest of them, no desire in the slightest to be left alone in this gallery.
With calculated strides, she moved towards familiarity, took Kostya's hand in her right, Lucky's wrist in her left, then briskly exited without a single word.
astrabot
Astaraei
