Welcome to Gaia! ::

(It's okay Serene *hug*)

((WTF! Why does Gaia censor the word I wanted to use?

Oh well, I'll get around it. cool
I found out that Lewis Carroll may have been a p e d o p h i l e, which is funny because of what my Lewis did to Ven. 8D))

Gestalt paused. Jack Heart? How did she know the true name of the Jack of Hearts? Perhaps it was obvious. Perhaps she had made a simple nickname out of his Suit status. Still, she clearly knew more than she should have.

"Who did we kill that holds meaning to you?" he said, strangely eerie for his usual bland tone of voice, as he inched his face closer to the girl's.


Lewis leaned against the wall beside the Jack of Diamonds' office, tapping his fingernails on his arms. He would have to wait for Jack to return from whatever he was doing to inform him also of the boy called Ven.

" `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe," he began to sing softly, "All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Such a lovely song, sung by all of Wonderland . . . and yet . . . that was the song shared by Carroll and I . . . that was our song.


" 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!' " A seven-year-old Lewis chanted, running alongside a young girl just a year his junior.


"He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought . . ." The girl's voice was high, as most girls' sound, with a tone to it that was as clear as a bell. Her length of waist-length deep red hair flew about as she ran from a screaming man with her brother beside her. Her bangs had now stuck to her face from corn syrup and food coloring, a solution her and Lewis had made to make her appear dead.

"Get back here, you bloody kids," the man shouted, waving a fist.

"Stop him, Lewis!" she laughed, turning her face momentarily to stick her tongue at the man.

"Gladly!" Lewis reached into the pocket of his trousers, withdrawing a large rock and tossing it at the man.

"Run faster, Carroll!" Lewis shouted.

"I'll try!" Carroll replied, "If I didn't have to wear these shoes, I would be fine!"

"Well, you can't take them off, so we just have to keep running," Lewis panted, now a little frightened that the man was even more angered.


"Carroll! Your dress! You've torn it!" Mr. Liddell shouted, seizing his daughter by the ear. "And your shoes are filthy! Haven't you any class?!" Mr. Liddell proceeded to slapping Carroll on the ears and face, not caring that she was shrieking in pain.

"And you, Lewis!" Mr. Liddell approached his son quickly, grabbing him by the hair. "Your clothes are disgusting! And how could you make your sister play such . . . such . . . disgusting games? You . . . you sick, disfigured demon!"

Mr. Liddell slapped Lewis across his face multiple times before throwing him into a wall. "Disgusting children . . ." he spat before leaving the scene.

Despite having been tossed around and having their ears boxed, Lewis and Carroll lifted their heads from the floor, smiling mischievously at each other and sharing a hearty laugh.


"Lewis! Lewis!" Carroll called, running to her dear brother. "Look at what I've brought!" Carroll's gloved hands removed from her bag a rope tied in the most interesting and intricate knot.

"Our harness?" Lewis said with a wide grin. "Carroll dear, you mean to . . . ?"

"Precisely!" Carroll sang, her smile widening. "Let's play suicide!"

Lewis smiled deeply at his sister. Years had passed since their childhood and yet Carroll still possessed with her a childish spirit. They had changed, both physicall and mentally. Lewis had grown his hair to his waist and Carroll had cut hers to her shoulders. She became fond of expensive clothing and make-up while Lewis prefered oversized clothing and top hats and absolutely adored his high pointed-toe boots.

"Come outside, Carroll," Lewis cooed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't feel the need to work today anyway. Let's play suicide."


"It's been a suicide!" the shrill voice of an old, plump woman shrieked, pointing at the motionless, hanging body of Lewis Liddell. "The undertaker has hung himself!"

The woman's voice had drew many people, all coming to the death scene and pointing in awe at Lewis. His hands were at his hips and his head was hung low. His top hat lay at his dangling feet.

"Stand aside, everyone!" an older and more authoritative voice said, as a tall, bulit man in a black suit with a pipe at his lip approached the scene. He straightened his waist coat and lifted his hat. "Dodo here. It has come to my attention that," he signalled a gloved hand at the body's direction, "That Mr. Lewis Liddell has hung himself."

Many cries issued after Dodo's remark. An older woman even fainted on a group of people behind her.

"Settle down, settle down," Dodo sighed, removing the pipe from his mouth. The smug look on his face indicated impatience and even pity.

"Now, have all of you gone as mad as the Hatter?" he said in a mocking tone, "Have all of you mercury on the brims of your hats? Observe!" Dodo pointed to the ground below Lewis' feet. "Observe! There is nothing for him to have stood on! Isn't there usually a chair or a stool at a suicide scene such as this?"

"B-but Mr. Dodo," a rather frightened woman stuttered, her bony hands pointint to the branch of the tree that Lewis was hanging from, "Couldn't he have . . . have c-climbed up the tree and hung himself? Who takes a stool to a--"

The woman was immediately cut off by the sound of Lewis shrieking.

The whole crowd of people, including Dodo, screamed at the top of their lungs as they observed the screaming and grinning Lewis Liddell waving his arms about.

"Fooled you! All of you!" Lewis cackled, waving at the crowd, "Oh, the look on your face was priceless, Mr. Dodo!"

"B-but . . .but . . . but," Dodo stuttered, dropping his pipe to the ground in disbelief, "H-H-H-How?!"

The bushes behind the trees rustled and out stepped the hour-glass figure of Carroll Liddell, her gloved hands holding a rope with all her might. "Greetings, Mr. Dodo and all else," Carroll sang, waving vigerously, "I have my brother safe and sound!"

Lewis laughed maniacally, unbuttoning his over-sized coat as quickly as he could and dropping it to the ground. Tied around his terribly skinny chest was another rope.

"Damn you, Liddell! Both of you!" Dodo shouted, pointing angrily at the amused siblings. "You are sickening! The both of you!"

The crowd of people dwindled to no one as Lewis and Carroll laughed and waved, bidding them a rather grim farewell.


"Lewis! You had better be in there!" Carroll stormed into the hospital room in which her brother laid. "Oh! Oh . . . Lewis!" Carroll placed her hands to her mouth at the sight of Lewis laying with his leg in a cast and his face and neck covered in bandages. "Lewis!" she shrieked quite horrified, placing a cold, gloved hand on Lewis' cheek.

"Who did this?" she screamed, with not a care if anyone in the building would hear her.

Lewis turned his weak eyes to his sister. He could barely make out her tear-stained face with his fringes of silver hair covering his eyes. "Th-The . . . The . . ." he croaked, "The Knave . . . of Hearts . . . he . . . he tried . . . to escape Jack . . . with the Queen's . . . Queen's Tarts . . ."

"The Knave?!" Carroll shrieked, her narrow red eyes releasing more tears, "Oh . . . Oh, Lewis, I always always knew he was trouble!" She rested her face on her brother's chest and sobbed.

"C-Carroll . . . I can't . . . I can't breathe," Lewis whispered, his sister immediately lifting her face from his chest.

"My . . . my leg has . . . has been crushed."

"Don't speak anymore!" Carroll whispered harshly, pushing Lewis' hair out of his eye. She layed a gentle kiss on his left, disfigured eye. "Don't speak anymore," she whispered again, laying two more kisses on his eye. "Stay still. Just . . . just focus on recovering. Please . . . you're in too much pain."

Slowly, Lewis lifted a weakened hand and placed it on the back of her head. "Look at me," he whispered gently.

Carroll lifted her teary face, her red lips quivering. "Brother . . . I'm . . . I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice now cracked.

"Don't apologize, Carroll," Lewis whispered, pulling his sister's face close to his and laying lips on hers. He gripped her hair tightly but not roughly as their lips moved in unison. He gently pulled Carroll away from him, leaving them millimeters apart as he breathed on her lips, "I . . . I love you . . . m-more than . . . y-you'll ever know."

Carroll's lips trembled, but she managed to press them together into a weak smile before saying, "Oh, Lewis. You always say that," she sobbed, "I love you too, dear brother." She rested her face on his shoulder, kissing at the wounds on her brother's face.

" `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves," Carroll began to sing softly, "Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Lewis layed a hand on his sister's head, pressing his wounded lips together. He knew deep in his heart that Carroll would never know how much he truly loved her.

"Beware the . . . the Jabberwock, m-my son!" Lewis whispered after her, "The jaws . . . that bite, the claws . . . the claws that catch!
Beware th-the Jubjub bird, a-and shun
The fr-frumious Bandersnatch!"


"Carroll! I'm home, Carroll!" Lewis shouted. Months had passed since he had been hospitalized and his leg had healed considerably. He walked with a limp now, partially because of his injury, but also because his leg was still in a brace. He had to force his limping body forward with a tall black cain. He wasn't fully healed, after all.

"Carroll! I'm home!" He forced the door of his shabby home open and limped inside. "Surely, you must know that I was to be discharged today!" He moved slowly into the deserted house. "Carroll, are you hiding from me?"

The undertaker gasped lightly, noticing a strange figure in the distance dangling from a tree. He slammed his door shut and approached the hanging body as quickly has he could. As he drew closer, his heart began to sink. There was a strange and rather striking resemblance to the body he now knew as female hanging from the tree.

"C-Carroll?"

Indeed, it was his sister, hanging with her head low from the tree. She hung by a noose and Lewis noticed another rope hanging from inside her jacket.

"Carroll!" he screamed, dropping his cane and falling to the ground beneath her. "Carroll! What have you done?!" He reached a hand out to her foot, attempting to reach her shoe and pull her down by the ankle. "Carroll! Y-you can't play suicide without a second person! What was going through that stupid mind of yours?! Carroll! Please, wake up!"

The pattering of footsteps near the house alerted Lewis, causing him to turn back and wave for help. "Please, somebody! My sister has hung herself and I can't get up!"

To his dismay, the people shook their heads and stepped away from the death scene.

"No, please! My sister Carroll is dead! I can't get up! Please! Help me!"

Still, the people walked, ignoring the man who had pretended to be dead numerous times in his life. "I'm not the boy who cried wolf . . ." Lewis sobbed to himself, tears streaming down his face. "Help!"


"Dozens of roses," Lewis muttered to florist who stood before him, "I want all the roses you can possibly give me. Give me all of your red, white, and black roses."

"Mr. Liddell, undertaker, sir," the florist stuttered, pushing his glasses up his nose nervously, "That will cost you a fortune."

"Do I look like I care?!" Lewis shouted, "I asked for all of your red, white, and black roses right away!"

"Y-yes sir," the florist shrieked, jotting down the undertaker's order on his paper and running for the door.

Lewis sighed heavily, limping to his room where a special coffin resided. This was his most expensive coffin yet, crafted from the finest cherry wood, lined in silk and velvet, with even a cushion to prop the body's head.

He lifted the lid from the coffin, laying eyes on the dead body of his sister. "Everything will be perfect for you, Carroll," Lewis whispered, running a black fingernail down her jaw. "Your coffin will be filled with roses. You will be laying on dozens of red roses. You will be dressed in the finest black dress and veil. The entire ceremony hall will be decorated with black roses and baby's breath and you will hold in your lovely, piano hands a bouquet of white roses. You will not be burned. I will have you buried with a tombstone above your grave, where all can lay their flowers for you."

A lone tear rolled down Lewis' cheek as he cradled his sister's body in his arms. "This coffin is rather large, isn't it? There's room inside for two."

The undertaker rested his body inside of his sister's coffin, holding her motionless figure close to his. The shadows of the night filled the room as he whispered their beloved song into her ear.

" `Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

Rot in hell? That was a rather strange concept for Gestalt, a doll, an object, one without a soul to be judged. When his body perished, everything that was him would disappear with his existence. His memories, his sense of logic, his purpose in life, all of that would diminish.

"Mathius Hatter," Gestalt murmured, "Ah yes, I did hear of his death. His death was necessary, young lady. He was a part of the resistance, a group who's purpose is to take us down. You most likely already know of that," Gestalt gazed at the girl's wings, "Miss. Gryphon."

((I heart Lewis even more))

Nobody left out a small laugh "We wouldn't want that now, would we?" he said placing a soft kiss to maria's lips once more before walking to the door "I shall return" he said exiting the house and directing his steps to wards the looking glass, no time for retrieving the carriage.

Marcie watched the white queen walk away from her house and wondered what might had been going on, she had searched for ashle far and wide and had not found her nowhere, no one had seen her either, it was like she had disappeared, might she ad gone back to her world? perhaps, she would search the castle tomorrow and if ashle was not there she would search the 'other' world.

((Exel, we ROCK this place with our posts.
Seriously, we run the story now! cool

And Ven . . . well, he's twenty and Lewis is REALLY old! Nasty age difference is nasty . . . but you know what they say? Nasty is one letter away from "tasty". 8D ))

"So, I have to find the resistance on the East side and destroy them," Raven sighed to himself, pacing Wonderland's crooked roads once again. His gun was at his thigh. His blades were in his sleeves. His shoes were shined. Everything seemed right. Still, Raven was worried, and it wasn't because he had to kill. It was the wad of money in his wallet.

Raven was notoriously bad with money. He knew that the streets of Wonderland were lined with pachinko parlors and gambling halls in the East side. He would definitely empty his wallet and leave himself without food or a place to stay once again.

I don't see a problem in that; if I run into Marchy . . . perhaps I can stay with her again . . . I do miss her dearly, after all.

The very thought of Marcie made Raven's heart flutter and he smiled gently. The shirt she had allowed him to borrow was left behind in the castle, along with the mask that was given to him by the previous Ace of Hearts and the napkin of poetry he had written on in Marcie's other home. Still, he carried her dearly in his heart, thinking of her with every step he took.



The silence was driving Siyu mad. He was used to staying silent among the Suits, which drove them angry with him. He was not interested in social interaction and didn't care about making friends. Still, walking alongside Shinsei without a word since they left the castle, Siyu could no longer take it.

"Alright!" he shouted into the black sky, "Please say something to me!" He seized Shinsei by the shoulders and pulled him close. "Please, speak to me. Aren't you worried about . . . about . . . the contents in that folder?"



Jack walked briskly back to his office, once again savoring the frightened auras that resonated from passing Suits. Thirteen hours . . . yes, that should suffice . . .

Jack snickered, hearing the screams of the Eight of Spades in the distance. By the sound of it, the boy was being faced with hidden memories. It was this sort of effect that made Jack so fond of this punishment. He had heard from many Suits, particularly the Two of Spades, that he should lock himself in the solitary confinement chamber. Jack hadn't been ZIPPed and therefore had no memories to hide. Still, he wondered what would happen if he was put inside.

"Lewis, I spotted you before I escorted the Eight," Jack murmured, opening the door for his friend. "Do step inside and stop your singing. You are drawing attention to yourself."

"As if I don't already draw attention to myself," Lewis chuckled, limping inside Jack's office.

"Well, Jack dear," Lewis laughed after Jack closed the door and locked it, "I met the son of an old friend today."

"Oh?" Jack raised an eyebrow, taking a seat at his desk. He eyed the drink that sat in the corner, now in disgust. It had grown warm and he no longer desired it.

"Remember the Knave of Hearts?" Lewis snickered, his grin widening, "I met his son today. He calls himself 'Ven' and he is out for the Suits, the Ace of Diamonds in particular."

Fire instantly filled the Jack of Diamonds' veins at the mention of the Knave of Hearts, a pleasuring fire. "He had a son that we didn't know about?" Jack closed his eyes and sighed, "Well, I have an entire resistance coming after me. One more brat will not make a difference. Besides, if it's Knave's son we're talking about," Jack's lips curved upward, "Then he will put up a fight. The Vendette family is known for their fighting spirit and passion. He is out for the Ace of Diamonds? Well, the current Ace of Diamonds was only a Two when he was assigned that mission. Perhaps this 'Ven' boy is going after the wrong person. After all, I'm the one who assigned the mission."


Victor and Ven were nearing the Looking Glass now. They had walked a considerable distance with few words and Victor wanted to know so much about his new recruit.

"So, Ven," Victor said, breaking the silence, "Your real name is Lucian, you're twenty years old, like me . . . you're trained in the art of the sword . . . and you want to take down the Suits." Victor smiled gently. "Those are the basics. Tell me a little more about yourself . . . in fact," Victor gazed at the curved black markings on Ven's left bicep, "Your tattoo, what does it mean? Certainly, every tattoo carries a story."


"I see," Gestalt said after a moment of silence, "You came from the world beyond the Looking Glass."

The Gryphon family had disappeared some time ago and it remained a mystery in Wonderland as to where they went or why they departed. Now, here was a descendant of the Gryphon family before him, a girl who hadn't known she was part of the family.

"Then tell me, young miss," Gestalt said, now having sensed movement grabbed a hold of the girl's wrists, "What business do you suppose you have in Wonderland, particularly with the Suits?"

((THANK YOU, EXEL! heart ))

"One of my good friends is a Suit, didn't you already get that memo, idiot? I'm here because my Hatter had a shop, and I plan on running it in honor of him..." said Ashle, her voice rising. His grip was like iron on her wrists. "Is there a reason why you're holding my wrists, sir? That would be called sexual harassment where I'm from..."