Welcome to Gaia! ::

You walk along a single path for quite a long time until you finally reach a set of gates, long white elaborate gates. Slowly, just slowly they open. Inside is impressive: a long seemingly infinite hallway, a great hall with mirrors on either side. Faces peer out from the mirrors, white, pale faces that are entirely unfamiliar. Some mirrors are cracked, empty and black. The further you walk in the darker it gets until you reach the very end of hallway. There is a single throne with no occupant. Despite any others that were nearby, this room is surprisingly empty with only you and the mirrors.

"Stand," booms a voice, but it is wispy and brittle, the sound of thousands of icicles bristling before a snowstorm, "stand, visitor, and listen. I cannot be freed so I am unafraid for I am [ Grief ] and a container. I exist to ease the pain of destruction. I will not move until this purpose is completed."

"Now, visitor, you cannot defeat nor free me. You may explore my castle if you wish, but I have a few questions. I have very little visitors as a prisoner. Answer my questions, tell me a story, tell me about your world, and I will give you something in return. May it serve you well if the fates misalign and I am freed one day."

MAIN QUEST: THE WHITE QUEEN
- Look at the questions below and answer these asked questions ICLY, whatever pertains to your character. Please do these in order! You can do all of this in one post. [ You must finish this quest before you start any of the WHITE QUEEN sidequests ]







Quest Complete Reward:
After completing the quest, please claim this prize. You can only claim this prize ONCE even if you come back to do more of these effects. The doors that open up lead to the SIDE QUESTS.

+ 10 levels
+ 5 loot cards you can redeem HERE
+ 4 fragments. Don't forget to claim it HERE

This place? Eerie? Just a little bit. The girl found herself on guard as she wandered down the path and through the gates, travelling through the hall with a sense of uneasiness. Gaze flickering towards the mirrors that lined the walls, a little shiver ran down her spine at the faces that stared back at her. She wasn't sure who they were, but perhaps that was for the best.

Upon reaching the end, she realized that there was a throne in place, and yet...nothing else. It was chillingly quiet and completely devoid of any other presence--or so she thought, when she heard the voice.

Straightening immediately at the commanding voice, Nightbloom glanced around in search of the speaker, only to find nothing but herself, the throne, and the mirrors for company. Shaking her head, she turned her full attention to actually listening to what the stranger had to say, head cocked to the side. When it told her that it had some questions for her, she felt her heart pick up in nervousness, but she remained silent. Best to be obedient here.

First, she was asked about her real self. "My name is Xiuying, and I am a baku," Nightbloom started slowly, deciding to go with the basics, "I...I was--am--a recent graduate of Amityville." She decided to keep it simple, wondering for a moment if her reply was satisfactory when the voice moved on.

Nodding at the next question, she let out a quiet hum. "A lot has happened, really. I partook in whatever quests I could, and early on, I managed to run into a player named Shadowstep. Along with NotAllan, we formed a guild--Penumbra--and we've been working together ever since." And was she ever grateful for their company as well--there was no way she could have gotten through anything on her own.

The following inquiry earned a bit of a frown, because there was so much that she could say. "I'm from Halloween. There, we young Halloween creatures--ranging from demons, to monsters, to ghosts and the undead--attend school to learn about a variety of topics. Much of it is related to humans and gaining FEAR, though there are others that are a little more leisurely, like home eek."

The girl found herself smiling at the thought, and then she cleared her throat. "But besides that, it's such a broad world. There's too much I can say about it and not enough time, but I do love it--especially the people there--very dearly."

Another question. Nightbloom was beginning to wonder how many there were going to be, but it wasn't like she had a place to refuse. It was an odd question though. Had she ever been hurt by anyone...?

"Not...to memory," She answered slowly, "Perhaps over little things, like unintentionally being left out, but none of the people I love have really seriously hurt me. They're good people--I don't think they'd do such a thing on purpose, and if it was by accident, I'd like to think that I'd forgive them."

"As for what I'm afraid of..." A laugh, soft and weak, "Losing the aforementioned people I care about, or being captured by the Hunters and forced into a weapon--or Jack forbid, failed weapon--form." That one was actually an easy one to answer. Nightbloom actually found that to be a little sad.

...A secret? Uh...okay, that was a little harder. Frowning thoughtfully, she pondered on the question for a while before ducking her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I may have liked one of my male friends in the past--I met him in first year--but I never really did tell him. We're still friends, though no one knows about this--except you now, I mean."

And finally, it seemed like she had one more question. This one was also easy, and Nightbloom stood up a little straighter, shoulders squared and lips curved into a small frown.

"Right now, there is nothing I'd like more than to get out of here and find all my friends and family safe. That's it."

And with that, the White Queen was done. Tilting her head in confusion at the voice's words, the Cheshire Cat abruptly stepped back in surprise when a number of the mirrors opened up.

Looked like it was time to move on.

"Stand."

Robert felt a cold shiver run down his spine when he first heard her voice. It was ethereal and unpleasant.

"Stand, visitor, and listen. I cannot be freed so I am unafraid for I am [ Grief ] and a container. I exist to ease the pain of destruction. I will not move until this purpose is completed."

The White Queen - he remembered ALICE's words, and crouched defensively, but immediately she informed him that he couldn't defeat or free her. She could have been lying, but there was no point in assuming that was nothing but the truth. All she wanted was answers to questions, after all.

Questions about him. His life. His memories.

First, visitor, tell me about yourself. Your real self.

"Robert." He answers, but the one word just makes the room colder. "I'm.. I'm a fighter. I'm strong." None of this is enough for her. Her silence presses him on. "I love. That's who I am, and I don't care if it's a simple answer. That's .. who I am. Big, dumb idiot who knows how to do one thing right, and it's because it's all I know. It's all I am. I love."

That, it seemed, was enough.

Next visitor, I want to hear about your journey.

Now this was a question he could answer! "Well, that's simple really. We came to this world, which is quite delightful by the way, thank you very much ALICE if you're listening! But we came from a dream, and we've had a chance to explore the world of the book. It's everything the book had, and more. Colors, sights, sounds, the food, oh, the food, have you tried the food?" Of course she hadn't, she was nothing but a shell. "It's been a miracle, from start to finish. I've really loved it here."

But he couldn't manage to get himself to say the one thing he knew she would want him to say. He couldn't manage to say that he wanted to stay here forever, anymore.

Explain to me the world you live in. Not this one, the one your real bodies occupy.

"Back home?" He tries to remember. "It's hard.. every minute I spend here makes it harder to remember. It was.. a lot of grey. Grey, and white, and death, and decisions. Very little sleep, horrible food, and fighting. So much fighting." As much as he couldn't admit he wanted to stay here, he was starting to dread the idea of returning, as well. "Nothing like the beauty of Wonderland, I'll tell you that much. Just.. real."

And that was the difference, really. It was real. And sometimes, that had to be enough.


Have you ever been hurt by someone you love?

"Yeah." The truth is too easy.

She asks you how and when.

"Too many times to count, miss. Like, I don't know if you understand, but when you love someone - truly love someone - you're putting yourself at risk. And it's always worth it, it is, but when you love as hard as I do, there's a whole lot of risk involved. And I just.." When he thinks about the specific times he'd been hurt, he realizes they were moments he couldn't discuss with this stranger. "Just, too much to talk about."


What are you afraid of?

"Losing Mimsy." Again, the truth is too easy. It slips out before he can think about it. "Specifically, to this place, if I'm gonna be honest." A soft chuckle escapes him. "But sometimes I'm scared of losing her in general. She always feels like she's on the cusp of flying out of my grasp. I don't wanna hold on too tight, but you know." He shrugs. "Gotta try my best."

Tell me a secret about yourself.

"Why should I?" He finally feels the rage of answering questions to someone whose face he can't even recognize. "Why don't you tell me a secret? Why don't you come off your high throne and tell me why we're all-" His entire body freezes, like a shimmering cloak of frost has wrapped itself around him. "Fine, fine. Jesus. Secret. I'm.. really.." Once it came to him, he winces, because it's a secret he's been hiding so well, even he wasn't completely aware of it.

"I'm scared I'm starting to lose my mind. And if I lose it, I know it ain't coming back."

This Mad Hatter persona wasn't who he really was. But it was starting to be. And Robert was starting to lose himself, in the process. Pretty soon, the AI might as well consider him part of the programming.

What is it that you wish for the most?

"That's simple, miss." For once, he didn't look sad. "I wish I was just right."

And here they had a castle, grand and shining white like the peaks of the old Death territory. SANDSHARK couldn't say he wasn't impressed, at least, as he strode down the long hall of broken mirrors and tarnished carpets towards the throne room. This place had an air of regality, tragic regality sure, but beautiful nonetheless.

The throne, empty, was just as beautiful The voice that boomed and questioned and broke, haunting. She had questions of him, this Queen of Grief. He rumbled a dark chuckle, sighing as he cracked knuckles. "Ah, Queen, I believe you know all of my people." He sighed, face hardening.

Taking a cross-legged seat facing the empty throne, he began the interview. "I am Uttam of the Lost Clans, formerly known as the Four Clans of the Apocalypse. I am a soldier by trade, a scholar and trinket crafter by moonlight. I believe that is sufficient enough, for now."

The next question, what about his journey? He tapped his chin, trying to sort out what to say. "Well, Queen, it's been an odd journey to say the least. Filled with snakes and pastries, as well as a group of unlikely... associates. We've become quite powerful, and now we are here." He answered, straight backed and cockily grinning. That should have been good enough to cover his bases.

He inhaled sharply at her question about the out of game world, hands clenched onto his knees. "It's depraved, a dump. A place that simply sits by and lets the inferior play dirty tricks to crush those who would naturally prey on them. The world of the prey was meant to be eliminated for a reason." He hissed.

"No, I have not experienced hurt from a loved one. I have loved none, but a child who was taken by the prey. The prey has hurt me." His knuckles were beginning to bleach, his lips a thin line. These questions were more probing than he'd have liked.

"I fear nothing. I know the prey will fall, and I will be a means that end. Nothing more." SANDSHARK spat, squirming in his seat now.

A secret? What kind of... well, no one else was around. They'd hopefully not cross paths again - plus, according to that ALICE thing, it was just a construct. It couldn't hurt to tell the entity...

"I cowered under shelter my first battle." He breezed through the question, rolling his shoulders. Multiple soldiers did, but they all tried to cover the shameful act up. "And as I've stated, I wish to end the prey. They have served their purpose - we can always find new prey."

And then the presence left him, a mirror opening up to reveal a plethora of experience and cards.

MY STATS

My character’s username: SANDSHARK
My character’s level: 50 -> 60
Character’s HP: 40
Character’s Job Class: Gryphon
Current party: n / a
Current Guild: Penumbra
Location: Tea Party
Small IC description of character: A tall and bony man with a gold trimmed coat and long auburn hair covering his eyepatch. Tends to have a sneer on his face and looks down his nose at people.
Character journal: Here!

"Stand," boomed a voice, wispy and brittle, the sound of thousands of icicles bristling before a snowstorm, "stand, visitor, and listen. I cannot be freed so I am unafraid, for I am [ Grief ] and a container. I exist to ease the pain of destruction. I will not move until this purpose is completed."

"Then your existence is contrary to my design, I am afraid," Mimsy admitted with a smile, nothing more than a pleasant fact, amusing in its contradiction.

"I have found no pain in Destruction; only opportunity, and satisfaction, and a world of my own. Destruction has mended the rifts between my goals and myself, and has provided all that I could ever have asked for."

Now Grief stood in her way. Of course it did. Grief was a miserable waste of time. What good was there in lingering on the past, when there was still so much to be done? Why should the shadows of failures get the better of everything she wanted to work toward? Why should she allow any fixation on anything but the future progress of an important endeavor?

She remembered the subtle differences when things changed, the fall before the ascension, when he moved into the basement and was hers alone.

Grief was not an obstacle. But she would humor it, because she was still curious.

"Now, visitor, you cannot defeat nor free me. You may explore my castle if you wish, but I have a few questions. I have very little visitors as a prisoner. Answer my questions, tell me a story, tell me about your world, and I will give you something in return. May it serve you well if the fates misalign and I am freed one day."

Fates? Grief was made of foolish thoughts.

"You will not be," she assured Grief, her smile patient and polite.

The first question was a simple one, one practiced and retold until it was memorized, every syllable, every letter, every word. It had already been recited to the Caterpillar, and his visions gave her doubt and indignation, but it made none of it any less true.

"My name is Mimsy Kercher Morris, formerly Mimsy Sigrid Kercher, formerly Mildred Sigrid Kercher. The Mimsy that stands before you is Mimsy version two point five, in its thirteenth cumulative iteration. Mimsy version one point zero is encased in a stonelike substance of Insanity matter. She is currently on the island of Deus Ex Machina, though I do not intend to return. Therefore, I will be replacing the previous version, as she is no longer capable of existence."

The Caterpillar said differently, but there was no definitive proof. She'd just have to be Mimsy until then.

"Next, visitor, I want to hear about your journey."

"I have been enjoying my time in Wonderland to the greatest possible extent!" Beaming at Grief, hands clasped together, she took a deep breath. "I have spoken with ALICE, and assured her of my satisfaction. I lost my brother, but ALICE found him. I have found my Robert, and we have journeyed together since. We have been married twice here, and have fought to slay all that is irrational and senseless, for the sake of Wonderland's continued sensibility. I have bested the Cheshire, enlightened the Caterpillar, and have trained the Jabberwock to heel on command."

Her answer must have been enough for Grief's criteria, whatever it was, because she posed the next question as soon as Mimsy stopped.

"Explain to me the world you live in. Not this one, the one your real bodies occupy."

Mimsy sighed.

"Must I? I despise it. I have never quite fit there. I learned so many things about the universe, its particles, and how it worked, and I was sure that it would help me know how to feel like I was part of humanity, but it never did. Wonderland is not like that at all! Everything I know of Wonderland helps me feel more and more at home."

Grief said nothing before moving on.

"Have you ever been hurt by someone you love?" she asked.

The question made Mimsy freeze in a panic. Her nails dug into her palms as her fingers tensed, clutching her hands around her empty palms, as if they held something she didn't want to have taken from her.

"No, I...I don't know," she stammered, staring at the floor with wide unblinking eyes, seemingly searching for something right in front of her. There was nothing there.

"Why not?" Grief urged.

She had no answer to give, so she only offered silence.

This was an inquiry more complex than it should have been, than it would have been to anyone else. They might have found difficulty in the question as they searched through memories to find their painful moment, she thought, and might have found it difficult to say such a thing aloud, but...

She almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic it was, but she didn't feel like laughing anymore.

She should have known this with a definitive certainty by now. She should have been more attentive, and asked more of her own questions. She should have figured this out in the span of seven months, after progressing through all of the 'steps', then marrying him three times. It should not have been difficult to know if she loved him, but it was. There were all sorts of nasty, prickly technicalities, what-ifs and buts, and she couldn't bring herself to be anything less than sure here.

"Technically." No. It wasn't enough, just as she'd thought. The word left a bitter taste on her tongue and nothing else came out after it.

Emotions were still so evasive, best mimicked and returned as she saw them, but she wasn't sure how to distinguish between she felt and what she believed she felt and what she didn't feel. He loved her, so at the very least, she had an imitation of love. Was mimicry going to be enough?

"Yes," she managed, with a wince and a flinch, waiting for her answer to be declined.

"How? When?"

It worked? Did that mean she...

"When I discovered that he wanted Ramona more than he wanted me." She spoke in a whisper, in hopes that wouldn't stick in her mind. She didn't want to think about this. "He wrote her name a hundred times on our walls, and was gone. He left, and I needed him...and instead of him, all that I found was her. The daughter from another universe was supposed to remain in her designated world. She did not belong at Deus Ex with us."

She saw it. She knew it was true.

"What are you afraid of?"

It came as a relief to hear another question, especially such a simple one.

"Failure." There was confidence in her tone again. She knew this one. "I am aware of the generality in this response, but that is its most basic form - and I do not take initiative to accept an undertaking frequently. I suppose that I am cautious with this choice for the sake of avoiding unnecessary failure."

Interesting. She had never specifically considered it that way before.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

Secrets were a valuable currency. They were incredibly useful bargaining chips, and she was very aware of the fact that she was probably not going to get something of equivalent value in return. She had already spoken about so many secretive things, and Grief was bold enough to ask for more?

Mimsy almost pitied her. How incapable was Grief that she needed all of this to even the playing field? That was a terrible tactic, and she would show her as much.

"I am not strong." Her head was held high as she spoke, eyes carrying every ounce of pride and determination to prove that it did not have to be so obvious. "I am weak. Fragile. Frail. I am precariously balanced. I am equivalent to a theorized equation, and adding or subtracting variables can destroy my entire function."

It was the truth, even if she didn't want it to be, and the delusion that she was anything but powerless made her look like a liar.

"What is it that you wish for the most?"

The most? That required some thought. After some consideration, she spoke up again.

"At the present, my greatest wish would be to remain in Wonderland with those who wish to stay here with me. If that is not possible, I wish to have a Wonderland of my own, with the presence of that same company. I wish for any and every Wonderland that I can call 'mine', so I might continue to feel at home."

"It is strange," the White Queen finally responded. "You are different, and so are your memories. I feel as if something may, perhaps change. Thank you for your story. I hope we do not meet again."

What did that mean? Different from whom? Had Mimsy somehow revived herself, and met the White Queen on her own?

Mimsy knew herself, and knew her degree of stubborn aptitude. It was theoretically possible, she thought.

The panes of the shattered mirrors began to separate, pulling apart to allow her room to move through. And she did, as quickly as she could, to escape the thoughts she'd left in that room.

A new area had opened up, and the0racle didn't seem to take caution. There had been glitches in the game before, and a Jabberwocky on her tail, but that never seemed to slow the Chesire Cat Wraith down. She took everything in stride, marveling at the mirrors as she passed them by, observing the crisp white halls with a sense of unease. Too white, too pristine. Her scales in real life would be shamed by the pure whiteness of the Queen's Castle. the0racle pressed onward, until she made it to the very end of the hallway where a throne sat vacant. She felt the impulse to climb up and sit on it, to see if she felt any different, but before she could move to act on that impulse a voice boomed out.

The White Queen wanted to know who she was, but why did it matter? This was a game, after all, what did she care to know who the0racle was in real life? Would she even be able to return to it? the0racle found that she had more questions, but the voice seemed to waiting almost patiently for her to get her thoughts together. "I'm an undead dragon. I was an oracle, but I'm not now." That was all she needed to know on that subject, because it was a rather... sensitive one, and not something she was willing to share with just anyone, even a virtual Queen. "My name is Delphyne and I am from Halloween." Feeling like this conversation was becoming too serious, the player cracked a smile, "And I'm pretty awesome at reading fortunes."

Her answer was not long, but it seemed to be satisfactory to the White Queen. "Well, since coming here... I found a guild, Penumbra! They seem really focused on finding a way out of here, and you know, eventually I want to leave too. I've been enjoying fighting bosses and mobs, and conquering dungeons. It's a lot easier than going on a bunch of tedious quests. But... it's not something I want to do forever. I want out, and I think my guild will help me with that." She had fought a lot of monsters, and it seemed like there would be even more to fight.

Another question fired, and the0racle pursed her lips. "I'm from Halloween, where a bunch of creatures live. Like monsters, ghouls, witches and stuff. You should know about it," but then again, this was a game. The White Queen was just a NPC, right? How would she know about the world the0racle was from. "There's... a lot to it, but we'd be here for hours if I wanted to explain it all." That was really all the White Queen needed to know about the world she was from.

The next question seemed to probe deeper at the0racle, and she frowned, looking vaguely puzzled. "I've been hurt, but not by someone I love. I was told that I'm not good enough for the Circle I once belonged to, of oracles. Seerers of the future, and sometimes the past, or even the present. Once upon a time, I was... I had so much potential, and it looks like that potential has all gone to waste. They sent me away to a school so I could learn to hone my powers, but it's clear if I don't that I won't be welcomed back and..." She wasn't even sure she wanted to go back on the Circle's conditions.

"I'm afraid of... You know, if I go back, if I let myself go back, I'll just be another oracle. I think, in that way, I'm afraid of losing my individuality. I don't want to be another face in the crowd, I want to be more." The questions seemed almost non-stop, but gentle as they probed her for information. She was beginning to get irritated and sensitive, and she didn't have her body's natural ability to calm herself down.

A secret? But she had been spilling her deepest thoughts and fears, and the White Queen wanted more? She wanted to be done! the0racle clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I don't like cats." Well, okay there. But, the voice seemed satisfied enough with her answer, and then asked her one final question.

"To be myself, and in being myself be free. Not, not necessarily from the game itself, but... applying it to everything in my life." The voice didn't answer, for a few seconds, and then the Queen seemed to be musing still over her answers as she finally spoke up. A few broken mirrors opened up as a sort of entryway into new areas, and picking one, the0racle stepped through to continue the game.

On to new and greater things; SpringTooth left the world of the mad tea party behind, hands in his pockets and legs stretched out to to swallow the path beneath his feet in confident strides. He had become, in this place, the man he dreamed about becoming, sometimes -- not in a hopeful way but a distant, thoughtless one, the way some people thought about becoming supermodels or movie stars.

He was, in fact, whistling as he found his way to the set of gates and nudged his way inside -- but the sound stuttered out slowly at the sight of the mirrors, the darkness that pressed in around him, the impressive throne that stood empty at the center of the room --

"Stand, stand, visitor, and listen. I cannot be freed so I am unafraid for I am [ Grief ] and a container. I exist to ease the pain of destruction. I will not move until this purpose is completed."

It echoed around him, and for a moment, SpringTooth's heart was in his chest. It wasn't fear, exactly, but a reaction to the chill behind that voice, the pervasiveness of it.

"Now, visitor, you cannot defeat nor free me. You may explore my castle if you wish, but I have a few questions. I have very little visitors as a prisoner. Answer my questions, tell me a story, tell me about your world, and I will give you something in return. May it serve you well if the fates misalign and I am freed one day."

He licked his lips, forcing his breath back to normal and blinking at the throne -- mostly because he had to pick a target to speak to, and it seemed as good a source as any.

"Could we maybe fight instead?" But his voice was a faint whisper, distant, and she was already speaking again, steamrollering over him.

__________________________

"First, visitor, tell me about yourself. Your real self."

So be it. Words it would be. SpringTooth was silent for a moment and then eased into his replies, slow and careful.

"I am Harrow Jude. A student. A first year student. I'm...I'm not eighteen yet, but..." It wasn't a good line to go down. He shook his head instead, focusing on the important. "My family's an old line of reapers, wielding one of the great shifting swords, and I am its heir."

All of it sounded wooden and uncomfortable in his mouth, but it would serve.

__________________________

"Next visitor, I want to hear about your journey."

A more comfortable subject. He breathed out a slow sigh, thumbs hooking onto one of his belts. "Well, in Tulgey Woods I found myself always at a crossroads; wandering in circles when it seemed clear I was on a straight path. I met a cheshire cat and a caterpillar; I ate mushrooms that made me large and small; I looked into a lake that showed broken pictures of myself."

It was a good picture, he thought, of the place he'd been -- and, pleased with his description of it all, he continued.

"The Mad Tea Party was more of a fairytale or child's story, I think. Everything seemed edible, and every bite I took made me look at myself or the world around me differently. I found power, there; I fought off strange creatures and submerged myself in a pool. I came out like this."

He spread his arms to show his garb, and a smile flashed across his mouth. "And I left to explore further."

__________________________

Explain to me the world you live in. Not this one, the one your real bodies occupy.

More relaxed now, SpringTooth tipped his head from one side to the other, hat feather bobbing, as he thought about how best to explain Halloween to someone from Wonderland.

"It is more solid, I think, than this place is; more stable and real, in its way. When you go down a path, where I come from, usually the path takes you where you need to go; when there is a sign, the sign doesn't lie so much. Failure is more permanent, and reflects on you more strongly, a mark on your heart instead of something you can just shrug off to try again so easily --"

But he had to stop, there, hesitating. Was that even true, or was it just his impression of things? A question for when he woke up.

__________________________

"Have you ever been hurt by someone you love?"

It was a moment before he answered, blinking, processing the question and then carefully compartmentalizing it.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I've never been in love." It was a careful sort of reply, one that narrowed the definition of love from something broad -- a feeling for friends or family, a sense of loyalty and need -- to something specific -- romance. He thought he could get away with the specificity.

He did.

__________________________

"What are you afraid of?"

SpringTooth swallowed, shoulders shifting where he stood, and for a moment he was very tempted to say nothing -- because, up until she'd asked, he hadn't been. But now...

"Going home. I'm afraid to go home. I never know who I am or where I stand there. It's easier, here..."

__________________________

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

Did he really have secrets? SpringTooth chewed on the inside of his cheek as he blinked at the throne, considering what to say. Maybe he meant to have secrets, sometimes, but generally it seemed people knew things about him before he knew himself.

"...I..." Would she take something petty and small? "Someone broke my mother's candy dish when I was eight. The blame went around the house but never landed on me. It should have."

She would. Small favors.

__________________________

"What is it that you wish for the most?"

"To master that....to master the family sword." He didn't have to think, this time; the words off his tongue almost before she stopped speaking. "Once I can use it, I never have to use it. I can live my life without it hanging over my head. I can be myself, instead of..."

He shrugged, slowly, not quite sure what he was, right now, and then fell silent.

__________________________

"It is strange. You are different, and so are your memories. I feel as if something may, perhaps change. Thank you for your story. I hope we do not meet again."

The words came slowly, after a pause long enough to make him nervous -- but they were a dismissal, small favors, and as they faded out, mirrors opened around him: invitations into the White Queen's world. He paused, and then picked one, taking his loot quietly on his way out.

__________________________

Quest Completed!
+ 10 levels
+ 5 loot cards
+ 4 fragments

There was no question about what Sunny had to do next once she found the pathway. No hesitation and no qualms as she encountered the large white castle and entered the hallway. The hatter paused to gaze at the reflections of other people staring back at her from the mirrors, but then continued her journey into the building. The more she walked the darker it came before she finally encountered an empty throne. In fact, the entire room was empty save for the sound of one icy voice.

She bristled before its bodiless presence, but complied with her demands nonetheless. “Alaska,” she answered at first, but the room seemed to grow darker, and wherever the queen was she could feel her narrowing her eyes and growing menacing by the minute. “Hunter. Sun division. Grew up in a nice life. I was the overachiever, but then I ran away from home.” Hastily she tried to tack on more details, details that were vague yet specific at the same time, and somehow it was enough to satiate the White Queen.

“I found myself in some woods, and I explored it for a while before I found a tea party with oversized foods. Afterwards I found this pathway to your castle and here I am.” Sunny didn’t know if it was the kind of journey she was asking for, but at least she moved onto the next question.

“The human world,” she began with a heavy sigh, “is a cruel world. As a child you think the world is perfect, a place of wonder, but you realize it’s only a lie. People are cruel, liars, selfish. They are everything I hate about people, and yet the cruel thing is you still believe there is something worth hoping for, so you keep looking.” A pause. “I’m still looking.”

“Yes.” Her expression turned cold, her stature more tight and guarded, but as the queen demanded for elaboration, she reluctantly divulged. “My father. I didn’t want to do what he wanted me to do, but he didn’t think the same way. I thought he would.”

“Afraid? Of not finding what I wanted, I suppose. Of losing people I care about.” Sunny shrugged off the question.

“A secret?” She squirmed uncomfortably before mumbling. “I still like fairytales. Ones with happy endings.”

“I want to find something worthwhile,” Sunny answered firmly. “I don’t know what it is, but I want it.”

And with that, the doors swung open.