asgardmeridiem | (no subject)

Who: (Elder) Alice and open
What: After the school fire, Alice more or less blacked out and slept for a few days, only to wander out while hallucinating. She finally wakes up.
When: Day 422
Where: All over Asgard
Warnings: May have potential triggers or content warning here for mental illness (i.e. disassociation and hallucinating), but nothing fairly extreme. I just want to make that pretty clear, since these things can be sensitive in nature.

The rest of it seems to be a blur.

Or rather, a big, big blotch of black ink on paper, from a fountain pin onto white paper. It spreads and spreads, until the blinding white is consumed by black. Darkness. She feels herself falling and falling -- but there is no rabbit hole to speak of, just a sinking feeling until she hits something. Hard.

She had fallen off the bed, not that she would have noticed. In an lucid dream, Alice had staggered out of doorway, down a flight of stairs that seemed too endless for her memory, as if she was going further and further into darkness again. The ground was rumbling and in her mind, she envisioned snakes and wolves, climbing up a hill made of doll heads and skulls, past grey visions of figures with no faces to spare. "LOOK AT ME." She hears them screaming.

But in her mind, Alice had kept her head low, her head ringing as she staggered forward, bare feet hitting the cobbled stone street, as Alice was remembering something... something terribly vague. Triangles... shards. Absolutely hysteric! Glass? A vision of her arms red, black and white. Blood red. The rage box? No, that was left in Wonderland.

"Worry for others can end up damaging you, Alice."

She can still glance back to the Dollhouse now and see them glancing through the windows waiting for safety. But had she not gone through a window? No, that couldn't be it. She could recall smoke and climbing through a window, but it seems to blur. She was seven in that memory, not nineteen. Alice finally glances down at her hands, sure that there were shards of glass in them, but.

There's nothing. No burns, no scratches, no cuts. Nothing.

"I've could have sworn-"

She was consumed by her visions, which is, sadly, not terribly unusual for her. She flexes her trembling hands, turning them front to back to inspect them. Not a trace on her pale skin, nothing more than the sickly parlor of her skin and veins. Was it just her imagination running loose? It may take a few more moments, but Alice is currently pulling herself back up off the ground, clutching her head as the headache subsides.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That boy...?"

Alice soon realizes who he potentially may be. That boy wasn't so much a boy, but the man she spoke to before. The memory had nearly been lost in her fatigue and heinous visions. It had been exactly like Altair, she realized. Even little Alice. For a moment, Alice is lost in her thought, seemingly distracted by the thought process she looks back at him.

She won't utter her realization, other than a nod. "I thought he was your son; the both of you look very much alike."

Maglor's eyes soften as he looks back towards the sleeping child when Alice says that.

"I wish that it was so, but no - our bond is far more wrought with pain than that. And we are related, though distantly. His grandmother is my half-cousin."

Misery likes company, apparently; it seems fitting, regretfully. But she would say that blood or not shouldn't matter. She shifts, still holding herself in her nightgown, glancing to the side.

Well, this could be even more awkward when she does get the courage to just ask.

"May I ask you a favor, Mr. Maglor?"

He does not speak of their true relation to each other right now - that of captor and hostage. He loves the boys as best he can, and he already knows that he cannot keep them - they will be old enough soon, for him to return them to their kin.

"Ask, Lady Alice - if it is in my power to grant, I will."

Hopefully, he can. If he doesn't recall anything much like others who found themselves in similar situations, Alice is out of luck. Alice wants to pick up where she left off, she wants to still train and become more skilled in her fighting. She wants to resume her life in Asgard as if nothing happened -- which is unlikely, she knows this.

"If you really do remember, can you come looking for me?"

He looks at her, this young woman-child, and feels a swell of compassion, and wonders if this is how his other self feels.

"Even if I do not, I will if you wish it. But yes, I will come."

As for Alice, herself, she starts a slow, slow process of trying to get herself back on her feet. She isn't sure what else she can do now other than see if her footsteps can be retraced, if anything. She has to try and of course find her blade when she can.

She frowns, "I'm sorry, Mr. Maglor, I'm afraid I need to find where I came from. I don't exactly remember." With a wobbly start, Alice brings herself back on her feet, still ducking her face behind her dark hair. Not only is it a little alarming, it's rather embarrassing.

He does not offer to help her up, remembering her admonishment about touch, but he waits til she has her feet under her before standing.

He bows once, formal and deep.

"May the stars guide and guard you to that which you seek." He says simply and smiles at her.

When he turns to walk back to Elrond he is already singing.

of far away stars and great forests
of the wind that blows from mountains that never knew people
of the song of the sea, wild and forever calling

"Hopefully you regain your senses sometime soon," She mutters to herself, as she starts to make her way to a few places she could have been, even as a nagging feeling compelled her to seek out her younger counterpart. She just had to get back to her blade, that's all. And back into real clothing, out of this insanity.

Hopefully.