Alice’s lungs are still full of mycelium, but Annie’s home is warm and…interesting. She focuses on her surroundings, distracting herself from the spores clogging her breaths, too close to how the collar felt for comfort. The mansion is spacious, and, well, witchy. There are runes on the walls, protection and concealment from what she can see. The burlap servants are oddly sweet, better than the doll in any case.
Zazriel’s sleeping form is deposited gently onto a chair, drinks are distributed, and attention is turned toward the gun stuck to Quickdraw’s hand.
“I did that,” Merla whispers to Alice. A concealed smile slips across her sister’s face, so Alice smiles back, hoping her eyes don’t look as dead as they feel. She senses Oriros’s eyes on them. Of course, he heard that, too. A faint tune ghosts across her senses, lungs once more free and easy. Alice throws a grateful glance to Oriros, but his attention is already elsewhere.
When Merla asks for Fey wine, Alice barely suppresses her shudder. Manages to politely shake her head. She’d rather be collared for another fifty years than endure anything Fey.
They move to the table and are served some kind of soup. Alice is across from her sister, a distorted mirror image. She’s still not used to it, not used to Merla, to having a sister or a group of people who appear to like her and want her around. It’s early days yet, she tells herself. Time enough for things to change, and when – if – they do, Alice will react. Survive, as she’s always done.
A woman breezes through the doorway, shadowed by a man. Alice tamps down the instinct to go for her weapons, reminding herself of where she is and who she’s with. A glance at Merla confirms: they know these people. The woman is introduced to Annie and Alice as Cordelia, the man as Beau. Alice notices the ribbon around the other woman’s neck and wonders if it’s hiding something the way hers is.
Space is made for Cordelia and Beau, and a game of questions starts up. Alice is eager to learn more about these people she’s found herself with, less so to answer questions about herself.
Merla and Oriros are onto something. Alice can tell, sitting beside one and across from the other. It’s something to do with Cordelia, and it’s making her nervous. But then, Oriros makes her nervous. He perceives Alice, and she’s not used to being noticed.
She was right to be nervous. Men seem to enjoy controlling women through neckwear. Scrying, personality changes, memory surpression. It’s almost enough to make her want to remove her own ribbon and simply wear the scars. Almost. Alice surprises herself, comforting Cordelia, holding her hand. She thought her empathy died years ago. The thought becomes irrelevant as Annie tries to reverse-scry the person responsible, and Beau begins to vibrate. Before Alice knows what’s happening, Merla is shoving her and Cordelia through a new doorway.
It’s Quickdraw’s doorway, the land a mass of fire tones and flying cows. The sun is huge, angry, beautiful. It calls to Alice, a terrifying enticement, a silent invitation. She ignores it, drags her attention back to the present, still not quite sure what the present is. Those still in the manor come stumbling through the door just as it’s fading, Beau unconcious over Flash’s shoulder.
Quickdraw is the steward of a level of hell, and this is his domain. It doesn’t surprise Alice. She’s been fitting pieces about him together since he almost got into a fight with Annie. What does surprise her is Flash getting pancaked by a bull. And the train. Quickdraw wrangles it like an ungainly, rageful bronco, and then they’re all away, clinging to this metal beast as it flies through the sky.
She doesn’t remember much beyond that when she wakes, in a bed in a room…somewhere. Somewhere bad. It feels…but no, surely not. She can’t be there. The door crashes open behind her, and she reacts. Knife out, body crouched. It’s only Flash. She straightens, nods to him, and sheaths her weapons. He nods back and is gone as quickly as he came, door slamming closed again. Alice lets out a breath and examines the emotion lurking amongst the adrenaline. With a small start, she realizes it’s relief.
It’s the Feywild. She’s in the Feywild. No, please, no. Not again. She shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here. She got out. She was out. Not again. She thinks she replies to the fey man, but she can’t be sure. Numbly watches with detached interest as Cordelia’s head comes off with her ribbon. She shouldn’t be here. He’ll find her. Please, not again. The Silence will kill her friends. She shouldn’t be here. The trees laugh at her pain. Teapots scream in the night. She was safe. No more, please. They’re completing a task for the fey man. Merla tried to take her hand, but she can’t- there’s not- weapons can’t be held between clasped hands. Please, she shouldn’t be here. Not again. She’s deposited onto something warm and scaled. Flash. Please, no. The pixies whisper of The Silence.