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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Kristofersaurus RexMale/United States Recent Activity
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First, I did learn that when I want to indent things, dA doesn't like the Enter button. When I copy/paste from some writing platform, it will register them on the Edit Text thing, but not on the Read It page. However, the space bar registers just fine.

Anyway, trying to balance college and writing. One of my friends has a personal writing project she wants to collaborate with me for, so I do that along with school work.

Finishing up Queen Alice, also.
      "Miss Alice, Miss Alice!" The young maid ran down the hall, a lamp's candle blowing out in her wake. Horses were heard outside, neighing as their riders shouted to each other. She turned the chilled brass knob of the door, turning around to close and lock it.
      "Miss Alice! The Duke has sent his dogs after you. Even the captain is here!" The door was locked, the door was barricaded, and the door was still as she turned around again, looking upon the study. She called Alice's name again, but fell silent when she found the room empty. The window was open, a light breeze catching the curtain. The maid hurried to it, reaching out to close the panes before looking at the note that was left on the sill.

      Mollie,
      I have feared this day, but it must always come. If one man sees wickedness, it is often sought out and slain. This is always the case when that wickedness is a woman. Now, you and I both know I have only brought good. As does the school, and the orphans, and the homeless who are overlooked by Duke Reddrick.
      I cannot say you'll see me again. If you do, it'll be far elsewhere, or in a cell. But, dear, don't forget this. I am so, so thankful for you. You are absolutely the smartest girl your age, and I wish it were in my power to give you the world. Now run. Don't get caught. Before you leave, take the spare key in the roses. Normally, the home of a fugitive is burned. But the Duke would never risk that upon the house of a witch. I want you to have the key so you may always return. You may read my books, study my notes, even practice magic of your own. Do as you please. Call it a thank you gift.
      Beside this note is a vial. In that vial is an invisibility potion. I had meant to use it tomorrow, but you will need it more. Drink it and escape through the garden. It won't last long, but long enough. If I had the herbs I'd needed, it would last longer. But it's mostly magic, which is why you'll find it to be that shade of blue you love so much. I never thought about telling you, but I adjusted my magic to be something that pleased you. I understand that sometimes magic is grotesque. Please, Mollie, run, and remember me.
                           You're in my heart,
                                      Alice

      Mollie's eyes welled with tears as she read the last line again. She picked up the potion and stared mourningly at it. Alice was so kind to her. Then she heard banging on the front door and her eyes quickly began to dry, a look of fierce determination passing over her face. Mollie's reflection could be seen in the window, and for a moment she thought she was looking at Alice. She unstopped the vial and drank the contents in one long draft. She watched herself fade to air as she drew up all of her courage. Miss Alice wasn't a woman to cry for. She was a woman to fight for.

      Alice was running through an alley four blocks away, having seen the guards on the street assemble while she made the invisibility potion. She had almost taken it herself, but what would Mollie do? She was resourceful, and oftentimes simply brilliant. But the girl was so young, and so outnumbered. Besides, a brilliant mind truly blossoms when there are tools at hand. Alice just wished she could have said goodbye herself. She faintly heard the captain shouting orders, and when that became impossible, she knew they had finally broken into her house. With much practice from years past, she scaled one of the walls of the church and looked to her house. It was as dark and silent as a mountain. And then suddenly the windows lit up with streams of green, then blue.
      "That's my girl," Alice said quietly, smiling. Mollie had practiced a bit of magic on her own, and then Alice had taught her how to read. If any one room could be a fortress, she told Mollie, it was a room full of books.

      A little girl ran through the shanty camp, ducking through tents to evade the sight of her pursuers. People watched her run, unquestioning, more concerned with the work ahead of them, or the food that might not be.
      “Miss Alicia, Miss Alicia!” She pulled aside a cloth door, out of breath. A blonde woman stood up and stared across the tent at her.
      “What is it, Margot?” As the girl began to explain, the woman kneeled beside one of the many men who laid in varies ends of the room. She was unwinding a bandage on the man's leg as Margot spoke.
      “Wonderland is after you. Two of their boys have come into the camp, looking for a witch. Please run, Miss Alicia. I'm sure you can escape!” Margot started taking over the bandaging, pushing Alicia towards the exit of the tent.
      “The day must always come that wickedness ends. These men find me to be wicked, and therefore find that I must end. We shall see what happens.” Margot shook her head.
      “No, Miss Alicia. Who will teach us?  Who will help our sick? What if there's another explosion in the mines?” Tears dripped onto the bandages at her feet, streaking her face in dirt as they fell. Alicia ruffled her hair gently.
      “It'll be okay, Margot.” She continued her work, maintaining the repairs of the men who'd be caught in an accident the previous week.
      The curtains that comprised the entrance blew open and the sun shined in over a dusty silhouette of two men in white long coats. As they stepped in, the girl stood in awe, and dreams flicked across the eyes of any boy who was awake enough to see them.
      The man on the left was clearly in the lead, his coat flowing behind him to reveal dark, chocolate brown slacks, hanging around his waist by burgundy suspenders that rested over a lighter brown shirt. In his white-gloved hands he carried two blades, which he promptly flicked open the same way you'd flick a switchblade, unleashing hidden steel that elongated them into swords. Upon his head was a signature top hat, too big to be filled by anything less than secrets. It was adorned by a large, thick medallion that bore the Wonderland crest, which was held fast by thick ribbon that trailed back from it.
      On the right, the other man stood beside him, gazing over the tent's occupants. His clothing were quite similar to those of his partner, but his own suspenders were a deep shade of gold. Instead of a hat, he wore a pair of goggles, the lenses framed thickly.  The frames themselves were deep enough for them to be branded by the insignia of Wonderland, a pair of hawks circling around each W. In his hands were a pair of twin guns, the barrels long but the stocks and triggers adequate for single-handed utility. He was lankier than the man beside him, but Alicia noticed that he was a bit less without breath than the other man.
      “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Alicia said, standing beside Margot, who struggled to hide her fear of what she was certain would follow.
      “Margot, here, came to inform me that Wonderland was sticking its nose in the affairs of the poor. I presume, then, and based upon your attire, that the two of you are Wonderland's prodigy, the Mad Hatter, and his trusty right hand, the Ignus Tinker. Or, as you're known among the ex-convicts who wander through this shanty town, the Hare.” She stood before them with crossed arms, silently declaring her dominance in the tent.
      The Hatter stepped forward, smirking at her intuition. “That would be us, ma'am. We received reports of a witch here, and while we don't concern ourselves with good and proper citizens, this one's particularly nasty. We have reason to believe they can be found in this general area.”
      Margot glanced briefly glanced up at Alicia, worried, before attending to a sick boy who was looking on at the men. Blaise noticed the glance and walked gently over to the girl, kneeling down to her.
      “I presume you're Margot, is that right?” The girl nodded tentatively, and he smiled. “You wouldn't happen to know where our witch is, would you?” Margot shook her head briefly. “Excuse me, sir, but I need to be taking care of everyone while you're talking to Miss Alicia.” Blaise smiled briefly before standing back up. He stood beside the man with fresh bandages, looking back to Alicia. She was confirming no recollection of any witches that she was aware of.
      Blaise turned his gaze to Max, passing off a look of uncertainty. He breathed in through his nose before turning his entire head to Max.
      “Do you smell that?” Max sniffed the air and nodded. Right as he confirmed, “Sulfur." Suddenly, Blaise fell to his side, his leg giving out; the old bandages on the floor wrapped around his leg, holding it stiff, and an attempt to step forward resulted in collapsing. It was immediately followed by a tearing sound, and the man with the fresh wraps tore through the wall tent, and was running through the camp. The tent closed again, with a red vapor coiling through the seam. It was darker than blood, and Alicia cringed inwardly at the thought of what kind of soul could be found on the other end of it.

      The sun was setting as Max gave chase, Blaise not terribly far behind. Alicia ran a gently glowing finger down the thin tear, undoing the previous spell and casting a similar one over it again. She would hardly trust another witch, and certainly wouldn't allow such a dark spirit in a house of learning and restoration.
      As they passed into the upper districts of the shanty town, the Ignus Tinker  took to the rooftops. Mounting one of his guns over his back, he dropped the lenses down over his eyes, granting himself vision through the impending darkness. The Hatter began to fall behind, despite his head start, and the man who'd briefly paralysed him began to understand why he was called the Hare. The Hatter was confined to the streets, narrowly avoiding  passers-by as he went. The streets were progressively clearing as word of chase spread between the rickety structures.
      “Max, take an alley! He's working some kind of trap ahead.” Blaise leapt a gap between roofs, and the Hatter took his advice.
      “Blast it, what have I said about our names?” Max found a rocky tower of crates, and make long bounds over them, joining his partner on the roof. They saw the witch a few houses ahead, in the street. The emblem on Max's hat glowed sharply, casting  a light over the witch. Blaise fired at him, nearly every shot missing by the tails of a coat that materialized on his back shortly after he escaped. One shot got his shoulder, though, before the Tinker focused more specifically on running. The Hatter pulled a knife from a hidden panel on his brim and threw it, failing to penetrate but effectively slowing down the witch. The Hare ran fully ahead, dropping down in front of the convict, blocking him. The Hatter followed closely, caging the witch between them.
      Wind blew in a current, pushing back on the Hatter's coat. He held his swords vertically, each pointing to the ground. His arms were lifted straight out, and he floated inches above the ground. From his hat streamed stark white light, and he spoke in such a way that befitted the command of armies.
      “Maximillion Grey,” he said, “also known as the Blood Witch, has been charged with five counts of murder, two counts of conspiracy, and one count of both unlicensed practice of the dark arts and suspected occult behavior. Official fine for these crimes is immediate execution, but first you are to be held for interrogation. Your life may be bargained for.”
      The Hatter unceremoniously came back down to his feet, folding his blades with another flick before he donned them across his back once more. He reached to the rear of his hat and untied the medallion.
      “You are under arrest, in the name of the people, Wonderland, and justice.” Blaise kicked him down to his knees, silently thankful it didn't take too long to find him in the mess of the country's poor. Max held the emblem to the witch's chest, and his partner brought the ends together behind his back. They fused together and tightened, one of the two strips pinning down his arms, and the other wrapping his back, keeping his fingers pointed inward to prevent any magic.

      The following day, Alicia was visited once more. Max and Blaise returned, neither of them pleased to be there a second time.
      “What is it, boys? Didn't you catch your witch? It's a shame, that man was good for the workforce.” She was replenishing her medicines when they walked in, and Margot was absent, helping the women around the camps with their family duties.
      “No, ma'am, we were informed of yet another witch here. Yesterday's grab was eager to tell us everything, if he didn't have to die. He said there's a woman here, named Alice.”
      She stopped what she was doing, turned, and looked at them, leaving any fear down in the mortar. She looked up at the beams of the tent, acting casually as she stared.
      “No, I can't say I know of an Alice. This camp is awfully large though, and I don't imagine I'm entirely aware of everyone. After all, not everyone ends up bleeding, broken, or dying, which is what I specialize in, really.” She looked back at them innocently, but she could tell by the looks of both the Hatter and the Hare that she wasn't convincing.
      “Actually, I'm under the impression you know this witch a lot more intimately than you let on.” Max took a step, staring at her with as much weight as can be put on a stare.
Alicia sighed, arms outstretched, wrists together.
      “You've got me. Take me away. I'll go to magic jail and pay for my crimes.”
      Max hesitated, but grabbed the emblem again, reaching out and lowering it to her wrists.
      Instantaneously, she grabbed the ends, bringing them around the Hatters own wrist and  sliding beneath his legs, pulling him down. She'd spun around once her elbows cleared his knees, and as she came to a standing position, she brought her head up against Blaise's nose, breaking it before climbing over the Hatter's toppled body. She pushed a vial from a shelf to the ground and the tent filled with a thick blue fog as she made her escape through a hidden exit.
      “You have got to be kidding me!” Max shouted, jumping back up and making way out of the tent. He looked around, but there was no sign of Alice. He returned to his bleeding partner, who had already taken the liberty of putting his nose back in place. Blood ran down the front of his coat, and Max tossed him a handful of bandages and rags to take care of it. It was best for them to return to the agency and figure out a few things. On the walk back, it was agreed upon that nobody had an alias without first having something to hide from, and if there was a story, there were records.
Queen Alice (Further Progress)
Well, this is most of the third installment.
Let me say it now. Alice is not literally a Queen, and she never will be.
It's not cannon, sorry.
Anyway, here's 2/3 of episode three.
I hope it's looking as good as you all expected or hoped.

First installment: wulfzinger.deviantart.com/art/…
Previous installment: wulfzinger.deviantart.com/art/…
Next installment: (Not yet. Sorry.)

ALSO: I'm sorry about formatting. I have some stuff going on with my actual Word file that looks a lot better, but I'm not sure if dA has fixed their uploading text files issue yet, and almost don't care enough to try. Please just bear with it.

UPDATE: Revisions were made. Working on the last part at present. Thinking I might have the occasional episode that goes back to her and Mollie, and the letter.
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First, I did learn that when I want to indent things, dA doesn't like the Enter button. When I copy/paste from some writing platform, it will register them on the Edit Text thing, but not on the Read It page. However, the space bar registers just fine.

Anyway, trying to balance college and writing. One of my friends has a personal writing project she wants to collaborate with me for, so I do that along with school work.

Finishing up Queen Alice, also.

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Wulfzinger
Kristofersaurus Rex
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
(My ID is Finn from Adventure Time, because I have managed to not have any good recent pictures of me, but he looks really similar to me when he's drawn realistically.) Whelp, here I am? I'm a writer. I'm told my work is good, so check it out, even if I find it to be a bit mediocre. My profile says Hobbyist, but what I really want is to go professional. More as a hobby though. I'm not pursuing it in college, though, in place of Anthropology and Sociology because I want to get into Human Rights. I'm severely Super-Who-Lock, with a taste for anime and a stalkerish tendency for beautiful people.
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:iconwingedpaws:
WingedPaws Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hey! *Its Amber btw*
figured I should drop and say hi and leave a watch cause  I like reading your stuff ouo
anyways, byyeeee~
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