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Oktoberfest 09: Damned: The Obligatory Inaccurate Alice in Wonderland Cosplay Special (3/3)
Title: Damned: The Obligatory Inaccurate Alice in Wonderland Cosplay Special
Author:
wariena
Beta (if applicable): A friend checked it over? (ohgod)
Word Count: … 9,708. (ohgodohgod)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Character(s): Lelouch (Alice), Kibitoshin (the White Rabbit), Radio Jill (the Gramophone), Fai D. Fluorite (the Gryphon), Kurogane (the Mock Turtle), Yukari Yakumo (Tweedle-Dee), Yukari Takeba (Tweedle-Dum), Schuldig (the Caterpillar), Hikaru Hitachiin and Kaoru Hitachiin (the Cheshire Cat[s]), Luxford (the Mad Hatter), Grell (the March Hare), Braniac 5 (the Dormouse), Sam Winchester (the Ace of Spades), Dean Winchester (the Ace of Hearts), Franziska von Karma (the Queen of Hearts), Hanatarou (the Knave of Hearts), Javert (the Bailiff… of… erm… Hearts), Dahlia Hawthorne (the Duchess), Phoenix Wright (sort of), and Martin Landel (the Door). Plus a couple of cameos.
Pairing(s) (if applicable): None~
Summary: ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ as told by an unfortunate Lelouch Lamperouge and the cast of Damned. Look out for rabbit holes…
Notes (if applicable): Apologies, etc, etc. The final part! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some sand I need to stick my head into for the next thirty years.
---
And so, the Royal Procession (plus Lelouch), made their way to the Court of Hearts- although Lelouch somehow doubted that it was really what they had been using the medical bay for all this time back in the real Institute. The crowds parted respectfully as they passed through, allowing for a better look at the courtroom itself. A center aisle split the room into two, with two neat, colourful rows of jurors to the left and the public gallery to the right. At the head of the room was a ridiculously tall podium where, he supposed, the Queen would seat herself to preside over the court. The significantly smaller podium next to it was presumably the Knave’s. This time Lelouch forwent the podiums in favour of a seat in the rather less grand public gallery, one that allowed him a complete view of the court.
Now. Where was this Wright man? The claimant’s seat was empty, as far as he could see. The only thing worth nothing about it was a large, scruffy pig sitting in front of it, with peculiarly shaped eyebrows and a neat pink tie around … oh. It was with great consternation that Lelouch realised that he was looking at Phoenix Wright, claimant. Moving swiftly on…
An outstandingly bored-looking bailiff stood on guard by the defendant’s stand; dressed in a fine black uniform with polished boots and buckles with handcuffs at his belt, he would have cut an intimidating figure if not for the crimson heart buttons lined down the breast of his jacket. That, and the sideburns. But Lelouch could see why he was bored. Why they had felt the need to call a bailiff was a mystery- the young woman standing next to him was as small and delicate as could be, hands clasped over the handle of a parasol. She didn’t look as though she could even lift the thing, let alone beat anyone to death with it. But then, Lelouch also knew better than anyone that appearances not only could be but usually were deceiving.
He watched, silent, as the Queen gathered herself together at the judge’s podium (the Knave settling at a significantly smaller podium to her right) to speak.
“Duchess Hawthorne. You have been found guilty of-“
“My Queen?”
The Queen fell silent, shooting the pig snuffling around the defendant’s stand an accusing look. The jurors shifted against their seats hesitantly, wondering just what part of the bench had been so badly constructed as to squeak. It was only when the source of the noise coughed politely that the court realised that it was none other than the Knave. If they were surprised, he looked downright horrified at himself.
“The defendant has only been accused. She… uh… hasn’t actually been found guilty yet.”
The Queen’s eyes turned steely. For a few long moments she did nothing but stare down at the nervous young man by her side until, finally, she slammed a fist down decisively on the desk. “… Duchess Hawthorne,” she continued, as though there had never been a disagreement, “you have been accused of turning the claimant, Phoenix Wright, into a pig. How do you plead?”
While the Knave might nearly have fainted from relief, the Duchess seemed nearly to have fainted from shock. Her perfect rosebud lips fell apart in classic tragic horror. There may even have been a silvery tear or two gathering in the corners of her eyes. “W-what? But why would I do something like that? I’d never hurt anyone!”
The room melted. Lelouch had to admit it- overblown though the performance was, he couldn’t have conquered the court better himself. The only other people not taken in by her award-winning act were the bailiff, who rolled his eyes under his hat, and the Queen, who remained as immovable as ever.
“We’ll see about that,” she murmured. She snapped her fingers. “Bailiff! The first witness!”
The bailiff gave a stiff bow and left the court, returning with another man in tow- a very familiar, dark-haired man, in fact, a little hunched from the faux shell on his back.
He could see where this was going.
The Mock Turtle was led up to the stand. Ignorant of the inevitable, the Queen continued on her rampage with the usual charm and delicacy. “Witness! State your name and profession!”
The only vocal response the Queen received was the echo of her own voice. Her mouth tightened. “Witness! State your name and profession or you shall feel the bite of my whip!”
“Why should I? You already know it,” the Turtle answered with a glower. “This is a waste of time.”
Now the proverbial gauntlet really had been thrown down. The Queen, clearly appalled, flushed with anger. “This is your last chance! Do as you are told or I’ll-“
“Do what? Tell your daddy?”
The comeback hit its target straight in the ego. All eyes immediately landed on the Queen, who could only stare at the Mock Turtle in abject horror. Not for long. Cracking her whip one final, furious time, she threw out her spare hand and cried, “Guards! Arrest him!”
Her Card Guards shuffled.
“I’m so sorry I’ve caused this much trouble,” Duchess Hawthorne fluttered, watching the Turtle being dragged out of court by a Six and a Nine with a hand pressed to her heart. Doubtless even her breath smelled of sunshine and sparkles. But Lelouch wasn’t blind- she was probably giddy with glee behind that angel’s face.
The poor Wright pig snuffled miserably around the Knave’s feet. Taking pity, the young man heaved the thing up onto his lap and, checking that his Queen’s attention was elsewhere, surreptitiously slipped him a tart from his coat pocket.
The Queen didn’t waste a moment. The longer the Duchess remained innocent, the longer the she continued to look like a tyrannical brat. The fact that such an impression would continue long after sentencing appeared to have escaped her entirely. “Escort the next witness in!”
This time, however, the bailiff simply shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Mad Hatter refused his summons.”
“… what?” For once, the Queen looked genuinely thrown. She stared at the bailiff as if as though he’d been hiding him about his person all along, and enough willpower would force the man to produce her witness then and there. “That’s not possible. No one refuses my summons!”
“Apparently, he does,” the bailiff answered dryly. “On the grounds of ‘playercest’, as I recall.”
There was a long, long silence. One of the jurors, an enterprising young man in an orange headband, scrawled the word ‘playercest’ onto his slate.
But if the rest of the court were still trying to get their heads around that little notion, their illustrious Queen certainly wasn’t. Already she was back in action, casting her gaze about the court like an electric net; the next person to get caught it was dead meat.
As it turned out, that next person was Lelouch.
“You!” The Queen struck out an accusing finger and he couldn’t help but wonder just why she felt the need to point whenever she spoke. Any inclination he might have had to ask, however, was immediately wiped out with her next command: “Testify!”
Lelouch’s first instinct: protest. “That’s ridiculous!” he answered sharply, leaping to his feet. “I can’t testify if I don’t know anything about the case.”
The Queen’s mouth tightened along with her whip. “Fool! You will testify or you will answer to my whip!”
Apparently, logic didn’t mean much in the face of corporal punishment, but he wasn’t about to give up the ghost just yet. This wasn’t about truth, or justice- this was about pride, and when it came down to it he was just too proud to let anyone push him around. “I refuse. You can’t make me testify when I have nothing to testify on.”
“Oh, can’t I?” The Queen leaned in. Suddenly hearts seemed a hell of a lot more menacing than he had ever thought they could be.
But Lelouch stayed firm. He hadn’t endured this much just to be tripped at the finishing line. “Try me.”
It was a challenge, the both of them knew that, and now everything boiled down to who was going to crack first. The jury were on the edge of their seats; Duchess Hawthorne clasped her hands over her mouth; even the Bailiff crooked his hat in interest.
“GUARDS!”
Well, shit.
The Guards sprang into action at their mistress’ command like a well-oiled, heart-emblazoned machine, a sudden white flurry of activity like a runaway snowdrift. Cards they may have been, but they were armed to the teeth. He thought he might even have spied a flail or a battleaxe or two in the deck, and that web-shooter was certainly nothing to sneer at even if its wielder was rather less than terrifying. Got any sevens indeed.
Unnoticed in the commotion, Duchess Hawthorne slipped from the stand and, shooting the Queen a look of unleaded molten hate, quietly took her leave out of the back door.
Lelouch unfortunately wasn’t finding escape quite such an easy matter. The guards spread out around him, encircling him in a royal flush with a bite. There was only one thing for it. It was time to use mind over matter; brains over brawn; when the going got tough…
“Look! Over there! It’s an Aquila!”
… the tough got cheating.
The distraction was enough to send at least four of the guards into a state of panic; Lelouch was able to break through the circle and make a tactical retreat in the general direction of the main doorway (read: run like his shoes were on fire) before they could so much as blink.
Out through the door and back into the hallway, all he could think was how much easier his nightshift would have been if he had just ignored that damn White Rabbit. The moment he found that man’s Institute counterpart, he was going to… going to…
He was at the foot of a flight of stairs- up to the second floor, probably, but that barely registered, and his feet flew up and across the steps as though he were in flight rather than on foot. Blood pounded in his eardrums so loudly he thought they might burst from pressure alone. I can’t just keep running! There must be some kind of way out of he-
A door appeared.
It didn’t materialise. It didn’t ripple into existence. Simply put, one moment there wasn’t a door at the top of the stairs and the next there was.
Almost giddy with the euphoria of relief, Lelouch snatched out wildly for the handle and- jammed. Damn it! This was no time to be stuck! Not when he could hear them at the bottom of the stairs!
Forcing down panic, he searched for a solution. There. A foot or so above the handle was a button, and, above that, a microphone of sorts. The answer had been staring him in the face- all he had to do was press the button and tell the person on the other side to let him through.
Now on the verge of some sort of manic fit, he rammed the button with his index finger. Silence. Then-
The voice that wafted out of the speakers was so smug, so obnoxious, so unspeakably infuriating that, had the Door been open, Lelouch would have slammed it on principle alone. But that wasn’t the real problem with it.
“Hello, Alice. A little stuck, are we?”
The problem was, it was the Head Doctor.
Lelouch stared at the Door, mouth hanging not a little open. He’d been wanting tear Martin Landel open for a while now, but this was far from what he’d had in mind. Finally, he summoned a response. ”You!”
“Me.”
“Open up. Now.” It came out as less of a command and more of a plea; he could feel the panic rising within him along with the sound of clattering armour and weapons, and cards gathering en force.
The Door laughed airily, genuinely tickled. “I don’t think I should. You haven’t even knocked.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it. “Let me in now or I’ll rip you off your hinges!” But even to him the threat sounded flat, and all he received in response was another laugh and a Card Guard calling There she is! barely twenty feet away. Forget the eloquence. He tore at the handle with his hands, tugging and twisting and shaking until his hands rung and turned scarlet. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, n-“
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes.”
It was no use. The deck flooded over the top of the stairs and-
---
- and then he was awake and the intercom was sounding and it was dayshift and it was back in the Institute. Maybe.
Slowly, Lelouch sat up. He was, to his annoyance, still shaking too hard for him to support himself on his hands alone, but that didn’t stop him attempting a thorough examination of his surroundings. The room was bright and empty, both in that clinical way he’d become so used to and because he was alone. It was entirely possible that this was a trap, he realised, that he could walk outside of the door and an entire pack of cards would be waiting for him.
There was a knock at the door and he started violently. “Brendan? Aren’t you awake yet?”
That… that was his nurse, wasn’t it? He’d have recognised that faintly patronising whine anywhere. But his mind was still back in Wonderland at the mercy of a tyrant Queen and her heart army, and his thoughts were awash with paranoid possibilities. What if it was the Queen, disguising her voice? Or the Hatter? Or even the Rabbit?
“Brendan, I’m giving you until the count of three before I come in! One!”
No. No, he was hysterical. He had to be logical. He wasn’t in Wonderland, he was in the Institute, and he had to think coherently.
“- two!”
Idiot woman. There. That was coherent enough.
“- three! I’m coming in, Brendan!”
Lelouch composed himself on the bed as the door handle turned. Time to push the nonsense of his bad dream- and that was what it had been, a bad dream- aside and move on. Back to another day of playing nice for nurses and ensuring the pieces moved as he wanted them too. His disappearance last night had probably caused some concern, but…
… but he had other things to worry about. The smile froze on his face as, standing cheerily in the doorway in a poison smile and a perfect bunny girl uniform, his nurse shook his head. “Honestly. You’re late enough already!”
Wonderful.
---
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Beta (if applicable): A friend checked it over? (ohgod)
Word Count: … 9,708. (ohgodohgod)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Character(s): Lelouch (Alice), Kibitoshin (the White Rabbit), Radio Jill (the Gramophone), Fai D. Fluorite (the Gryphon), Kurogane (the Mock Turtle), Yukari Yakumo (Tweedle-Dee), Yukari Takeba (Tweedle-Dum), Schuldig (the Caterpillar), Hikaru Hitachiin and Kaoru Hitachiin (the Cheshire Cat[s]), Luxford (the Mad Hatter), Grell (the March Hare), Braniac 5 (the Dormouse), Sam Winchester (the Ace of Spades), Dean Winchester (the Ace of Hearts), Franziska von Karma (the Queen of Hearts), Hanatarou (the Knave of Hearts), Javert (the Bailiff… of… erm… Hearts), Dahlia Hawthorne (the Duchess), Phoenix Wright (sort of), and Martin Landel (the Door). Plus a couple of cameos.
Pairing(s) (if applicable): None~
Summary: ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ as told by an unfortunate Lelouch Lamperouge and the cast of Damned. Look out for rabbit holes…
Notes (if applicable): Apologies, etc, etc. The final part! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some sand I need to stick my head into for the next thirty years.
---
And so, the Royal Procession (plus Lelouch), made their way to the Court of Hearts- although Lelouch somehow doubted that it was really what they had been using the medical bay for all this time back in the real Institute. The crowds parted respectfully as they passed through, allowing for a better look at the courtroom itself. A center aisle split the room into two, with two neat, colourful rows of jurors to the left and the public gallery to the right. At the head of the room was a ridiculously tall podium where, he supposed, the Queen would seat herself to preside over the court. The significantly smaller podium next to it was presumably the Knave’s. This time Lelouch forwent the podiums in favour of a seat in the rather less grand public gallery, one that allowed him a complete view of the court.
Now. Where was this Wright man? The claimant’s seat was empty, as far as he could see. The only thing worth nothing about it was a large, scruffy pig sitting in front of it, with peculiarly shaped eyebrows and a neat pink tie around … oh. It was with great consternation that Lelouch realised that he was looking at Phoenix Wright, claimant. Moving swiftly on…
An outstandingly bored-looking bailiff stood on guard by the defendant’s stand; dressed in a fine black uniform with polished boots and buckles with handcuffs at his belt, he would have cut an intimidating figure if not for the crimson heart buttons lined down the breast of his jacket. That, and the sideburns. But Lelouch could see why he was bored. Why they had felt the need to call a bailiff was a mystery- the young woman standing next to him was as small and delicate as could be, hands clasped over the handle of a parasol. She didn’t look as though she could even lift the thing, let alone beat anyone to death with it. But then, Lelouch also knew better than anyone that appearances not only could be but usually were deceiving.
He watched, silent, as the Queen gathered herself together at the judge’s podium (the Knave settling at a significantly smaller podium to her right) to speak.
“Duchess Hawthorne. You have been found guilty of-“
“My Queen?”
The Queen fell silent, shooting the pig snuffling around the defendant’s stand an accusing look. The jurors shifted against their seats hesitantly, wondering just what part of the bench had been so badly constructed as to squeak. It was only when the source of the noise coughed politely that the court realised that it was none other than the Knave. If they were surprised, he looked downright horrified at himself.
“The defendant has only been accused. She… uh… hasn’t actually been found guilty yet.”
The Queen’s eyes turned steely. For a few long moments she did nothing but stare down at the nervous young man by her side until, finally, she slammed a fist down decisively on the desk. “… Duchess Hawthorne,” she continued, as though there had never been a disagreement, “you have been accused of turning the claimant, Phoenix Wright, into a pig. How do you plead?”
While the Knave might nearly have fainted from relief, the Duchess seemed nearly to have fainted from shock. Her perfect rosebud lips fell apart in classic tragic horror. There may even have been a silvery tear or two gathering in the corners of her eyes. “W-what? But why would I do something like that? I’d never hurt anyone!”
The room melted. Lelouch had to admit it- overblown though the performance was, he couldn’t have conquered the court better himself. The only other people not taken in by her award-winning act were the bailiff, who rolled his eyes under his hat, and the Queen, who remained as immovable as ever.
“We’ll see about that,” she murmured. She snapped her fingers. “Bailiff! The first witness!”
The bailiff gave a stiff bow and left the court, returning with another man in tow- a very familiar, dark-haired man, in fact, a little hunched from the faux shell on his back.
He could see where this was going.
The Mock Turtle was led up to the stand. Ignorant of the inevitable, the Queen continued on her rampage with the usual charm and delicacy. “Witness! State your name and profession!”
The only vocal response the Queen received was the echo of her own voice. Her mouth tightened. “Witness! State your name and profession or you shall feel the bite of my whip!”
“Why should I? You already know it,” the Turtle answered with a glower. “This is a waste of time.”
Now the proverbial gauntlet really had been thrown down. The Queen, clearly appalled, flushed with anger. “This is your last chance! Do as you are told or I’ll-“
“Do what? Tell your daddy?”
The comeback hit its target straight in the ego. All eyes immediately landed on the Queen, who could only stare at the Mock Turtle in abject horror. Not for long. Cracking her whip one final, furious time, she threw out her spare hand and cried, “Guards! Arrest him!”
Her Card Guards shuffled.
“I’m so sorry I’ve caused this much trouble,” Duchess Hawthorne fluttered, watching the Turtle being dragged out of court by a Six and a Nine with a hand pressed to her heart. Doubtless even her breath smelled of sunshine and sparkles. But Lelouch wasn’t blind- she was probably giddy with glee behind that angel’s face.
The poor Wright pig snuffled miserably around the Knave’s feet. Taking pity, the young man heaved the thing up onto his lap and, checking that his Queen’s attention was elsewhere, surreptitiously slipped him a tart from his coat pocket.
The Queen didn’t waste a moment. The longer the Duchess remained innocent, the longer the she continued to look like a tyrannical brat. The fact that such an impression would continue long after sentencing appeared to have escaped her entirely. “Escort the next witness in!”
This time, however, the bailiff simply shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. The Mad Hatter refused his summons.”
“… what?” For once, the Queen looked genuinely thrown. She stared at the bailiff as if as though he’d been hiding him about his person all along, and enough willpower would force the man to produce her witness then and there. “That’s not possible. No one refuses my summons!”
“Apparently, he does,” the bailiff answered dryly. “On the grounds of ‘playercest’, as I recall.”
There was a long, long silence. One of the jurors, an enterprising young man in an orange headband, scrawled the word ‘playercest’ onto his slate.
But if the rest of the court were still trying to get their heads around that little notion, their illustrious Queen certainly wasn’t. Already she was back in action, casting her gaze about the court like an electric net; the next person to get caught it was dead meat.
As it turned out, that next person was Lelouch.
“You!” The Queen struck out an accusing finger and he couldn’t help but wonder just why she felt the need to point whenever she spoke. Any inclination he might have had to ask, however, was immediately wiped out with her next command: “Testify!”
Lelouch’s first instinct: protest. “That’s ridiculous!” he answered sharply, leaping to his feet. “I can’t testify if I don’t know anything about the case.”
The Queen’s mouth tightened along with her whip. “Fool! You will testify or you will answer to my whip!”
Apparently, logic didn’t mean much in the face of corporal punishment, but he wasn’t about to give up the ghost just yet. This wasn’t about truth, or justice- this was about pride, and when it came down to it he was just too proud to let anyone push him around. “I refuse. You can’t make me testify when I have nothing to testify on.”
“Oh, can’t I?” The Queen leaned in. Suddenly hearts seemed a hell of a lot more menacing than he had ever thought they could be.
But Lelouch stayed firm. He hadn’t endured this much just to be tripped at the finishing line. “Try me.”
It was a challenge, the both of them knew that, and now everything boiled down to who was going to crack first. The jury were on the edge of their seats; Duchess Hawthorne clasped her hands over her mouth; even the Bailiff crooked his hat in interest.
“GUARDS!”
Well, shit.
The Guards sprang into action at their mistress’ command like a well-oiled, heart-emblazoned machine, a sudden white flurry of activity like a runaway snowdrift. Cards they may have been, but they were armed to the teeth. He thought he might even have spied a flail or a battleaxe or two in the deck, and that web-shooter was certainly nothing to sneer at even if its wielder was rather less than terrifying. Got any sevens indeed.
Unnoticed in the commotion, Duchess Hawthorne slipped from the stand and, shooting the Queen a look of unleaded molten hate, quietly took her leave out of the back door.
Lelouch unfortunately wasn’t finding escape quite such an easy matter. The guards spread out around him, encircling him in a royal flush with a bite. There was only one thing for it. It was time to use mind over matter; brains over brawn; when the going got tough…
“Look! Over there! It’s an Aquila!”
… the tough got cheating.
The distraction was enough to send at least four of the guards into a state of panic; Lelouch was able to break through the circle and make a tactical retreat in the general direction of the main doorway (read: run like his shoes were on fire) before they could so much as blink.
Out through the door and back into the hallway, all he could think was how much easier his nightshift would have been if he had just ignored that damn White Rabbit. The moment he found that man’s Institute counterpart, he was going to… going to…
He was at the foot of a flight of stairs- up to the second floor, probably, but that barely registered, and his feet flew up and across the steps as though he were in flight rather than on foot. Blood pounded in his eardrums so loudly he thought they might burst from pressure alone. I can’t just keep running! There must be some kind of way out of he-
A door appeared.
It didn’t materialise. It didn’t ripple into existence. Simply put, one moment there wasn’t a door at the top of the stairs and the next there was.
Almost giddy with the euphoria of relief, Lelouch snatched out wildly for the handle and- jammed. Damn it! This was no time to be stuck! Not when he could hear them at the bottom of the stairs!
Forcing down panic, he searched for a solution. There. A foot or so above the handle was a button, and, above that, a microphone of sorts. The answer had been staring him in the face- all he had to do was press the button and tell the person on the other side to let him through.
Now on the verge of some sort of manic fit, he rammed the button with his index finger. Silence. Then-
The voice that wafted out of the speakers was so smug, so obnoxious, so unspeakably infuriating that, had the Door been open, Lelouch would have slammed it on principle alone. But that wasn’t the real problem with it.
“Hello, Alice. A little stuck, are we?”
The problem was, it was the Head Doctor.
Lelouch stared at the Door, mouth hanging not a little open. He’d been wanting tear Martin Landel open for a while now, but this was far from what he’d had in mind. Finally, he summoned a response. ”You!”
“Me.”
“Open up. Now.” It came out as less of a command and more of a plea; he could feel the panic rising within him along with the sound of clattering armour and weapons, and cards gathering en force.
The Door laughed airily, genuinely tickled. “I don’t think I should. You haven’t even knocked.”
Damn it, damn it, damn it. “Let me in now or I’ll rip you off your hinges!” But even to him the threat sounded flat, and all he received in response was another laugh and a Card Guard calling There she is! barely twenty feet away. Forget the eloquence. He tore at the handle with his hands, tugging and twisting and shaking until his hands rung and turned scarlet. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, n-“
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes, yes, yes.”
It was no use. The deck flooded over the top of the stairs and-
---
- and then he was awake and the intercom was sounding and it was dayshift and it was back in the Institute. Maybe.
Slowly, Lelouch sat up. He was, to his annoyance, still shaking too hard for him to support himself on his hands alone, but that didn’t stop him attempting a thorough examination of his surroundings. The room was bright and empty, both in that clinical way he’d become so used to and because he was alone. It was entirely possible that this was a trap, he realised, that he could walk outside of the door and an entire pack of cards would be waiting for him.
There was a knock at the door and he started violently. “Brendan? Aren’t you awake yet?”
That… that was his nurse, wasn’t it? He’d have recognised that faintly patronising whine anywhere. But his mind was still back in Wonderland at the mercy of a tyrant Queen and her heart army, and his thoughts were awash with paranoid possibilities. What if it was the Queen, disguising her voice? Or the Hatter? Or even the Rabbit?
“Brendan, I’m giving you until the count of three before I come in! One!”
No. No, he was hysterical. He had to be logical. He wasn’t in Wonderland, he was in the Institute, and he had to think coherently.
“- two!”
Idiot woman. There. That was coherent enough.
“- three! I’m coming in, Brendan!”
Lelouch composed himself on the bed as the door handle turned. Time to push the nonsense of his bad dream- and that was what it had been, a bad dream- aside and move on. Back to another day of playing nice for nurses and ensuring the pieces moved as he wanted them too. His disappearance last night had probably caused some concern, but…
… but he had other things to worry about. The smile froze on his face as, standing cheerily in the doorway in a poison smile and a perfect bunny girl uniform, his nurse shook his head. “Honestly. You’re late enough already!”
Wonderful.
---
ALSO: NIPAH~~ NYAA.
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Have my babies. :(
LIKE A BOSS
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Submit Lulu to more dresses and crack! You know you want to!I loved the trial, especially this: “On the grounds of ‘playercest’, as I recall.” XD And poor Phoenix, not to mention Dahlia sneaking out back the moment she could. asdflkj There were so many awesome things in this fic. T__T
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Heheh, Mary got an unnamed, sort-of cameo~! Thank you!
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Alice in Wonderland had a sequel, didn't it? 8]
*shot*
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I don't know what to say that I haven't already said, but FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF ♥*forever It's just too perfect for words @___@
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THANK YOU! I'm so glad you liked it! :D