Seven cups of tea - a bad batch
[Hatter goes through enough tea through the day that, even though he did see the signs and got himself fresh tea from the ghosts, he still managed to get dosed.
Hatter's head has always been a bit of an odd place - how much of that comes from just being a Wonderlander, he's not entirely sure, as everyone he knows back home was always a little mad - and he's no stranger to nightmares, considering the things he's seen and done.
The one he has tonight has become a new standard, though it's never been this real, this intense. He's running hard down a white hallway toward a wooden door, his boots echoing off the tile beneath them. Somewhere behind him is the clank of the knight's armor but he ignores it, ignores Charlie's shouts for him to wait, because he has to get to Alice, has to find her before the queen's torturers have a chance to reach into their bag of tricks.
Hard as he runs, though, the hallway keeps stretching, keeps taking her farther and farther away, but he keeps running - and then there's screaming - and then Alice is screaming -, and he skids to a halt, almost sliding into the two figures that have suddenly appeared in front of him.
because now there's twin madmen in front of him, grinning at him all too pleasantly, and he can feel them in his head as they speak in unison -
"O Oyster," said the doctors two,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
Hatter couldn't save his one.]
NO.
[that's shouted outloud as he jolts awake, and then there's a moment of silence save for his breathing before he grabs the half-full teacup off his bedside table and flings it across his room, where it shatters against the wall.]
[ooc: poem stanza taken from "The Walrus and the Carpenter" by Lewis Carroll and fiddled with shamelessly.]
Hatter's head has always been a bit of an odd place - how much of that comes from just being a Wonderlander, he's not entirely sure, as everyone he knows back home was always a little mad - and he's no stranger to nightmares, considering the things he's seen and done.
The one he has tonight has become a new standard, though it's never been this real, this intense. He's running hard down a white hallway toward a wooden door, his boots echoing off the tile beneath them. Somewhere behind him is the clank of the knight's armor but he ignores it, ignores Charlie's shouts for him to wait, because he has to get to Alice, has to find her before the queen's torturers have a chance to reach into their bag of tricks.
Hard as he runs, though, the hallway keeps stretching, keeps taking her farther and farther away, but he keeps running - and then there's screaming - and then Alice is screaming -, and he skids to a halt, almost sliding into the two figures that have suddenly appeared in front of him.
because now there's twin madmen in front of him, grinning at him all too pleasantly, and he can feel them in his head as they speak in unison -
"O Oyster," said the doctors two,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
Hatter couldn't save his one.]
NO.
[that's shouted outloud as he jolts awake, and then there's a moment of silence save for his breathing before he grabs the half-full teacup off his bedside table and flings it across his room, where it shatters against the wall.]
[ooc: poem stanza taken from "The Walrus and the Carpenter" by Lewis Carroll and fiddled with shamelessly.]