Ten Songs: Play List Shuffle Challenge
Because I enjoyed reading the responses by wanderamaranth and fiducia to this "Song Challenge" so very much I decided to give it a shot to see if it helped with a bit of writer's blockage. (^__~)
The rules and wanderamaranth 's response can be found HERE.
fiducia 's response can be read HERE.
UPDATE: HERE is a contribution by just_a_dram
UPDATE: erratichippie 's shuffle-inspired series of drabbles: HERE.
UPDATE: just_a_dram also joined the fun! HERE is another 10-song drabbling!
*~*~*~*
Ten Drabbles Inspired by Ten Random Songs
Fandom: Alice in Wonderland (2010)
Pairings: Alice and Tarrant (romantic) / The Bandersnatch and Alice (friendship)
Ratings: T+ (for angst)
Disclaimer: Alice in Wonderland and its characters, storyline, setting, and other concepts are the property of Walt Disney Studios, Tim Burton, and Lewis Carroll. No copyright infringement is intended and no compensation was given to the author for creating this work.
*~*~*~*
"The Poison" by All American Rejects
He sits down in the chair.
It's not his chair, so it must be Thackery's. Thackery doesn't use it, of course - if he did it wouldn't be available to a certain Hatter, now would it?
It's a comfortable chair. And there's plenty of space. Sometimes she sits with him here and he feels her long hair brush against his cheek, his nose, his chin with the aid of the breeze or the steam from the teapot.
He likes it when she sits on his knees, despite being far too old to do so with perfect innocence. And yet there is innocence here, in these moments when she reclines with him. Perfect moments that are only for the two of them, can only be for the two of them, because no one else sees her there. Here. In this chair.
He prefers it this way. She's his. He does not wish to share her with Thackery or the teapot or even the clearing. Only the two of them, in the chair.
They think he's mad, but he's not. He can feel the void between them most times, between the chair and Up There - a rhyme! - and when all is quiet, she falls down to him again, and lands on his knees.
In the chair.
*~*~*~*
"Grenade Jumper" by Fall Out Boy
She twirls in the rain.
Her mother thinks she's crazy, but that's nothing new. Every day should be mad and she's disappointed when it's not.
This is Life.
She knows this as only a Slayer of the Jabberwocky would. She Drinks in the chance to feel the world around her, is driven to taste it as if she has never noticed tastes before, as if she seeks redemption for having forsaken the chance to taste other flavors... A green-eyed, orange-haired, hatted flavor.
Sometimes she imagines he tastes like rain. And sometimes she imagines he tastes like dusty autumn leaves and crisp nearly-snowing breezes and humid, perfume-weighted air.
The seasons change and she remembers the taste of him she'd never had.
But she will.
One day, she'll stumble her way back to him. It will happen when she least expects it, she knows, so she tries not to expect it. Tries not to long for it.
Hence, the dancing in the rain. No, it's not mad at all. Not really. Not to Alice.
*~*~*~*
"Your Wall" by Revis
The hole is as dark and twisting as it ever is. And she falls. She feels as if she ought to know this place. It feels familiar; the terror is oddly muffled, redundant. Monotonous. And when she lands...!
She opens her eyes.
The dream again.
She knows this dream so very well that she feels not fear and startlement upon waking but sorrow.
She sighs.
She looks at the mirror and wonders if instead she'll see The Hole twisting sideways through the wall: in the dream she always falls through a looking glass that turns into a rabbit hole. And she falls until she reaches the wall. The wall.
His wall.
She knows that's what it is. He is keeping her out, away from him. And she doesn't know why!
She'd once tried to beat her dream-fists against it but it had only forced her to open her eyes that much sooner.
She wonders about this boundary between them, this obstacle. And she wonders - if a knock or a call or a cajoling shout will not reveal him to her, let her in - perhaps it will take a sacrifice.
Perhaps her blood.
She's desperate enough to try.
*~*~*~*
"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol
No one understands. Not really.
They see a Champion and a Hatter. They see a Lady and a Milliner. They see an older man and a too-young woman. That's the problem. They see.
Alice closes her eyes and reaches out a hand across the field of lush grass, brushing past the drooping daisies that grumble when she disturbs their napping. She reaches and before she has really extended her arm much at all, she finds his fingers - bandaged, bruised, be-thimbled.
He sighs. She smiles.
The sun whispers across their faces and the clouds drift by above them. The breeze tickles her hair and he giggles softly. She keeps her eyes closed and lets her fingertips wander along his hand, over his cuff. She memorizes the pattern of the antique lace with deliberate intent and a studiousness that she'd never showed in her studies. He's hers to learn, to experience, to have, to know. And seeing him is only one aspect of the wonder that he is: Tarrant Hightopp. The Mad Hatter of Mamoreal. The Leader of the Secret Resistance against the Bluddy Behg Hid.
This is her wonderland, she knows. And Tarrant Hightopp submits to her discovery in all senses.
*~*~*~*
"Sweet Sacrifice" by Evanescence
The march hare twitches. The dormouse swallows thickly. The Hatter's fingers tighten around the hilt of the claymore.
This is the moment. The last moment, or the first moment. In any case, it is the Only moment. It is Alice's moment.
He doesn't want to watch her greet that thing, lift that tiny sword - for how can that small thing do a single harm to the Nightmare of Underland?
This might be Alice's moment. Her Only moment. Her Last moment.
But she is his Alice.
His friend. His Only friend. And if she dies, she will be his Last Friend.
The Bandersnatch has never been known for his charm, for his pleasantness. His smell is enough to put all other creatures off. That Alice never noticed it... he adores her for that. Worships her for that. Would do anything for her for that.
And so here he crouches on the edge of battle to watch. For that is what she requires of him in This moment.
*~*~*~*
"Lie in a Sound" by Tresspassers William
The moonlight is a soft shower against skin and sheets and even the bedroom slippers beside the bed. He doesn't sleep despite the lullaby of it.
No, he never sleeps in the moonlight. His memories do not permit it, for he always Remembers a different shower of moonlight. A different moment of pale perfection wrapped in the embrace of night. The moment he'd swept his hat from his head and dared himself to join her on that balcony, dared himself to proposition her with the riddle he'd hoped she would never unravel.
Some mysteries are best left enjoyed rather than solved. He thinks she'd understood that. In the end.
But he will not think about that now.
Now he will remember the sight of her in the pale dress of Mamoreal in the light of the moon.
"I'll miss you when I wake up."
"So will I, dearest Alice," he murmurs.
He sighs into the moonlight, his hands keeping himself company as he makes shapes in the light, watches the shadows play on the coverlet. He's gotten quite good at them. Especially the rabbit in the waistcoat. He considers sending it to her - would she follow this one? The shadows from his hands in the moonlight?
There's power in shadowy things, he knows. The shadowy things he feels when he thinks of her prove that. Or are they the shadowy things she feels? For they'd never really determined whose dream that night had been. Whose dream he is. Is he her dream or his own?
"I'm not waking up, Alice."
He won't. And so he sits on his bed in the moonlight. With the shadows.
*~*~*~*
"Alien" by Thriving Ivory
He looks over his shoulder.
London.
His nose wrinkles at the smells. His ears want to pull his hat down over them to shut out the noise and the sound and the brashness of it. He does not like it here. No. Not At All. But Alice is here. Somewhere.
He Knows.
The streets are dirty and he wonders if he'll ever get the smell out of his shoes. But as they're quite far from his nose, he imagines only Mally will complain. When he goes back.
If he goes back.
He steps into a hat shop and despairs. How boring. All of them. How utterly lacking in imagination and color and muchness and hope and Alice-ness! But however, he is not here to critique these meager attempts at headwear. He has very little time. Yes, very little. Time is rarely obliging and he must make the most of it!
He rings the bell on the counter and waits. And waits. He rings again. And there!
Movement.
He clutches the edge of the counter in his gloved fingers, holds his breath... And there! He takes in the sight of her: her loose hair tumbling around her shoulders, her blue jacket and trousers...
"Can I help you, sir?"
... and then her eyes. He looks into them and smiles.
"I'm looking for a new hat," he says.
*~*~*~*
"Sally's Song" by Amy Lee
She couldn't stay. She'd known it all along. So she'd made Plans.
There was the letter (would he find it, tucked inside his hat?) and the stockings (would he notice them under the chair at the teatable?) and the necklace (her mother will kill her for "losing" it but she feels it will be safe in the pocket of his jacket) and - most importantly - the vial of half-drunk Jabberwocky blood that she'd let slip through her fingers.
Had he caught it?
She doesn't know.
Doesn't know!!
But she hopes he had.
As she soars up through the hole, she hopes with all her heart that he'd caught it as swiftly as he'd thrown those little golden scissors at Stayne.
Tarrant has a mission to complete - the return of her things to her - and she expects him to follow through on it!
*~*~*~*
"Here We Are" by Breaking Benjamin
The rain plunks into the teacup.
He glares at it. For no other reason than he feels like glaring at something.
It's raining again and his hat is being useful.
He shuffles his feet beneath the table, his boots squish-squelching in the mud.
He reaches for his pocket watch and then moves to throw it over his shoulder without opening it or even listening to its non-ticking. He gives up. She's not coming.
But he doesn't throw it.
Something caught along the chain - something golden and delicate - glitters and glints. A necklace.
How very odd.
How had that gotten there? And whose is it?
All very Good Questions.
He fidgets as he studies the small, dark pendant: a simple ball of some indigo stone.
His feet shuffle, tuck under the chair. He digs into the earth with his toe and... drags something out from under his seat.
He squints down at the muddy ground at... a stocking caught on his shoe.
Odd again.
What is going on here? Why, the next thing he knows he'll get hit on the head by falling objects under his hat!
He startles and looks up at the brim.
Had something just...?
Yes, he thinks it had!
He removes his hat and a small letter tumbles over his brow and onto the soaking tablecloth.
He picks it up, reads it, and smiling, pulls out the half-full vial of Jabberwocky blood he'd caught as it had fallen from her fingertips.
And drinks.
*~*~*~*
"Lithium" by Evanescence
She watches the rain and presses her face against the window. Autumn. Nearly winter. And the glass is cold against her skin. She breathes and her breaths mist against the glass. Trapped.
She knows the feeling.
And oddly, she feels betrayed. Hadn't she saved him? Saved them all from the Red Queen? Hadn't she slayed the Jabberwock? Hadn't she donned the armor? Hadn't she done everything they'd ever asked of her?
"You didn't stay," she reminds herself.
Still. She'd done everything else, hadn't she? Returned a hat. Hefted the Vorpal Sword. Been the Right Alice...!
All she asks is for him to rescue her. Just one more time. And properly this time!
Although she'd appreciated his strategy with the Red Queen - keeping her secret...
Although she'll never be able to thank him enough for poking the Jabberwocky at that Crucial moment..
She wants a proper rescue. Just once. Just once she wants to Matter enough to warrant that!
*~*~*~*
O~kaaaay... those of you who think there was enough angst in there to accommodate the population of a small country (say, Andorra) raise your hands! (^__~)