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Alice sat on the picnic blanket next to Vivaldi, awash in the warm pink glow of evening. Her face was angled down; she was almost afraid that the light would make Vivaldi too beautiful to look at, ethereal in a way that she herself couldn’t match. She fiddled with her paring knife as she peeled an apple, desperate to distract herself.
Alice turned her gaze upwards for a moment, startling as she met Vivaldi’s intense gaze bearing down on her. “We wish for you to feed Us,” she said, scant inches from Alice’s face.
Alice’s hand jerked, knife sliding through the peel of the apple to graze her thumb. She swore loudly. “Jeez, you scared me!”
“We are very sorry,” Vivaldi replied. Her voice was sonorous and smooth as ever.
The knife fell from Alice’s slack grip into her lap, along with the apple; she cradled her hand. “Oww…”
Looking around for her handkerchief, Alice was dumbstruck; Vivaldi took Alice’s injured hand into her own, gently holding it like it would shatter if she applied any more pressure. Vivaldi’s skin was silky and soft, unmarred by any calluses. Her fingertips brushed over the back of Alice’s hand as she cupped it, eyes trained on the tiny pearls of blood beading on the cut. It was only a graze, really, not much more serious than any papercut; Alice wasn’t sure why Vivaldi was so fixed on it.
“Are you… alright?” Alice asked hesitantly. Really, she wasn’t sure what the matter was. It’s not like she was going to bleed out.
Vivaldi’s red lips parted wordlessly, and a moment passed before she spoke. “Your blood is…”
Vivaldi trailed off thoughtlessly as a small droplet of blood began to drip down the side of Alice’s finger. It didn’t hurt, really, the knife sharp and clean, her own reflexes preventing her from more than nicking herselfーAlice just didn’t understand Vivaldi’s reaction. The expression on the older woman’s face was something Alice had never quite seen on her before, something she couldn’t parse.
The droplet of blood fell against Vivaldi’s warm hand, pulled inexorably downward by gravity. It was strange, Alice thought; although sullying Vivaldi’s perfect skin with her blood felt like a sin unto itself, it occurred to her that the color suited Vivaldi perfectly. Vivaldi lifted the stained hand, still holding Alice’s in her other one, and stared intently at the mark. Her expression softened, and all of a sudden Alice realized how close they were. Vivaldi’s face was close enough that each soft breath ghosted over Alice’s cheek, and one of Vivaldi’s knees was tucked between Alice’s. Alice flushed, considering if it would be rude to pull away.
“Vivaldi,” Alice murmured.
Probably, she decided. She would simply have to accept the embarrassment of being examined so closely by such a beauty. Even Vivaldi’s face was getting red, she felt distantly. It was hard to summon the urge to care when Vivaldi was leaning forward, even closer, presence filling Alice’s vision inescapably, and the whole world melted away for a moment, and then…
Vivaldi lifted Alice’s hand to her mouth. Alice began to ask what Vivaldi was doing, but before she could make the words, the queen had put Alice’s sluggishly bleeding finger into her mouth.
Alice squeaked.
The sensation of Vivaldi’s soft tongue brushing over the pad of her finger was somewhere between ticklish and overwhelming; Alice felt unequipped to process it. She tensed her arm, ready to free her hand from Vivaldi’s gentle grasp, but she looked at Vivaldi’s face again and couldn’t muster the will. Her expression wasn’t precisely relaxed, but it wasn’t tense, either; it was what Alice could only describe as ‘restrained.’ She looked like she was waiting for something, but exactly what Alice didn’t know.
Alice felt like she was going to explode; she prayed the earth would swallow her whole. She couldn’t look away from the sight before her; her gaze was inevitably drawn back as if Vivaldi had, without her noticing, become the center of the universe. It felt as though time had stopped around them, the world falling away. Vivaldi’s soft lips and velvet tongue were the only things that mattered to her. Alice shivered. She was certain that if Peter had streaked naked past them screaming, she wouldn’t have noticed.
It felt like an eon before Vivaldi allowed Alice’s finger to slip from her scarlet mouth, focused and intent as ever, although rationally she knew it had been less than a few minutes.
“We thank you for allowing us to enjoy the blood of an Outsider like this,” Vivaldi said as though she hadn’t just licked Alice’s hand. “You have given Us quite a gift.”
Alice considered briefly whether she had lost her mind. There was no possibility that had just happened. It would make more sense if she had gone totally insane. She took a small measure of comfort in the fact that her cut had stopped bleeding.
Vivaldi smiled at her, and Alice’s heart seized in her chest. Did Wonderland have cardiologists? Certainly, that wasn’t normal.
“We are truly glad we did not behead you.”
No, Alice thought. She hadn’t yet gone totally insane. “Thanks?”
Vivaldi’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheekbones as she pressed a kiss to Alice’s captive hand. It left a lipstick mark.
“You have become quite dear to Us,” Vivaldi added. “We are gladdened by your presence.”
Alice covered her face with her other hand. “Stop, stop. I’m not that endearing, you know.” She said this with a wry tone, but when she peeked between her fingers, Alice saw the smug little furrow to Vivaldi’s brow and couldn’t bear to look at her any further. “Aren’t we supposed to be on a picnic, anyway?”
Vivaldi reclined against the blanket, finally letting go of Alice’s hand. It felt suddenly cold without her presence within Alice’s personal space.
“Feed Us,” Vivaldi demanded again. “We do not wish to dirty Our hands.”
Alice was simultaneously grateful and despairing over this command. On the one hand, dealing with Vivaldi’s strange whims wasn’t particularly difficult. It was comfortably familiar, too, a routine that had become well-worn. On the other hand, it was… unbearable. The idea of hand-feeding Vivaldi fruit like she was an empress made Alice turn away in embarrassment.
“Surely it wouldn’t be such a terrible inconvenience,” Alice demurred hesitantly.
Vivaldi shook her head. Alice sighed, aware of the fact that she was doomed from the start. She lifted a bright strawberry from the basket, pressing it to Vivaldi’s mouth. Vivaldi’s expression relaxed as she ate it. The flash of white teeth and red tongue from between Vivaldi’s lips made Alice flush, remembering the sensation of that tongue on her finger. She took a deep, steadying breath, offering Vivaldi a grape.
Vivaldi’s lips brushed her hand again as she delicately accepted it. Alice restrained a noise. She felt hyper-aware of every one of Vivaldi’s motions, each one putting her a little more on edge.
Surely, she was overreacting, Alice rationalized. It was only Vivaldi. Surely the beautiful older woman sucking on her bleeding finger was a perfectly normal thing for her to do.
Alice’s train of thought derailed.
This wasn’t normal at all! What the hell was she thinking?! Vivaldi was acting weird, and Alice wanted to know why.
“Hey…” she began, before realizing she had no idea what she could possibly say. Why did you do that? came to mind, but that was probably not the way to broach the topic with Vivaldi of all people. Alice lamely trailed off, “Do you want another strawberry?”
Vivaldi called imperiously from her recline, “We wish to have an apple.”
Alice sighed. There was one she’d already cut, aside from the one she’d been peeling. She offered it to Vivaldi, whose long fingers steadied Alice’s hand as Vivaldi gracefully ate. Alice ate an apple slice of her own, quelling the nervousness in her stomach by force.
Why did Vivaldi, of all people, make her so nervous? She simply didn’t understand. Vivaldi wasn’t any more dangerous than, say, Blood; it was just Vivaldi’s demeanor that made Alice feel helpless.
That, and Alice had never seen a woman more beautiful. Sitting so close to Vivaldi, she could see the tiny, fine lines around her eyes and mouth. Alice thought they suited her; they made her look distinguished, even. Vivaldi’s eyes opened languidly, her lips quirking up as she caught Alice staring.
“Is there something on Our face?”
Alice looked at her lap, shame welling inside her. Why was she reading so much into it? It was foolish, she told herself. She should be more considerate of Vivaldi’s own feelings here.
“No, nothing,” Alice mumbled.
Vivaldi straightened up, tucking her legs underneath her elegantly. Alice watched the motion, almost dizzy. Vivaldi laid one elegantly manicured hand on Alice’s knee; her leg spasmed at the contact.
“You must have a nervous temperament, Alice,” Vivaldi said.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Alice replied. Her heart skipped another beat. Maybe she really was sick.
Vivaldi’s brows raised in disbelief, before she laughed. The sound washed over Alice, leaving her lightheaded.
“We did not think you would be so easy to fluster like this.”
Alice took another bite of apple, decidedly ignoring Vivaldi’s words. Vivaldi smiled, leaned in, and pressed a kiss to Alice’s cheek.
Alice froze, totally and perfectly still, as though her body had stopped working. She made a noise somewhere between a wheeze and a cough, and toppled back against the blanket. Vivaldi covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she giggled uncontrollably.
Alice decided then and there it was worth a little embarrassment to hear that sound, that pure and carefree laughter. She tilted her head back and laughed too, sharing in Vivaldi’s amusement.
The hand that squeezed hers wasn’t even really a surprise, at this point. Alice squeezed back.