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The blood still hadn’t dried, and until it did, Alice wasn’t going to think about where it had come from.
She could just… keep going forward. She couldn’t be worrying about that right now, not when she still had to find a way off of this insane planet and all of its inhabitants. She didn’t think she’d met someone who wasn’t drunk or high off their ass on those weird drugs. She barely felt sane herself, at this point, with all the bloodshed- and- and nothing making sense, and-
She was losing her grip on herself, at this point. Whatever “herself” even meant at this point, where everybody seemed to have lost all sense of reality. She’d stopped being convinced this was a bad dream days ago: her mind could never come up with something this horrifying. The tea parties, the battlegrounds, the encampment. The general’s smile, the blood coating everything, the dead bodies littered everywhere, how everybody seemed to think it was beautiful, the Rose Reds-
Well. The Rose Red. The one commanding those robots, covered in rotting human flesh and blood, mechanical bits sticking out and tearing through skin, facial features not fitting quite right. The Queen of Hearts, she’d called herself. Right before she’d taken that sword and chopped the head off of that man.
It was stupid to have thought she’d help. There wasn’t any help left for Alice, was there? She’d been there for days. She should’ve been reported missing, someone should’ve heard her distress signals, anything. She was the only person left still sober, still sane, still fighting something other than a war that’d been over for decades. And she was getting closer to losing it every day.
Well. not the only one. But he was dead now, wasn’t he? The “Knave Of Hearts.” His eyes had been clear, somewhat, hadn’t they been? Fiery, tired, filled with nothing but anger, but there was no haze of drink or drugs. Even as his eyes had gone dark, his head hurled to the underbrush.
The “Queen” had passed Alice by after that. She’d barely heard the stern words of warning to “not interfere with the Queen’s court,” as she’d blinked hazily at the headless body. The one person she might’ve been able to talk to, the one person who was sane, had lost his head.
All that she could do was to give him a proper burial, before she kept going. Mourn the loss of the one person who could’ve helped her. Unfortunately, a proper burial required a head, and she was having a bit of… difficulty finding it.
She hadn’t been able to tell how thick the thorns were when she’d slid into the woods where the head had rolled. They were cutting her hands, her knees, tearing more holes in her uniform as she dug through them. Her skin was already too stained with gore for the cuts to change anything about that, at least.
Alice pushed aside a bunch of leaves, ignoring the way it stung her arms and hands. She’d need to disinfect the wounds later, try and keep from becoming just another corpse on the ground. She was already almost out of medical supplies, just to keep from dying of some small random infection.
Well, there was something behind those bushes, wasn’t there? Alice was used to blood being everywhere, but this time, the trail of red was a good sign. It meant the head was close.
She pushed deeper into the brush, and as she reached in, her fingers brushed against something. Hair, maybe? She grabbed onto it, pulling it out. It took a bit of effort, but soon enough she had a slightly worse for wear decapitated head in her hands. Great.
She tried not to stare at the… neck wound. Or at the blood dripping from it, or… the fact she was holding a decapitated head. Two weeks ago she would’ve thrown up. Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have had to be holding a decapitated head.
She could just… focus on other parts of the head. Like the man’s horrible makeup job. Really, who did their eyeliner like that? She didn’t know much about makeup, but she was pretty sure eyeliner was supposed to be on the eyes, not all over the face. Maybe it was some sort of… war thing? To keep the sun out of his eyes or something? She wouldn’t know: she was a scout captain, not a soldier. Or maybe the Knave of Hearts had gotten decapitated for fashion crimes.
That was a thought, wasn’t it? Getting the death sentence for shittily done eyeliner. Wouldn’t surprise her if the “Queen of Hearts” did something like that.
Alice took in a shaky breath. “Alright… “Knave,” let’s… put you to rest, I guess.” The decapitated head didn’t respond, fortunately. She wouldn’t put it past it, at this point. Talking heads! Hah! Would go right along with everything else, wouldn’t it? He’d fit right in with that tea party, at that point.
Maybe the secondhand smoke was starting to get to her. Or this was just a standard case of going insane because of all the impossible things happening around her.
She struggled to her feet, holding the head as far away from her as possible. It, very helpfully, dribbled blood on the ground, the glassy eyes of the man staring at Alice with disapproval. She gagged a bit, readjusting her grip so he was staring away from her.
God, she was- she was holding what had used to be a person. She’d seen plenty of corpses around, yes, but she’d never touched them. At least not willingly. His skin was still warm, even being thoroughly detached from his body. It made Alice’s stomach turn.
She rose, staggering a bit as she stepped precariously through the brambles. It was a bit easier to navigate them when she wasn’t actively crawling, brambles catching mostly on her boots, as opposed to catching her hands. She was lucky her shoes hadn’t worn out yet, considering how much she’d been walking.
She caught herself on a tree as she tripped slightly, head still held out far from her face, before wiping a bit of blood of her face and continuing to clamber through. It wasn’t a far walk to where she’d laid down the dead body of the Knave on a tarp, shovel lying haphazardly behind him. Despite the gaping wound on his neck dripping all on the tarp and down his front, he was still somehow covered in less blood than Alice was. That was… really sad.
She plopped the head down next to the body, and let out a deep breath. Well, she’d succeeded at something at least. Something that was completely useless with the only person who would possibly care about it currently very dead. Something that was not going to do a single thing to help her get off this fucking planet. Something that was just using up her already dwindling energy and resources.
Well, hey, at least it was something. She could have one ritual, one thing that was normal, one thing that would keep her from tearing the hair from her head. She’d seen the one sane person on this planet die in front of her eyes: the least she could do was honor his memory. Or something.
She gritted her teeth, grabbing the shovel from beside the body and digging it into the soil. At least the dirt was soft. If she was burying a body in hard ground she might’ve just burst into tears. Again.
Digging the hole took a lot longer than she would’ve liked. By the end, she gained a newfound respect for gravediggers and their practice. Not that she’d ever meet another one in her life, most likely, considering the way things were looking.
After a few hours, the hole looked deep enough to drop a body into, which was exactly what she was hoping for. She wiped the sweat from her brow, collapsing on the dirt inside the grave, staring up at the blinding sun as she heaved a few breaths. She stayed there for a bit, trying to get the ever-present aching in her body to dwindle, gasping and wheezing.
She could just… stay here for a bit. Rest, while her body recovered. The dead man wasn’t going anywhere, was he? He was dead. Alice didn’t have experience with being dead, but she was fairly certain dead bodies didn’t move. Even if some of the people at the tea party had… disagreed.
She wasn’t thinking about the tea party. Not about the cups they’d offer her, alcohol mixed with earl gray or whatever other flavors of tea they had. Not about the dead bodies littering the ground, people dancing around them like they weren’t there, or worse, dragging them about, dancing with them, having full on conversations with corpses. Not about those majors or corporals or generals or whatever they were, dragging her to join in, singing those blasted songs. People smoking, and laughing, covered in blood and saying things that didn’t make sense.
Alice groaned, pushing herself up and off of the floor of the grave. Thinking about things would just make her madder, which was something she didn’t need. What she needed was to keep herself busy, and to keep moving. With a heavy sigh, she moved to start climbing.
She clambered out of the hole, collapsing onto the ground with a few more gasps. She let out a dry laugh. “Better be grateful for this, Knave. Probably just cut another week off my life.”
She was interrupted from talking to herself by the sound of slow, mocking clapping, coming from where the corpse was. She froze, looking up slowly at the dead body of the Knave of Hearts.
She’d left the body lying on the tarp, most definitely not sitting up. He was clapping his hands together, seemingly watching her, though she figured that might’ve been a bit hard, as his head was still lying on the fabric next to him. His neck was nothing but a bloody stump, dripping gore down his front as he mocked her.
She stumbled back, almost falling right back into the grave again, as he picked up the head from beside him, setting it in his own lap. The eyes of the decapitated head were no longer dead and unseeing: his face was broken into a wide, crooked grin, staring at her expectantly.
“Well, I am very grateful when idiotic mortals about an hour from dying decide to dig me a grave for fun. And the name’s not Knave, despite what your queenie might insist.”
Alice, to her credit, didn’t scream. She did however, immediately bash the man with her shovel as strong as she could. Unfortunately, her instinct was to hit the man in the face with said shovel. Due to evident reasons, this did not go the way that it was supposed to.
The… decapitated head sitting in his own lap raised his eyebrows, an amused expression on his face. “Really, that’s the best you can do? Haven’t died of a shovel bludgeoning in a good few years. That’s just disappointing.”
“What the fuck are you.” Alice demanded, getting her balance back and pointing the shovel at the decapitated head, in the most threatening manner she could muster. Given the fact she’d been a second away from collapsing for the last several days, it wasn’t very threatening.
“I feel the better question here is what the fuck are you.” The decapitated man deflected. “You’re sober.”
Alice blinked. “You’re sober, too. And you were dead, you should be-” she gestured wildly at him. “You’re missing your fucking head right now, I- I saw it got chopped off! I dragged your body out! Your head is in your fucking lap right now, and- and your talking, and-”
“Ah, right, let me fix that.” The man lifted up his head and plopped it into his neck with a squelch. He dusted off his hands as the flesh knit back together, until all that was left to show he’d been decapitated at all was a thin choker of blood above his collar. He gave her a grin. “Better?”
Needless to say, this did not help Alice’s mental state. So, she had the reasonable reaction to seeing that the man had a face again, and bashed it with a shovel. Properly, this time.
The man just laughed, rubbing the part of his face that had been hit. It looked like it was already healing, as well. “Well, that was certainly better, wobbly as you are.”
“I repeat my question.” She hissed. “What the fuck are you.”
“Oh, me?” He raised an eyebrow, relaxing like the tarp that was going to be used to wrap his body was a picnic blanket. “I am the great, the infamous, the terrible-” He pulled a flask out of his pocket, taking a swig from it, before doing a mini bow of his head. “Captain Jonny D’ville, of the starship Aurora. Pleasure to meet you.”
That didn’t answer Alice’s question in the slightest. “The Rose Red called you the Knave of Hearts.”
“Queenie up there is a bit confused, if you couldn’t tell.” He hissed, baring his teeth. “May be a knave, but not of any hearts. Besides, calling someone a knave is just stupid. Call me a bastard like any normal person, or something.”
Alice noted with amusement that the man- Jonny- genuinely seemed to hate the title of knave, given the way his shoulders tensed. She raised an eyebrow, sniffing. “Well, Knave, I am interested to learn how the fuck you came back to life.”
Jonny glared at her, taking a defiant drink of alcohol. “Magic.”
“Tell me how.”
“Not lying. Mostly.” he shrugged. “Depends on your definition of magic.” He took another swig from his flask, pointing it at her. “All you need to know is that you’re not getting it, and it fucking hurts.”
Alice blinked. “I don’t want to be immortal.”
“You better not, only idiots do. Now-” he stood up, brushing himself off. “I have a queen to go kill, some bastards to find and also probably kill, and extraordinary amounts of alcohol to drink. So either get out of my way, or you get a bullet to the brain.” He smiled at her, showing off sharp teeth. “Got that?”
Alice took a step back from him, gripping the shovel. She still had her gun on her hip, ready to be grabbed if necessary, but Jonny obviously had one too. “I’m not just going to- no!”
Jonny looked her up and down, eyebrow raising, before he shrugged. “Alright, bullet to the brain it is, then.” he began to pull out his gun casually, but Alice held out her hands.
“Wait!”
“You seem unable to make up your mind about this.” Jonny gestured with the gun. “It’s either get out of my way, or get shot. You don’t get out of my way, you get shot. Very easy.”
“You’re the first sober person I’ve talked to since I’ve gotten here.” Alice tried, still holding up her hands. He wasn’t pointing the gun directly at her, but he looked a moment away from raising it and shooting her casually. “Please, I just-”
“Oh, I’m sober?” Jonny took a loooong gulp from his flask, practically draining the thing out of what Alice could tell. He wiped his mouth, giving her a grin that looked significantly drunker. “How ‘bout now? That better?”
“...You’re the first person I’ve talked to that hasn’t been completely insane or on those weird drugs.” Alice amended, taking another step back.
She was beginning to realize that she was dealing with a very, very dangerous individual here. Even if she could kill him- which was doubtful, given her exhaustion and less than fantastic self-defense skills- by what had happened previously, it wouldn’t last long. As well, the Knave of Hearts also seemed the type to be very hell-bent for vengeance, if she did somehow hurt him.
“Please, I just- I need a reminder that I’m still sane. That there are people who aren’t…” she hesitated. “Like that.” she gestured vaguely to her surroundings, as though pointing out every insane person she’d talked to since she’d crash landed. Comsat Cheshire, the soldiers, the General, Majors Hatter and Hare, the partygoers, the Queen of Hearts, all of them were mad.
“If you’re looking for emotional reassurance, sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong place,” Jonny declared casually, starting to brush past Alice. “I’ve been informed on many occasions that I have the emotional intelligence of a lump of coal. And I’ll be the first to admit they’re not wrong.”
“Can you please-” Alice pressed her lips together into a thin line, following behind him stubbornly. “I tried to save you from the Queen of Hearts! Isn’t that worth something, at least?”
“You tried, and failed, and also very evidently-” He gestured to himself. “No saving was needed.”
“But- but what if your revival had failed! Then you would be dead!”
The man let out a sharp bark of laughter, filled with no humor, before turning to Alice. His eyes were cold, like points of obsidian, and he sneered. “Trust me, if my revival had failed, then I’d be singing the praises of the motherfucking Queen of Hearts from beyond the grave.”
Alice blinked, letting out a growl. “Please, can you just- I’ve been here for days. If you can tell me somewhere safe, or how I can get off of this planet, I just need-” she let out a manic laugh, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m the only sane person on this entire fucking planet. Everyone else is fighting this war which ended 60 years ago, getting high off their asses and drinking more alcohol than this planet should be producing. I’ve been walking for days, I’ve barely eaten, I’m running low on supplies, most of the people I’ve met have tried to kill me, I’m starting to think I’m hallucinating, with everything I’ve been seeing, and I-”
Fuck, there were tears in her eyes. She was crying, in front of this armed man who didn’t care about her and had been threatening to shoot her seconds ago. He was going to kill her, wasn’t he? He had the gun, and everything- and-
As a single tear rolled down her cheek, Jonny turned around, glancing down at her hand, still grabbed onto his shirt. He considered his gun a moment, before glancing back up at her with a sniff. “Days, you say?”
Alice paused. “Y-yeah?”
“And, would you say that you’ve gotten some… stories out of this?” He turned around to face her again, staring at her with an unreadable expression.
“I… Guess?” Why was he asking for stories, of all things?
“What’s your name, oh adventurer of Wonderland?” He asked, tilting his chin up to look down at her.
“...Alice.” She responded. “My name is Alice.”
His face burst into a grin, once again. “Fantastic to meet you, Alice! I have a proposition for you.”
“What?”
“How about…” Jonny considered, rubbing his chin. “I tell you where the rest of my crew members are hanging out, and that you can tell them that I sent you, where they may or may not offer you protection and resources. Depends on who you go to, what mood they're in, whether they shoot you before you can speak, blah blah blah, all kinds of things.”
…Was he actually offering to help her? She’d asked mostly out of desperation, not honestly expecting the man to do anything. She’d have been less surprised if he’d pulled out his gun and shot her, right then and there.
“In exchange,” He continued. “You tell me everything you’ve been through since you got here. Every singly nitty, gritty, gorey detail. I want it all. How you got here, why you're covered in blood, every single decapitated head you’ve seen, everything.” he grinned.
“...why are you helping me?” Alice asked slowly, frowning at him.
“Oh, I’m barely helping you.” Jonny declared. “I doubt you’ll last another two days here. I’m just getting a story out of it. No skin off my back to tell you where everyone’s fucked off to.”
Alice squinted at him suspiciously. He was hard to read: overly relaxed, given the situation, definitely getting drunk. She couldn’t tell if his offer was genuine, though. But getting any sort of help- as unlikely as it was his crew members would actually help her, or that he’d even tell her anything in the first place- was by far worth just telling a few stories.
“All you want is my story?” she confirmed, flatly.
“Yup. Maybe some alcohol, if you have any, but I’m figuring you don’t”
She let out a breath. “Fine. let’s begin, then.”
He bared his teeth at her in a wolflike grin. “Lovely. So, Alice of Wonderland, how’d you get here in the first place?”