And this here is just sole proof that even I sometimes don't even know what the fuck is wrong with me.
It was four in the morning. That's the excuse I'm sticking with.
You may have seen this story at my other account beemanic, but FF is a douche and the servers wouldn't upload this fic for some damn reason. So I re-uploaded on my scraps accoun here.
Thus, no blahing to me about seeing this somewhere else. Or I will eat babies. Rawr.
Pairings.. Pairings. So far undecided. But I think I may go in an AkuRoku-y path. Hmm.
Perhaps a review could help me decide?
Um. I own nothing. Nothingnothingnothing, no matter how much pot Roxas is on.
In which Narnia meets it's match.
t e a with a side of god knows w h a t « «
x x x
For a second, Roxas only vaguely allowed his mind to mull over what exactly it was he did to get into this... Mess.
But only for a second, 'cause realization could sometimes be a bigger bitch than karma.
And be a bitch it did.
He supposed to himself, while passing the fourth giant mushroom of the day, that this whole situation could have been much worse.
Much, much worse.
He didn't exactly know how that was possible at the moment, he thought while meandering down a curving road, but Roxas was always that kind of go-with-the-flow person. Well, not really. But getting high in a bedroom closet sure does some strange things to people, so we can all safely assume Roxas liked to go with the flow for now. Just this once.
The blonde tugged blankly at the mini, spotless white apron that was tied over the sky-blue dress that he had found himself in, not taking note of how reminiscent of the Lolita style it was, nor of how itchy his bloomers were beginning to get. He wasn't taking note of anything much, to be honest, merely wandering down a black-and-white checkered road that he just happened upon, still in that slight daze he was from the moment he took a hit of.. Whatever was in that blunt and found himself in...
Wherever here was.
Foliage of all types surrounded him, giant mushrooms and monstrous flowers eating up the boy's vision. But no matter about all that, he mused with a hum, all he knew was that this road would take him somewhere, and that was all there was to it. Follow the road, get to wherever it led, and deal with it then. Though—Roxas nearly giggled at the little thought—the people who lived here must surely be on some kind of monster high from all the 'shrooms.
Roxas supposed that he should have been worried, maybe even a little scared , to find himself in a place that was no doubt miles from his home, family, and other melodramatics such as that. But with a little hum, he allowed his mind to once more be overcome with the glorious fog that was produced by whatever plant had been procured in his bedroom closet. No need to worry about all those things now, he decided; the mushrooms were calling to him. Literally.
Oh wait…
It wasn't the mushrooms calling him. It was a man in the mushrooms.
Yes, that made much more sense.
"Hey! Kid, you comin' to this tea party or what?"
A puff of acrid smoke hit his nose, making Roxas scrunch up his face in response to the tall being. A cigarette in hand and a ludicrously big top hat on his head were the first things Roxas discerned of this new person in his little world. Amber eyes appraised him lazily, and from atop the tallest mushroom in view sat a smartly-dressed, one-eyed man.
Roxas quirked a thin brow.
"Xigbar?" A pregnant pause. And then: "What the fuck are you doing here?"
What indeed was Roxas's algebra teacher doing there? Here? Anywhere?
(Not like the man taught a damn, anyway.)
"What the fuck indeed, Roxas. What the fuck, indeed." Another drag on the cigarette.
It was perhaps never a good idea to follow a grown man to a tea party, the blonde decided, especially not when one was dressed in such a lacy, blue number such as he (finally remembering to scratch at his bloomers, Roxas did so quite carelessly in front of a still-smoking Xigbar). But things, as Roxas's mother would have said, tended to take their own course of actions no matter what we did. Fate just enjoyed being a bitch alongside Karma. So with that thought in mind, the blonde decided hell to reason—he was quite thirsty anyway—and if anything should happen to his young, vulnerable and dress-wearing self, Roxas would simply blame his mother. As it were, he was following her logic; she should be proud.
"Eh. I've got nothing better to do," the boy shrugged bluntly, and Xigbar merely discarded his cigarette and hopped off his mushroom, ambling off through another crooked path that broke from Roxas's original course. From beyond, he could barely discern the sounds of what sounded like piping little flutes.
"So!" Elf ears poked out from under Xigbar's hat, "What brings you to this neck of the woods, squirt?"
Yep, he called him that during algebra, too.
"Dunno," Roxas shook his head, the dazed look of one who huffed too much of whatever plant was sold to them slowly creeping into ocean blue eyes as he silently marched behind the older man.
Xigbar shrugged nonchalantly, "Eh, whatever floats your boat."
The strange duo continued walking in silence, Roxas occasionally tugging at the white and black, striped stockings his thin legs were wrapped silkily in. He suddenly thought it was a bit strange (maybe a bit more than a bit strange) that he was walking with one of his teachers, who was clad in some sort of frilly three piece suit and stockings, while cavorting around in a dress himself, but another fog clouded his mind and Roxas went along mutely past another small forest of mushrooms. Like the elfin man said, Whatever floats your boat.
Which was, apparently, tea parties and dresses.
Maybe his mother was right about therapy…
But little Roxas had no more time to dwell on such matters (that's what his bedroom closest was used for, anyway) because it was at that moment that the two came to a crooked white gate, through which the blonde could clearly see a young boy conducting an orchestra of teapots. With a teaspoon, no doubt.
"Hey, you guys are looking lively!" the boy—he only looked a little older than Roxas—complemented his strange ensemble of teapot-flutes, waving the silver spoon around jovially and bouncing in his over-stuffed chair in tune to the cheery music. What caught a dazed Roxas's attention was not, in fact, the sight of two large and floppy ear protruding from a mullet'd head. Nor was it the numerous piercings on said brown, floppy ears. It wasn't the teacup balanced carefully between the ears, either. It was actually, more of the who.
"Demyx?" And once more Roxas shifted in a pregnant pause, as the music died down and the Rabbit-Demyx …Thing looked up at him, wonderment filling those bright teal eyes Roxas had often seen back at school.
"Roxas! You're finally here!" the boy chirped, springing up from his position at the head of the table, and scrambling down a very long, and very cluttered dining room table to get to the pair. Throwing his silver spoon to the side haphazardly, Demyx knocked over dozens of teapots and cups, seemingly uncaring of destroying his ensemble, only to spring to Roxas's side and take a noisy sip of... Tea.
"You're late, you know," the older boy tsk'd, piercings glinting as he shook his head and sent the rabbit ears flopping. Roxas was silent, muted by the fact that someone who had never before even seemed to notice him at school, was now here and telling him that he was late for a tea party.
"Oh c'mon, aren't you going to say anything?" Demyx took another noisy sip from the tea cup that was previously balanced on his mullet, "It's my unbirthday, you know!"
There was a silence, and Roxas was looked at from two expectant pairs of eyes; one a dull amber, the other a bright teal.
"Um.." was the only sensible noise the young blonde could produce at the moment.
"Gasp!" And then Roxas found himself being lifted by two pair of strong arms, carried over to take a seat next to a slumbering mouse, "Roxas, how could you forget about my unbirthday? It only comes 364 days a year, ya know?"
But the blonde couldn't have answered even if he knew just what an unbirthday was, because the mouse beside him took that moment to arise, and sleepily look up at him.
Well, not a mouse.
A young man with grey mouse ears sprouting out of his head.
And not a sleepy look, either.
More like a sleepy little scowl.
And then Roxas was left sitting there silently as Xigbar and Demyx partook in what they called tea, leaving his history teacher to sleepily glare at him.
Roxas could almost hear the nefarious plots bubbling behind those dull, grey eyes.
Then again, Zexion never was a nice teacher, so Roxas found it quite unsurprising that even as a mouse the blue-haired man would be cranky; however cute those mouse ears may or may not have been. The two sat in a silence teeming with awkwardness, almost as if Zexion was silently daring him to just say one little thing about the predicament, mouse ears a'twitching.
"Tea?" Roxas offered in a subdued voice when Zexion failed to melt him with those patented Evil Eyes, gingerly pointing to a cup filled with the steaming substance in front of the doormouse.. Man. Thing.
The man-mouse in question looked at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes and yawned.
"Pfft. You don't want to know what's in that tea, Roxas. Trust me." And with that, Zexion burrowed his head in his arms, and shortly began to snore very, very softly.
As Roxas blankly gazed over at Demyx, once more conducting his orchestra of teapots, and Xigbar as he downed another cup of steaming tea while hiccupping, he couldn't help but idly wonder that perhaps Zexion was right. Hmm, perhaps he should do his history homework more often...
A cup of steaming, murky tea was placed in from the Roxas—whose bloomers itched once more—and he watched it with dull oceanic eyes.
Perhaps huffing plants in his bedroom closet really wasn't the best of ideas, either.
Perhaps it was a fucking brilliant idea.
But no matter to that, as Roxas soon found himself shrugging lithely to himself and casually sipping the 'tea' (which tasted faintly of mushrooms and strawberry jam, for some reason he did not want to discern), watching Demyx as the teen wished himself a very merry unbirthday and conducted the orchestra of teapots once more.
A little tea never hurt anyone, he mused as a teacup danced right past him.
And from a tree, hanging casually from a branch as he had for the entire time, a certain redhead watched the scene below him with gleaming, jade eyes.
He grinned, exposing a wide mouthful of sharp, pearly-white teeth. A bushy, dark magenta and violet striped tail swished behind him lazily as he gazed at the small blonde below.
A menacing chuckle, and soon all that was left of Axel—schemer of disastrous plots supreme—was a wide and very, very pointy grin.
"Poor Roxy…"
And then even the grin was gone, vanishing into the darkness that lay ahead.
At this point, you're either dead or very, very amused.
Or calling the nearest mental institution to lock me up, oho.
Roxas is as high as Lewis Caroll (though you still fucking rock, dude), Xigbar is a marginally less pyschotic Mad Hatter, Demyx is the March Hare, and Zexion?
Zexion's the only one with enough sense to stay the fuck away from the tea.
Axel should be quite obvious. Why? Because its so deliciously wrong its right, and you know it.
^ I don't know what I shoved up my nose either.
Something that should occur to you, unless you're as stoned as Roxas here, is that this entire story is CRACK. EPIC CRACK maybe, but still CRACK.
Don't murder me, kay thanks.
And yet, from all this, my mind still found a way to create a plot.
Oh good GOD. ;-;
I like reviews, by the way. A lot.
...
"Oh, a very merry unbirthday to you (To me?). To you! A very merry unbirthday..."