She always fell, and she was never alone when she did. That cat's mangy grin always had irritated her more than it had comforted her.
Alice was never fond of Cheshire's mocking remarks and cryptic answers. She could barely keep what scrambled bits of her mind in check, let alone decipher his meanings to predicaments at hand. It was only a mere reminder that insanity was inescapable with or without him.
The sharpness of her Vorpal Blade would never quell the anger that raged through her veins when met with ruins or other various enemies.
No matter how fast she turned the handle on the Pepper Grinder, her heart hammered with coursing adrenaline.
The recoil on the Teapot Canon would never knock enough sense into her to realize that she no longer had to fight for her memories.
Even the weight of swinging the Hobby Horse never tired her enough to keep pressing forward, shattering the earth beneath her in the process.
The path she was walking on was broken; her legs seemed to drag along some undefined path that was lying ahead of her. Alice's body moved in movements memorized by tired muscles and aching bones as Wonderland always drew her back again and again. She would never gain restful sleep as long as she could think.
The minute Alice closed her eyes in the real world, she fell. The ground below her disappeared and a large, black, gaping hole swallowed her, and there was this noise and insistent chatter in the air as she made her descent back into the depths of her mind. Wonderland was chipping more and more at her sanity bit by bit.
Vibrant hues of green grass and of yellow and white and pink flowers that looked as something worthy of a painting doted and covered the area. The large and overshadowing trees did little to darken the Vale of Tears as the sound of running water from the nearby stream ran through Alice's ears.
Alice saw red though. And she only heard the hammering of her own brain in its skull. The cat's voice was the only thing that could stop her rampage, and that was a temporary solution that did not last as much as she would have liked it to.
Cheshire always came to greet her, purring in twisted content as he grinned at her with blood stained teeth. As usual and without fail, he greeted her with a cryptic and paradox-like quote, which she would not hesitate to lash back at the mangy feline.
He seemed to relish in her contempt for him, almost as if mocking her with the knowledge that he was her only true ally through thick and thin. The cat never said it directly; he danced around her, played with her almost.
Alice would never hesitate to pull out her knife on him, threatening to cut him to a million pieces and leave him for whatever feeds off of the corpses in Wonderland.
"Would you really do such a thing, Dear Alice?"
"I'm warning you, Cat!"
He would merely let his chest bones rumble with a low chuckle and wag his tail lightly, grin never faltering. Those yellow eyes of his never saw through her more than now. He never failed to see her desperation to get away from it all, and he gladly would help her, help them both…he always gave into the temptation of messing with her.
She saw him as a leech, a parasite sucking away her sanity and patience, but beneficial in some ways, nonetheless.
He saw her as a man sees a woman; a plaything whose company he enjoys, whose presence he enjoys immensely. The cat could always take on another form if he had wanted to; the form of a human, to be precise. But the fun would go away; she would no doubt grow attached to him.
His Dear Alice was never a soft one, however. The jaded look in her green eyes was always more charming than a softer and happier expression could offer. So he would wait and watch her; spectating her battles and problems.
Alice always looked so beautiful dressed in rage, after all.