A/N: Reviews are appreciated, even criticism.
He didn't know where he was; he didn't know who he was. He kept wandering on all the same as if getting further lost in unknown territory would some how elucidate both those elusive facts for him. But this directionless rambling led him stumbling not into his memory but in view of a nice, white manor with some beautiful bit of cultivated wilderness, much like some feral sort of garden, and a long, grand table set out eloquently for at least thirty for tea. The close juxtaposition of the savage and civilized in such sharp relief to one another made him forget his more pressing troubles all together. He gawked.
At the table were all sorts of tea things, all hideously mismatched and yet vaguely complimentary to the lovely chaos of scenery. The chairs were also of contrasting appearance, some completely unsuitable for such outside entertainment without the cover of a tent and others seeming unsuitable for bearing any weight at all. The best of it was the treats: the most decadent, delicate, and delicious pastries and sandwiches were amply provided and displayed to much advantage. This made it all the more curious that there was no one partaking, or even any guest present at the party at all. The only individual aside from himself was a tall, lean woman—in no way unattractive—with pleasing limbs, decent build, graceful neck, and soft angular face set with short, pixie-like hair who was dressed about the torso in men's dress shirt and vest and about the hips in women's flounce skirt. She stood, in the very center of the table across from him, behind and with a very pretty hand on one of those grand unsuitable-for-being-out-of-doors sofa chairs pulled out just enough to be inviting, as if asking him to please sit and make himself comfortable.
She had a clever little smile as she greeted warmly, expectantly, "Hello Morpheus."
Of course he couldn't be sure, but there was something wrong with that name. He was sure it could not possibly be his, and yet she continued to smile and as he had no other to go by, he smiled rather shyly back, making his way towards the lady and the seat she held out for him especially. He felt pity no one seemed to have come to her little party and could not fathom declining her invitation on that head. Besides, he knew innately he took pleasure in tea and the temptation of the delicacies was more than his search for his identity and whereabouts could entice away from.
He took his seat with only the smallest measure of reluctance and glanced back at his hostess to see if she too would be seated. But she would not be seated. Instead, she was busying herself with a good length of rope which she rapidly wound about his person and the chair, so tight he felt shocked at the young lady's strength. She leaned down to grab a kettle from off the table when in the same motion she breathed venomously in his ear, "You are not welcome here, Morpheus."
And he fell unconscious as she banged him smartly over the head.
