Far and Away
Her wound had finally started to close over and heal; it would fade with time, as most pain did.
The untimely death of her father had hurt.
Unbelievably so.
But, like the parallel cuts branded on her bicep, it had lessened. But not gone.
As she was now.
Gone.
Towards China, towards her father's dream. The life she could still live.
For him.
"You're sure you don't get seasick, my dear?"
"I'm sure Sir, but thank you for worrying. Do I look so pale as to be ill?"
Lord Ascot could only chuckle at the young woman who had been staring vacantly at the passing sky since setting off from the port. Just as airy as Charles Kingsley had been.
Just as innovative too.
But she was young and new to this world. He was sure she would be amazed, frightened, and all together overwhelmed by her rapidly expanding horizons.
He often wondered if she would be able to cope.
"Of course not, Alice. However, I think it would be wise to cover your head, lest it float away whilst we are sailing". With that, he popped a black top hat upon her head that had been resting beside her, contrasting violently with her flaxen hair.
She laughed.; ran her fingertips lightly over the velvety rim.
And sighed.
Lord Ascot vividly remembered Alice as a young girl, running around his vast garden in her frills and laces that would end up as dark as the hat she sported, far too big for her head, and far too masculine for her mother's taste.
But Charles had approved.
She was still toying with her father's hat. She must have been considering the possibility that she had been wrong; that her father had been wrong. That this entire voyage was pure madness.
"Alice, my dear, if you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to come to me. It will be difficult to adapt and engineer this trade system, but it will be a success. So ask me anything"
She smiled, looked away to consider; hand always on hat.
"Anything Sir?"
"Of course"
She turned, fully facing him. He was unnerved by the sudden stoicism her young face expressed. He prepared for the worst. Questioning his loyalty to her father, as he had done numerous times since his passing, and regretted not taking this journey sooner with the man. That she would bluntly ask if he believed this would be worth it, to which he would offer no sure answer.
She stilled her hand, letting it drop to the railing of the ship.
Leant towards him slightly, like a child that was going to tell a most important and private secret. He couldn't help but imitate it, leaning in as curiosity fell like a curtain around them.
His ear was met with a whisper; melancholy and distant.
And something distinctly... strange.
"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?"
First Alice fanfiction for the Tim Burton film. I consider it Alice/Tarrant, if you squint really hard.
Please review if you wish.
Disclaimer: Don't own it.
