Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: "Don't trust this person." The sign said. Well, thank goodness she no longer had a problem with that. Tamara fic with Merrywood in there. Mentions of Painted Doll, Scorpion and Wick. Warning, Tamara is extremely OOC in this fic.
Don't trust this person:
She cocked her head as she took in the strange, almost theater like setup in front of her. There was a red silk mat lain out on the black floor, a large black top hat lying on its side, stuffed to the opening with sparkling, large, expensive looking, glamorous jewels, diamonds, necklaces and pearls. There was a small black pedestal with several pieces of grey cloth strewn across it and a white envelope in the middle of it with the name "Merrywood" scribbled across it. Below, lying down as if in a comatose state was an elegant appearing, rather beautiful woman with long black hair, full lips with black lipstick and pale skin, wearing high heels, stockings, a red tight short leather skirt, red revealing clothing and long bunches of light brown fur coats covering her that she was laying in. She wore a black hat with a long fluffy feather in its side. The brunette lifted her head and speculated the huge square shaped, crimson sign above the other woman's head.
The sign had large ominous words written in ebony ink across it. "Don't trust this person," the sign said. The brunette smirked, sporting her new satin ashen dress as she placed her left hand on her hip. Don't trust this person? Well, thank goodness she no longer had a problem with that.
She didn't know how long it had been since she had first landed in this Carnival. Carnival. How Tamara hated that word. This place could pretty itself up with a false name and Ferris wheels, cotton candy, popcorn, balloons, cardboard cutouts and songs all it wanted, but Tamara had come to the understanding long ago where she was. Hell. This place was Hell. There was no getting around that. She didn't know how long she had been in Hell, but it had felt like forever. Maybe she had only been here a month. Maybe a year. Maybe a decade. Maybe even a century. She really didn't know. How did time move in Hell in comparison to the living world? Tamara would have done anything for someone to tell her what year it was in the living world. Her gaze lowered back to the woman. How long had this unlucky woman been here?
There was a whimper that left the black lipstick painted lips of the formerly sleeping woman on the mat and she raised herself up slowly and wearily. The woman who was standing watched with an odd fascination and satisfaction.
The black haired woman, keeping her hat with the extravagant appearing feather on her head, looked around, seeming alarmed.
"Where am I?" She wondered out loud.
The brunette watching decided to make her presence known to the clearly befuddled and scared woman on the floor. "Merrywood, I presume?" She spoke up, making the fur covered woman jump, turning her head to the white dress clothed figure in front of her.
The fancily dressed woman appeared frightened and obviously didn't know what to make of her surroundings or just what to make of the person she was being greeted with the sight of. "Who…who are you?" The black haired woman asked, slowly getting up off the floor.
The brunette raised her head haughtily. "Tamara." She answered, feeling a new sense that she was superior. She had never felt that way ever before. Usually she was the prey. The Scorpion and that Painted Doll character made sure of that. As she observed the nervous, fancily dressed woman, she wondered for a moment if this was how the other carnies felt. As if they were studying a lower species-one they were trying to experiment on and trying to dissect each inch of the ants under their microscopes.
Wait, ants? Microscopes? No. Frogs. Frogs, scalpels and operating tables. Tamara grinned wryly at the apt comparison. This…woman, this "Merrywood" seemed uneasy by the new threatening countenance that Tamara bore and stepped back a few inches. Seeing this, Tamara started up again, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of something funny. Real funny. Now, Merrywood, see that envelope? Behind you? Pick it up."
Merrywood's brow furrowed in confusion and then she looked around at the objects she was surrounded by, only to finally find the envelope beneath the foreboding crimson sign with the black lettering. Not seeming to care about the sign, Merrywood reached over and took the envelope, pulling the carnival ticket that Tamara was oh so familiar with out of the white paper case, along with a small note that the dress covered woman couldn't see.
Whatever the note said, Merrywood must have found it hilarious. The scarlet clothed woman scoffed, "Take only what you need? Well in that case, I need everything!"
It took a moment for Tamara to realize what the older woman meant till she saw Merrywood turn towards the top hat impregnated with jewels and treasures, reaching for them. Understanding came to the brunette then and her left arm dropped to her side as she yelled out, surprised by her own fiery reaction, "Merrywood, don't! It's a test! If you take those jewels you'll be failing it!"
"A test?" The older woman laughed, staring down at the gems and jewelry, eyes gleaming as brightly as several of the hat's sparkling inhabitants were, "Well if failing it means that I can have these beautiful treasures, then I'll take the risk!"
She buried her black gloved hands into the mounds of silver and white treasure, swooning at the sight before her. Tamara groaned. Yes, this was quite possibly exactly how the carnies felt towards sinners who were recently dead. She found herself able to analyze this woman's flaws and just why exactly she was here in a heartbeat. The woman's attire screamed vanity, and to speak nothing of the woman's clear as day greed. This woman apparently didn't know when to stop taking valuables, or at least attractive items, even if they didn't belong to her.
"Now how could you have possibly ended up here?" Tamara asked, voice heavy with sarcasm. She remembered wondering again and again why she was in hell till she finally realized that it was because she was too trusting. Being trusting wasn't a very well-known sin, in fact, Tamara, until a months back (or what she suspected were a few months back) hadn't even come to the conclusion that being trusting was a sin.
Tamara narrowed her eyes in judgment at the raven haired woman. Now if something as innocent as trust was damnable, then this woman who embodied all three a blunt, arrogant fool, a vain peacock and a jewel hoarding miser all in one didn't have a prayer.
But then, neither she nor Merrywood had to worry about that, did they? In fact, praying was against the rules here, as Tamara had found out once. That woman, if she could be called that….the "woe maiden," Wick had been the bearer of her punishment that time she had prayed in hopes of God's answers.
How funny; Tamara could still be sure that she recalled seeing regret in Wick's eyes after the punishment was done. But then, that was just another trick, wasn't it? No, Tamara had learned the lesson well. Trust no one. She would never be fooled by anyone again. She watched Merrywood who was scooping up piles of the gems. No, she would never trust anyone again, much less this foolish creature. She rolled her eyes, turning away from the avaricious, materialistic peacock. She would have nothing to do with this shallow being. No trust or kindness from her.
Helping people, as Tamara also learned, was a fool's errand. She would never help anyone again.
As she walked off into the shadows, ready to harden her heart against any of the carnies' attempts at getting her to trust them, only to pull the rug out from under her, Merrywood didn't even noticed her new "friend's" departure as she remained enamored with the string of shiny rubies and sapphires in her hands till the loud, thunderous alarms went off and red spotlights began to dance across the walls, terrifying the jewel thief into grabbing the rest of the riches and running.
Okay a pointless little fic of just what might happen to Tamara, should she become more distrusting of everyone. I imagine that she'd become pretty cynical by that point too.