Disclaimer: And how many times have I told you fine people that nothing here belongs to me? I own the idea for the fic itself, plus the concept of Baby Grands, but that'd be it!
A Brief Author's Note: We have the next to last, the ninth, in the LJ 10_prompts community's Table 11. One more thousand words – there's some Scottish insults in here (I don't own those either) and an intensely upset Alice. I rate this one T.
9 - Permanent
"Tarrant!" screeched Alice. "TARRANT HIGHTOPP, GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT!"
She glared back at her reflection in the mirror, running her fingers over the damage he had done, still clad in a towel and dripping on the floor. Her eyes flashed with a fury very few had ever seen. Oh, she had words for the infuriating madman! So many words she had for him! She could deal with his madness anymore – but this!? What in Underland had possessed him to leave that bottle beside her shampoo was completely beyond her. He didn't think on the same page as anyone else, that much she could be certain of --- but how much good sense did it take not to leave THAT in the bath!?
Tarrant heard the screaming all the way from his workshop. Odd, that was. He set aside a miniature top hat to which he had been adding lace and feathers. Now where was that feather-dye? He always worked with bleached-white feathers, adding his own custom colors to his creations. His brow furrowed as he sifted through a container full of colored bottles and he cursed mildly. That was odd too – he could remember having it in his hand as of recently. Again, he heard his name called through Marmoreal, distracting him from his lost feather-dye. Now what could possibly be the problem? Tilting his head, he picked up his hat and put it on smartly as he exited his workshop.
He whistled merrily, vaguely out of tune, as his boots scuffed their way down the long hallway. Satisfied with how well the small top hat had been coming along and eager to get back and add the finishing touches, he wished to deal with the new issue in a timely manner. Perhaps someone he ran into along the way would have his feather-dye! Blue feathers would look wonderful with his Alice's blonde curls! Again, he heard his name and sped up his pace – oddly enough, the commotion seemed come from the bathing-chamber he and his wife shared.
Odd and odder, thought the Hatter – Alice simply never carried on so! Perhaps she had discovered Chessur watching from her mirror? Tarrant began to growl under his breath, muttering old Outlandish curses at the Cat. If he had warned that exasperating feline once to stay out of his wife's bathing-chamber, he had warned him a thousand times! Working himself into a right proper tizzy, the Hatter stormed along the corridor, ready to throw that furball out of the window!
"Oh, Tarrant, you don't mean those things," cajoled the Cheshire Cat, grinning self-assuredly at the enraged, red-eyed Hatter.
"Awa' an' bile yer heid!" growled the Hatter in return, one fist clenching.
Realizing that Tarrant was angry enough to swing at him, Chessur evaporated, sniffing that someone had quite the temper today! The Hatter continued along. He could still hear the soft, raspy laughter of that damnable Cat, but decided to take the high road and ignore it. The door to the suite he shared with Alice since their marriage swung open. He crossed the room in three long strides and threw the bedroom door open, ignoring the doorknob's protestations.
"I shouldn't go in there, if I were you," remarked the knob on the bathing-chamber's door.
The Hatter was in no mood for games, particularly from gossipy door-fixtures.
"An' why no'?" he grumbled.
If a doorknob could heave a sigh, this one would have.
"If you value your hide---" it began, the rest of what it said muffled by Tarrant's bandaged hand. He twisted said knob and it retaliated in the only way it knew how – it locked itself.
"Why yeh little pain in my arse!" roared the Hatter, raising a fist and beating heavily on the door.
The knob blew a raspberry at him and the invisible Chessur giggled.
"Tarrant, is that you?!" demanded the muffled voice of Alice.
Chessur laughed louder still, but calmed himself.
"Oh, but it seems everyone is testy today," he remarked, ignoring the daggers Tarrant glared at him.
Wanting very much to strangle the wretched feline, the Hatter tried his best to ignore and jiggled the doorknob irritably. At the prospect that he might just wrench the door open and be done with it, the knob clicked and swung open by about an inch. Still growling curses and threats, he pressed one orange eye to the opening. He could not see Alice.
"Tarrant, get in here," he heard his wife grate between clinched teeth.
Without waiting for his reply, the door swung the rest of the way open and he stumbled heavily into the bathing-chamber.
"Why Alice!" he started in a voice much too bright as he got a look at her, his eyes immediately green again. "You look---"
He did not get a chance to say how she looked as he found himself cut off by the pure rage in her eyes.
"Notice anything?" she asked, her tone suggesting that she might explode.
The Hatter, normally so confident in his ability to diffuse her anger, to calm her with words, cast blindly about for the response least likely to get him gutted.
"You've… found my feather-dye?" he ventured.
Her hair hung around her face, long and beautiful… and bright blue.
"So it would seem," she ground out poisonously.
"It's not permanent!" Tarrant exclaimed quickly– he was pretty sure he had dye-remover somewhere…
"IT BETTER NOT BE!" Alice screamed back, clutching her wet curls.
The Hatter swallowed hard, having never tried said remover on human hair before.
"At least I don't think so…" He dug himself deeper into the hole. "It shouldn't be!"
For a moment, she looked like she might shout at him again, but she stayed perfectly still, an almost serene expression slipping over her face.
"We… shall see," she said finally.
Alice claimed still that, with the exception of Jabberwocky, she did not slay - but she was sorely tempted, at the moment, to strangle this mad Hatter with her bare hands!