Till a Century
I'm looking at you through the glass.
Flowers
Percival: Seven
Corvo: Three
Atlas & Amity: two
Corvo held on tight to the skirt of his mother's dress, walking solemnly, yet skeptical about the world around him and all the simplicities that Wonderland had to offer the young toddler. Percival darted out before her mother, running first into the sea of swaying flowers, consumed by tall grass that tickled her knees. Her bare feet dug into enriching earth; churned by erosion, and smothered by dandelions: the more respected weed in the singing flower category. Atlas and Amity were not shy to the world that unfolded to them; they, too, followed after their older sister. Stringy, sun-kissed hair bobbed – one tied with a red-ribbon to decipher one twin from the other, while the other had her hair hung loose, and graced the back of her neck.
Atlas and Amity disappeared into the brush of tall grass, taking in stride to their older sister's longer legs, calling out her name that echoed against plains.
"Go ahead, Corvo." The child quickly snapped his bewitching, blue gaze up at his mother's voice. She smiled down at her son, and the child gasped at the swell of joy he felt in his chest when he felt his mother's fingers tangle into his red-strands. Depending upon Corvo's coy nature, he was fast to decline the offer of leaving his mother's side, and instead leaned closer to his mother's hip, both of his hands bunching at the hem of her dress as if he was afraid that his mother would evaporate. "You can stay, Corvo, come on." Alice gave into a weak laugh and walked her son into the field of mazing grass and flowers.
Atlas peered over the swarm of grass, ducking and weaving and staying quiet to trick her younger twin. Amity assumed the usual. She, too, also indulged in the idea of hiding away from Atlas. Amity would rustle the grass by brushing her hands over the tops, and Atlas situated the same, only to have both of their covers blown by their older sister; Percival swerved, hoisting up one twin in a shrill scream and falling over playfully over the other. Percival tucked both of her sisters in separate arms, fighting off their squirming when she approached their mother with them.
"Are you going to teach us how to make flower crowns today, Momma?" Percival brimmed, ignoring Atlas and Amity's whine; the toddlers kicked and squirmed, bundling up their matching white dresses that fluttered against the gentle gale.
"If you'd like," Alice inquired with the tilt of her head, "Start collecting flowers. Make sure the stems are long. I'll need enough to twine them together. Do no bend the stems, either." Alice informed, taking Corvo's hand to guide him deeper into the field, helping him collect his share of flowers.
"Yes, Momma!" Percival sat the twins down in the grass, the twins were rather frazzled about being manhandled. They stomp their feet, and squawked up at their older sister. Percival merely brushed them off with a smug grin, leaving the little girls to frown harder.
"Quit your fussing. You two are going to help me collect the yellow flowers." Percival announced, and the twins only groaned in response.
"Red, red!" Atlas piped up, and Amity joined in with her sister's chanting.
Percival sighed, nodding her head, "Fine. We'll also collect the red ones. Here," Percival held the hem of her dress, pulling the front slightly up to form a makeshift basket out of the fabric, "When you find a good amount of flowers just place them in my dress and I'll carry them. Simple."
While the girls collected their flowers, Alice sat Corvo down with her in the middle of the field, entwining their flowers that they collected together. Alice showed her end-product, presenting the braided floral stems in front of her son then placing the ring on top of his head, smoothing out his red curls with the slide of her delicate hand. Corvo sat there wide-eyed and questioning, innocently tilting his head to his mother who chirped a laugh, brimming with complete fascination.
Corvo twiddle with one flower in his hands, before silently rising up to place the flower in Alice's hands. "Thank you, Corvo." Alice leaned in to stroke the hollow of her son's face, and he leaned into her subtle touch.
"We got the flowers, Momma!" All three girls came running up. Percival dropped the front of her dress, covering Alice's lap with the heap of their findings.
"Perfect."
They spent many hours before the dawn of Night shift filled the skies, replacing their bright, sunny morning with impending darkness. Deciding that now would be the perfect time to go home.
"We made you crowns, too, Papa!" Percival presented her chain to The White Joker, and he accepted the gift with much pride.
"Thank you." Joker gave a tiny nod and Percival smiled. It was rather humorous to see The Ringmaster remove his jester's hat and bow to his daughter, she domed him with the crown of yellow flowers. "How does it look?" The man kept his smile and Percival giggled almost shyly.
"Would it be okay if I said pretty?"
"Pretty is fine." White humbly replied, straining his posture and crossing his arms behind his back.
"Daddy, Daddy!" Atlas and Amity held up their crowns to The Black Joker, stepping on his black uniform shoes to gander his attention.
"Oh – Spawns," The Warden hummed, "You have to be kidding me –"Alice elbowed The Warden, correcting him, letting him add on to his earlier statement "these are nice." He faked his most charming grin, bending down to accept his entwind crown. Once he knelt on his knees, Atlas removed his warden's hat and Amity replaced it with the red flower crown. The man mumbled, but he still kept that fake, plastered smile.
"Daddy, pretty!" The twins clapped their hands together, quickly latching to his pants leg.
"Yeah, yeah." The Black Joker still grumbled, patting both of his daughter's heads.
Corvo stayed latched to Alice, still twiddling with the flower he gave his mother. Positioning her three-year old to face her, Alice shifted him to where he had to wrap his legs around her waist. Alice would smile and Corvo would sink down, crimson kissing the ivory of his lovely face. The color on his cheeks deepened, when his mother leaned in to kiss his forehead.
White
What can you do when your father is The Ringmaster and The Warden of Wonderland? Nothing. People fear you regardless.
Her eyes burned. Her lip quivered and turned down, and all she could taste was a sour note within her betraying voice. When she finally gathered her pieces, Percival would begin to cry again. She tried to dry her own tears, too ashamed to show her own face behind the tent that expected her to smile.
Percival hated crying. She found the action weak, but the aftermath understandable. The child choked up, pressing the back of her wrist against her eyes to subside the tremor in her shaky palms. The sea of her lovely, red hair framed the sides of her face, cascading elegantly over her shoulders, clashing against the beauty of ivory that flushed a soft velvet when she was upset. Her bangs obscured her vision and hid her face. She never found her red eyes pretty once she began to cry. They just seemed more red and puffy in her opinion.
Children are mean. Children were not tolerable. Not upon simple matters such as heritage; when the children asked her who her parents were, innocently, she'd answer that her father was The Warden and The Joker of Wonderland and that her mother was the foreigner that tumbled down a rabbit hole. One dubbed infamous, while the other parent seemed to be wronged. The Faceless children's faces twisted in disgust and horror, they did everything to stalk away from the girl who greeted them so nicely.
Percival didn't understand why the other children were terrified of her because of her parents. The child only knew her parents to be the kindest people – still it hurt, and her chest swelled with some bitter resentment. The Jester's daughter didn't think she was a bad person, at least she didn't believe so. Possibly it was because she owned a set of eyes, while the world looked down on her so plainly. But that wouldn't make sense, would it?
Percival felt a hand that didn't belong to her, fingers curled and pulled away at her hands that held her face. "Now, this is a bit of a dilemma," The Jester smiled, still holding Percival's hand, "My beautiful daughter is crying. I do hope there is a reason for this."
"I'm sorry." Percival stroked up her embarrassment, trying to avert her glare to anywhere other than her father's single eye.
"Why? Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive. Now, chin up. You're beautiful either way, but I do not like seeing you cry." His index finger taps the lining of her jaw playfully, moving the same finger under her jaw to catch her attention. "Look at me, Percy. If you're crying here – clearly I'm not doing my job right." He smothered her with his fashioned grin, simple and sweet. He moved his other hand up to cup the side of her face, thumbing away the stray tears that gathered in the corner of her eye.
"Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"
"No, sir," Percival leaned into her father's touch, breathing slowly to catch her emotions before they spilled out again.
"Sir? You make me sound so old," White hummed, "Very well, women are always fickle to tell you what's actually wrong. I don't even understand your mother. Now, I'm expected to understand all my daughters? And what of Corvo? Poor boy." The Ringmaster stumbled into ranting, leading to an outbreak of a beautiful smile on Percival's face; she even smiled through her tears.
"You said it. Not me." White huffed, and Percival giggled out over the dramatic change of her father's facial structure, faking displeasure in being called old. Though time didn't touch him. "And thank you, Papa."
"Papa now, eh? I was growing fond over the usage of sir." He shrugged, and tossed his arms up comically, "I suppose Papa will work just fine."
Percival said nothing, but smiled. The stinging in the corners of her eyes died off, her broken-china voice filled with luster again. Her skin took on her healthy glow. She wrapped her arms around her father's waist, pressing her face against his stomach and nuzzling. Joker automatically wrapped his arms around her frame.
"Hey, Percy," Her face shot up to look at her father, "How about I teach you on how to use a sword? But, don't tell your mother. Okay?"
Black
"You three are going to eat me out of house and home." The granola bar was suppose to be for him, but when he saw three sets of eyes staring up at him, he just knew he wasn't going to get a snack in. Corvo sat on his father's knee, the twins' clung to opposite sides of their father's sitting body, watching him unravel the treat from them.
"Daddy, daddy! Hungry!" The twins gripped at his shoulders impatiently, waiting to get the first bite of the bar. Squealing, and leaning into their father's space.
"Settle down, Spawns. Let your brother have some," Black mumbled, bringing the bar up to his son's lips. The boy opened his mouth hesitantly, taking a bite out of the granola and chocolate bits. "Good, right?" And Corvo nodded his head to show his father some form of acknowledgement.
The Warden felt cluttered by all his children clinging off of him, tiny hands gripping and twisting at his uniform when he tried to always conduct some form of business through the Prison. Now, it was mostly spent with him sitting down on the concrete ground, kicking away at the litter of broken toys to make room for him and his children to sit down.
"Ah! Ah!" Amity shaking her father's shoulder. "Me next, Daddy!" The younger twin opened her mouth, waiting for her father to pass the bar along. Black broke off the bitten end of the bar to determine an approximated bite size for his toddler.
"Hold on, Spawn. I'm trying to pass it along. Atlas, share the sippy-cup with your brother."
"Did you bring anything for me, Daddy?" Percival came down the amble halls of the prison, delicate hands strumming across the prison cell bars, tapping a faint sound that barreled down the prison.
"Tch. You're old enough, Runt. How about you make yourself useful? Find your mother. I'm being overrun."
"Now, why would I do that?" Percival grinned hard, watching her father struggle with her siblings. They were using him like a form of playground equipment.
"Bloody –"Black mumbled, "Now, dear…," Her father said sweetly, but in the most sarcastic fashion, "Be a lovely little runt and fetch your dishrag of a mother for your dear ol' Dad, before he loses it and throws all his precious, little, gifts from hell into the nearest jail cell."
"Naaaaaaa." Percival's smug attribute troubled Black. He could practically feel the twitch from his brow, analyzing the identical smug grin from his daughter. A characteristic default she must have inherited from father dearest. He didn't know if he should be proud or stuff her in a bag. "Besides – Momma is cooking dinner. It would be rude to interrupt her –"
"-It's rude to ignore your father."
"Perhaps. Except one parent feeds me, while the other yells a lot." Black almost choked, and Percival began to laugh. "Corvo, and the twins seem comfy." Percival walked closer to her father, her slip-ons clipping off the concrete floor.
Kneeling down before her father, Percival's smile died down to a simple smile and her father paid more attention to something subtle and stoic. "You're a spoiled runt. Do you know that?" Still, Percival kept her grin. She could careless what her father said. Most of the time he meant nothing by it. Leaning in, Percival gave her father a peck on the cheek.
"I do learn from the best."
"And that's what scares me."
Bed
"Daddy! Daddy!" The twins mulled over Black's side of the bed, trying to stir their slumbering father who slept like the dead. Their tiny hands gripped at his larger one, pulling his arm off to the side. The Warden mumbled in his sleep, cursing something in his slurred speech. Not a hint of eidetic graced his tongue even while he slept.
Black's face was buried in his pillow, and even in his drunken sleep he talked about nonsense that made his daughter's cringe. "Daddy, up, up!" Both of them whined, tugging sharply on the man's arm. Within Black's dream haze, he pushed his arm up and covered Amity's face with his palm.
Amity squeaked, pawing to remove her father's hand from her face. Atlas grinned, but tried to help her sister out by pulling on the back of her nightgown. Both of the girls clattered to the ground.
After about a grueling thirty minute challenge to wake the Warden, White finally got up and circled the bed, baffled by the rustling of noise, discovering that both of his daughters have curled close to each other on the floor and were sound asleep.
A/N: Someone asked for the twins to be blonde and for an Alice bit. Here ya go.