Fantastic, Mr. Fox (Anne)

[OPIUM SANDS]

Frankly, arguing with the Red Queen was like taking on a herd of vicious borogoves. He could never quite explain to her that he wasn't going straight to Mirana and leaving her, or that he would be back before long. Opium Sands didn't understand his cousin's concerns, perhaps she was merely possessive? Yes, that sounded more like her.

The card guards were a different matter, although they were secretly nagged on by the Queen, he got the alone time he wanted. Out of the castle and courtyard, he entered the area where the usual common-folk of Underland spent their day to day lives. But it wasn't like he was meandering listlessly between the crowd of people who gathered at the shops, Opium had a purpose, albeit a mild one.

Still, he maintained a dignified posture as his tall body moved through the people and shopkeepers that passed him. It wasn't long before his destination came upon him, the Velveteen. Polish was on his to-do list, and what a perfect place to start. He assumed he would also head down main street looking for some herbs as well to add to his collection; his cousin's ankles were always sore. He almost pitied her.

He entered the shop, a bell ringing true as he stepped into the building. It was quaint, with a hint of rural charm – so different from his high life at his cousin's castle. Still, the Velveteen was the place for his needs. The Queen had even said in her usually frank voice ' well, fool, why don't you send one of the servants to fetch it for you! That's what their for, after all!', but Opium merely smiled knowing that a servant wouldn't get the job done correctly, perhaps they'd even forget to search for that special brew. No, he couldn't trust a simple servant with his shopping list, that was for sure, especially since he planned to search the street for ingredients afterwords.

[ANNE O'LEARY]

She knew she shouldn't be there, not after what she'd done in her life. But even with guilt nagging, Anne opened the door to Velveteen. The little bell tinkled as she hastily walked in and shut the door behind her, as though crossing the threshold of the store would set her aflame or something equally horrific. But nothing happened. Anne remained quite intact... well, physically at least...

She quickly darted over to where the colourful frocks hung in rows, carefully examining each and every one, and picturing herself frolicking throughout Underland in something so magnificent as this rainbow hue dress she was holding up. Anne bit her lip and placed it reluctantly back on the rack, then dismally looked down at the dress that she was currently wearing. Black. And frilly. So, alright, the frills weren't so awful, in fact, Anne quite enjoyed them (she smiled at this). The black, though, she knew was not her colour. She was much more suited to that rainbow dress... and yet knowing that her mother would not approve, she wandered on, away from the enticing garments that hung before her, and bounded over to the accessories.

Hats! Anne was sure to exclaim in her head. She would have very much enjoyed shouting to the world that she simply adored hats, but not in the times she lived in... While she'd never asked the Hatter to make her a perfectly lovely head contraption, she was always positively entranced by the hats that she saw, perhaps specifically at Velveteen. The colours, the strange little affixed objects, the ribbons...! All of the things that made a hat a hat enthralled Anne to no end. In spite of herself, she tried one on and looked in the nearest mirror, sizing herself up. It was rather nice, really- a soft blue with white ribbons trailing off at the back, and a small bluebird sitting in its nest attached to the side. Smiling sadly, knowing that she would never own it, she removed it carefully from her head (for fear of messing up her hair), and turned to put it back on the stand when she bumped rather fiercely into something... someone.

Anne looked up and saw that she'd run into a man that was a great deal taller than she. "Oh, do forgive me," she said quickly and with a small curtsy. "I should really pay attention to where I'm going..."

[OPIUM SANDS]

The man made his way to the spinning shelf where the polish and button glues were kept. Using his fingers, he flicked the tray absently, eyes hardening after each curt push. From what his eyes told him, there wasn’t any more polish on the shelf, unless they were somewhere else entirely. Opium hadn’t visited the Velveteen for quite some time, and for a moment, he thought he was mistaken on its location. Had it been relocated to another stand? Next to the trousers, perhaps…Like a ghost, he floated to the opposite side of the room, eyes peeled as he scanned the rows of buckled shoes and ivory aprons, vests and petticoats.

Nothing. A tight line contorted his lips, none too pleased at this predicament, and with a nostril exhaled huff, he made a beeline towards the back of the shop, approaching the counter where the vender turned towards him, a welcoming smile and his face and his eyes averted downwards as he dusted a pair of shiny metal jacket clips. His smile remained on his face – that is, until he raised his eyes to see who had approached him. Opium’s voice cut through the shop, a hiss as he maintained a soft voice. Unlike the Queen, his dear cousin, he didn’t believe it was necessary to always raise you voice when the opportunity permitted.

“There’s no polish. When’s the next shipment?” Turning his head, the vendor tipped his head, angling it down when he assumed that he was talking with a follower of the Red Queen. Even though he tried to hide, it Opium could distinguish the slight fear on his face. “Sorry, Sir. The last of it sold this morning. Next shipment will arrive tomorrow. Would you like for me to reserve you a bottle?” Snorting under his breath, Opium nodded stiffly, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Without a doubt, the Queen would require an explanation once again.

“Make sure you do. I don’t want to waste my time any more than I must. Good day.” He sneered into his farewell, lips rising before turning to exit the shop. What would his cousin say, he wondered, now he would search for something – anything to appease her and avoid another lecture. After scanning the remainder of the shop he spotted a rack of hats. That should get that woman off my back! He paused, his body still angled towards the door, as his hands brushed against the fabric of the hats. Swede, velvet, cotton, silk…She would like silk, with a bit of ribbon? Oh dear, Opium wasn’t very good at this.

Still, he knew she would like anything red, so he set his sights for something extravagant, hued crimson, and perhaps a good deal smaller than her head – to bring out its size (something he knew she was fiercely proud off). Flicking off a stray black fuzz, he picked up the hat and leveled it with his eyes. Not too bad, although he regretted returning to the counter and giving a man who had ruined his mood money.

That was then something, someone collided with him, bumping into him harshly and almost dislodging the hat in his hats. He shot an fiery glance at the person who had nearly cost him another frustration. It was a woman, although Opium paid her little heed when she curtsied as she did and apologized. “Watch where you’re going.” He spat, drawing the hat closer to his body as if protecting it.

[ANNE O'LEARY]

Anne swallowed audibly as she looked up to the man's face. She considered apologizing again, but thought better of it, not wanting to mess with the likes of this man. She knew she shouldn't judge by appearances, but Anne found the man to be rather tall and intimidating, and therefore, by association, unfriendly.

The poor, unfriendly people... Anne thought to herself as she took a step back. I wonder if he has any friends? She heard his words and curtsied again quickly. "I'll certainly try to watch where I'm going from now on, sir," she said with a small smile. Straightening her back so that she was her full height, Anne eyed the hat in the man's hands and frowned, looking from the hat, back to him, then again. She sized up both man and hat, then shook her head.

"Forgive me, sir. I don't mean to criticize your fashion sense, but that particular hat isn't really suited to you. I can see you more in..." Anne turned around and scoured the hat stand for the perfect hat, finally finding a black top hat with a crimson ribbon adorning it. "Same general colour scheme, but for you!" Anne exclaimed as she proudly thrust the hat out for him to take, nodding encouragingly.

Anne was proud of herself, to say the least. She had averted a fashion crisis- not that she had any room to talk. At this thought, she looked down at the dress she was wearing, just briefly, and hoped that the man wasn't going to take note of her incredibly un-Underland clothing.

((OOC: Sorry, that's actually kind of terrible... ))

[OPIUM SANDS]

The man's patience was slowly wearing thin, a thread pulled too far and tightening visible before a snap. Lest of all, he did not like to be pestered by the commonfolk, especially peasant women such as these, without any real place. He wanted to direct her home, push her out the door to add insult to injury, but Opium held back out. Who knew if the rabble out in town would revolt if he saw a man clad in red becoming more and more aggressive towards one of their own. He practically stank of the Red Queen, and even know, he knew he was lucky she had not picked up, or addressed, his lordly attire. He stood his ground, a red pillar amidst a sea of colors and patterns that were placed chaotically around him – his was a stain of crimson, a solid form of color in this discord.

The woman took a wise step back, hinting his building anger block by block. Fortunately for her, his anger wasn't spontaneous, which meant that she had time to appease before the situation became more than she could handle. His lips parted, muttering incoherently under his breath as his eyes raked over another well placed curtsy. This time, though, he inclined his head a feathery fraction of an inch – rather mechanically – in return simply out of habit. “Make sure you do.” His tone was patronizing, as if it belonged to a man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

He was keen to how this woman held herself, picking apart her every motions, eyes of otherwise. Speaking of eyes, hers darted back and forth between his face to the hate he so gently held his his hands, cradled between his side and his fingers. Instinctively wary, a brow rose suspiciously after he turned and picked out another hat – this one black swede hugged by a crimson hued ribbon, from one of the stacks. No, that wouldn't do for his Queen, but then, she verbally addressed her thoughts, revealing what plot conspired inside her head. Opium was quick to discourse. “I am not shopping for myself, Miss.” He addressed her slowly, syllables clearly defined as if speaking to a child so that she wouldn't overlook his meaning.

Who did she think she was, the Hatter? His thoughts broiled just thinking about that crazed twit, hopping around like a ninny presumably the expert on all known hattery. She certainly was strange though, dressed in such garb and speaking as such in a manner he was quite unused to. “And besides, I'm not a “hat” person.” He added bluntly, looking down his nose at her, although there was the tiniest smirk on his face, amused by his own acceptable form of humor, particularly dry to say the least.

[ANNE O'LEARY]

She decided suddenly that she didn't like this man. Anne briefly looked over his attire and wondered why she'd not seen it earlier. Red. It means he works for her. She kept her smile on, however, not wanting him to know that she had finally recognized his affiliations. That had been completely stupid of her, failing to realize that she was probably interfering in a potentially dangerous man's outing. So the hat, then must be for... Anne wanted to cringe when she thought of that... that... Bloody Big Head!

She was drawn back out of her thoughts when she heard the man's voice cutting through. Anne looked abruptly up at him, her smile faltering for a brief second before she turned around and place the hat gingerly back on the stand. "Of course you're not shopping for yourself! I should have known... I am truly, terribly sorry, sir," Anne said with what could have been a hint of a nervous laugh.

Don't mind him, Anne, but whatever you do, just don't mention the- "The Hatter fashions much more wonderful hats than these, anyway..." she trailed off, realizing what she'd said, then froze for a second, trying to come up with some sort of scheme to get herself out of her little slip-up. "What I mean to say is... Is... He fashions nicer hats if you're one to think that hats are..." She sighed forlornly, abandoning entirely her plan. She couldn't think of anything clever or witty that would save her from her particular situation, so she took to staring at her feet, becoming terribly interested in them.

[OPIUM SANDS]

Again? Once more with the petty apologizing? Little by little, as the seconds wore on, Opium had to try his very best not to show his irritation from peeking from every simple action. His brow twitched upwards, lingering in a angled position throughout her speech, ending with a ringing laugh that openly reflected her nervousness, he suspected. Nervousness? The Doctor was intrigued. Anxiety led to fear, and fear to...enjoyment. A ghost of a grin flashed across his mouth, her newfound emotion refreshing the charm in his eyes and placing a feinting spring to his actions. Why, this girl had a use after all, apparently not only as a minor pest to divert him from his path. An actual purpose with a potential result, positive he'd make some sort of breakthrough on his work. In fact, he had made it quite clear to himself that he understood her social standing; she was but a common woman wandering the street and living her daily life without falter or excitement. No doubt he'd been a surprise to her in the first place, by the way she held herself so shakily when he addressed her so promptly. Nonetheless, the smirk dawned on his face, the grin that lured all manner of sin into his intentions, disguised in the facade of a gentleman (or so he held himself). He inclined his head in a small bow, shaking his head as a new voice seeped from his lips, one of honey, smooth and sweet “Think nothing of it, my dear. How could you have known?” His innocent question hung in the air, lightening it from his previous aura – the one of the concise doctor into the lord he inherited from his father.

Fire danced along his dark eyes, smoldering slightly brighter than usual when she mentioned the Hatter quite suddenly. Oh what sheer nerve could do to a tongue...It must have slipped out. “The Hatter?” His thoughts exploded out of anger and fury for the madman who always seem to thwart his clutches. Madness was far more intriguing to him than he'd like to openly admit. After all, who knew what the effects of his poison would create if inhales or digested by the orange haired freak. Opium always desired to see the effects tested on the Hatter, analysis for use of corrective surgery or simply the show. “I've no doubt he makes the finest hats in Underland. Quite the little craftsman.” He added through his teeth, pleased on how this ploy was going. Yes, she would do nicely. No one would miss her, she wasn't royalty, just another nobody fresh off the streets. She was of the right body weight comparison as well, not to thin or thick, her skin tone was approving...All and all, she was gifted with appeal and good looks, something Opium was not ignorant enough to overlook. “ And I take back what I said before; I suppose I could wear a hat if it were the right color.”

[ANNE O'LEARY]

What to do now? What to do?! Oh Anne, you've really done it this time! He'll drag you right back to the Red Queen and she'll have your head chopped off! She'd never been particularly gifted with thinking on the spot, that Anne. So, as she was contemplating whether to book it and get out of there before he could catch her, or to stay put and hope that all went well, the man seemed to make her decision for her- something that she was very glad for.

His disposition had changed entirely within a mere couple of sentences. He'd gone from horrific to mild so quickly that, had Anne's ears been able to blink, they would have missed it. "Why sir, I didn't rightly know!" Anne said, relieved that he wasn't going to maim her... or eat her... or something equally as terrible. She went on, "I suppose that I oughtn't to have meddled in your affairs, though, sir, so I do beg your pardon." While she'd already done it a fair bit in the past few moments since encountering this fellow, Anne curtsied quickly and smiled. There! No hard feelings!

At his next statement about the Hatter, Anne remained in her current mindset, realizing that there was nothing in particular to fear about this man. She nodded enthusiastically. "Why yes, he is quite the craftsman! You should see some of the hats he's made. Fit for royalty, they are!" She was beaming, now, a large grin spread across her face.

"You should wear hats. I dare say you have the head for one... it takes a certain head for a hat, don't you think?" Anne asked honestly, sizing up the man's head. She was never quite sure, but perhaps this would be the beginning of a wonderful friendship... even if he did work for the Red Queen.

((OOC: LOL ANNE AND OPI FRIENDS?! XDDDDDDD))

[OPIUM SANDS]

This woman in general, he had concluded, had believed her petty lifestyle was worth the radiant beam in her smile, unless her joyful front mimicked the dryness in his own. She poke much of forgiveness, possessing a erect bearing no matter her status – what a disgrace. Wealth was he only comfort her needed to have a good time, for money owned all the luxuries of life, food, wine, women. Her joy was rather one-sided, facade or not. The Doctor, who had witness entrails spilled across the floor, and puss open sores mixed with urine and the stench of fear, could have gagged on the sincerity upon her lips. It was a poison fatal among itself. Resisting to urge to show his distaste upon his face, the smirk that tugged on the corners of his lips widened in the slightest, his face acting on its own accord to appease her. This woman had better be worth it. His lips, frozen in a tight smile, twitched once again as the dreadful subject of the Hatter managed to sneak into the conversation again. The Queen help him...he'd have to vocalize his agreement. Again. “Fit for royalty indeed.” He mildly put it, not trusting himself entirely to say anything more, for fear of revealing himself in the process or be questioned on cryptic meanings and statements that naturally came with double lining.

Moving onto the subjects of hats once again, he loosened his hold upon the hat he had chosen for Iracebeth, skipping his eyes between the black rimmed satin top-hat and the frilly velvet one he had originally scooped from the coldness of the shelf. Why not reel in this wench further, why not gain her trust and walk her to the very brink before ridding himself of her? His voice sounded off again, a confident swagger to his frame as the music of his charm manifested in his speech. “You're absolutely right. I must say, it's difficult to come across one with tastes that match my own. That hat...,” He took the top hat in his hands and winked at her. “Why not give it a shot. Excuse me, Luv.” Heading for the counter, the Doctor once more approached the vender of the Velveteen, an expression that would melt the hardest of hearts, or at least question his motives. “I'll take these, please.” His hand flexed to and fro from fist to handshake, friendly and hostile as he coped with being so...tolerant. He played the part skillfully well, though, maybe he appeared to make a slight cramp in his hand? Tossing the man a few coins to provide for the price of both pieces of hattery, the vender looked at him astonished for his good humor. Opium paid him no heed, just gripped the twin hat boxes the hats were gently placed in and returned once more to the woman's side, relieved in his own way that she had not taken off into the streets while she still could. Escape, it appeared, was far from her mind. “My estate isn't far off. I was going to donate a few of my mothers dresses to charity, but if you want, you can try a couple on yourself and see if you like them?” A a wench who simply longed to speak of fashion, the man figured this would tempt her, lure her into his web.

[ANNE O'LEARY]

While his change in demeanor was definitely worth questioning, Anne barely noticed. She smiled as he commended her choice in hats, saying that it was much like his own. Oh good! I just knew I'd be able to break through that nasty shell of his! she thought happily, barely able to contain the excited, giddy laughter that was threatening to bubble up. She absolutely loved it when she could help somebody discover something new about themselves, and she believed that she had done such with that man, whomever he was...

That thought reminded Anne suddenly that she had been neglecting her manners in light of the fear she'd felt at first. Silly! "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself... my name is Anne, sir." She didn't request his name in return- the colours he wore seemed to forbid her from doing so. But Anne had no problem with that; she was just as content calling him 'sir'.

Just as she was about to go back to the hats, thinking that their conversation was more or less over for the day, Anne was surprised to hear the man speaking to her once again, this time asking whether she'd like to have a look at his mother's clothes. Real vintage Underlander clothes?! Oh Anne you must go! She supposed there was some voice deep down or at the very back of her mind that was warning her against going, telling her to go back to her house and lock the doors, or go spend time with the tea party goers, but... How bad could he be, really?

"Why yes, sir, I would very much like to come and see these clothes you speak of! You see, my parents have always believed in fashion from up there," she said enthusiastically, pointing upward. "But I've always loved Underland fashion!" She could barely contain a squee as she clasped her hands in front of her and gave a small bounce on her toes.

[OPIUM SANDS]

This woman, whoever she introduced herself as, had signed her death warrant in blood, her fate sealed by any nasty (though productive) ways necessary to unlock hidden secrets and test the boundaries of new products. He chuckled lightly at the thought, clutching the ornate, coloring wrappings loosely, not caring if one should slip precariously out of his arms while he accidentally lunged forwards and stuck a sharp needle into her bloodstream. Such were his thoughts, swimming around placing images of gory production in his mind, but such things would have to wait. He held patience in him, after all, although it wasn't encouraged in his upbringing, it was evident in his title, any lord would know of it. As gracefully one could bow with both arms tending to lifting up objects, the Doctor bowed low, one leg shifting slightly in front of his as his waist bent and his chest dipped in acknowledgment, as if he were addressing nobility, a lady of court, not this ridiculously UpperWorldly dressed beggar preening herself. Her pretty words bounced off his frame, the kindness in her voice bouncing off his heart harmlessly as they failed to penetrate deeper into his rotten core, a sign that her death would only become more prolonged, the more she chatted away at him like he was some lost relation back from the dead. It was almost unbearable to be caught seen with such a woman, even for him, this would be no easy act. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Anne. I am Lord Opium Sands, at your service.” Another moment bent to intensify the emphasis in his words before his back straightened. Unlike those who would rather commit themselves to a vow of secrecy dealing with victims, Opium knew to take little precaution...not when her demise was to be so assured. She would be dealt with. Holding out his only free arm, he leaned forward, his marbled face inclined towards her as he offered to escort her there himself. “Come let us be off.” His lyrics were soothing, aiming to calm whatever warning signal flashed in her head, however strongly. She had taken his bait this far, it was only a matter of time before escape would be unfathomable...the last fluttering thought before Death claimed her.

(After you post, I'll start the next thread in his Estate. Then the real fun begins. xD )

[ANNE O'LEARY]

Anne curtsied at the mere mention of his name. A Lord?! she thought gleefully. She'd never known anyone other than commoners, boring folk who took pleasure in sitting around doing a whole lot of nothing all day. She required excitement, and she was sure to find it when she meddled in the affairs of the upper class. Quite pleased with herself for choosing to bump into such a fellow as this Mr Sands, (she mentally added the 'Mr', as he'd been kind enough to add a 'Miss' to her own name when she knew full and well that she didn't deserve it).

And 'at my service', too! Such a gentleman! Anne felt herself becoming more gleeful by the second, so when he held out his arm to her, she gratefully took it and skipped and bounced along beside him. This is going to be such fun! A new friend and new clothes! How could today possibly get any better?! She could hum, she was so happy!

Her mind only stopped her a moment before they left the vicinity of the town, and the voice sounded much like the Hatter's, telling her that she shouldn't be so easily trusting of this man, especially since she knew of his associations with Bluddy Begh Hid herself. Oh, Anne thought, stop being so silly! He's being nice- is that such a crime?

... little did she know.

((OOC: Ewww, crappy post! D: Oh well, it's the end of this thread, lol. *is such a bad adminly role model *