[Seven-Minute Semblance] GODSFORRENT & FIMBULWINTER

FIMBULWINTER || Chapter 17 - Tea Cups and Cake

Nicholas James.

17. September.
Friday, 5:00. p.m.
Coronado University.
Literature Club Clubroom.

ONCE UPON A TIME, I LIKED cakes and sweets. They're the saccharine distraction life had to offer. They're my bloody Babel to my father's heaven of heinous crimes. He thought his wee wain Nicholas would never discover that dear Pa's enemies killed dearest Ma.

He thought cakes and sweets and a sojourn in Ireland could sugar-coat the bloody murder. HE THOUGHT LEAVING WAS CANDY.

But tea and cake match fairy tales well.

I liked fairy tales, I read them a lot when I was a kid-well, Jule read them to me until I've learnt how to read by myself-and a family friend sent me a massive collection. Some of them were in Icelandic and the White Rabbit was too mean to translate them so Jule and I had simply admired the illustrations.

The pictures sucked.

"Al, kanina pa tayo nakatayo sa labas ng clubroom, kailan tayo papasok?"

"I'm sorry, I'm having a flashback."

When Jule's parents disposed of him, I was left alone in Nathan's care, in England. My life swooped downhill into a mangy nadir of syndicates, criminals, Mafiosos, and an Italian pizzeria. It was boring as hell, but it's important that you know my backstory.

One faithful day in San Lorenzo, Philippines, I was told by the Dormouse (you gotta remember this dude, he's important) that a rendezvous was set by Pa, and that if I wanted to meet him again for the first time in forever, I should go there. First time in forever because, you know, the bloke poured all his time to organisation work and barely spent time with his wee wain Nicholas.

So I went there.

I noticed familiar faces around the rendezvous. Why they're there, I didn't fucking know. Former King of Hearts was there, aaand the former Cheshire Cat, and this nice lad with dark curly hair, and, and, AND IT WAS A PARTY.

They've got explosions, gunshots, the likes.

I was waiting for Pa to arrive, he never did. And then, the next day, everyone in Wonderland was in shambles. The next day, I was told Pa was assassinated. Then the day after that, I was made Mad Hatter, because I was next in line. Then the day after that, I found Pa's last will in his office drawer-a wee bloody notebook with the words "Mad Hatter's".

I was given exactly three days to cry, and the rest was spent trying to prove myself a good son and a good Hatter.

Okay.

Now take all of that information in and choose to believe that.

I turned to Alice, who's propped against the clubroom wall, absent-mindedly braiding her choppy brunette hair. I spoke: