#it's her first meeting w hatter fyi

[lockedtowers]

The air chilled around her, dreary winds and broken bonds shattering the delicate balance she’d tried so long to build. Something was missing. Something was lost. The needle points of the grass poking into her torn up clothing as she tries to sit up, the pain still present even though the wounds had healed.

Hand moves up to her neck, and she feels something; there’s flakes coming off of her, and a certain stickiness she well acquainted with. The rusting scent making her feel dizzy, and the thickening scar on her neck making presently frail bones shake. Goose flesh forms on her skin as she feels herself, feels the way her hair’s dried to the rust and the way her clothing sticks to her skin.

She’s shaking as she gets up, falling out of the nest she’d been placed inside, tears burning her mismatched eyes as she stands up on shaking legs. She looks down as she climbs down the rotting staircase, swallowing the lump in her throat as she climbs down. Wide eyes welled with tears as she moves, the stench lessening as she moves away from it, slowly making her way through the grounds.

Breath’s heavy as she wanders, the Beast in the woods keeping a close eye on her, one she can sense, but doesn’t react much to. Something’s missing, something’s gone, and she doesn’t entirely understand what, or why, or who.

Boots nearly sink into the wet dirt from the rainfall, shaky breaths as she makes her way out of the brush, the riverside closing in. She glances down at the water, and her reflection makes her almost scream. Limbs feel as if they’re glass, shattering at the sight as she falls to her knees, tears falling freely as she sees the state she’s in.

There’s far too much blood, and she knows its hers. She just wished she knew where how it all got there. She covers her neck with her hand, struggling to breathe, spine fluid and mind spinning at the sight. Hand clings to her own neck, as if she could hold the blood no longer spilling in place if she just pushed hard enough. Her entire body burned, limbs barely able to steady. Spine straightens as she looks up, hands hugging her arms tightly to her as the tears fall.

A building on top catches her attention— the sputtering lights; ‘Tea House’ flashing as she starts getting upwards. She’s still shaking, but she recognizes the name, knows that’s what that man, the alchemist, told her about. That she was supposed to go there. Someone was supposed to be there. Someone was supposed to help her. She just had to get there.

Abandoned ship left on the coastline catches her attention, and she slowly walks over, climbing inside and waving her hand over the water. Her hands glow purple as the boat starts moving towards the docks, holding her breath as she travels. The shaking hasn’t stopped, her eyes glazed over in fear at every sound and sight.

The water splashes up, striking over her, the blood moistening from the water. She huffs, coughing out some of the excess fluids, gripping the edge of the boat tightly as it continues to move. Hair now wet, tangled, and crisp from the previously dried blood. Her torn clothes clinging even more so to her skin, ripped in just the right places for several of her sealed over wounds to show. She hates it. Hates how exposed she feels. How alone she is. And still, her freedom isn’t guaranteed, there’s still a chance she won’t escape. There’s still a chance he’ll find her again. She couldn’t handle it if he did.

The boat rushes over another wave, more water hitting her skin, but she only breathes in, allowing it to soak her. Between the blood and the water, she feels like a drenched cat. Technically, maybe she was.

As she reaches the docks, she climbs out. Slowly, steadily. She listens carefully, avoiding anyone nearby. Who knows who she can trust, who works for the crown, she just knows where she’s supposed to go.

She tries to change, tries to make herself disappear in the shadows. She keeps quiet, keeps as calm as she can given the circumstances. Skin still burns where she cried, each step up the thousands of stairs near collapsing her force. Nose waters and she wipes at it with the back of her hand as she slowly moves closer to the front doors. The hours flashing, but she isn’t wholly sure of the time. The night had barely faded, light steadily swarming the sky. Bloodied hands reach out and touch the doors, dried flakes coming off as she finds it surprisingly unlocked.

Slow yet steady, she walks inside, eyes blearing around as she walks further inside. Nobody’s there yet, but the walls are lined with the very thing the Hearts worked everything to ensure lasted. Blinking, she hears a noise in a room hidden down the hallway, and she walks towards it. She hears something behind the door. The fear rises in her spine, hand coming up to knock, but she holds back. She hasn’t felt this small in years, this terrified of anything. She got used to the treatment, she got used to how others would treat her, yet now she didn’t have a semblance of anything left. This was all new. This was all horrifying, terrifying.

Another deep breath, and she knocks, a man behind the door saying to come in. She shivers as she reaches for the knob, twisting and pushing. Slow steady steps on the mossy soil as she walks inside, grassy spots notable as she reaches further inside. Various furniture pieces made wholly of glass, multiple tables, seats, even a hat post that don’t exactly match the decor of the room. Arms squeeze to her sides as she walks further inside, large eyes looking over at the turned chair, spotting the strung straw hat atop what she assumes is the speaker.

“You the cat?” He asks, and she nods— then realizes he can’t actually see her. His brow furrows as he glances to the side, but she still can’t see him.

“Yes.” She responds, hands squeezing her elbows as she moves closer. Eyes still adjusting. She swallows, breathing carefully as she watches the seat. “Who are you?” The man stands, near a whole foot taller than her, and he lowers a cup down to his desk.

As he turns, he stops, dark eyes widening as he sees her. Quickly enough, his brows raise and fall, turning where he stands to look towards his desk. “You’re in a bigger state than they said you’d be.” He states, walking to his sink. A small towel taken from the side, he wets it, walking over to hand it to her.

“They?” She asks, large eyes turned upwards towards him as he puts the towel in her hand. She shakily grasps it, forcing herself to settle; she was alone now, she needed to stay strong. “Who’s they?”

So she didn’t know? That was surprising, but he knows what Dodo said. She was a necessity, she needed to stay alive, and he needed to watch her. Keep an eye on things and, above all, make sure she didn’t turn against them. Why, he didn’t get, she just seemed like a timid girl, though the amount of blood she was covered in did make a shiver rise up his spine. It couldn’t all have been hers, surely.

“Doesn’t matter. Still haven’t confirmed it, though. You’re the cat?”

“I…” She looks down, then nods, swallowing again as she starts wiping the dried blood on her arms off. “Yes. And you still haven’t told me who you are.”

“Good.” The towel’s already filled with blood, and he takes it back from her, bringing it back to his sink to rinse off and return to her. “Hatter. If you must know. Now. Got any other clothes?”

“No.” She stays eerily still, and her eyes seem even wider than normal when he turns back. With a raised brow, he walks back, putting it in her hand just as she continues. “I don’t have anything.”

He nods, turning back to his wardrobe filled with various coats. He pulls one, a brown leather jacket, out, bringing it over to her as she finishes cleaning off her upper half. He once again takes the towel, and puts the jacket in her arms. “Put that on, you’ll get a cold.”

“I don’t..” She glances up again, then shakes her head. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” He leaves the towel in the sink, realizing this isn’t the most useful way to clean her up. With a sigh, he turns back, watching her cling to the jacket as he walks back. “Got anywhere to stay?”

“I… think so.” It’s a sort of. It’s a maybe. She doesn’t exactly, but the cabin she awoke atop of in the forest was empty. She had protection there, technically, with the Beast roaming. The Beast ready to watch her, eat others, ensure she didn’t get hurt. She shifts her weight from one foot to another, hugging the leather close to her chest as she looks up at him. “Why?”

“Making sure I don’t have to find that for you, too.” He states, fingers reaching out to touch her crusted hair. Fingers drag a strand away, the dried blood making him more curious. His eyes dart down, noticing the sealed gash on her neck. Brows raise and fall quickly again as he sniffs, stepping away from her. “That from the Queen?”

She straightens her spine, brows furrowing and nose twitching. He notices. “No.” But she pauses afterwards, thinking over again; really, she isn’t sure. “I don’t think it is.”

“What about the eye?” He sits again, taking his cup and sipping quickly.

“… My tutor.”

“That sealed up bullet wound on your side?”

He’s most certainly observant. “…. My father... Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

She shakes her head, looking around the room quickly. “He said he’s my father. I don’t think he is.” She tugs her torn shirt down a bit, cheeks flushing as she looks away from him. “He took me. He raised me. But it doesn’t-- didn't feel right.”

He hums, standing quickly once again and walking back over to her. To her surprise, he grins, nodding as he looks down on at her. His hand reaches out, tilting her head up when she tries to look away, which makes her eyes widen a bit as she stares up at him. “You can come back tomorrow. Once you’ve cleaned yourself up. I’ll get you settled up then.”

“Settled?” Head tilts, but he holds her still, tapping her nose quickly as he releases her. “What—“

“You’ll figure it out. Y’seem like a smart little cookie. Just.. Clean up first. You’re gonna get blood on my grass.” Her head tilts, far more than it should. That’s where he recognizes her name in her, she certainly seems to be able to bend like a cat. The fact she’s still alive, with all that blood on her; clearly escaped from something bad back with the royals, but he won’t question what just yet. She’ll tell him eventually, he just has to wait.

“If I don’t come back?” She asks, her voice much more headstrong than before. A brow raises, and she continues. “What then?”

“Then you don’t get my help, or a job. Simple, really.” He says, smiling again. Her eyes seem to hold onto his smile a lot. “Listen, let me make this a bit more clear. My help comes with a price, and while I’m willing to be your… friend, shall we say, I’m gonna need a little something in return. Okay?”

“… I’m not gonna have sex with you.” She responds, hugging the jacket tighter.

He stares, astounded at where her head went, then continues. “Wasn’t expecting you to. That’s not what we do here. Listen, Doormy will be here tomorrow, and they’ll be the one training you. So, just.. Come back, cleaned up. Doormy faints at the sight— and smell— of blood, really don’t want to add to their tendencies. Alright?”

She shakes a bit again, looking down. He walks to her again, once more tilting her head up to look at her. “Look at me.” Despite his bite, his hand is gentle on her skin, his gaze soft, if not analyzing. There’s a strange sense of familiarity within it, and she isn’t wholly sure where it comes from, but it does make her ease with him more. Expression softening, blinking quickly as she does; just looks at him. “Good. So you can listen.” He pulls away from her then, and she already misses the gentle touch— something else she doesn’t understand.

Her minds fuzzy at the reality of it all, and she doesn’t really get it. Tongue pokes out to wet her lips, nose twitching as she tilts her head again. Lips parted as she watches, following his steps. Her curiosity gets the better of her, and she follows him; careful not to step on the grass, legs stretching over to walk on the dirt spots instead. A deep breath in, and he looks to the side, realizing she’s followed him. A brow raises, turning fully to face her properly.

“What?”

“Cassandra.” She says, looking up at him. With another deep breath, her eyes look into his, a hint of recognition there, but she still doesn’t really understand. “My name is Cassandra… Why do you want to help me?”

He drops the towel in his hand back inside the sink, breathing in. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, he puts both hands on either of her shoulders, shaking briefly and looking into her eyes. As he looks at her, another thought comes through, but he doesn’t vocalize it. “Tomorrow. I’ll give you a reason tomorrow. Deal?”

The burning sensation creeps up her spine at his words, compelling her, her breath stopping as she stares at him. Eyes glance everywhere else, then back to him. She swallows, and nods, the burning feeling moving up to her head as she looks down, then up. She needed to learn better. She needed to know better. But she didn’t. This is how they trade, and it’s hard to deny the intensity a prospect brings. Blue-and-silver hues blink, and she nods once more, sealing the promise in her bones.

“Deal.”

#crash the party like a record scratch as i scream | writings #i tried to rewrite it but i can’t | canon #abuse cw #blood cw #violence cw #it's her first meeting w hatter fyi #do not reblog w/o asking me thx #2414 words kill me #anyways #i'd color the text to differenciate who's talking more but i dont want to lol