And yes, that's what I'm wearing again...along with about fifty or so other Alices.
I've finally reached what seems like the town square, and everywhere I look I see women of all ages...dressed in the same low-cut blouse and frilly skirt that are leaving my extremities exposed.
Up, down, left, right...it doesn't matter where I look. It's just Alice after Alice, and with so many of them so much prettier and more glamorous, it just kinda begs the question. Maybe Chassie is misinformed, and there's no truth in Winter's ruling triumvirate never making use of their "dibs"?
The thought's enough to make me bristle, but I tell myself it's stupid to feel jealous over something that's already happened. And besides...
First things first, Addie.
First things first, always.
And so I work hard to get my head back into the game while determinedly locking away the green-eyed monster inside of me and throwing out the key. Right now, my top priority is to find someone to ask about Winter's rulers, but this might be easier said than done.
All the other Alices appear standoffish, while the rest of the townsfolk don't even care to meet their eyes. They're rather easy to recognize, with the way many of them are dressed like they've just come home from a Gatsby-themed party. The women are in flapper dresses and printed frocks while the men are mostly in tweeds and cardigan knits. They make a chic and dressy bunch all in all, but while they're a pleasure to look at, it kinda begs the question: what is it with Wunderland and cosplaying?
Curiouser and curiouser is all I can think of, and I feel rather overwhelmed all of a sudden. I spy a vacant bench, manage to resist the temptation to throw myself at it, and instead take my seat with as much poise I can muster. Since Chassie's told me enough stories about Wunderland's eccentric and occasionally barbaric approach to lawbreaking, I want to avoid accidentally ruffling any feathers if I can.
Für Elise is still playing in the background, and as I absently tap my foot in rhythm to the delicate play of its notes, I suddenly remember the last conversation I heard between the two shifters.
Hmm.
At that time, I thought Rayé and Haine had been talking about a woman named Elise, but they were probably talking about this song in particular. The question, however, is why. What is it with this song that—-
Whoa!
A fancy-looking shop in the corner has switched its sign to Open, and I barely save myself from getting maimed. With my survival instincts kicking in at the last second, I have just enough time to swing my legs up on the bench as a stampede of Alices go charging past.
What in the bloody world?
I can only stare in complete bafflement as the other Alices excitedly fall into line to enter the shop. I crane my neck and squint, but I can't even make up any kind of name or sign to clue me in. Its windows and double doors are both heavily tinted, and even weirder is how the shop seems so small...
It can probably fit ten people at most, but I've already seen thrice that number enter the place while the line outside it just gets longer and longer. I tell myself it's best to mind my own business, but...
It's like the Cheshire Cat says.
Not all who wander are lost, and for all I know, that posh-looking shop can be my ticket to safety.
Anything's possible in Wunderland...right??? Bonjour, mademoiselle ??A TUX-CLAD SHOPKEEPER greets me with a courteous bow as I come through the doorway after about an hour of queuing. The shop's interior is mostly hidden in darkness, with the candelabra on the counter only capable of illuminating the shopkeeper's profile. He's tall, pale, and thin, and he kinda reminds me of the skeletal Cryptkeeper. Scary-looking dude, to be honest, but what scares me the most is his accent. It's a little too legit, and it has me stopping dead in my tracks.
"Um...je ne...je no...speak...French?" I start to say 'merci' by way of apology but catch myself in time, remembering that 'merci' is actually 'thanks' in French. So I clear my throat and try again, saying, "Soiree."
His lips crack a smile, and I'm about to sigh in relief that I at least got that one across when I hear him say, "Soiree means party, mademoiselle..."
Oops.
"But since no offense was obviously meant or taken," he continues in accented English, "then neither is an apology necessary."
"Cool, I mean, merci." I see him crack another smile, which is probably at my expense as well, but I'm just too relieved not to have to fumble in French to care.
"Is it your first time to participate, mademoiselle?"
I want to be honest, but at the same time I feel like I need to be cautious. "If I say I was just around the neighborhood..."