2020-09-15 - Bennie in Wonderland

It's a lovely evening. It's the kind of early fall evening to savor as the days start to get shorter and colder. There aren't a ton of people out walking the boardwalk - in part because of the corpses that keep showing up on the beach. That and after a long hot summer, an evening where you need a light sweater feels cold.

Bennie walks in the evening. Unlike the habitual jog/run she's started to take every morning that she used to do with Easton and now continues on with Gunner, the evenings are for walking alone. She always chooses routes along the shoreline, the sea seeming to fit the mood that draws her out here. It's dark. It's contemplative. And so she just meanders along the boardwalk, hugging her arms to her chest in her cable knit sweater she's thrown over her tank and jean shorts, scuffing her tennis shoes on the salt worn wood.

It's dark enough that most people have moved up off the beach into the light of the boardwalk. The tide is coming in, and it would be easy to get wet, or even knocked down by an enthusiastic wave. Which is why it might be a little unusual that there's someone standing on the beach. He's roughly between where the sandcastle competition was, and where the bonfire was. And he doesn't seem to care that the water could hit him at any moment.

Normally when Bennie is in one of these moods - and less face it, they're often lately, there's a reason why Alexander has to tell her not to be a stranger - the blonde tends to stick to herself by avoiding crowds, avoiding interactions and staying out of people's business. That is, unless they're doing something stupid, like lingering on the rocky sandy shore when the tide starts to roll in. Then her paramedic self kicks in and she bellies up the railing to call. "Hey! Hey you! You might wanna get to higher ground..." She's already making her way to the stairs, as the waves could easily eat up the sound of her voice.

The figure on the beach, a man of average height, looks Bennie's way. The moonlight catches a reflection on the academic glasses he's wearing. And when she starts to come down on the beach, the man starts to retreat. It's not a run, but it is a very purposeful stride back towards the area of the bonfire, into the complete darkness.

Bennie can't really trust her eyes, but those glasses sort of remind her of the ones from Byron's image and that have now been transposed by a sketch artist. Is that him, returning to the scene of the crimes? Or is he just an innocent tourist who doesn't know jack about how dangerous the tide combined with undertow can be in this area and got a little spooked by some crazy lady yelling at him from the boardwalk. So it's part curiosity and duty she's trailing after, still calling, "Sir? Sir! Sorry, but...you really shouldn't go down that way at this time of night...all the festivities are closer to the berms..Sir?"

Sir keeps walking, now more deliberately keeping the distance between them. He seems to know just where he's going, picking his way over rocks and driftwood until he comes to a footpath that is a shortcut up to a walking trail towards the Firefly. Bennie never loses sight of him entirely though.

Bennie's no fool, at least not a complete one. She pulls out her cellphone and tries to fire off a text to Alexander: If my body is found on a cadaver kebab pyre, it's totally because I'm doing something stupid right now. She hits send and shoves it back into her pocket, unaware she didn't have a signal and the little red exclamation mark popped up. Her pace quickens. "Sir, on behalf of the Gray Harbor Fire and Rescue department, I'm going to have to ask you to return to the boardwalk! This area is off limits. It's a crime scene or something!"

Now he's running, moving quickly through the underbrush, snapping twigs and generally making a racket. But it isn't an official trail, so it's a bit hard to navigate if one doesn't already know where they're going. Even then, the twilight barely gives enough light to navigate by.

Bennie's footfalls come to a stop, the blonde fisting her hands at her side and yelling at the night. "Fine! Have it your way! But if you drown or...or...get eaten by a sea monster IT'S YOUR FAULT." She even goes so far as to stamp her foot into the graveled sand with a little noise of frustration, muttering under her breath. "You stubborn so-and-so." Then louder again, "I'm calling the cops, so HA!"

That stamp creates a quiver beneath Bennie's foot, like a mini earthquake. And when she goes to step and leave, the ground gives way beneath her.

And then she's tumbling, tumbling down, through inky blacknesss. Eventually, her descent slows, and suddenly she jerks like she's caught by a parechute. But what slows her fall is a billowy dress that lets her hit the ground with a soft thud.

She's in what looks like a hole underground. It smells of earth, and ahead up the way is a tiny door. And sitting in front of the door is a vial with a label that says 'DRINK ME.'

Bennie screamed. Surely she screamed. But the sound of it is distant in her ears left up on shore when she's falling...falling...with no one there to catch her. Just when she has the split second thought that 'this is the end', a wide skirt blooms out from her waist and catches the air billowing out so her feet touch down safely.

"Well. Poop."

A glance around reveals the door, and she leans to examine it with distrust. "I don't recall dropping acid..so. A Dream. Great. And you're ...talking to yourself." And the rule of Dreams is the only way out is through. With shudder, she reaches for the little vial and with a preemptive wrinkle of her nose, she downs the contents.

And true to the rules the Dream seems to be invoking, Bennie will feel a curious sensation. With very few points of reference in the hole, it looks far more like the door gets bigger than she gets smaller. She stops, thankfully, at a point when she can still manage the door. Unlike the original story where Alice had to shrink, then grow to fetch a key, then shrink again, there is no key this time. What there is are claw marks in the door, and a mangled key.

The door opens with a nudge. into a garden with giant flowers. But like the door itself, there's evidence of destruction. Stalks of sentient flowers have been severed, and there's catlike tracks in the soft earth.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Bennie murmurs, her head tilting slowly to follow the growth of the door, fingers reaching out to trace the scratches in the wood and it swings open at the slight pressure. "Kitty was pissed."

As Bennie brushes up against a branch, a streak of blood is left behind. The trail leads further into the giant forest of flowers, towards a grove. Something catches the light down by her foot. It's a pocketwatch, streaked with blood and gore. And there, ahead of her on the trail, is an eviscerated White Rabbit in a waistcoat.

Bennie feels the streak of wetness left behind on her arm, looking down at the slice of red against her tanned skin. Gathering up the hem of her billowy skirt, she makes rubs away at it, uncaring of the stain it leaves behind on the fabric because her attention is caught by that watch and the bits of tissue and blood that cling to it. Her stomach turns and she almost retches when she follows the path to the twisted and torn apart little bunny man. That. That sight is worse somehow than the freshly burning corpse of a human victim. "I'm sorry little friend, but you're forever going to be late now." She mutters as she lays a square of fabric ripped away from her skirt over his whiskered face.

There's a sound up ahead of rough coughing and the scent of weed that hangs in the air of the forest. A few blurry letters form from smoke, 'H - E - L - P'.

Around the corner, lying prone on toadstools is the Caterpillar. Or rather, a creature that looks vaguely like a caterpillar but also a bit like Jabba the Hutt? Its belly has been ripped open, with strange gooey blood seaping out of the wound. The creature is still alive, but barely. And scratched into the dirt with bloody, gory claws are cuneiform symbols.

Bennie might not have a magnificent schnozz like Itzhak, but she knows how to follow her nose like Toucan Sam at the earthy smell of marijuana and the words that are spelled out in the fragrant smoke. Her pace quickens until she's practically skittering around the corner to be treated to the bulbous sight of the dying creature. "Oh...oh no. Hold on. Maybe I can..maybe I can save you..." Her hands are shaking as she approaches the giant caterpillar, facing characters out of a beloved childhood book as if it were written by the Brothers Grimm instead of Lewis Carroll, laying her hands on the fleshy body near the worst of the wounds. "Who did this to you..." She breathes out as her warmth starts to spread like the sun's beams.

The creature's stomach wound knits, but it's too early to tell whether that will be enough. The Caterpillar's pain does seem to have eased a bit, and its great stoned eyes blink lazily at Bennie. "The...Cheshire Cat..." letters puff out even though the Caterpillar is not currently smoking from the hookah. "...has gone madder than the Hatter."

Bennie sinks back on her haunches from the Caterpillar, a small sweat breaking out on her brow from exertion and anxiety. "I'm sorry.." She mutters, gaze falling to the cuneiform symbols. Memories don't always last from Dreams, but wounds...those always do. So with a broken branch she starts copying them down, scratching them into the skin of her forearm.

Bennie says, "Do you know why? What is he doing this for? I know it hurts, but if you can just help me...""

The creature's breathing is laboured, odd shapes from smoke puffing out - painful squiggles and letters that catch on the breeze. "Why does a predator stalk its prey?" asks the riddling oversized insect. "Not what, who."

"Who then." Bennie grimaces as she continues copying down the message by scraping it into her flesh, unsure if it's the same one from the photo but she can compare later. "Is he doing it because he was told to? Or is he trying to impress someone? Worship someone. I'm really, really sorry but we don't have time for riddles, though I think that's kind of your thing, right? I can't remember."

"He feeds..." wheezing breath from the Caterpillar, "...the Quencher." It's hard to say if the insect is losing consciousness or its internal injuries are too severe.

Up ahead, there's a terrible, animalistic sound, then the sounds of screaming. From the underbrush comes hares in waistcoats, flamingos, a walrus, various lizards and other insects, all anthropomorphic and all terrified.

Then, from the dark underbrush, two glowing eyes appear, and a fierce, toothy grin. The eyes are rounded by white fur to suggest glasses.

"The Que..." Bennie's voice trails off the echo of the moniker when the shrieks and cries of Wonderland's inhabitants start getting closer and they break out from the shrubs and underbrush of the fantastic woods. Slowly, she stands. Facing that Cheshire smile. "Come one step closer or harm one more fiber of this poor creatures and I will. End. You." Her voice is firm with resolve, even if her hand trembles as she raises it.

The terrifying disembodied eyes and smile remains hovering in the darkness. There is a voice, but terrifyingly, the cheshire smile does not move. The teeth stay fixed. "My work could get done so much more quickly if I could take this form back with me." The voice sounds utterly human, lacking in affect and a tiny bit sing-song-y. "Wouldn't you have rather died innocent? Before knowing the terrible things you know?"

There is an emphatic shake of her head, Bennie lifting her chin higher. "No. Because then I never would have seen the beautiful things I've also seen. And I wouldn't get the satisfaction of getting to do things like this." The blonde's hand ceases its slight shake, jaw tightening as she sharply closes her hand into a fist in a crushing motion.

The Cheshire Cat was not expecting that. A few teeth in that smile shatter. There's a howl of pain, but then the creature charges out of the bush. It's much larger and more terrifying than any Lewis Carroll adaptation. It has the round face and fluffy tail of the classic at, but its fur pattern is in cuneiform, some blood red. The cat's claws are ebony and cut the ground with each step. And it's coming straight for Bennie with a rrowl of anger.

There is no look of satisfaction on her face as she succeeds in shattering some of those pretty shiny white teeth. Bennie might dislike the damaging half of her capabilities, but she recognizes their usefulness, their need. Which also includes escalation if that need arises. And the need is now. As she positions herself between the charging form of Demon Fluffy and the Caterpillar, her fist opens and where it was just closed around thin air, her fingers unfurl to reveal a fireball that grows and glows and launches from her palm, no longer as if harnessing the healing warmth of the sun's rays, but the sun itself in one tidy little sphere.

The Cat, it seems, knows his Veil abilities, because he recognizes what Bennie is doing and is able to dodge it, catlike. That buys Bennie a few seconds more to set up another attack and retreat - but only a few seconds, as a massive, onyx-clawed paw swipes out at her. The claws sing through the air a mere inch or so from her face, but it doesn't manage to hit. The cat wall walks off a tree, scratching it deep and groaning the wood. He lands, mouth dripping with blood, teeth half-shattered. He gets low and prowls around her, sniffing the air. "And they will come from Ka-dig~irra. And slake their thirst on those who shine." His head dips. "Don't you understand? I'm trying to save you all. If they are not appeased, all will fall to darkness."

In Bennie's mind she totally Matrix dodges the Cat's claws, skirt billowing out like Neo's black trenchcoat. In reality, it's more like a desperate flail to get out of the way. As he prowls around, she keeps trying to turn to face him. "Yeah, my friend here is right, you are bat guano crazy. It's not for you to save us. We'll do just fine on our own. Now scram before I figure out how to get a giant sized water bottle into this Dream..."

The Cat stays low, crouched, head down, claws splayed. He sniffs, makes a sound deep in his throat. "You have burned too long. Your pain is tribute." And then, with another deep, scary sort of half-growl, the cat leaps up into the trees. They shouldn't be able to hold him, but they do. There's the sound of ruffling as the creature retreats.

The Caterpillar stirs. It seems she managed to save the creature after all. "You should gooo. Leave this reality behinnd." And then he offers the hookah that's grasped in his insecty fingers.

Bennie backs away from where the Cheshire Serial Killer disappeared into the trees. "You don't have to tell me twice.." She comments back to the Caterpillar before she turns to see the hookah that he's offering. "Feed your head..." So when in Wonderland? Do what the Wonderlanders do.

It tastes, well, like really good weed. After one pull, Bennie is floating ten feed over her actual head. Slowly, she feels herself falling again, except this time it's gentle and not alarming. Cold sand coalesces around her, and the frigid ocean water laps over her feet. It's fully dark now, and the sky above is full of stars and the moon.

And her arm stings like a sonuvabitch as salt spray hits the scratches.

Let's face it, Bennie's had some really good weed before, but never a full blown out of body experience. Thankfully the lick of the cold water around her ankles and the hellfire sting in her arm are enough to ground her, a hand pressing to her temple as she tries to get her bearings back to the here and now. "I'm late. I'm late...for a very important date." Despite the darkness of the Dream, she laughs a little to herself albeit hysterically. And starts to make the trek to Byron's little meeting of the minds.