Chapter Text
The room that Alice found on the other end of the hallway was stupendous. The ceiling was invisibly high, the walls all ordained with columns going any which way. Studding the wall within the columns haphazardly were doors. Some were big, some were small, some were stenciled, some were solid colours. Almost every one of them had that same billowing smoke from the other side, ekeing into the atrium.
The groan was louder, clearly coming from the southwest end of the atrium. Alice crossed from her entryway to the side. She peeled back a red curtain to find a door half her height and a doorknob plate with a face, doorknob and keyhole as nose and mouth, respectively. Atop was an engraving, "Eudorace."
"I say!" said Alice, "Are you alright?"
"No!" Eudorace scrunched its extremity in discomfort, "Oh, I say. A Lightner. Are you the girl?"
"I...I'm a girl. I'm not quite sure if I'm the girl–"
"Oh, well, I don't think anyone would know. If you do turn out to be the girl, it'd be a good turnabout!" The doorknob laughed at its own incredibly stupid joke before wincing in discomfort again. Alice squatted down awkwardly in front of it.
"You don't seem to be very happy," she told it, "whatever is the matter.
"I'm locked," it answered, blinking its eyes deliberately, "Now, child, I understand the allure of stomping out some light, but might you be a bit quieter? When you do?"
"Oh, my!" Alice brought her fingers to her mouth, then stroked the doorframe sympathetically. "I'm dreadfully sorry. I got excited. Now, is there anything I can do to help? Besides not stomping about, that is?"
"Unlock me?" Eudorace looked up at her with reproachful eyes that she could not ignore. She had never ignored the reproachful eyes of a doorknob before; why start now?
"Of course."
"Huzzah! I knew this would be an–"
"Please don't–"
"–an open and shut case!"
Alice smiled politely, trying her best to hide her irritation as Eudorace lost all composure. It caught its breath, then addressed Alice again, "You'll want to direct your attention to the glass table."
"Table?"
Surely enough. There was a table just a foot away from the curtain. Now, Alice knew that it hadn't been there when she first got here. She got up and stood in front of it.
"Find the two key cards that match out of the cards that have been haphazardly thrown together. And with my directions, I hope, directly, you'll be directed in the right–er–direction."
Alice stood in front of the table and got to work trying to sort the cards. One gem, one cat. One feather, one key! One key, one...bedspring? One key, one peapod...Her method was tedious, she thought, but this was much easier than she was anticipating–one key, one key! She'd done it!
"I've done it!" Alice chirped, "Now what do I do?"
Before Eudorace could respond, the cards fused toward each other, into each other, and shaped themselves into the same key on their fronts. Alice swore she could hear a little tinny fanfare in the back of her mind.
"Is this the key?"
"Yes! That's precisely it!" Eudorace cheered, "Now, come unlock me, and that shall make me feel so much better!"
Alice wasted no time. She bent down, stuck the key, and unlocked the doorknob. The melting look of relief on its face was infectious.
"Oh, my. I thought I might perish. Thank you, my dear."
"You're very welcome," Alice said, curtseying, "I am very glad you didn't perish." That felt so odd to say. She distinctly remembered saying that to her schoolteacher after their operation and watching their face contort disapprovingly. Alice saw barely a trace of such disapproval on this doorknob plate. Thank goodness.
Eudorace chuckled jovially, "Would you like to come through me? Oh! Do keep a hold of that key! You'll never know when you may need it later!"
Alice felt herself almost jump for joy at the prospect of being allowed even more of an adventure, but she did remember to store her SilverLockAndKey into her robe's inner sleeve. "Yes! Of course! To where do you lead?"
The doorknob opened its keyhole wide. She crouched, and she took a peep. Through its keyhole, she found the most lovely garden, shrouded in beautiful green vines. She heard the most melodious music on the other side, harmonies circling round and round from the other side.
Without replying, Alice jumped up, hastily turned the doorknob's unsuspecting proboscis, and opened the door, rushing into the beautiful floral gathering.
Somehow, the music sounded clearer. Alice crept closer and closer and noticed the heads of a beautiful red rose, a speckled tiger lily, and a line of dainty lilies-of-the valley swaying as if on a breeze. Alice couldn't feel any sort of breeze, though. The black sky around her only a tad bit suffocating as she peered at it. It felt much better to watch the bright, colourful flowers, who she had just realized were the ones singing a song, just winding to a close:
"YOU CAN LEARN A LOT OF THINGS FROM THE FLOWERS
O, ESPECIALLY IN THE MONTH OF JUNE
THERE'S A WEALTH OF HAPPINESS AND ROMANCE
ALL–"
The music abruptly cut itself off.
"The buttercup section is weak," a regal, elegant voice lifted itself from the sudden quiet, "lift up your buds and project."
"We'll never sound the same," another voice called from farther away, this one sounding much more meek and reserved, "not witho–"
"Quiet, bud." Alice was now on the edge of the main crowd of flowers, and she paired this rougher, more snooty timbre with the tiger lily bowing their head and covering up the buttercups with their leaf, "You know we can't have him back. He's made his choice."
"Who has?" Alice asked, curiosity besting her yet again. Every (every!) flower in this nook whipped their buds at her. In the Light World, the look they shared meant, 'How dare you not sense that this is not a space for you to involve yourself in?' Abashed, Alice ducked her head and turned about to find the door again, but the same tiger lily called after her.
"From which garden have you hailed?" they asked.
"M-me?" Alice asked as she turned round. The lily nodded. "I don't–"
"Because you're not like any flower we've spoken to," chirped a larkspur, who was leaning down to pet the puffy crown atop her head.
"I hadn't any clue flowers could speak," Alice breathed, flinching as the leaves of a daisy poked a bit uncomfortably at her.
"We can," said the tiger lily: "when there’s anybody worth speaking to."
Alice nodded. She supposed this meant that the tiger lily found that she was worth speaking to. Although, Alice let the topic get away from her. "Now, about–"
"We don't like talking about him," the daisies generally said forlornly, over each other, "if you don't mind." Alice was beginning to feel bad about ripping their Light World's likenesses heads off before she got here.
"I'm terribly sorry," said Alice, wringing her hands nervously. She fell quiet. They all stared at her, making her feel even more uncomfortable. "Oh, was I supposed to say something else?"
"Oh, yes, of course," said the rose, "Of course you know it would be uncivil of us to speak first as your hosts."
"...Oh."
"As for you, my dear," the rose continued, "I really was wondering when you’d speak! I said to myself, 'Her face has got some sense in it, though it’s not a clever one!' Still, you’re the right colour, and colour goes a long way in this garden."
The larkspur waved her over and lay some of her bottom leaves out for Alice to sit down. It made her feel better assured that she was welcome.
"Now, my dear rose, who cares about colour," the tiger lily remarked with a turn of their stamens, "when her petals are flat like that?"
...Was she welcome? Alice knew there was welcome criticism, like when her sister told her to stand up straight, to keep her temper, and to look before she lept, all for her own good. Then there was bad criticism, like when Alice told Mabel from her schoolroom that she really ought to do some more studying to know as much as she did. Criticism was all the same to her, but apparently, there was a difference. Needless to say, there wasn't much else Alice could do with the discomfort she was feeling other than try to change the subject, her best-practised defense, "Does anyone take care of you? If not, I imagine it must be frightening to be out here on your own."
"We have a King," said the pansies. The blue pansy then spoke for the rest of them, "He takes great care of us."
Alice smiled sympathetically. It was grand to see these majestic beings being cared for. She imagined even flower-like Darkners needed tending to like flowers from her world.
"And look up, my love," said the rose, pointing her viney sceptre up to the purple-tinted willows draped over the garden. "This tree also protects us from any troubles that-" she shivered, "-HE may cause."
The shiver echoed through the collective of the garden. Even Alice felt a chill run up her spine.
"What does it do," asked Alice, "in the event that HE causes danger?"
"Bark," said an Iris plainly. She had been eyeing Alice in a certain way that she didn't like.
"Bark?" echoed Alice.
"Yes," the Iris turned her voice up critically, "bow-wow? Don't you know the first thing about garden trees?"
"Yes, didn’t you know that?" cried a daisy, "that's why the branches are called boughs, after all!"
The daisy bed rose into a cacophany of high-pitched, overlapping voices that grated at Alice's poor ears. The iris grimaced, the pansies exchanged glances, and the tiger lily tried and failed to slash at the daisies.
"Oh, that's the trouble with those daisies!" cried they.
"Once one speaks, they all do!" the lilies-of-the-valley rang out their displeasure.
The rose tried and failed to raise her voice over the growing disharmony in the garden. Finally, the iris managed to overthrow everyone's shocking Alice, "SILENCE! Your blathering on is enough to make one wither to hear the way you lot go on!"
The daisies, once all different pleasant shades of pastels, had all went white with fear. They cowered into one another.
"Now, you all talk so nicely," Alice attempted to placate the poor tempers around by complimenting the flowers generally, but the iris cut in.
"No, I do," she said, "and frankly, as you don't know the first thing about proper garden life, or even about flowers, in general, I'm beginning to suspect you may not be a good fit for our garden."
"I'm not?" Alice said, crossing her arms. The larkspur pushed her off her her makeshift seat suddenly.
"What could she be?" asked a tulip.
"Now that she mentions it," the rose inspected Alice a tad more closely and uncomfortably, "since she's gotten here, the garden has been much less harmonious."
"You just said it hadn't been very harmonious for a while!"
"I don't believe even wildflowers could cause this kind of tension," murmured the tiger lily.
"No fragrance!" the daisies chorused.
"I'm not a flower at all!" cried Alice finally.
Quiet fell over the garden again. The iris clicked her tongue reproachfully. "My suspicions were right, then."
"What, love?" asked the rose, to whom the Iris whispered.
"She's nothing but a common Mobile vulgaris."
"Oh, no!" the cry ripped around the garden. Whatever a common Mobile vulgaris was, Alice thought, it clearly wasn't good.
"A common what?" Alice asked, coming right up to the Iris's stem.
"Bluntly," answered the iris, her stamen upturned, "A weed."
Alice grew indignant, "I am not a weed!"
Some of the flowers broke into disgusted chatter. One tulip laughed, "You wouldn't expect her to admit it, eh?"
Leaves, once gentle but mildly uncomfortable, were now fully, outwardly unwelcoming. "Don’t let her stay here and go to seed!" cried the larkspur. Alice, being shooed along, looked imploringly at the rose for help. She seemed sorry for her, but did and said nothing to call any of the other flowers in her charge off.
Alice crashed into the pansies, who pushed her violently back out. "We don’t want weeds in our bed!" mocked the yellow pansy.
Suddenly, Alice felt water pouring down onto her crown, soaking onto the top of her head, and pushing her out between the tulips. She slid out, drowned by the cold of the water and the cold sounds of the flowers' chatter and laughter.
Once she got her bearings once again, Alice saw that she was now out of the garden entirely. The flowers calmed their chattering, and she heard the iris and rose speaking to each other calmly. She didn't feel so bad about picking the daisies in her world anymore.
"Mobile vulgaris, indeed," she muttered, "and to think I ever had any interest in speaking to any flowers." Wringing herself dry, she elected to keep walking ahead to find a path. She might as well even find the King the flowers had mentioned. He might be able to guide her...some kind of way.
Thunder rumbled in, and it began to rain. So much for getting dry.