A Drabbly Bit
Feb. 9th, 2009 05:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drazukiDown-the-rabbit-hole scenario. It's crap, but whatever.
He let out a loud “oomph!” as he hit the ground. That hurt; his head especially. He felt something sticky oozing from the hurting area. Was he bleeding?
Mercutio sat up with a groan, legs crooked and sitting between his ankles. He gingerly touched his forehead and looked at the stuff on his fingers. Mercutio was quite sure, or at least he thought he was, that blood wasn’t purple. Or seedy. As in full of seeds.
He licked it.
Blackberry jam.
He looked down. There was more on the floor, turning the white tiles with pink roses into a sticky purple mess.
Wait.
He was also quite sure, at least he thought he was, that the tiles in the kitchen were earthy not white with pink roses. Though, roses were ‘earthy’. In a way. Maybe. His head hurt. He licked the rest of the jam off his fingers before attempting to stand. His knees were sore from landing on them.
It was a kitchen, as far as he could tell. Not his kitchen, he didn’t think. How did he get here? He didn’t even remember being in the kitchen. Then again, he didn’t remember why he fell either. Looking around, it was safe to say he might have tripped over his untied shoe laces. They were covered in sticky jam too. There was a broken jar of it a little ways off, oozing its chunky innards all over the floor. Did he do that? He didn’t remember doing that.
“Oh dear! Are you alright?” There was a man in the entryway, looking at Mercutio with worry. He was dressed funny. His suit was beautiful woven silver, shiny and so pretty. His undershirt was black though, as were his gloves, cravat, and shoes. His eyes were grey though. And his top hat was silver. He looked like the Tin Man without looking robotic. And so very handsome.
“I think so,” Mercutio murmured, looking back down at himself to survey any damage.
“Must’ve fallen through the breadbox,” mused the man, coming in. “I thought I heard you drop in. I really need to remember to close the lid."
Mercutio looked up. Sure enough, there was a hole in the ceiling. Not just any hole, like the kind that looks like it led to the rooftop or the second floor. No, it was a perfectly round hole, leading up and up and up and up. Like he was at the bottom of the well. It was very peculiar. And the light at the end wasn’t blue, like the sky. It was brown. Like their ceiling back in his kitchen with the earthy tiles.
"How did I get here?"
“I think you fell through the breadbox, kiddo,” said the silvery man, wiping up the jam. Merc blinked a few times.
“But the breadbox is only this big,” Mercutio said, holding up his hands about a foot apart. He then ran his hands down over his body to see if he could fit through that big of space.
“I can’t fit in the breadbox,” he concluded as-a-matter-of-factly. The man laughed, tossing the wet rag into the sink and the broken pieces of jam jar into the trash can.
“Of course not, kiddo, it’s a breadbox. You just fell through it,” he clapped the other on the shoulder and started steering him out of the kitchen.
“Come now, since you’re down here, you might as well have some tea,” said the silvery man, putting a toasty hand on Merc’s shoulder.
Mercutio was pushed easily into the dining room, and then into a living room, then into another room that wasn’t the dining room or the living room, or the family room. The best he could describe it was the tea room. The upholstery was canvas white, rose red, and leafy green with white whicker frames and lace. There was a white wicker table in the middle with a glass top. A silver tea set was arranged neatly on the table. There were crumpets, scones, mini muffins, and a lot of toast. A whole stack of toast. There was butter and jam in cute little dishes and a bowl of freshly sliced fruits.
There were also two people sitting in the white wicker chairs, bickering. There was a pale blue woman with tight white corkscrew curls that were nestled under a small pearly top hat with ribbon bits. Sitting next to her, but obviously trying to keep his chair as far away as possible, was a dark grey man with a suit like the silvery man except it was black with silver accents. He also didn’t wear a top hat, but his hair was a flame color, swept up like licks of fire. Well, his hair was fiery at the tips; the roots were a deep blue.
“Stop touching the teapot, you gas-sputtering cad!” hissed the woman, her breath coming out in misty puffs like Mercutio’s did when it was cold. But the room was quite pleasantly neutral. “You’re making the tea boil!”
“It’s suppose to be hot, Icebox,” snorted the man, taking a sip of his violently steaming tea cup that he just refilled. The handle he held between his thumb and forefinger was glowing a dull red.
“You ever hear of iced tea?” she snapped back, crossing her arms over his ample bosom.
“I’m afraid we aren’t drinking iced tea today Miss R.,” said the silvery man apologetically to the woman. He turned to the man, who adjusted his monocle. “But I would appreciate it if you not melt my tea set, Mister S.”
“Who’s this?” she asked, squinting at Mercutio.
“Merc,” he said with sureness. “My name’s Merc.”
“Merc?” said the silvery man thoughtfully. “Mercutio, you mean?”
“Erm…I prefer Merc.”
“Ben’s brother, yes?”
Mercutio lit up. “Yes! Ben’s brother, Mercutio, that’s me.” He knew that for sure too.
The silvery man smiled. He had nice teeth. “Ben talks about you a lot.”
Mercutio blinked curiously before a chair was pulled out for him so he could sit down too. Miss R smiled at him too. “Oh yes, now I remember you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you,” Mercutio said, feeling like the words were just a recording he could flick on.
She looked slightly miffed about that.
He let out a loud “oomph!” as he hit the ground. That hurt; his head especially. He felt something sticky oozing from the hurting area. Was he bleeding?
Mercutio sat up with a groan, legs crooked and sitting between his ankles. He gingerly touched his forehead and looked at the stuff on his fingers. Mercutio was quite sure, or at least he thought he was, that blood wasn’t purple. Or seedy. As in full of seeds.
He licked it.
Blackberry jam.
He looked down. There was more on the floor, turning the white tiles with pink roses into a sticky purple mess.
Wait.
He was also quite sure, at least he thought he was, that the tiles in the kitchen were earthy not white with pink roses. Though, roses were ‘earthy’. In a way. Maybe. His head hurt. He licked the rest of the jam off his fingers before attempting to stand. His knees were sore from landing on them.
It was a kitchen, as far as he could tell. Not his kitchen, he didn’t think. How did he get here? He didn’t even remember being in the kitchen. Then again, he didn’t remember why he fell either. Looking around, it was safe to say he might have tripped over his untied shoe laces. They were covered in sticky jam too. There was a broken jar of it a little ways off, oozing its chunky innards all over the floor. Did he do that? He didn’t remember doing that.
“Oh dear! Are you alright?” There was a man in the entryway, looking at Mercutio with worry. He was dressed funny. His suit was beautiful woven silver, shiny and so pretty. His undershirt was black though, as were his gloves, cravat, and shoes. His eyes were grey though. And his top hat was silver. He looked like the Tin Man without looking robotic. And so very handsome.
“I think so,” Mercutio murmured, looking back down at himself to survey any damage.
“Must’ve fallen through the breadbox,” mused the man, coming in. “I thought I heard you drop in. I really need to remember to close the lid."
Mercutio looked up. Sure enough, there was a hole in the ceiling. Not just any hole, like the kind that looks like it led to the rooftop or the second floor. No, it was a perfectly round hole, leading up and up and up and up. Like he was at the bottom of the well. It was very peculiar. And the light at the end wasn’t blue, like the sky. It was brown. Like their ceiling back in his kitchen with the earthy tiles.
"How did I get here?"
“I think you fell through the breadbox, kiddo,” said the silvery man, wiping up the jam. Merc blinked a few times.
“But the breadbox is only this big,” Mercutio said, holding up his hands about a foot apart. He then ran his hands down over his body to see if he could fit through that big of space.
“I can’t fit in the breadbox,” he concluded as-a-matter-of-factly. The man laughed, tossing the wet rag into the sink and the broken pieces of jam jar into the trash can.
“Of course not, kiddo, it’s a breadbox. You just fell through it,” he clapped the other on the shoulder and started steering him out of the kitchen.
“Come now, since you’re down here, you might as well have some tea,” said the silvery man, putting a toasty hand on Merc’s shoulder.
Mercutio was pushed easily into the dining room, and then into a living room, then into another room that wasn’t the dining room or the living room, or the family room. The best he could describe it was the tea room. The upholstery was canvas white, rose red, and leafy green with white whicker frames and lace. There was a white wicker table in the middle with a glass top. A silver tea set was arranged neatly on the table. There were crumpets, scones, mini muffins, and a lot of toast. A whole stack of toast. There was butter and jam in cute little dishes and a bowl of freshly sliced fruits.
There were also two people sitting in the white wicker chairs, bickering. There was a pale blue woman with tight white corkscrew curls that were nestled under a small pearly top hat with ribbon bits. Sitting next to her, but obviously trying to keep his chair as far away as possible, was a dark grey man with a suit like the silvery man except it was black with silver accents. He also didn’t wear a top hat, but his hair was a flame color, swept up like licks of fire. Well, his hair was fiery at the tips; the roots were a deep blue.
“Stop touching the teapot, you gas-sputtering cad!” hissed the woman, her breath coming out in misty puffs like Mercutio’s did when it was cold. But the room was quite pleasantly neutral. “You’re making the tea boil!”
“It’s suppose to be hot, Icebox,” snorted the man, taking a sip of his violently steaming tea cup that he just refilled. The handle he held between his thumb and forefinger was glowing a dull red.
“You ever hear of iced tea?” she snapped back, crossing her arms over his ample bosom.
“I’m afraid we aren’t drinking iced tea today Miss R.,” said the silvery man apologetically to the woman. He turned to the man, who adjusted his monocle. “But I would appreciate it if you not melt my tea set, Mister S.”
“Who’s this?” she asked, squinting at Mercutio.
“Merc,” he said with sureness. “My name’s Merc.”
“Merc?” said the silvery man thoughtfully. “Mercutio, you mean?”
“Erm…I prefer Merc.”
“Ben’s brother, yes?”
Mercutio lit up. “Yes! Ben’s brother, Mercutio, that’s me.” He knew that for sure too.
The silvery man smiled. He had nice teeth. “Ben talks about you a lot.”
Mercutio blinked curiously before a chair was pulled out for him so he could sit down too. Miss R smiled at him too. “Oh yes, now I remember you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you,” Mercutio said, feeling like the words were just a recording he could flick on.
She looked slightly miffed about that.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-10 04:52 am (UTC)I think this is pretty good so far! And the characters~ hehe, love them! I beg you to write more to feed my Wonderland addiction I seem to have lately >:
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-10 04:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-10 06:17 am (UTC)Other Guy: Why is he going in my closet?
Val Kilmer: Well why do you go in your closet?
Other Guy: To get my pajamas, but that's not why he's going in my closet.
Val Kilmer: Of course not, he's a grown man, your pajamas would never fit him. Tsk tsk...
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-10 10:50 am (UTC)randomspotlight! ^_^there will be moar to this? *puppy-dog eyes*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-10 08:41 pm (UTC)Although you'll have to mention whether this is canon, in sync with canon or having absolutely nothing to do with canon.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 01:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-11 04:52 pm (UTC)I hope you are going to continue this (and the original story, for that matter...).
(no subject)
Date: 2009-02-13 02:08 am (UTC)