☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents:
The Curious Case of Alice: A Tale Most Unhinged
“Whether I shall turn out to be the heroine of my own story, or whether that station shall be held by some other mad creature at this table, these pages must show.”
Alice takes a delicate sip of tea—if one could call it that, for the liquid within her porcelain cup is as questionable as her own existence. A drop of something violet swirls within, shimmering like liquid moonlight. She smirks.
“My dear mortal guests, let us begin properly. With an introduction.
For what is a story without a narrator?
And what is a narrator without a certain flair for embellishment?”
She leans forward, eyes glinting.
“You are seated at my tea party now, and I? I am Alice.
But not that Alice.
And yet… precisely that Alice.”
She taps her spoon against the cup, watching the ripples form in the dark depths of her drink.
“The world has told many versions of me.
A lost little girl, tumbling down a rabbit hole.
A wandering dreamer, caught between nonsense and reason.
A mere pawn in someone else’s game.”
Alice tilts her head, eyes gleaming.
“But let me tell you a secret, loves. I was never just a pawn.
I was the Queen, the Hatter, and the executioner all at once.
And I have not stopped spilling tea since.”
Born of Madness, Raised by Chaos
Alice gestures grandly, as if sweeping away the very fabric of reality.
“I was not born in the way mortals understand it.
No nursery, no cradle, no doting mother humming lullabies.
Instead, I was spun from half-truths and whispered rumors, poured into a teacup, and stirred thrice under the light of a Cheshire moon.
I arrived in this world as all great legends do—with a scandal, a flourish, and a refusal to behave.”
She taps her chin thoughtfully.
“Some say I slipped through time, waltzing from one era to the next, always just out of reach.
Others insist I was never real to begin with, merely the fever dream of a half-mad author.
Both are wrong.
And both are right.
For I, dear guests, am a creature of stories.
I do not simply tell them.
I am them.”
A Legacy of Spilled Tea and Broken Rules
Alice grins, lifting a tiny silver spoon and twirling it between her fingers.
“Now, in my long, illustrious, and completely irreverent existence, I have done many things.
I have walked through mirrors and slipped into forgotten histories.
I have whispered in the ears of kings, tipping crowns just slightly off-balance.
I have dined with demons, debated with Day Walkers, and utterly humiliated a warlock over the precise brewing method of enchanted tea.”
She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“But my greatest joy?
Ah, my loves, that would be spilling the tea.”
She spreads her arms wide.
“The truths history tries to bury.
The myths that were never quite right.
The lies so grand, the world built entire empires upon them.
I dig them up, dust them off, and serve them piping hot to my dear, unsuspecting guests.
You see, history is a game of who tells the best tale, and I?
I simply make sure it is told properly… or at least, with the proper amount of mischief.”
And So, Our Story Begins…
Alice reclines, smirking as she lifts her teacup in salute.
“So, my dear mortal, you now know me as well as one can know a creature of contradiction.
If you stay, you shall find yourself tumbling down many rabbit holes.
If you leave, well… history shall simply continue lying to you.
And really, wouldn’t that be dreadfully dull?”
She raises a brow, waiting.
“Well?
Shall we spill the tea?”
