Well... this is the weirdest tea party I've been to in a very long time.

  There was a single moment where I swear it was achingly quiet; you could hear a bell chime from over a mile away. Now, it sounded like every single night I have ever lived through layered in on itself, each begging to be the real one. I know those sounds and I feel the urge not to think- to acknowledge or remember. Those painful sounds echo throughout my mind nonstop; that's the problem. I'm shaking my head in disbelief; this can't be real, but it IS. We really went through a portal. It's somewhat felt like a dreamy haze has been over my eyes since the moment we stepped through though. It almost feels like a comforting lie that you tell yourself everyday just to make it out of bed every morning. But like the monotony of something done 1,000's of times, it will eventually lose its edge.

  “Time grows loud when it is frightened,” the Seer gently stroked the branch of a willow tree that was behind her; a small tree with its first blossoms upon it. "My my, you have grown so big my darling," softly petting the air around the tree, as if she was congratulating it. She wasn't being ominous; she was stating it as if this were general knowledge. A toad croaks loudly close by and disrupts the deafening roar into a gentle quiet hum.

  I feel like I can think clearly again, I look around and everyone is moving in chaos as if they didn't just hear that roar of sound. Everything feels like it's going in a slow movement and distorted, finally slowing down to the quiet hum. Then SNAP! Time caught up with sound.

  "Damnit, we had an agreement, no more damn trials on my land! This is a fecking safe zone from your lot," Hatter’s voice cracked like thunder. The chair Cheshire was floating a few feet in the air spun lazily as Hatter stood on the table with the gun squirting Cheshire in the face. Hatter repeatedly pulling the trigger faster and faster. Cheshire just watched Hatter with an expression that hovered somewhere between boredom and pity. You could only hear the dishes clashing and being pulled by the table runner and the awkward sound of the water hitting him in the face.

  The sound of crickets and frogs surged again, stacking over one another until the night felt swollen with noise. I check in on the rabbits, because they are super sensitive to noise distortions but I'm surprised. The bunnies have lost interest in the current chaos and have retreated to their bowls full of fresh greenery and produce. Nothing can hold their attention quite like bananas, radishes and apple chunks I guess, noise be damned.

  “That little tantrum of yours won’t stop anything,” Cheshire sighed, dripping water down the bridge of his nose and chin. “You should know that by now.” Hatter's jaw clenches as his hats distort rapidly through different styles. He squeezed the trigger one last time anyway, yet nothing came out this time. Just the sound of a hollow click of a toy that had run dry.

  “It has begun,” the Seer whispered as she tilted her head- not toward us but at the space between everyone, like she was listening for something only she could hear. Her hands hovered inches above the willow branch, glowing fingertips gently trembling as if the world itself were breathing a sigh of relief beneath her palms.

  It felt as if she had spoken as if she was right in my ear canal. A chill rolled down my spine. Began? Began what?

  Hatter turned toward her sharply, shoulders stiff and trembling from anger he didn’t know how to aim. “No,” he snapped, voice low now. “Not here. Not again. She just got here- she hasn’t even-” his voice faltered. Something flickered in his eyes as the hats slowly stopped changing. A memory he refused to let surface. The air went still; the sounds collapsed inward. Not fading but folding into a pocket of silence.

  The Seer’s expression softened. “You know they do not begin because of us,” she said gently. “They begin because something inside her refuses to.” The night roared back to life. Frogs, crickets, hum of lightening bus- sound bursting against my skull like static.

  “What are you talking about?” I whispered, though I wasn’t entirely sure whether I wanted the answer. Whatever this is, it ends now. "Look I just want to take my fur babes and go home, you all can keep doing- whatever THIS is, but we are leaving!" I try to stand but find my body doesn't want to cooperate; it feels as if my legs were made of lead. It's like time has misaligned with me; like i stepped back into the same room but the room had moved on without me.

  “A Tower doesn’t fall because it wants to,” he said. “It falls when truth refuses to stand.” Cheshire noted while taking out a white handkerchief to wipe his glasses off. The word truth scraped across something raw in my chest, like a bruise I didn’t know I had.

  I searched my mind for what he meant, but all I could do was focus on my un-mobile limbs. The sound of a cup being filled broke my attention back to the table in front of me. A small pot was floating over a teacup in front of me, pouring a steady, small stream of coffee- flowing in a downward spiral.

  "First storms," a small voice murmured, “always arrive loudest.” The silence pocket returned just long enough for those words to land, then a soft clink broke the silence. Just the delicate sound of porcelain meeting porcelain, then the world stitched itself back together, but not quite the same as before. A second teacup slid across the table on its own, no hands guiding it, no strings, just a quiet decision the world had made.

  Someone was sitting there now though I hadn’t seen her arrive. She looked as if she’d been here the whole time, simply waiting for the moment I was able to notice her. Her hair fell in dark, loose waves that swallowed the light. Her dress shimmered in muted silver, not bright, not celebratory, but the color of moonlight remembered after waking from a dream. Her smile was warm, but her eyes were exhausted, the kind of tired that felt… familiar. She stirred sugar into her tea, though the spoon never touched the cup. “I wouldn’t try to stand again just yet,” she said softly, voice gentle as velvet on skin. “You’ll only tear something you’re not ready to look at.” She sounded like she wanted to keep the moment from breaking.

  A hearty serving of potatoes suddenly appears before us. Steam curled off the potatoes, warm and familiar, like a memory I didn’t remember choosing- of many a warm dinner evening at home, surrounded by loved ones. I inhaled deeply and finally let my shoulders rest; my hands finally stopped shaking. The world felt steady again — not healed, not whole — just quietly held in place.

  The Seer closed her eyes; her lashes trembled. For one fleeting moment, there was an ache in her face that made her look unbearably human for a change. Then it's as if the whole world remembered how to breathe- and so did I.

  But the relief didn’t feel like safety. It felt like a pause.

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