(As usual, a plug for Largeness&Muchness, the hatterknave LiveJournal community. Join us. We're cool.)
God, I love writing in this style. Apologies if it's a little confusing, but the descriptions we all use every day get so dull after a while (forget-me-not blue, for example, is incredibly overdone), and I think if there's one place where unusual descriptions would be the norm, it'd be Underland.
Takes place well before the movie. As in many fics, Staynesie was at Mirana's court before joining up with Iracebeth (which itself would have taken place well before Alice's first visit) in my world.
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
When Ilosovic Stayne first arrives at Mirana's court, the first thing that hits him is the whiteness. Everywhere he looks, the light is almost blinding, and the women of the court, with their milk-white skin, and their snow-drive dresses, and their spider-webs-spun-into-curls hair, irk him more than should be possible for creatures of such lovely proportion and attractive physique. Their dark eyes and lips, which should be striking and sensual, are, on their paleness, garish and offensive. The men of the court (for Ilosovic isn't terribly fussy on gender) bore him just as much, if not more so, because they lack even the scant, meager loveliness and delicacy of form the women have attained.
But then he meets Tarrant Hightopp, and Ilosovic doesn't care how dull and trite the cliché is, he can feel his heart beating harder in his chest, thump-thump-thump like a drum at a dance, as soon as he spots the flames of orange-peel hair. As he steps into the hatter's workroom, curious about the explosion of color, all ladybugs-on-the-leaves reds and eleven-o-clock-summer-sky blues and butter-melting-on-my-toast yellows and night-of-the-new-moon-at-midnight blacks, the man sitting at the worktable looks up and cracks a grin, and Ilosovic thinks he falls in love right then. The teeth smiling at him are I-spent-an-hour-drawing-them-with-a-ruler even, and fluffy-puffy-cloud white, and the wide eyes are limes-in-your-lemonade green, and the skin, an intriguing peaches-and-cream hue, is so smooth and bright that Ilosovic swallows to look at it.
"Hello," the pale-as-the-moon man says brightly, holding out a bandaged but smooth-as-water hand, and Ilosovic feels his face heat up, raspberries-in-the-vanilla red, as he shakes it. "I'm Tarrant Hightopp. I'm the Hatter around here. Who are you?"
"Ilosovic Stayne," he answers, his voice an embarrassing teenager-on-a-first-date-and-I-think-he-might-be-the-one sort of croak, and Tarrant's smile is even wider now. Ilosovic feels his smile quiver at the sight, and his heartbeat is running wild now, thumpthumpthumpthumpthump, like a hard summer rain coming down on the roof, and how can Tarrant not hear it? But Tarrant is looking around at his materials, and asking if Ilosovic has ever thought of getting himself a hat.
"Well no," he answers, surprised, and eager to keep talking to this fiery, lime-flavored, peaches-and-cream man.
Tarrant chuckles, low and smooth, a come-here-and-I'll-show-you-things-you-shouldn't-know sort of sound, and Ilosovic has always been the dominant force in his relationships, but he finds he wouldn't mind so much letting Tarrant push peaches-and-cream into silverware-in-the-moonlight paleness, and he wouldn't object to tasting those pink-like-strawberry-tarts lips (and he wonders wildly if Tarrant actually tastes like the oranges and peaches and cream and limes and lemonade and strawberry tarts and fire he's made of), and the thought of lying in bed, ravens-and-writing-desks-blocking-the-sun and fires-and-oranges-blazing-in-the-sunset hair mixing together, makes him swallow his nervousness again and step closer to look at the Hatter's materials, thinking about a new hat.
Hope you enjoyed it, 'cause it was crazy fun to write. 8D
Must give credit where credit is due. Inspiration comes from unsettledfic at LJ, who's still more amazing, no matter what she says.