<strong>Name:</strong>Cinnamon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Park,<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Them & Her.<br/><br/>Cinnamon blushed profusely when They bowed, color filling her cheeks and her hand fidgeting with the hem of her gown.  He was so courtly!  It was just like something out of one of her books and it left the girl preening somewhat and catching her bottom lip between the pressure of her teeth to stifle the giggle that came when he winked.<br/><br/>"Oh thank you," she gushed, hugging tight again to his arm when he fed the proper ducks while she listened to their explanation.  We? Us? Our? Them?  Did he know everyone else that was there too?  Only...Cinnamon didn't see anyone else but the girl she thought was the mouse and it didn't seem as if she felt like talking though Cinna kept glancing back curiously in her direction.<br/><br/>It was obvious she didn't understand the warning either, because she just kept right on clinging. "Of course this is Wonderland," that it needed pointing out seemed silly, "Where else would it be?  People tell stories about it?"  That was like saying people<em>left</em>Wonderland and everyone knew that no one did.  They stayed.  They stayed forever and ever and ever and a day.  Where could they possibly tell stories? At the Broken Cup?<br/><br/>But then he was asking questions again, which meant that her own were going to have to wait, because she knew how these things worked. "I...I'm Cinnamon," that she was a Tart she did not say, because it wasn't the sort of thing one said in polite company and anyway you didn't get to choose your family.<br/><br/>"But I don't know the cat.  The Hare does," and where he went stiff, she trembled, "He knows...he knows the cat very well.  He was buying her shoes.  He told me so.  Pretty little things, with shiny buckles.  Sometimes she goes to watch the television with Mother but...but I've never talked to her.  I don't know how to find her either.  I don't think anyone does...but you could try asking the Hare."