The only nation with laws that the Spirit respect.
This article contains CWs for: Sexual innuendos/implications, violence.
Carroll #290: Wonderland by Diristine
⚠️ content warning ↑
RAISA FILES: Group of Interest [DEFUNCT]
GOI-001: Chicago Spirit
FILES CREATED: c. 1920
FILES LAST REVISED BY GOI: JAN 1924
FILES RECOVERED: JULY 1933
[TEXT REPRODUCED BELOW]1
{Carroll 290: Wonderland}
A photo of the view from our hiding place, taken from the distillery’s lawn.
{Where The Rabbit Hole Is}
There’s two entrances. One in the Cistern2 and one under the Shore3. Only reason we don’t have sole access is ‘cause Angel’s4 not above getting on her knees to get what she wants.
You don’t need a door to get in; just makes getting through easier. Easy enough that random jacks find their way in without meaning to. We’ve had men going around to destroy any circles they find, but the holes keep popping up like weeds. There’s been talk about leaving the destruction to mother nature. For now, if you find one, break the line. Going in to explore is a gamble you don’t want to take, since you never know where you’ll end up on the other end.
{Who Knows About Our Secret}
Ever heard of the place that changes people, or the warehouse where liquor never runs dry? Then you know more than the average jack. It’s common knowledge for the higher-ups and Teeth’s people since they’re the ones who visit the most. But it’s not one of our closest secrets if the rumors didn’t make that clear.
Of course the Funnel folk know about the place; their leaders can actually navigate it. None of them will give a straight answer on how to, something about belonging there.
Our connections say the graycoats run through the locked land at least once a year. They can’t figure out how to get anywhere besides the caged woods and that dirt road, and we’re trying to keep it that way. Easily done since they haven’t tried to ask our acquaintances if there’s anywhere else to go outside of that fucking forest. Even if they did, Angel’s friends will take care of any trailblazers before they get too far from home.
{How We Got Tulgey Wood}
Before the Funnel was ours, we went to them for pricier imports.
They’d be waiting in Detroit with our stock ready for pickup. We’d meet them at one of the train stations, and the truck would be loaded with everything promised. Not once were we cheated; we trusted their folk.
Ever since the start of the year, both the graycoats and cops were hitting us hard. With the new laws it was an easy excuse for coats to hit our businesses with raids. Not the best beginning of 1920, but the boss wasn’t going to give up that easy. We learned to hide in the open, but there were still times good liquor was poured out the windows. It wasn’t a surprise that we had to get a restock on goods a couple of months ahead of schedule. Angel was more than happy to do business with us. The Funnel had been dealing with the laws for a few years now, and she had been waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
She told us Fishfly5 would get us what we needed from the Funnel’s store, and he’d tell us the laws of the land too. Fucker wasn’t exactly excited for extra work, kept looking at us with murder in his eyes. He told Leggy6 to meet him at the front of the Shore the next day rather than the usual spot. Made it clear he wouldn’t be wasting his men on us, and that we’d have to fix the truck ourselves.
Legs had his men in Detroit before sunrise, and Fishfly led them down to the cellar. In the center of the room was an arch made of branches and some kind of ivy growing through them. A circle of grass went around the tunnel with mushrooms growing at the rim. Fishfly nodded to the structure and said the shit was through it. He’d be keeping track of what we took when we came back through, nothing about any laws.
Asking Fishfly about them led nowhere. He said they didn’t need to know since they wouldn’t be outside, so Legs took his people through after the roach set up his post by the door. On the other side was the same room, only with three more doors and no Fishfly.
A photo that shows part of the Funnel’s warehouse. The building doesn’t like being photographed, so could we only get this small part.
Peeking through the first door showed a room filled with casks organized far further than necessary. Mostly whiskeys with labels commenting on some kind of effects they had, likely the Funnel’s homemade carrolls.
Through the next was a warehouse with shelves climbing higher than any sane man would, the ceiling went further. Crates of hooch stacked to the third level, everything above was filled with junk. We spotted imports from Scotland, Ireland, Spain, France, Russia, Mexico, and even fucking Asia. If a country made alcohol, the Funnel had it in their hands.
Legs got his men working while he checked the last door; walked up some stairs that led to the distillery above. He found a door leading out of the building, and he decided to have a look around. Wanted to figure out where he had ended up. Good for the Spirit to know other businesses’ secrets.
Stepping through the frame, the coastline greeted him as if he hadn’t just been in a city. Hills and grass stretching to the shore before a quick drop. Land broken up by occasional stone walls and buildings every so often. Two lighthouses stood on either end of the cove, connected by a pathway. Seals, nude women, and pelts basked on the sand below on the sand in front of him. If Leggy weren’t like the residents he might have been more social.
He was about to step back inside when a thing appeared next to him to ask what he was. Leggy told the bastard what we all call him, Legs. With a laugh from the bitch, he became just that. Halved right below where his belly-button used to be.
From The Desk of Richard Chappell
We’ve had a good partnership, but it’s time for some changes. You can thank Fishfly for it.
I want my own land in the realm behind the looking-glass, my own gate, and a list of the laws. Since you were able to dig your own rabbit den, you can make me one. Even though we’re sharing space, we’ll keep the Funnel as part of our supply. There’s no reason to stop buying from you yet.
And that’s not all; something needs to be done about your bug. I don’t mind sparing him if you can give me something extra that I’m not already getting from you. I’ll decide if it’s worth his life or not. Right now, I’m letting Legs decide Fishfly’s future, and he wants him in Wheels’ hands. Too damn merciful in my opinion; I’d have him with the snitches.
If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’m sending Derringer to clean up this mess.
Dearest Chappell,
I insist we discuss this over dinner. Details are far easier to follow over a nice drink after all. There’s some things that are simply best said in person rather than some written message that takes far too much time in delivery. Why waste paper, ink, and time when you could have something much more appealing laying on your desk? I’ll even bring a bottle of Laphroaig.
Though, I agree that the Funnel owes you greatly. Fishfly’s mistake mortifies me, and he’s being dealt with as we speak. Perhaps I could convince you to spare him from Spirit punishment in trade for my own little death.
Kisses and Love,
Angel
To Whoever is Reading This,
Darling Dick has oh so politely asked for me to write the rules of my home. He certainly knows how to use that tongue to articulate what he wants. He’s so charming that I’ve also gifted him the rituals on how to visit. Questions and further clarification can be sent to either of my darlings, Fishfly or Slip7.
While I absolutely would adore answering every inquiry that comes my way, Dick and Wheels have been keeping me busy with their very colorful questions. The former prefers hands-on demonstrations which take up much of my time, though I am far from complaining. He’s very quick to learn how he can make things bend for him and this is no exception.
Do keep in mind that the land is not yours to coerce, so don’t even try. She’s not one to be tamed and negotiations will only lead to disaster.
Good Luck!
xoxo
Angel
The first way to enter is by finding a faery portal.
1. Find one of the many fae portals left on earth.
2. Weave seagrass and kelp into the frame.
3. Walk through.
4. Return the same way you came.
The second is a ritual that must be done on a moonless night.
1. With driftwood and watergrass make a small raft. It has to be large enough to hold pieces of dead animals.
2. Find a pond, lake, river—any body of water that goes over the head. Natural is best, but man-made will do.
3. Get a whisker from a lady seal, a tusk from a lady walrus, and the beak of a gull. The parts must be found from animals that have died naturally, no killing.
4. Put the remains on the watercraft you made.
5. Set the raft on the water, it should float out and catch fire when done right.
6. If the sea sings, join it until the song is finished. (The lyrics are written below.)
7. When sung properly, a watergrass path will grow to the edge of the wet sand. The water will be harmless.
8. If the lyrics are sung incorrectly or are interrupted, apologize and wait until the next moon cycle passes before trying again. The same can be said if the boat sinks or doesn’t catch.
Songs and Lyrics
An Eldest Child
Sea: Rules apply to these waters.
Singer: So do they the land.
Sea: If you dare to break them?
Singer: I’ll pay the price firsthand.
A Middle Child
Sea: Who listens to the siren’s song?
Singer: No single soul but I.
Sea: And who are you to listen?
Singer: Not someone worth a pry.
A Youngest/Only Child
Sea: Do you walk upon the shores?
Singer: Yes, but I simply wish to be.
Sea: Is there another reason?
Singer: Aye, the seaside calls to me.
Laws of the Faewilds.
1. No weapons.
2. Mind your manners.
3. Treat everyone with respect.
4. Never refer to the area beyond as the same thing more than once if you’re a local.
5. Don't sleep unless I taught you how.
6. Sharing is caring, but only when it comes to food.
7. Don’t eat anything you didn’t bring. Unless you want to get drugged and owe one of the lovely hosts.
8. Never help what looks harmless, but always help what looks harmful. Unless it’s hungry, then feed it no matter what it looks like.
9. If a resident does you a favor, you do one back.
10. Never say someone’s name or nickname. If you do, it better be someone you hate.
11. Always accept company on travels, just don’t tell them where you’re heading. Don’t need a stranger to know where you live, after all.
12. Be polite. We can’t keep losing people cause you don’t want to say your pleases and thank yous.
14.8 Always tell the truth. Pretend everyone is Chappell or myself. You don’t want to lie to either of us, do you?
15. Eldest kids aren’t allowed to bring anything of value. Or take anything of value.
16. If you’re a middle child, don’t fuck the things that live there. Also don’t try to befriend or court anything. Anyone else is free to do as they please.
17. The youngest/only kids can’t do anything that makes them comfortable. No sitting on cushions, drinking, eating, nothing. Suffer for a moment and live for years.
18. If you fuck up, that's on you. We'll just have to hire the new you as replacement.
19. None of this applies to Derringer.
{Why We Use the Extra Space}
Pretty sure it's self explanatory, but for anyone who needs it spelled out: we use the selkie’s sea to store our pricier shit that passes through.
We share space with the Funnel. Even though they’re Spirit now, it’s less “ours” and more theirs. They’re happy enough to give us what we need, be it storage, shelter, or anything else. It’s a damn safe spot to hide from the coats if things go south. Honestly, it’s one of the best places to be sent if told to go collect some hooch. Heard that some of the places we get supply from work their people like dogs.
There’s been talk about setting up our own still, but it hasn’t gotten anywhere with how Angel keeps getting on her knees during the meetings. Can’t exactly negotiate with someone whose mouth is busy with something other than words.
