Induction.

Dorothy found herself rather confused, as she lay in what seemed to be an endless field of flowing, red cloth. It wove the world around her, with it extending vastly across a great expanse. A light-skinned woman in a white hood, black of hair, and amber of eye looks to her from above. Dorothy reaches up to her...

The figure pulls her up, smiling. "Queen Ozma, you must be more careful."

"Sorry, Lady Margo." Dorothy's voice was not her own; her lips moved on their own. "It's just been so long since I've left the Emerald City. With a field of flowers like this, who wouldn't start wondering."

Dorothy looked around, confused as Margo responded. "Well, in slippers like those, you should be far more careful."

She looks down to her feet, spotting a pair of ruby slippers. "Oh, isn't that your love's favorite flower I see?"

A rose, made of entwined red cloth then springs from the vast, empty cloth field; right between Dorothy's feet. Miss Margo gasps, hiding her face.

"We're not lovers... Yet."

Dorothy feels the field of cloths tear beneath her feet as she begins to wake up; words of unfamiliar voices come from all around her as she plunges into a vast sea of pitch-black ink.

"I plan on running away with him."

"Have you heard? The Wolf killed Lady Margo and Sir Carver!"

"We're under attack! Your highness, run for the tunnels!"

"The spires... all gone..."

A final voice; the voice of that queen, greets her as she wakes.

"There's no place like home... There's no place like home... There's no place like home..."

A bundle of warm red cloth wraps around the newborn babe; confused, and afraid.

Dorothy opens her eyes.

...

Cuu sits in silence as he watches over Dorothy; stirring as she was in her slumber. The old crone had told him that none of her injuries were that severe; a cut on the forehead and some bruised ribs at absolute most. According to the witch, it had been her excessive use of her Tale-Blood that had caused her to faint. His eyes only ever left Dorothy to look towards the door; as if expecting for those bastards to return at any moment. This left him with quite a shock when a loud voice suddenly boomed right next to him.

"Cuu!"

Dorothy leapt out of bed faster than he could react, knocking him off his chair as the two landed on the floor. Cuu felt his heart begin racing at both the sudden embrace, as well as the impact to the back of his head when he hit the floor.

"Ow!" He winced with on hand grabbing his head, and the other acting equally on instinct; wrapping around Dorothy to keep her from hurting herself. "Please calm down, Doctor."

"Oops, uh... sorry." Dorothy tried to scurry back to her feet, but Cuu's firm grip still held her in place. "Uh, Mister Cuu?"

"Right! Sorry." He released her, getting to his feet; making sure to hide as much of his face as possible to keep the blasted blush from showing. "I, uh..."

He felt himself suddenly unable to speak; there was a frog in his throat, waiting for a kiss to turn him into a prince. Just then, a certain old crone popped open the door, smiling as she looked over to Dorothy.

"Oh, my dearie, you're alright!" Dorothy's grandmother pulls her into an embrace. "I was half worried you'd have forgotten an old lady like me, with how big that bump on your head was."

"As if, Gran." Dorothy said, hugging her grandmother tightly. "How did I end up here? Everything that just happened seems kind of... blurry."

Cuu raises his hand, finally finding his voice. "The Cat found me in the markets; she told me you were in trouble, so I came to help. You had already defeated two of them when I arrived; the third left when she saw she was outnumbered. Then you-"

His voice croaked out again; such a horrid curse this prince must have, to be such a massive toad, living in the throat of a wolf. Her grandmother snickered at the sight.

"Your little Cuu carried you all the way here after you passed out, dearie. I was on the porch when I saw you two; it looked like a handsome knight carrying a princess." Cuu glared at the old woman in reply, still unable to speak.

"We were attacked by some masked Tales." Dorothy sat back down on the bed; Cuu likewise set the chair he had been sitting in back in place, retaking his seat. "I've no idea why, though..."

"What did these masks look like?" The Wicked Witch asked, seating herself by her grandchild; sounding concerned at the mention of the masks. "Did they match their Tales, by chance?"

"Yes, actually." Dorothy said; sounding even more concerned now that her Grandmother had changed her usual tone. "Why? Do you know who they are?"

Cuu could see the fire go out in the eyes of the old crone; as if her very soul was swallowed by the mere thought of these people.

"Oh dearie... more than I wish to admit."

...

Worthless. That's all he was. Worthless. Bellodor had finally sobered up properly, only to find himself feeling more useless than ever. Dorothy Oswald had come by, along with the cat-eared girl who had stolen from him. He didn't blame her; from the looks of it, she needed the money more than some brat with a silver spoon in his mouth...

"Hello, Beautiful."

"Agh!"

He felt his heart jump out of his chest as he spun around, hopping from his chair. A hooded figure stalks towards him. There was a with a long, wooden pole poking through this stranger's hood; about as tick as Bellodor's thumb, and as long as his hand. The figure pulled down their hood...

It was a woman; one made of wood, which moved almost like flesh, and with a very long wooden nose. Her face was separated into two halves, with her jaw having seams that looked like it could pop out. Every time she blinked, there was the subtle *tap* of wood on wood. Her hair had luster like that of a dolls, but cut shorter than any doll Bellodor had seen. She was utterly strange, and as such, she set his heart a flutter like no one had before. She reached out a wooden hand towards him.

"A little birdie told me you feel unwanted by the Nots of the world, McDonald." She said; her nose seemed to grow half an inch as she spoke. "How about you come with me?"

"Wh-where too?" This was insane; but all he could think of as his damned curse took hold was of how to win this girl's heart.

The wooden girl smiles; the sounds of mechanisms pulling her face into place as she did so felt surreal to his ears. "A place where people like us are treated how we should be. As living legends; chosen by the Author himself."

Bellodor was comforted by the thought. He looks about, seeing his many cups, chairs, and other living furnishings; his mind flashed with horrible images of what his mother might do to his little lives if he vanished as this woman suggested. The thought made his heart sink.

"T-two questions first, please." He said; getting a gentle nod in return. "Could... could I bring my friends?"

The wooden girl lifted an eyebrow. "Friends? Who are they? If they're a Not..."

"Come on l-little guys; she won't hurt you." He said, looking about at where his little lives usually hid themselves.

Various bits and bobbles began moving about inside the house; buttons rolling on their sides, cups hopping across the floorboards, chairs scooting forward. Around sixty or so little lives presented themselves; not including all the other things he had brought to life that couldn't exactly move.

"Ooh, cute." She says, giggling; her nose shrinks slightly as she pokes at one of the larger buttons that had rolled over. "I can make the whole house come with, if you really want."

"Really!?" Bellodor hadn't smiled in a long time, not genuinely at least; but her words put one squarely on his face. "Oh, uh; my other question... what's your name?"

The wooden girl bows her head; much like an actor finishing their performance.

"Linden Tarus, of Vania. My Tale is The Liar, good to meet you." She said, her nose shrinking slightly once again.

The sweating beanpole held out a hand to shake; flustered and excited as he was. "Bellodor LeFou McDonald, of Nevermore. It's great to meet you too."

"And your Tale?" Linden asked, shaking his hand; her palm feeling strange as the wax-coated wood slid against his skin. "I may know you are one, but that doesn't narrow it down too much."

"Oh, uh... The Beauty." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Honestly, I thought you knew, since you called me..."

"Beautiful?" She snickered. "Well, you fit your name."

Bellodor thought he might pass out; here was someone offering to make it all go away. The stress, the threats, the failures. She was even complimenting him; no one else did that, except maybe...

"Ugh... put her aside. We're saved... I'm saved..."

...

Linden knew, of course; she was just being careful with her words. Half truths aren't lies after all. The young man she was recruiting was indeed quite nice on the eyes, even if he was on the spindly side. She could tell that Ghana had done well in his scouting efforts of finding a good mark amongst the town with his spiders; the other four were too on edge after being attacked by those three failed goons, but this one? Prime for the taking, as far as she was concerned. Disillusioned, mistreated, and now bottom deep in his wine? Perfect recruitment material.

"My family will need a week or so to set up the magic needed to spirit away with the whole house." She explained, seating herself in what seemed to be the only inanimate chair in the room. "In the meantime, could we do some our work from here? I promise you, we can keep a low profile."

"Of course!" Bellodor said, that oddly cute smile still imprinted on his face. "Anything to get these little guys somewhere... safe."

It was sad, in a way; she could see so much of her younger self in this man. The desperation, the sorrow, and the pain. It made her feel all the better about getting him out from under this horrid Not of a mother he had, and into a real family; one that would appreciate him, and his gifts. The spider in her cloak suddenly began shaking; someone was approaching the house.

She offered the poor man a wink and a smile. "We'll be in contact, Bellodor; but it seems I have to go."

"Oh..." He visibly deflated, just as a knock was heard at the door. "Oh! Uh, c-coming!"

Linded waved him goodbye, giggling as he tripped over himself waving back. As soon as he was out of sight, she began to whisper the spell.

"Mirror, mirror in our hall; grant us passage, one and all."

The Liar shattered, and found herself surrounded by the familiar homely sight of tents dotted across the ruins of the once great Emerald City.