Hello there! I'm Alfred F. Jones or otherwise known as the March Hare. Everyone just calls me Hare though. Welcome to Wonderland, or to be more correct, what's left of it. This place has been corrupted by madness along with several of the inhabitants many years ago so please come join me for a cup of tea, but be warned, I'm much more mad than I appear to be.
Personal Status: It's his breeding season
M!A 2: N/A
((This is an independent rp/ask blog for Distorted Wonderland!March Hare!America.
No artwork belongs to me unless otherwise stated.
There will be NSFW))
Hare tapped his foot in annoyance his right rabbit ear twitching. He was not happy. Not one bit. He glared at the broken shards that served as a reminder of one of his beloved tea sets.
“That was the third tea set this week,” Hare grumbled as he knelt down to pick up what shards he could. “Who keeps breaking my tea sets? They’re not cheap to by nowadays with how Wonderland is.” He then got up and walked outside his house and towards his garden where a long table sat with pale red table cloth stained with tea, cake, and other such items from countless tea and unbirthday parties that had once been an everyday occurrence, its fraying edges swaying slightly in a silent dance with the light breeze that rolled by. The table itself was surrounded by mismatching chairs that had once been filled with joyful faces and laughter of his friends. Hare sighed sadly and set the shattered remains of one of his few matching tea sets onto the table where countless other mismatched tea sets of all shapes, sizes, and designs sat scattered across the entire expanse of the old table overlapping each other and barely leaving an ounce of space left to put anything. He sighed again flopping down into one of the many seats and began to fiddle with the broken shards to sea if he could salvage any of it for use ignoring the tears that threatened to spill.