The closer he grew the louder the music and the singing became. Marik could almost make out the lyrics by the time he passed a lumpy looking tree that reminded him of the rotten chocolate in the back of one of the unused trailers. Something about a 'very merry unbirthday', whatever one of those was. He jogged closer, coming across yet another path only this time it was a strange sort of blue shade. Distracted for a moment, Marik played in the dust with his feet for a second or two, wondering if it was paint or naturally like that, before looking up and seeing the blue path lead to a gate. He let himself in uninvited, hopping over the fence with ease and sauntering up the main pathway. The singing grew louder and louder, and now he could tell it was only one person singing.

The pathway he walked upon split into three about half way up and slightly steep hill. While standing there looking at where they lead, the singing stopped, and the blonde lion almost pouted. It was a catchy song he was beginning to like. The paths on the outside lead to two different houses, both as equally strange looking in the distance as the other. One was a mad shade of purple, while the other resembled a pile of bricks rather than a solid house. The middle pathway lead over the hill, towards, Marik guessed, where the source of the singing was. Shrugging to himself, he proceeded down the middle, hoping to bump into someone who could help him.

The view from the top of the hill was stunning. So stunning, in fact, that Marik had to stand there and take it all in for a second. The hill descended down a large clearing in the middle of a large cluster of trees. The trees themselves extended higher than any trees he'd ever seen, but weren't tall enough to block out the strange cinnamon hues of the setting sun. In the middle of the clearing appeared to be a party of some sort. A large ornate wooden table was laid out with fancy cakes, teacups and teapots, sandwiches and all the delights one would usually find at a quaint little tea party.

At one end of the table sat a tanned blonde in a purple suit. At least, Marik would've described it as a suit. It was a very strange suit, the jacket barely covering the top half of the person's torso, the black shirt underneath obviously with only one button done up. The peculiar thing was the lion thought he recognised the purple-clad man. Platinum blonde hair peaked out from under the top hat that rested askew on the man's head, and the exposed flesh was wonderfully tanned. He could almost guess that the person who he looked upon would have lavender shaded eyes.

There was another person at the table as well, leaning forwards with his head on his folded arms. This person had white hair, like the rabbit-boy he'd come across before. For a moment, Marik actually thought they were the same boy, but their hair was longer and wilder, and what he could see of his face his features were more angular. But the same long white rabbit ears protruded out of the top of his head like the previous boy. And, like with the other man at the table, the blonde lion could have sworn he knew this mysterious rabbit-boy too.

"Hey! You up there!" The tanned blonde called to him, waving a bit manically. "What are you doing?!"

Marik stared at him, before making his way over to the table when the blonde's waving turned into a beacon and indication to come closer.

"Howdy-doodee Mr Pretty Lion Man." The purple-clad blonde greeted him as he drew closer. "I've never seen you before, what's your name kitty cat?"

Raising an eyebrow at the man's antics, Marik replied simply, "Marik."

"Marik?" The white haired rabbit-boy nearby straightened up. "Seriously, that's your name?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Marik turned and questioned, tail swishing slowly behind him.

The white haired one looked him over with his blood-red eyes. "Playing tricks on us?" He asked finally.

"Tricks? The hell?" wondered the blonde, looking back at the man in the top hat.

"Cheshire, Cheshire, is that you?" He stood and poked Marik's nose, to which he growled and snapped at the finger. "No, no, Bunny. Cheshire would lick my hand not bite it."

"What have I told you about calling me that in public?" The white haired one snarled, throwing the remains of a sandwich at his apparent friend.

"But you are a bunny!" The blonde retorted indignantly, crossing his arms and pouting in a huff.

"I'm a hare, not a bunny. There's a difference." The other corrected him, glaring with those blood-red eyes Marik knew he'd seen on someone else. "Hares are bigger."

"Oh reeeally." The tanned one's eyebrows wriggled and he laughed a little hysterically. "How much bigger are they, Ba-ku-ra."

Bakura. There it was. The white-haired masochistic knife-thrower of the Nightmare Circus. He had the same eyes, skin, voice, hair. Even their glares were the same. Marik took an involuntary step back which went unnoticed by the two at the table.

As they argued, Marik also took the chance to look over the boy in the top hat. There it was again. A dancer back at the circus by the name of Malik was pretty much this man's twin, from the way he smiled to the insane spark in his eyes. Although he was pretty sure his Malik wouldn't be caught dead in an outfit with that much purple in it.

"SO!" The Malik look-a-like suddenly yelled, turning from his companion to their new guest. "Sit sit sit! Its tea time!"

"It's always bloody tea time." The white haired hare grumbled under his breath, but reached for a black and red flowery teapot anyway.

"So you've told us your name but you don't know us?" The blonde was practically bouncing in his seat. "I'm the Hatter, or Mad Hatter, depending who you ask." He seemed to consider that for a moment. "Actually ask anyone and they say I'm the Mad Hatter. Why am I mad? Why am I a hatter for that matter?" His eyes widened in glee. "Hee! I rhymed!"

"Oh for the love of God, calm down Malik." The Bakura-hare glared at his friend as Marik took a seat as far away from the Mad Hatter as politely possible.

"And this grumpy-bum is the March Hare!" The Hatter introduced, waving an arm wildly in the other's direction.

"We do have real names, you know." The March Hare told him, flicking tea at him and watching him squeal. "I'm Bakura, he's Malik. Not many people call us that though. A lot of people tend to stick with aliases and nicknames around here. I think it's actually a law or something." He poured a cup of what seemed to be blood stained tea in a plain black teacup and handed it to Marik.

The lion said nothing as he took the cup offered to him. He held it awkwardly, trying to remember how to keep hold of the damn thing. No one at the circus liked tea, except maybe Ryou the clown and Bakura is he was having an off day. It was mainly coffee for pretty much everyone, so it was all chunky mugs with strange designs, not delicate little teacups.

Once he took a sip, he grinned widely. "This is good." He commented, happily chugging the rest of the mug down. Bakura looked at him knowingly and subtly put a finger to his lips when Marik looked at him. He guessed it was supped to be a secret, probably because the Hatter was squeamish (he knew his Malik was), and it tasted like a divine mix of caramel, tea and blood.

"So!" 'So' seemed to be the Hatter's favourite word. "What are you and who are you doing?" He leant forwards and rested his chin on his folded hands, gazing over at Marik with interest.

The lion nearly choked on his laughter as he spluttered at the question. He attempted to catch his breath before he even dared to answer. "I'm a lion and I'm doing the King." He replied finally, still chuckling to himself.

"The King?!" The Hatter shrieked, flying backwards into his seat, knocking it on two legs for a tiny second as his hands held his cheeks in shock. "His Highness Akefia? What what what?!"

"Akefia? So you know him?" Marik was certainly eager to learn where his master was, if he'd fallen into this crazy place too.

"Yes of course! Everyone does! Our beloved King of Spades rules over this part of Wonderland." The Hatter explained, "He has done for the past decade or so."

"Not that we're supposed to know." The March Hare commented quietly while he sipped from his cup.

Somehow Marik realised that they were probably talking about the Ring King's (he'd kill him for calling him that) Wonderland equivalent, and he slumped in his seat, a bit deflated after that thought.

"I'm going to guess the name Akefia means something to you." The March Hare looked over at him, placing his cup down almost delicately on its saucer. But the look in his eyes made it seem like he already knew the answer.

The blonde looked up and met the crimson gaze, nodding slightly. He absentmindedly picked up a sandwich and munched on it, quite pleased to find it was chicken and BBQ sauce.

"There is another Akefia, not of our world." The Hare told him, and that definitely got Marik's attention. "Who hates being called the King, and wears a red coat."

"That's my Master." Marik explained, wincing at how submissive the word 'Master' made him seem.

"Well Akefia, your Akefia, visits us every now and then." The Hatter added. "He possesses one of the few entrances to Wonderland."

"One of the even fewer that is in a movable object." The Hare concluded. "I actually heard he was here today. The Cheshire Cat mentioned seeing him with the Duchess."

"I have to find him." Marik declared, standing up from the table making his chair scrape on the wooden decking below.

"Well, duh!" The Mad Hatter giggled like a maniac. "He's the only one who can get back to your world. If you fell in through the doorway, then you're screwed as he's the only one with the way back."

"Fuck." Marik cursed. What if the Ringleader went back without him? He'd never know where he was. Ok, maybe he would once he found the hat, but he still didn't want to be left behind.

"Take the blue road until you get to Diamond Woods." The Hare told him out of nowhere. "The Duchess rules over that area, and you might be able to find him."

"Thanks." The lion mumbled, not liking showing his gratitude but he felt like he should anyway. Grabbing a handful of sandwiches (he didn't really like care), he began to run off.

"Good luck, Mr Marik Lion Man!" The Mad Hatter waved him off behind him, cheering him on almost.

It was fortunate that right outside the gate to the March Hare and Mad Hatter's houses was a sign post clearly marked 'Duchess, that way!' with an arrow. Marik did raise an eyebrow at it but shrugged and munched on his stolen sandwiches while he walked along the blue pathway.