Scene #9151: The Great Meido Jailbreak

Owner	Pose
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Odette, thankfully, wrote down the locker number at the Grand Dorado warpgate station where Madeleine asked her to meet so many weeks ago. And Xion, of course, has the Keyblade - a mirror with an existing sympathetic connection to Madeleine's sanctuary is more than doorway enough for its magic to do the trick, not to mention how such an implement trivializes the mundane security of the locker. The full-length mirror's surface flexes and distorts like a fluid, rippling slightly at a touch. Stepping through is as if everything around ceased to be, into a space neither light nor dark, full nor empty. There is a sensation not quite like falling, that lasts for a long moment before- One by one, the elites step out onto the snow. Behind them there is no sign of the portal - this makeshift way in may be difficult to use as an exit. A quick survey of the surroundings reveals not a stately manor's interiors, but a deep forest in the grip of winter. The sky is grey, an overcast late afternoon. Ice and snow rest on the barren limbs of ancient trees, twisted by time and agony into menacing shapes. Perceiving this place, existing within it, is... not difficult, but active. Stand too long in place and your vision slowly begins to wash out into an empty grey. It's like remembering that you blink, and being uncomfortably aware of the next few times your eyes flicker closed. But even as the material subatance of this place eludes passive notice, its emotional resonance is clear to those with psychic potential. These woods have a history. But, wait! Was that a flicker of motion, in the far distance between the trunks? What creature tore the deep gouges into the bark of this oak? You are not alone in these woods, there is no immediate sign of Madeleine's actual house, and the light is fading.
Odette Raskins	With medical bag in tow and Trideag uniform recently washed, Odette's here to help with a jailbreak! Except this doesn't look like a jail at all, and she doesn't remember seeing prisoners at Madeleine's place. She's not about to question someone who's got her on payroll, though, so she's quick to get that locker pointed out and step aside while everyone starts filing through. The second time in is still just as trippy as the first even though she knows what to expect, but she does at least manage to get there without being shocked by the sudden shift in temperature. "It should be... This way?" Odette does her best trying to recall which way it is to Madeleine's sanctuary without a map or anything to really guide her way, mostly relying on her own memory to try and feel her way through that forest. She's looking for paths, for markings, for anything that isn't just more trees, for a semblance of anything that might jog her mind to the same path that Madeleine led her through that one time a while ago. "S-so what's the.. Er. Plan, anyway? What if the maids don't... Um. Want to leave?" She asks, looking over at Lilian in particular. "I mean, we can't just... Er. Sedate them, right? That'd be too rough for..." Odette's really unsure if they're prisoners at this point, but she can't trust her own thoughts on the matter. She's having enough trouble trying to find the way!
Xion	Having just rolled out of a nap on the couch no more than a few minutes ago, Xion the Keyblade knight woke up 'ready' for 'action'. Well, actually she was ready for a croissant sandwich and a hot tea and maybe a nice fireside sit, but needs arose for her magic enormous key to do its work in the name of... Maids! Having stuffed her face with a Snackers candybar for energy and left a little chocolate smudge on her cheek, Xion had composited the feeling off of Odette's hint of connection and cleaved open a portal with a sweep of her sword. "Hey, everyone, remember she's real allergic to colors - so try to douse your highlights, okay? I know we're trying to rescue people but she didn't seem that bad at all when I met them last Christmas! Gosh, it was last Christmas..." Lost in a moment of reminiscing, Xion strokes a black-gloved hand through ravenblack hair and shakes off her hoodless bangs, shouldering the length of the Kingdom Key and looking to Odette. "I think it's a spooky jailbreak?" She reconfirms, before yawning and rummaging around the inside of her coat for a little snack baggie of trailmix to get her energy up, crunching loudly.
Petra Soroka	We're getting the girls back together! Petra is fairly sure that she's met one of Madeleine's maids before, but she can't remember any specific instance where that may have happened. It doesn't matter though, because the goal is facilitating Lilian's mission as an extra subheather along the way while gassing her up. The rescue mission could be for a stuffed animal and Petra would be just as urgently dedicated-- maybe more, come to think of it. As Petra is contemplating the adorable circumstances that could lead to Lilian asking her to accompany her on a mission to rescue a stuffed animal, she effortlessly links up with Xion and Lilian, Angela-pack equipped on her back, like she's slotting into the role she was made for. T-shirt over long sleeves and jeans, hair scrabbled into a teeny ponytail for once, Petra was reminded by all the radio talk about dismembering and cooking people that she needed to grocery shop before immediately turning around upon Lilian's summons for the team. And also, Odette is there. "S-so what's the.. Er. Plan, anyway?" It's not until she's actually inside the sanctuary that Petra notices the odd girl out. "What? Uh-- you? Huh? Um..." Trideag uniform... is it possible that Petra is actually the odd one out? She's not in Trideag. She remembers a moment later that she was the one who suggested the rescue mission, so she can't possibly be wrong-- and also, Lilian wants her here. "Well, she kind of sucks and I hate her, so I don't mind if we smash some stuff on the way to get the maids. It'd be funny, anyways, because she'll have to clean it all up for once herself, so we might as well give her a fucking job to do." "And for the maids..." Petra looks over at Lilian for confirmation. "It's probably most important to get them to safety first, right? I-- I mean, I don't think, like, it'd be an uncoerced choice if one of them said, like, that they were too scared to leave, or whatever." Petra's gut instinct, in the sanctuary, is to complain and compare the washed-out nothingness to the misery of the Everhood. Petulant, omnidirectional anger can't be sustained in the quiet of the winter woods, though, and dreary chill is a distinct sensation different from 'nothingness'. Dead forests are a little bit of comfortable turf for Petra, even without being able to notice the psychic energy, and she falls quiet while trekking forwards under other people's leads.
Angela	Angela, as ever, is always looking for ways to be of assistance to Lilian Rook. With Ash being, frankly, kind of impossible for her to deal with she sees this as an opportunity to be more helpful. She has to make up for the failure of her Agents and contract killers in helping out. She has nothing particularly against Madeleine--she is a little unclear as to why she even has beef with Lilian and vice versa--but she has reasons beyond just helping Lilian collect maids... She also has some nostalgia (for her it was quite some time ago) when she, Xion, and Petra helped Lilian by stealing data from her father. It was a formative experience for her, really, as far as how the multiverse goes. It changed her life. It gave her something she never had before: A community. Even a society, really. The stakes here might not be as severe as back then, but she's a little bit excited. And this time, Xion knows she doesn't live IN the phone. Ceri is a little more cautious and uneasy. Breaking into someone's home to rescue the maids is all well and good but she knows maids to be the sort of people who would wrap her up in chains and throw infinite knives at her if they caught her breaking into their master's abode. Even if their master didn't remember their names or they had some other situation going on. "I hope we came with a plan, I'm not looking forward to fighting a house full of the maids we're trying to rescue." A pause as the chill hits her. "Using the term 'house' loosely so far." "We have brought an Enkephalin reader and will be running offsite analysis in case unusual methods are required for their liberation." Angela says. There's another reason why she has an interest in rescuing the maids which is, namely, the way they were described felt just enough similar to her own situation that she felt a twinge of empathy for people she hadn't thought of herself until Lilian brought it up. She is Aware now and that makes it difficult to just ignore. "There is a manner of hazard, Ceri. Periodically you are ... mm ... fading. Keep alert at all times. Even through the cold." Ceri draws her axe out when she sees the claws. "Don't think I'll have a tough time with that." She says. Ceri si also in her Trideag uniform, though mostly because wearing the LobCorp uniform would be uncouth. Makin this seem like a Trideag Operation isn't something she's inclined to do since Madeleine is a member of the organization too, after all, but she needs to wear some kind of protection. ''allergic to colors.'' "Do not worry, the uniform is not colorful and Sanguine Desire isn't ''that'' colorful. We can deal with a sudden tiger as well." Or not so sudden if those claws indicate one. she thinks sabout the dragon spear for a moment but doesn't comment. Angela is in the Eggpack as usual which is as comfortable Angela gets while watching these missiosn through a screen. She has an Eggpack hand give a thumbs up to Petra's rationale and reasons. "They may require medical care." Is her explanation for Odette's presence becuase that's the one that makes sense to her. "And I asked Ceri to come because she works directly for me and she may be useful." She explains further.
Lilian Rook	Admittedly, Lilian was expecting a surreal spooky mansion, given the way that Madeleine always talks about it. Fortunately, the ancient dark forests in which spooky mansions are sometimes found are also on her favoured terrain list, for the same reason that mansions are. The fact that it's cold and covered in snow pisses her off a little, but it's already winter; it's not like she didn't have her coat with her at the office. She just has to put it on while swearing. 'S-so what's the.. Er. Plan, anyway? What if the maids don't... Um. Want to leave?' It occurs to Lilian that Odette might actually think she's on the clock for official Trídéag business. She resolves to clear up that confusion . . . later. "Is there a need to complicate it with a plan? We go in, liberate the maids, and leave." she mutters, breath fogging. "What do you mean 'not want to'? Didn't you hear her?" 'so try to douse your highlights, okay? I know we're trying to rescue people but she didn't seem that bad at all when I met them last Christmas!' "Tch." Lilian glances quickly away, pocketing something as she ties her peacoat at her waist. "If she gets in the way then it's her own fault. And she's not any better than the rest; trust me." 'It'd be funny, anyways, because she'll have to clean it all up for once herself, so we might as well give her a fucking job to do.' "Exactly the point. Thank you Petra." Lilian says, opportunistically. 'I hope we came with a plan, I'm not looking forward to fighting a house full of the maids we're trying to rescue.' Shehe hesitates just a moment, staring at Ceri, thinking something entirely unwholesome for reasons unknown to anyone, and moves on quietly. "Even if that happened, do you really think I'd lose?" She glances to the source of Angela's voice, twists her lip, and adds "Be more careful of the rot already infesting this place first. That's more likely to get you than a little skirmish." Breaking off, Lilian casually bothers to check the trees for their moss-side out of habit, then her attention is instantly captured by the flicker of motion, peering into the fading light with a level of vision that humans aren't quite supposed to have. Not that it's particularly a puzzle. Lilian's precognitive sense for exactly the right thing to do is almost exclusively for 'exactly whatever she is selfishly fixated on getting for herself right this instant'. It is useless half the time and crystal clear in situations like this. "Follow me." is all she says before striding off in a Direction.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	The enkephalin reader at first appears to be acting up. There's... no story here. Not in this tree, or that one, or that pile of snow, or that trail of clawed footprints. But then Angela fiddles with the controls, recalibrating the reader, casting a wider net. As she 'zooms' out, and out, passing beyond the reader's normal effective range, the contours of a shape appear on the scan. The story is in no single tree here - the story is the forest. It goes something like this. She was hurt, the story goes, in ways that cannot be healed. Not really, not back to 'how it was before'. Transformative wounds shot through her being like roots in soil, like veins in a mountain. When she tore free of her tormentors' control she felt hollow, like too much of herself had been bored away for there to be a person left at the end. She died, and she came here, to this land. Here she buried the seed of her pain and her tears fell as rain, for this is a place where pain can be a seed and tears can be rain. Only when the forest grew from that seed, and its children, and grandchildren, and so forth, was she ready to return. Even though she is now something more than nothing, she thinks this forest will never be enough to fill the hole. But every day its roots sink a little deeper. Every day she changes a little more. Someday spring may come to her winter'd sanctuary, and she will be transformed. As Lilian, guided by her selfish precognition, leads the team through the forest, around the tiger's den, past the great tree at its heart, which Angela now knows was the first to grow here, another piece of the story arises from the enkephalin scans. When she died, there was no-one here to remember how to live. For a long time she lay in torpor, and it was possible she would waste away entirely. But something in her had refused to die with the rest, a wild spark of creation. She hated this spark, but it is also what saved her. From life's insistence that it live, from being's insistence that it be, from a woman's need for care that no-one else could provide but herself, a small piece of herself rose to life again. This was the first of her servants. This was the part of her that buried the seed while the rest of her lay dead. This is the part that will, as long as the spark burns, bring her back from death again and again. Finally, as the sky paradoxically brightens under the sinking sun's light reflected off the underside of the clouds, Lilian crests a hill and, followed by the others, spies the manor. It's light work to walk the rest of the way, and as the team of elites approach the house its details come into view. Painted all in white with black trim, stately if slightly garish, but... something is wrong here. Everyone can feel it. Not an active threat, but the slow creep of decay. A few servants stand outside, moving about the work of trimming bushes, or washing windows, or in one case scraping away a curious rainbow mold that seems to have emerged from a seam in the construction. None of them appear to pay the elites any mind so far. In addition to the grand front entrance there is a cellar door on one side of the house, and there's probably a servants' entrance around the back as well.
Odette Raskins	"Hey, everyone, remember she's real allergic to colors - so try to douse your highlights, okay?" "I think it's a spooky jailbreak?" Xion's suggestion gets Odette to tug a few strands of violently hair in front of herself. "Er... D-does this count? I mean, it's not highlights or anything, though. I-it's just... Is like that." She pauses briefly, then snaps her fingers. "Oh! That's the opposite of spooky, right?" Another pause, and then she wrinkles her nose slightly. "Wait, but pumpkins... W-wait, is Miss Madeleine really powered by spookiness?" She asks, sounding even more baffled than before. Her brain is not working particularly well right now, especially after the conversation concurrent with the one that led to coming here at all. "It'd be funny, anyways, because she'll have to clean it all up for once herself, so we might as well give her a fucking job to do." I don't know. That feels a little... Mean-spirited." Odette protests limply, rubbing her arm while looking around at everyone gathered. Petra, Lilian, Xion, Angela, Ceri... Aside from maybe Ceri, is Odette the odd one out? Everyone here's so much calmer and more put together than she is, more invested in this personally, more capable of terrible and amazing things alike... "It's probably most important to get them to safety first, right?" "They may require medical care." Right, that's why she's here! Feeling her spirit rejuvenating by the second, Odette pumps her fists lightly and gives Angela and Petra a quick nod in affirmation. "Right! I-it'll be easier to get them back if any wounds are treated, too. I don't remember seeing anyone that was too hurt the last time I was here, but I guess... Something must've changed?" The other reason, of course, is being paid, but that's a secondary concern compared to the well-being of the enslaved maids. Plus, Lilian isn't correcting her yet. "What do you mean 'not want to'? Didn't you hear her?" "I-I-I mean, they probably do!" Odette stammers out in the way someone that's worried about annoying anyone about anything often would. "But... I read that some people tend to get attached to their captors, if they're there long enough. W-we might have to account for that possibility if they've been here long enough, that's all." She adds, re-shouldering her bag as she scurries to keep up with Lilian. Seeing Madeleine's home for the second time still has Odette going quiet for a few moments, but it doesn't take her long to realize that something's off about it. "This... W-wait. Something feels weird. It wasn't like this the last time I was.. Um. The last time I was here." She gestures at all the decaying parts, wrinkling her nose slightly at the sight of it. "It was more... Um. Put together last time, for once. Do you think the..." Seeing the servants outside, Odette trails off as she hurries over to check on them. "H.. Hi there! It's.. Uh. It's me again! Are you okay? Did something happen here? Do you know where here is?" She asks quickly and clearly, lowering her HUD-enabled glasses to get a better look at the servant. She can get a better read on their overall health status that way even if they might not be aware of their own injuries, and she's already getting a mask out of her bag to start attaching it to a small oxygen canister in her jacket. "If the air's bad... E-everyone, let me know if you start feeling anything weird when you breathe. I have a few extra masks and emergency packs in here."
Angela	Ceri shares some of her hidden lore over the band but pauses as she gets a look from Lilian. She nods her agreement that the strange unreality of this world is likely to do more harm than combat maids (if they even are combat maids, though Ceri thinks having maids that don't engage in personal combat is a bit strange). But she's still nervous. It's not like 'the world will kill you before the faceless maids do' is an entirely calming phrase. But she IS a considerably more experienced Fixer than Cinder, who wasn't even one, so she largely keeps tabs on her anxiety. At a certain point, Fixers just get to be a certain way even if the Cinq Association is a touch more eccentric than the others. ''Follow me.'' Ceri follows, frowning on the reader. "Angela, I'm not Info but I don't usually get ''nothing''." Angela looks off camera. "Mm. One moment. No--it is transmitting an element of its nature--the nothingness of it. We'll have to adjust the settings." She types rapidly on a computer keyboard. It's fairly noisy but Angela mutes her mic in a moment of afterthought. Her hands are a blur. A minute later, Angela unmutes herself. "Try again. We should have breached the next Observation Level." Ceri glances down at the scanner. She murmurs what the scanner reads aloud--albeit in a murmur. It helps her remember. And it might help in the op. Even the stories can help sometimes, though Ceri prefers cold hard statistics. But Ceri frowns before the last part. "A small piece of herself became her ''servant''? While the rest was dead? What does that mean?" "An Observation Log is not always literal," Angela suggests. Ceri lowers the scanner to point out the servant entrance. "That's gotta be the servant entrance. ... Though we could start with the people here?" She isn't about to throw a wave to see if they wave back. Angela givse Odette a small nod at her enthusiasm for healing, frowning at the idea of getting attached to one's captors. "I suppose I've read stories a bit like that, but does it happen in reality?" Angela asks. "...I feel alright." She glances to Petra. "Does it affect you at all?"
Xion	Xion isn't ready for anything! And in this, she is ready for everything. In her ultimate state of 'no mind', Xion harnesses the power of nothingness and the absolute zero-like awareness of a complete stillness to empty herself of clutter and become 'beyond cool'. The Everhood had allowed Xion to nap practically everywhere, because everywhere was at least a little more alive than that place. Music, too, she had gained a new appreciation of - even bad music. Graveyards seemed stunningly alive, if only for the color of dirt, and the motion of air, and the cycle of flowers. Here, as well, when the Enkephalin detector fails to find purchase, Xion moves through the strange forest-which-was-someone's-house with a droopy-sleepy attitude, 'listening' to the wind through the boughs. "I'd say this place feels where their heart is buried, but, I think the story goes there's something else here. Do you think pain waters happy plants, or just well-fed ones?" The Nobody ruminates. 'From life's insistence that it live,' Xion exhales, boots crunching ground, Key riding the crook of neck and shoulder. "I think I've been here before, though." She murmurs, voice a sort of declarative-reminiscing, "A long time ago." 'It'd be funny, anyways, because she'll have to clean it all up for once herself, so we might as well give her a fucking job to do.' Swinging grip down to walk with near-weightless to her blade, Xion walks with arms swaying, shrugging out with key-swing. "It's going to be hard to toss the place to make the maids clean it, even if we're using that to draw them out..." Then they crest the hill on which the monochrome mansion sits and Xion exhales an 'ohhhhh!'. "I guess I aimed a little short of things. I thought she just lived in the forest for a bit!" The noirette admits, before grinning at the architecture. "I think, Lilian, Madeleine and I share a lot of architectural nature of the castles and crenellation sense. Maybe the vibe I got was their excellent taste in," And Lilian had-seen, in life and picturebook of prophecy, exactly this sort of midnight manse before. That Xion had such an affinity with Lilian's spooky haunted mansion was no mistake or happenstance. "Servant's quarters, right? We're looking for the help, to make our case." She asks, pointing to the side for entrances and meandering that way if nobody else has ideas. This Nobody has plenty of ideas! And at least one fist full of key.
Petra Soroka	"That feels a little... Mean-spirited." Petra affixes Odette with a Stare, brows furrowed in disbelief. Implicitly, in the intensity in her eyes, is a dare to keep trying to make that a fucking issue. "Uh, yeah? Duh? I'm being mean-spirited." "But... I read that some people tend to get attached to their captors, if they're there long enough." "That's true," Petra nods authoritatively, while tapping on the Eggpack's arm to show Angela to point the Enkephalin reader to some of the monstrous footprint tracks. "It's called Stockholm Syndrome. When people are in a stressful situation, they automatically latch onto a stable figure who's present, even if that person is the one who's kidnapped them in the first place. The, like, stability of having someone who's present and predictable is more comforting than focusing on how scary the rest of the environment is. And then they end up falling in love sometimes because that happens if you're afraid enough." Petra heroically avoids looking at Lilian. However, she does only have that much to say about Stockholm Syndrome because she started obsessing about it in jail while Lilian was visiting her, and then a while after she got out, she made sure to look it up. She saw a bunch of stuff debunking the psychological concept too, but that seemed like bullshit; after all, she'd already fallen in love with Lilian at that point. That's one good data point. "I suppose I've read stories a bit like that, but does it happen in reality?" "Does it affect you at all?" "Haha not at all why do you ask--?" Petra hastily says, before realizing which part Angela is actually referring to. She rubs at her arms uncomfortably and drifts a little closer to Lilian, boots scuffing through the snow. "... I don't know. I don't, uh, like the feeling, but it kind of just felt... passively 'bad'...? Ange, can you send me the scanner data?" Voice of the Contour: Maybe that's because the forest represents something unhappy. Voice of the Contour: You're supposed to feel unhappy when another person's obviously suffering. That's normal. Voice of the Contour: We feel unhappy because it's the most basic contract as a human being in society to let other people's unhappiness affect you. Voice of the Pure: Uh, no!!! We hate her! Voice of the Pure: Go away! No sympathy! Think about how owned she is! Petra smacks the side of her head with her fist with a solid thwack, causing a brief flare-up of her itching aura. She rubs the sore spot resentfully and mutters, "Fucking Flamel... I'm fine, though." I'd say this place feels where their heart is buried, but, I think the story goes there's something else here." "Yeah, it's her heart and then a bunch of fucking dull moody pity-partying bullshit," gripes the girl with literally the least justification to complain about a grey-tinted heartspace. "I like grey and brown, and snowy forests and stuff, anyways. They're not the end of the world. They're just an adaptation." And then, maids! There's no reason for Petra to beat around the bush, so she joins Odette and brings the Eggpack to approach them, just a tiny bit tense to brace for the shock and fear she expects from the surprised staff. "Hey, uh, are you guys Madeleine's maids? Is she-- like, you can talk to us, don't worry. Are you safe here?"
Lilian Rook	'I don't know. That feels a little... Mean-spirited.' Lilian, who does not have a magic story-reading device, says "And? What's your point, Raskins.". She sighs, hot with impatience, clouding in the frigid air. "Need I remind you that you're currently part of an active break-in? Are you really going to try and draw a line of decorum when it comes to liberating glorified slaves?" she says, embracing the mercenary convenience of using the S word for the time being. 'But... I read that some people tend to get attached to their captors, if they're there long enough.' "Beg pardon? Like Stockholm Syndrome?!" Lilian looks at Odette incredulously, halfway towards a sneer. "You know that isn't--" She glances arbitrarily towards Petra, and her expression tenses towards a poker face. "--real, right? It's not a real thing that happens, I mean. I wasn't exactly about to politely ask if they'd like to leave on their own terms; abused people are often frightened to leave even when the opportunity presents itself." she says, even more opportunistically. 'Um. The last time I was here.' "Oh good. If you've been here before then you can be the guide." Lilian says, still walking ahead of Odette. 'It's going to be hard to toss the place to make the maids clean it, even if we're using that to draw them out...' "Then leave that to me~" Lilian says, helpfully. Proudly. She has a bit of a determined smirk, even. "There are things that only you can do, so it's only fair that I do the things that you can't~" Yeah she is definitely gaining confidence now that Xion has expressed an opening to render assistance unto. 'I think, Lilian, Madeleine and I share a lot of architectural nature of the castles and crenellation sense.' "Hmmm?" Lilian squints and stares at the mansion; ostensibly moldering from rainbows. She tilts her head the other way. "I don't think I see it." she says. Granted, she's pretty sure Xion is right about this. Lilian's focus swerves from the main entrance to servant quarters, as her intent changes form half-formed ideas of borderline swashbuckling to a more coherently phrased scenario of talking directly, on home turf. The idea scandalizes her just slightly. A tiny bit. As if going into the servant quarters were a more proper form of meeting in the boys' change rooms at school. That's their place, you know? But if we must, then there's simply nothing for it . . . She's already headed there.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	"H.. Hi there! It's.. Uh. It's me again! Are you okay? Did something happen here? Do you know where here is?" The servant Odette has approached closes its hedge trimmers and nods at her - though if that's in greeting or a 'yes' to one of her questions is unclear. As always, its face is just on the "not even there" side of difficult to perceive, extraordinary even in this place where sight is something one does, rather than has. The medical HUD returns more information - this one, at least, is healthy, approaching peak physical condition in fact. The basic biometrics suggest surprising fitness even for someone who works with their hands like a gardener would. Although... there's a bit of lag on the readings. Either the medical systems she's tapping into are harder to access here, or the data is being tampered with, or there's something stranger going on here. Not having a recognizeable (or at least comprehensible) face complicates an assessment of health, of course. When Odette looks away, for just a second, she expects to see in her periphery a gardener with eyes of night and falling stars. Of course that's what they'd have, right? But in the next moment she can't recall if the servant's eyes were green or brown or what. Petra, meanwhile, asks the big-money question. "Hey, uh, are you guys Madeleine's maids?" No, the other one. "Are you safe here?" The gardener nods to the first question (or in greeting?), then tips its head gently to one side and gestures open-handed at the elites poking around the manor. Charades is difficult at the best of times, but Petra gets the impression it means "I don't know, am I safe here with you all around?" Wait, why are those quote marks ice-blue? The elites then look for the servants' entrance, looping around the side of the house toward the back. Sure enough there is a door out the back of the manor, and it's not locked in any way that slows up a Keyblade. A fortress this place is not. Once inside the elites are quickly surrounded in the hallway by servants, maid and butler alike in facelessness, who are... gently taking the intruders by the arms and trying to lead them deeper into the house. Through side doors are visible simple, clean bedrooms, a laundry full of spiked leather clothing, a kitchen (currently devoid of activity), and other amenities. When it becomes clear the elites are here not as houseguests but to speak with the servantry directly, the servants halt in unison and raise a hand as if to signal for patience. A butler turns and disappears into a storeroom. He returns bearing a domed silver serving-tray covered in a fine layer of dust. While he holds it steady in both hands, a maid steps forward and lifts away the tray cover to reveal... A mouth. A pair of red lips that twitch periodically. The maid lifts them carefully with her fingertips and places it against the surface of the butler's non-face, pressing them into place until he has 100% more features than before - that is to say, one feature. A mouth. The lips part with a smack and he creaks out "Houuuaaahhh," before breaking into a hacking cough. One of the maids runs to fetch a pitcher of water from the kitchen, and the butler drinks greedily straight from the pitcher. After a long awkward moment while he drinks his fill, he hands the emptied pitcher off to the maid and speaks - in Madeleine's voice. "Greetings, guests! How may I help you today? I'm sure the lady will be here soon to receive you. Until then, shall I show you to the parlor?" Evidently they haven't been trained on the difference between a house party and a home invasion.
Odette Raskins	"Uh, yeah? Duh? I'm being mean-spirited." "O-oh. Um... Okay!" Odette answers, flinching a bit at the stare and then quickly looking over to the side and slightly down at the floor. She's definitely not going to be able to hold eye contact with Petra in that state. "Are you really going to try and draw a line of decorum when it comes to liberating glorified slaves?" Although she flinches initially at Lilian addressing her, she actually gets a thoughtful look on her face once she thinks about what's being said. "... N-no, that... You're right. If we're here to save people, then that kind of damage is-" The Redshifts come back to mind, as do many of the more destructive elements of the Watch. THey're doing it for good reasons, so she should at least be able to handle this much. The EMT takes a deep breath to steady herself, then smacks her cheeks with her palms. "It's acceptable. I-I'm okay. Th.. Thank you, Dame Commander!" "I suppose I've read stories a bit like that, but does it happen in reality?" "It's called Stockholm Syndrome." "I've never seen it myself, but I've heard about it plenty of times. E-enough times that it's..." Odette trails off while replying to Angela, then nods towards Petra a moment later. "Yeah, it's even got a name. Although I wonder if it was named after the person who found it, or someone that..." She pauses, then taps her chin. "Would it be someone that codified it, or the first known instance of it?" "Like Stockholm Syndrome?!" "You know that isn't-- --real, right?" Squeaking again at Lilian's abrupt response, Odette flinches again and freezes in place, following her glance towards Petra before quickly looking right back at Lilian as she speaks again, acting like she didn't look over at all. "I-I-I mean, yeah, I haven't seen it, so maybe it's... Um. A-a convenient thing people made up for the stories! L-like the villain-killing trucks that just started showing up even though they weren't...!" She's got a job to do. Breathe, focus. Follow the person she's been told to lead. Don't think too hard about why Angela asked Petra that thing while Lilian and Petra have wildly different perspectives about Stockholm Syndrome. When she comes face to maybe-face with the first servant, Odette doesn't quite catch on that there's anything wrong just yet. It's probably just her nerves kicking in, blurring out individual details so she can focus on her work better. "Looking physically healthy, so that's great. N-nothing to worry about there, so..." The HUD readings seem fine, so there isn't a lot to worry about just yet. That just leaves the more pressing matter of their safety. She starts to look over at her companions, then glances back at the servant when something odd hits her eye about their eyes. Odette shakes her head quickly, then files that away as a trick of the ight before getting right back to following everyone inside! Getting ushered along/half-forced by the servants to move along does get her to start freaking out mildly, though, startled and visibly intimidated by being moved along so brazenly without any clear idea of how to even react to all that. They're not actively trying to tear her apart, though, so... Maybe this is a good thing? Except that is a mouth in a tray and that's enough to get a startled yelp out of Odette, nearly setting off her flight or flight response. Thankfully, it doesn't hit her hard enough to send her rushing face-first into a wall, but it does hit her hard enough to have her frozen in confusion. It's only when the lips are finally equipped by the butler that Odette finally gets her head back on straight enough to raise a hand meekly. "H... Hello! Uh. No, that's... I mean, is-" She gestures at the maids, then turns back to the butler while trying not to look and sound even more nervous than she already has. "Could you bring all the maids here, please? There's.. Um. An important announcement to make?"
Angela	Angela frowns. "...I suppose one shouldn't take what you read as gospel." On the matter of Stockholm Syndrome not being real. "but I imagine the threat of safety is a genuine concern even so." ''Ange, can you send me the scanner data?'' "Naturally." Angela says. She taps on her console and a readout of the story is sent to both the Eggpack and Petra's own personal device. Angela doesn't seem to be inclined to comment on the story too much, but she is thinking about it. Sometimes the Logs can be misleading. Stories often have multiple posible meanings. One thing for certain, Madeleine is suffering--but like with Abnormalities, just because one is suffering doesn't mean you can empathize too carelessly...lest their story overtake your own. Ceri follows after Lilian. That the help is just ... letting them by is strange to her. "They are not even sounding an alarm." Ceri says, troubled. "I guess they really are ready to leave if they won't even do that..." The words die on her lips when the maid speaks in Madeleine's voice. "...Sounds just like her..." She remarks uneccessarily. Elite business is so fucking weird, she thinks, but it's still better than City life. "We actually came to hire you. Well the Dame COmmander did. We're her escort."
Petra Soroka	<"I don't know, am I safe here with you all around?"> Petra frowns at the silent gardener, uncertain how to interpret their refusal to speak in response. Without Lilian backing her up, her attention glazes over the 'concept' of the servant more than the individual themselves, reading body language, notable physical traits, whatever else is necessary to converse-- but the color of their eyes, or even if they had any at all, aren't included. If she was pressed, she couldn't even recall Madeleine's own eyes. "Well. Damn. Nothing? Like, I promise, if you want to talk, we won't rat to Madeleine. She seriously scares you bad enough that you won't even when she's not around?" Petra reconverges with the group and slides close to Lilian, saying aside in a low voice. "Hey, Lilian. I think it might be worse than we thought. I didn't have time to grab any of my arson stuff--" Oh, so Cinder has had that influence on her. "But I've got some saws and ratbots that could put a dent in this place once the servants are out." Petra's too agitated to let the servants lead them through the house for long before insisting on a diversion from the script. Petra tugs on the maid's shoulder to stop her, lightly nudging to pull her into the nearby sterile bedroom so that the group is out of the hallway. Before the mouth is applied, Petra still tries to talk to her, voice urgent and hushed. "Okay, like-- you guys seem really spooked. What has Madeleine been doing to you? We're here to bust you out, but we can't--" In channeling Lilian's mission and desires and directing them towards the maid, something finally clicks into place for Petra. Her eyeline adjusts imperceptibly, focusing from some indistinct middle distance through the servant's head and onto their face, and she suddenly gasps and points. "Oh my god. They don't have faces!" Petra looks at Lilian, uncertainly. Surely this is some curse inflicted upon these innocent maids by their cruel mistress! But how will she save them if they're magically barred from communicating! "Houuuaaahhh," Petra claps her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god. Like Mister Potato Head." "Could you bring all the maids here, please?" Petra nods at Odette gratefully, impotently pointing her fingers at the mouthed-butler in a loose approximation of finger guns, because she's internalized that she's dealing with abused people and so became fumblingly weird. "Um, yeah, that's a good idea. You-- are you the only one she allows to talk? If you can get every maid in the house and stuff, then-- then let us break you out of here. This is like, crazy unhealthy."
Xion	If she was telling the truth openly and unprompted, just before they crested the hill and saw the strange castle, Xion would have begun to blurt out her 'I don't actually know what we're really doing here, I just got up and usually the glowing-eyed negativity creatures start leaking out of the oily nowhere and trap me in, you know, unpassable doors until I beat the jellybeans (literal) out of them'.'"Then leave that to me~" Lilian says, helpfully.' It is, really, a mercy that she was called out of her sleepy sword-nap reverie to roll into coat and out onto a business by someone like Lilian - who will happily take over once the door is keyed open and... happily take charge! "Oh, okay! Nice." Xion brings in her fist to pump it, Kingdom Key coming up with it to bounce the blade in grip. "You're plenty capable yourself, Lilian, and there's plenty we can both do, but... I guess we'll leave the doors to me and the maids to you!" Xion rises to a faint laugh, an assured chuckling that ends with her blade on shoulder once more in the grounds of the castle as they head through the servant areas. Cheered by the simplicity of her charge and sharing time with important people in the spooky mansion in the forest, she's challenged on the alignment of her and Madeleine's aesthetics. "Um. . . Black and white? It reminds me of Roxas, too!" Xion tries, not able to put her finger on it and Lilian having already taken over the role of Thinker and Doer. 'Hey, Lilian. I think it might be worse than we thought. I didn't have time to grab any of my arson stuff--' "I've got my arson stuff! Hate spears and the black flames of revenge, or, lava lizard flavors!" Xion is happy to provide, grinning to Petra, and then-- Snapping her attention to the surrounds as something Dire and Strange occurs: 'A mouth.' 'Oh my god. They don't have faces!' Xion steps besides Petra for a moment, softly surprisefacing and pointing at the mouth as the butler takes a long, long hydrating drink with their one (1) facial feature. "Petra I think they all share the one face. Maybe."
Petra Soroka	"Hate spears and the black flames of revenge, or, lava lizard flavors!" Sampling off the menu, Petra luxuriates in the choice Xion provides. "Oooh, the hate spears would be really great for communicating the feeling, but Bowser's stuff might be great for area coverage... I really need to get more emotional expression into my arson methods. I feel like I rely too much on, like, extra-textual exposition and stuff, for people to, you know, get it, compared to having the method itself communicate some for me." "Petra I think they all share the one face. Maybe." Petra quietly gapes at the butler, looking aside at Xion. "... Can they do that? Do they... care about that? I don't know if that's okay."
Odette Raskins	"I've got my arson stuff! Hate spears and the black flames of revenge, or, lava lizard flavors!" "Oooh, the hate spears would be really great for communicating the feeling, but Bowser's stuff might be great for area coverage..." Odette stares at Xion in yet more confusion, and Petra being so enthusiastic about it has her really sweating. "H.. How do you have a hate spear? Why a lava liz... L-like from a dragon or something?" Odette sounds even more worried about that than anything else, and it takes her a few more moments to realize what any of that could mean here. "A-at least... Wait until after we get everyone out? W-we can leave the mobility challenges for the Dame Commander's exercises!"
Lilian Rook	'You're plenty capable yourself, Lilian, and there's plenty we can both do, but... I guess we'll leave the doors to me and the maids to you!' Lilian is empowered by the humuhumu drive forward that Xion's praise alone is capable of generating right now. That and being entrusted with the solemn duty of maids. 'Um. . . Black and white?' "I suppose 'monochrome' is a similarity, but Castle Oblivion is so . . . clean?" Lilian says. "Spacious. Abstract. Like a region rather than a building. A forest and not a cabin." 'L-like the villain-killing trucks' Lilian, in the midst of really very seriously contemplating whether Petra actually believes in Stockholme Syndrome or not, looks up from a doorhandle just to blurt out "What?" 'They are not even sounding an alarm.' "Of course they're not." says Lilian, barely paying attention. "We're here to rescue them. That's obvious." 'Hey, Lilian. I think it might be worse than we thought. I didn't have time to grab any of my arson stuff--' "If we're setting fire to the place, I can handle that just fine." Lilian interjects, too focused. She takes a breath to say something else, then some invisible meter of patience runs out, and she snap turns to Petra, burning with bile curiosity, and says "You've never actually had Stockholm for anyone." instead, as if it were an exotic disease. "So maybe you shouldn't talk about it like that?" When they're actually around the maids, Lilian's attitude shifts. Being taken by the arm is a surprise, but it's the most ease with which anyone has lead her around in a minute. "Hello! Sorry for the intrusion. We need to speak to-- Do you have a head maid on-staff currently? I met one . . . No she isn't here right now? Well, let's gather up everyone. It's actually quite important. You too! Yes you!" The gentle patter of trying to encourage busy house staff into a Gathering continues on and on, forgetting to even notice the mouth on the tray, all the way up until she hears Madeleine's voice-- and then, incidentally . . .'Oh my god. They don't have faces!' "What the fuck are you even talking about Petra?" escapes her as an aggrieved gasp before Lilian really thinks about it. "Is this place already getting to you that badly? Just put your eyes somewhere else for a minute, I swear to Christ." Her revulsion at the stick-on Madeleine mouth is both unguarded and not dissimilar to Petra's. Then Xion remarking on it drags her to the point of doubt, and by then, Lilian's eyes are roving around the Butler's general 'mental suggestion of totally-has-a-face-trust-me' as if she might be going just slightly insane. "Ah." Lilian says, then goes completely still, slow to shake off her doubt. "No, that's fine. We're here to help. With . . ." She presses her hands to her face, sighing in the way that suits massaging one's temples. "Reassignment to a place where you'll be better appreciated. Better treated. Instead of dusting off this rotting hole for a lady who can't even be fuck-- bothered to remember your names, we'd like you to strongly urge you to accept alternative employment."
Xion	'I feel like I rely too much on, like, extra-textual exposition and stuff, for people to, you know, get it, compared to having the method itself communicate some for me.' Xion frowns as she nods, knowing Petra's concern deeply and sympathizing immediately. "Sometimes, when I'm reaching out towards people's hearts, it's because they're exactly what I need right now - something loud, something I want to be able to roar with my voice too. Other times, it's to connect, but..." Smirking slightly, Xion thumb-adjusts her keyblade on her shoulder, bouncing the 'back' of the 'blade' (such that it was with her dowel rod defender) on her black-garbed shoulder. "Sometimes you smoke someone in a pillow fight, sometimes you smoke someone on the racetrack, and when you reach out and take hold of your trophy you spit fire. Honestly, I'm keeping the look, it felt nice, though I might have to change up the colors some. Spiked bands somehow stay in!" Says the person who could wear black on black every day of her life and look fine. Spike bands are always in for perky goth girls. While pumping an arm as almost-a-flex, though her coat obliterates any real showing of muscle in the Character Designed drawstring cult uniform of black, Xion considers Petra's problem. "Why not get a copy of Fourth Match Flame? I think you'd rock a burned black jacket, maybe motorcycle cut it? Thiiink about it!" The noirette suggests. Petra can see the embers reflecting in Xion's blue eyes while she imagines the angry girl with the power of unlimited matchsticks. It would even match with Cinder! "Ceri, what do you think? I bet they could do the cutest lighting each other's matchstick team-up attack. Gosh, I kind of want one now, I bet I can chase down Cinder soon." Xion carries on, considering her own burning-ember black coat now and finding that fire might also go well with everything... In the middle of the spooky mansion. Oh! Right! Fffffaces! Xion doesn't even get a word in before Odette cuts in again, and then the Nobody has to correct quickly: 'H.. How do you have a hate spear? Why a lava liz... L-like from a dragon or something?' "I beat a Frenchwoman in a pillow fight so she shared all her hate and violence with me, and I beat a lizard in motorcycles so I stole his muscly fire breath." A pause. Then, picking up without allowing her prior sentence's combo to fall: "No, the Frenchwoman was the dragon." 'Spacious. Abstract. Like a region rather than a building. A forest and not a cabin.' Xion snaps her fingers and grins. "Oh! Yeah! Metaphor! I bet the face speaks for all the servants because it is all the servants! So there'd just be... the one?" The nobody guesses, hoping that it is not the gruesome alternate of 'the Help doesn't have Faces'.