RP:Dollhouse

From HollowWiki

Synopsis:

Josleen is invited to play at a rich man's estate south of Xalious. She invites Ezekiel to join her. At the party, Josleen has a break between acts and she and Ezekiel explore the rich man's extensive toy collection which interests the tinkerer, Ezekiel, greatly. They grow closer than ever before and at the height of their blossoming romance, they are interrupted. In pursuit of solitude, they seek out a private room and find an old nursery.

Within the nursery is a large, expensive, musical dollhouse. Together, they crank the stiff music box's handle and are transported to another plane. They stand in the lawn before a life-size recreation of the dollhouse. Around them in all directions is black void. The music box's melody plays on an incessant track. In the dollhouse they meet three other characters, people who have been trapped in the dollhouse in a similar vein to Josleen and Ezekiel. The fourth character they meet is a five year old girl named Harriet who decades ago died after suffering a terrible disease from birth. In life she was a prodigal and sheltered child. When she died, her spirit created this world in this plane to play forever. Josleen and Ezekiel must find a way to free themselves from this living nightmare, but the burden of responsibility falls on Ezekiel as the setting provokes an existential crisis in Josleen who loses touch with her identity. Also complicating their escape is the fact that Harriet can rob them of their will and force them to be dolls at any time, and calls back any who dare jump into the void. When they are dolls, they experience a rich full world, with faucets that work and soft beds and books that open (all impossible when they are themselves in an over-sized toy house). And in the world of pretend, when Harriet plays with them, there is world that extends beyond the house's lawn, instead of the abyss, and the maddening music stops. The world of pretend it alluring, even if it is just a lie.

What feels like several years pass before Josleen and Ezekiel figure out that to escape they must convince Harriet to leave of her own accord by engaging in her game of pretend willfully. They must stop resisting the roles assigned to them and embrace the world of pretend, while simultaneously manipulating the storyline in subtle, slow moves to push Harriet out of the house. When Harriet finally leaves, Ezekiel, Josleen, and the other three trapped characters must make a choice to remain or jump into the abyss with no promise of returning to Hollow or to any life after this dreadful existence. Josleen and Ezekiel say their final goodbyes, just in case, and holding hands, jump into the abyss. They awake on the floor of the nursery room two hours after they first touched dollhouse.


This rp took place on September 17th through 21st, 2013. The text starts abruptly because I cut out the prologue where Josleen invites Ezekiel to join her and they spend some time with her parents in Xalious before the event. It's needlessly massive for the wiki!

South of Xalious Village

The Party

Josleen says her goodbyes to her parents and heads out with Ezekiel who she asks to carry her guitar for her; she carries her flute. Once outside, her private grin for Ezekiel returns, eyes roaming over his body from head to toe several times. This outfit is surprisingly well tailored - especially the coat. Why, she’s never seen a men’s coat fit so slimly! [ooc funfact: Because it is a women's jacket, Hanan's.] It really highlights his lean figure. After several suspenseful moments of silent assessment, she spares Ezekiel the guesswork and discloses her evaluation with a single word, “Handsome.” Josleen wants nothing more than to loop her arm through his as they walk side by side, but alas his one arm is dedicated to carrying her guitar case. Each day they discover additional disappointments that result from his handicap, as she does now in this very moment: he cannot carry something and escort her at the same time. It’s such a simple capability taken for granted by the able-bodied, and when it’s missing, she feels robbed. She doesn’t vocalize this insight to him, but a frown very briefly betrays her negative thoughts. Her hand hovers near his elbow, then wrist, trying to find a way to make due with their reality. The clumsy search for a solution is a dead giveaway to her handicap discovery, and all her silence on the issue is for naught - she is obvious. Her hand soon cups around his as it holds the guitar case. It’s sort of like holding hands? She grins shyly up at him, trying not to dwell on that awkward moment and just shoulder on. Being with him isn’t like being with the heroes from her novels. If this phases her, she doesn’t show it. She keeps her hand on his and chin held high. She leads him towards the tavern where easily enough they find a carriage available to take them to the estate at a bargain price. They’re only 15 minutes away from the estate. In the carriage, she sits close beside him, acutely aware of and enjoying the fact that her proximity and his height gives him a nice view down her plunging neckline. Being beyond Frostmaw’s gates and Eliason’s stomping ground has made her bolder. Her hand slides onto his thigh, gaze nonchalantly trained on the window beyond his body. Revision: Much bolder.

He wanted so badly to just scoop her up and give her the biggest one armed hug he could when he saw how she reached for his hand. If and when she looked up, he'd just smile and step clumsily into her, bumping into her once while she held his hand. He loosened his grip so that she could better hers, and when it was all said and done, the two walk quietly together. He wished the tavern was about a mile further, if only so he could savor this moment a little more. But when they did arrive, he didn't complain at all. The carriage was a luxury in all the wrong ways; like a pair of teenagers sharing a taxi, he'd casually scoot on up beside her, blushing when he felt that hand on his thigh. And it only got better, as if blushing wasn't bad enough, his wandering gaze left his eyes tracing the line of her collar bone south, turning away when he felt as if he needed to tug at his collar. Her playful hand on his thigh didn't make things any better, but he'd behave. He wasn't as brave in public (even if it was in the back of a carriage) as he was her bedroom. At the very least, he'd lean against her and rest his chin against her shoulder. “Nervous?”

“For the flute? Nah. It’s just reading sheet music and..." her voice adopts a more sultry affectation, "knowing where to put my fingers and when to blow...” Her hand slides inwards on his thigh, but not upwards. She too has limits to her public displays of affection. She shrugs casually as if reading and playing music is the easiest thing in the world - a monkey could do it! Indeed, for seasoned musicians, it truly is so simple. “But soloing on the guitar? Yea, that has me a bit nervous." She pulls out of her seductive lean, taking a deep breath and she dwells on the challenge that lies ahead. "I would prefer to solo on the fiddle. It’s all improvisation, and I just feel the fiddle better, you know? But… well… have to make due, right?”

The estate comes into view. It’s main entrance faces south and four large gardens surround the property. The manor itself it lit up, but all activity seems to be occurring outside in the north and east gardens where tents, tables, chairs, and bars have been set up. Bars, as in plural. The rich are all a bunch of lushes. They are received by a valet at the main entrance and shown to a small stage that has been erected near the main fountain in the north lawn, which the only lawn with paved footpaths and plazas meant for dancing. The eastern lawn is dedicated to tables made private by bushes and statues; private spaces for whispered conversations and canoodling. Most guests have yet to arrive. Josleen only recognizes two out of the five band members - old friends from the music academy in Cenril. She introduces Ezekiel to Hilary and Fergus, who immediately grow nervous at the sight of him. Ezekiel sure does look an awful lot like the guy drawn on some of those wanted posters in Cenril. It must be a coincidence, right? They can’t be sure one way or the other, but just in case, keep their distance after exchanging pleasantries. The band is meant to start playing right away, thus Hilary and Fergus have the perfect excuse to not pursue any further conversation with Ezekiel. Josleen pulls him aside, lips pursed at her former classmates as she whispers, “Sorry about them. ...Listen, I need to play, but you just… enjoy yourself. I’ll be free soon when we start taking turns and giving each other breaks.” She squeezes his hand reassuringly then breaks out the how-to-crash-a-rich-party guide. “If you make in nice with the wait staff, they’ll give you the top-shelf booze. Otherwise, typical protocol is to stick to the basic wine on tap for the event. Eating finger foods is fine, but let the wait staff offer it to you rather than pick from any of the buffet tables. Oh, and if a woman passes you and glances over her right shoulder at you, it means she wants to be invited to dance. If you don’t want to, the polite thing to do is slide your hand into your pocket and look embarrassed.” She shrugs helplessly. “The rich have eccentric customs.” Hilary starts tuning a cello behind her. “Alright, ok. I have to go. You’re alright, right?” She bites her lower lip before pressing a quick, comforting kiss to the back of his hand and darting to the band to tune her flute. “Oh, and stay away from the east garden!” is her parting instruction. Bourgeois soirees are really stressful to navigate even for the socially intelligent. Poor Ezekiel; and there goes his shield, Josleen.

Guests arrive and mostly ignore Ezekiel. If eye contact is chanced upon, they smile kindly, but the wealthy live in a small bubble where everyone knows everyone and they’re all busy being seen. Also, the fact he doesn’t have an arm seems to dissuade people from approaching. They aren’t a very compassionate bunch. The band plays mostly well known waltzes, and several couples dance.Her sound is clean and pleasant, but it’s clear this isn’t her opportunity to snag a patron - that comes later. The band’s performance isn’t flashy. It serves a purpose: to entertain dancers. Dancers like predictable beats. A few children play with a toddler-sized self-powered luxury carriage. Ezekiel would be able to see it is magical enchanted, and moves when the children take the steering wheel. It isn’t immediately clear who the host of the party is. It’s a blur of dandies and ladies. Some pieces of the host’s collection are being passed around. A doll that cries true salty tears when ignored. A piece of origami paper that folds and refolds itself into complex shapes. There is magic everywhere, and most of it dedicated to novelty and parlor tricks.

Josleen looks for Ezekiel as often as her sheet music permits. Leaving his side while she played the first set made her nervous. He’s a fish out of water here. Speaking of water, no one thought to provide the band with any. They resort to quenching their thirst with wine - especially the woodwind players like Josleen who quickly grow tipsy. It doesn’t seem to affect the quality of their playing, just their behavior. The stiffness of the setting leaves their bones and they relax, which in turn loosens up the dancers. The party starts to flow.

He didn't say much, not since they left the carriage. Actually, not since those sultry words and her daring touch. That alone was enough to shut him up, but after that, he went silent. From there he just stuck by her side, following closely while listening carefully. He watched the rich, noblemen and woman alike, flaunting their wealth through actions and conversation. He watched how they kept their nose in the air when approached by anyone else, be it waiter, valet, band or each other. It was different, they projected an attitude that said they didn't want to be bothered, but their actions said otherwise. Despite their odd mannerisms, everyone seemed to be laughing and having a wonderful time. How, he'd never know. He was just a minnow in a sea of dark water; every fish was comparable to a shark and Josleen was his guiding light. A light would soon grow distant, leaving him to brave the waters alone. He nodded like he understood, but he knew she'd see right through his guise. He was full of doubt and uncertainty. No, he could do this, he had to. He wanted to, this was all for her, and him being here probably meant something special to her. He nodded one last time with a shaky breath and looked around for an empty table. That was his raft in these dangerous waters, and he'd have to cling for dear life while floating towards that shining light, it was all he had. Despite the various magical toys and artifacts, despite the offered appetizers and platters of drinks, the sly winks in his direction and the mystery of what lie in the east garden, Ezekiel kept all of his attention focus on the band, and more specifically, Josleen. She was the only reason he was here, he came for her, to support and applaud and cheer her on to success. She meant a lot to him, just like this gig meant a lot to her. Sure, he was on the verge of being drowned by social anxiety and staving off a panic attack, but he was here doing it. He'd made it this far, no point in losing it now.

He felt their stares, caught their shy pokes in his direction. He had more than enough reasons to be the center of unwanted attention: to some, he was wanted, others, he was missing an arm. He clearly didn't match the persona of those around and sitting alone as he did wasn't working in his favor. He didn't care though, not for these people or their wealth, nor their gossip and slander. His eyes were locked on the one thing he that mattered most. He'd have a lot of questions for her later, that was for sure.

The band takes a small break. Josleen’s too concerned for Ezekiel to bother socializing with her bandmates. She knows being here is an excruciating exercise in discipline and white-knuckling for the shy mage, and more than anything else she just wants him to enjoy himself. Even if he’s being a wallflower, she wants him to be the happiest, most content wallflower that ever did flower on a wall. She hurries to him, her smile widening a bit goofily as she nears. He’s here for her; she knows. Looking at him, sitting there anxiously for her sake, her smile deepens to an infatuated grin. The alcohol affects her - she’s a bit less composed and her self-policing is often drowned out by the wine slushing in her mind. She’s also friskier. “Hey there... Come with me?” she whispers conspiratorially. She takes his hand and leads him towards the northern wall of the manor, whispering as she guides him away from the throngs of guests. “I have about twenty minutes before they need me again. Hil is soloing for a bit.” As if on cue, a cello picks up, accompanied by the piano which provides enough rhythm for dancers to keep waltzing. Josleen stops near the glass back door of the estate, which occasionally opens to swallow or spit wait staff. Ezekiel’s back is to the wall, she faces him, and behind her is a buffet table and beyond that the party. The table offers them some privacy by fencing away the crowd. Without warning, Josleen leans in to whisper, brushing his cheek with hers in the process, “I have a naughty idea.” She leans back just enough to gauge his reaction, her own stare a bit glazed by wine. Her hand cups his side at the ribs as she leans back in to continue, “Let’s go explore the collection. Inside. Just me and you...” Her weight starts to shift from one foot to the next subtly; she doesn’t even realize she’s dancing, albeit it’s more akin to a languid wiggle than an actual dance. Her other hand comes to rest on his opposite side, her subdued dance accepting his stiff body for a partner just fine. She doesn’t pressure him to move, and she’s barely moving herself - like tweens at the school dance, the girl bops from one heavy foot to the next, the boy stands stock still and frightened. The bard’s brows wag at him, reiterating her suggestion to explore the collection inside the mansion. Her eyes flit between his face and the glass door, waiting for an opportunity to infiltrate the manor.

He'd managed to snag a glass or two from platters left by slacking waiters. He was grateful for this, it was just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to ease him fully. Most of all, it was no where near enough to have been caught up with her. So when makes her playful suggestion, he damn near folds on the spot. When she leaned back, she'd see his nervous swallow before licking dry lips. Instinctively, his hand found her left hip and held on loosely, helpless to her seductive taunting. Oh dear, woe was he. “Y-You mean the toys?” He was nervous, she could see this; she capitalized on it, he could see this. Did he stop her? Hell no he didn't stop her, even if he couldn't give her a straight answer, he'd make it clear what it was. His eyes followed hers, his head turned and glanced inside the glass, then back to her- past her towards the dancers, then back to her. His grip tightened he scratched at the back of his neck with that phantom limb of his. “You sure about this? Your solo.. and we could-” he whispered as hushed as he could; like a teenager smoking pot, the world was listening in, and he swore everyone could hear him. Even over the music, laughter and chatter of all. With a deep breath, he'd gently squeeze at her hip and sigh. “Ok.”

Josleen's grin turns peevish, like she knows she's bad, but it isn't entirely clear which particular thing she is feeling impish over - sneaking into the manor, teasing Ezekiel, being frisky. She leads Ezekiel into the estate, and lo and behold, they immediately get caught by a waiter leaving the kitchen. If Ezekiel freezes, Josleen does not. The waiter doesn't seem surprised by their presence, and instead pushes his lips to their left, indicating a doorway which leads to a parlor. In the parlor, the host entertains several guests and shows off various items in his collection. As they walk in, he plays a clarinet that harmonizes with itself but only plays major scales. Small groups of two and three admire items strewn about the immense parlor, and some drift out of the room through an archway opposite Josleen and Ezekiel's entrance. The collection continues down several halls and into various rooms. The rooms open to the public are well lit, while dim lighting indicates corridors and rooms closed to guests; though really, it's the honor code. No one keeps tabs on where the guests roam, and already a young couple with salacious intentions darts down a dark hallway to find a corner secret from peeping toms. Josleen bumps her shoulder teasingly against Ezekiel's left side, sending him a coy sidelong glance. "You thought I was being bad." She leads Ezekiel across the room, keeping to the wall so that he doesn't risk interacting with strangers. No one seems to mind their presence. "Let's find a more private room," she whispers, suspecting he may prefer to view some items away from the nerve-racking chatter and faux-laughter of noble guests. She follows the sound of clocks to an empty, clockwork themed room. While the majority of the items are clocks, there are also many toys made with gears. Nothing quite compares to Ezekiel's ferret, however. The mage would be able to see that more than half of the items in here are enchanted. Josleen spares the collection a cursory glance, but her attention remains fixed on Ezekiel. She watches him observe and explore, happy that she can share with him in something of interest to him rather than selfishly taking him along for a ride on things that interest her alone. Though in a way her attention to his needs and interests isn't entirely selfless. She gets to bask in the one thing that enchants her most: him. "What do you think?"

It wasn't necessarily because he had no interest in the party, it was just a big jump for him to take. Braving tavern interaction- often failing -to navigating the masses of a high end social party left him unfortunately overwhelmed. If only they had more time, maybe she could have prepped him up more for this. Regardless, he'd made it this far and he was with her now. Frankly, he wouldn't have had it any other way. She was right though in bringing him inside, like a kid in a toy story his attention was hooked. He glanced back and forth at the various artifacts, following magical traces of minor enchantments to artful masterpieces of some of the larger tools. For a second he left his anxiety behind, much how the conversation with her father went, a good distraction was all he needed. Much like how she bumped into his left, he'd smile and bump her right back, only he wouldn't pull away but stay hugged up beside her for a little while. “I- I did, a little. I mean, I still think you are.. We're not suppose to be in-” And there he went again, “Here...” As they ducked into the private room, he found himself pulling away from her side. The mage didn't even know where to start: tables, shelves, displays, so many works of art displayed so tantalizingly before him. There was a toy soldier, his inner workings exposed by the empty shell of a case. Each gear moved in robotic succession, so precise, so consistent. A small bird hung from a string, a blue jay from the looks of it, even though it was made of wax feathers around a bronze looking body. The wings flapped casually and the beak opened and closed, nothing too extravagant but Ezekiel was entranced. He came to a stop near a small compass, something that particularly caught his eye; he had a strange liking to compasses and pocket watches. “These are truly magnificent.” He whispered back to her, but never turned, he'd keep his back to her for the most part. “I.. I brought one, I'm intimidated to present it. Think if I just left it here?” He grinned while picking the compass up, treating it like it were about to fall apart any second. It was with that level of caution he treated these kind of things. “Thank you, Josleen. I- I mean, for showing me this.”

Much like Ezekiel is entranced by the clockwork, Josleen is entranced by him. She gives him room to explore the collection, unable to tame her smile as she witnesses the calming effect the private room has on him. This is all she wanted for him. It's exactly what she hoped for. Whatever item inspires his attention, she approaches it as well, hoping to gleam clues to his mysterious, inner world through the choices he makes: the bird, the soldier, the compass. She simply smiles at his gratitude, watching his back - the way he moves. "No...thank you for accompanying me down here." She closes the gap between them, looking around his arm at the compass he cherishes. "...What did you bring?" She speaks softly, as if this sweet moment were so fragile that misspoken words could shatter it.

Ezekiel glanced to the side every now and then, caught off guard each time. Much like the first time he'd seen her at her parents place, the effect was still as strong as ever. While her eyes followed the items in his hand and the lines his fingered traced, he'd study her. Like the last night spent in the shamans tent, cracked brown eyes studied her features with such an intricate level of detail he was left with the same impression these items had. No, he was left with something more, something better. He was awestruck. The way she had her hair tied back, the make up (although he usually wasn't a fan of it) she took the time to apply, her dress.. everything. For a second he was tunnel visioned out, the marvelous wonders of this room were nothing to him. But he'd snap back and blink his eyes rapidly, reaching out to return the compass to its original holder. He wanted more than anything to figure out what it did, but this was more important. “It was a small one I made some time back. Not as grand as the ferret, but.. here.” He reached into his inner coat pocket and brought out a small golden ball. It wasn't actual gold, but a fake; fools gold because he wasn't made of it. It was small enough to hide in his close palm, but not squeezed shut. “This one was different.. I.. I can't tell you how these are made. Not yet.” As he held his palm out flat, the spherical shape started to unfold much like how the ferret did. Only this time, a ferret didn't bouncing out, but a small hummingbird instead. It rolled around, blinked its tiny azure eyes and stood up straight. A few sharp turns of its head and the gears would blur with speed, wings flapping with a soft hum. It lifted off his hand and darted back and forth, never straying too far from its creator. It moved not like a robot, but as if it were an actual creature of its own will; to some this was unsettling. How, was all they could ask, and I'm sorry is all he could ever tell them. He'd been so caught up in showing her the creation he didn't realize he had pressed up against her much like how they did walking down the hall only minutes ago. “What do you think?”

Josleen catches him admiring her and can't help the soft smile that accepts his gaze. She falls into that shared, deep stare, learning and relearning the lines of his face, the hues of brown in his eyes. She's reticent to relenquish the sight of him, but she does so for the sake of appreciating his creation. It's more beautiful than anything in this room, save for Ezekiel himself. Had anyone but this particular mage created such a lifelike creature, she may have been disturbed, but this hummingbird came from is genius. She trusts him fully, and he is above suspicion, and as such his handiwork is above suspicion. She admires its brilliance, and his by proxy. "It's beautiful. Breathtaking...You can't just leave it here. We'll give it to the host tonight. I'll go with you..." Her gaze turns back to Ezekiel, recapturing the moment they've shared a handful of times - that intense, enamored look. She pushes slightly onto the balls of her feet and guides him into that familiar lingering, gentle kiss. The moment is perfection. She doesn't want it to end. Her nose nuzzles his nose and cheek as she whispers, "...I am so happy right now." In the hall, the chatter of several guests can be heard growing closer. The patter of footsteps easily belong to over 5 people. Josleen pulls away from Ezekiel slowly, grins, and nods her head towards the door. "Shall we? There are other rooms." She too doesn't want to be around others right now; all she wants is to be alone with him.

Eze would have forgotten entirely about the hummingbird had it's tiny metallic body not curled back into a ball. It rolled around for a few moments before growing still, to which he'd quietly tuck back into his pocket. Never once did he break his gaze away, nor did the smile on his lips falter. Even when he heard the steps, he hadn't a care in the world when he was with her. The kiss was leaned into and his hand found her hip, shy fingers squeezing gently. He was so reluctant to pull away, but talk of others approaching and the two of them finding seclusion was enough to earn a nod. Minutes ago he'd been paranoid, afraid of getting caught. If someone found them in one of the quieter rooms, would they be asked to leave? Would they be accused of theft? Would this ruin her musical chance at finding patronage? All of these paranoia driven questions were pushed from his mind as he linked his hand with hers and gave her another nod. “Come on, lets go.”

The Dollhouse

Josleen leads him down a dimly lit hall, turns a corner, and ascends a flight of steps. Technically, they were allowed to be in the clockwork room, but not up here. The bard doesn't seem to care. She just wants to be alone with him. Soloists are still playing outside; she has time. As they looks for a place to be alone together, they come upon a curious door. Etched into its wood is a moon beneath a musical staff - those five lines seen on all music sheets, two bars designating a measure, and a treble clef on the left. Mounted above the engraving is a glass slide puzzle with various notes painted on each piece. Above the slide puzzle, there is a placard holding a thick piece of paper bearing the title of a well known nursery rhyme. "Whoa... what's this?" She grins impishly at Ezekiel, her nose scrunching cutely at the mystery. A jostle of the door handle reveals it is locked, but there is no keyhole suggesting the puzzle is the key. The door has no magical aura - the lock is purely mechanical, thought admittedly bizarre and complex. "It's a riddle. Oh, how fun!" She stares at the door, her gaze distant as she tries to crack the code. She attempts a few configurations of the musical notes, but the door remains jammed. "Oh, duh," she taps her temple to emphasize just how obvious this puzzle is. "Should have seen it immediately. Moon stands for months, aaaand...we're in the ninth month, so..." she rearranges the puzzle. "Notes in the 9th measure!" Click. The door opens. She flashes a wide, proud grin at Ezekiel. "Really wasn't that hard. Clever though." Inside the room is an out-of-use nursery. Several toys, many of them enchanted, sit on shelves, or in the crib, or on a toy chest. Josleen unlocks some of their secrets. There's a sock puppet monkey that grows real monkey fur when touched, and a set of jacks in which the ball stays afloat until all jacks are picked up so that the player never loses. Against the far wall beneath a window stands a tall, magically enchanted dollhouse that sits on a music box. The dollhouse folds open to reveal carved out rooms, dolls and miniature items from beds to spoons. The attention to detail that went into the dollhouse impresses. The house is as tall as a toddler. "This is so rare. I think I've only ever seen one musical dollhouse at a toy store in the rich part of Cenril, and it was pricier than my parent's house!" She knees by the large handcrank protruding from the music box beneath the house and tries to crank it, but it's a bit rusted and sticks. "Can you give me a hand?" It's a good thing she didn't ask for two.

Ezekiel stood there somewhat shocked. He didn't even get a chance to glance at the riddle before it was solved.. something about that quick wit and the devilish speed in which she put it to use was attractive, he wouldn't lie. Once the door was opened however, he glanced around like a nervous burglar would, knowing they weren't suppose to be -here- in specific. Locked doors had reasons for keeping shut. But he'd step inside and close the door behind them, easing cautiously inward while she explored what his eyes could only catch a glimpse of. So many colors, so much magic; if he were a child and his magelyhood was a reality, this would be his dream come true. He didn't any of the toys, but leaned in close to inspect, feeling a stir of excitement. It wasn't until she found both the dollhouse and the music box that he'd turn away and lend her all of his attention. “Are you sure? If we get caught..” He'd shrug, but she wouldn't see it. “Ok, but quick..” The little chuckle at the end said to her he wasn't worried one bit. While she reached for the crank, he'd try to find an open spot for his right hand. He'd grip tight and give her a nod along with a three, two, one count down before turning the crank.

Ezekiel's additional push is all they need to get the music box working, and on the timbre of the very first note, they disappear. No fanfare, no light, no sound, they simply cease to exist in the room. Within that first note, the landscape around Ezekiel and Josleen changes. The song continues, but now they stand on a lawn before the life-size dollhouse. It truly is a two story mansion with a triangular attic and four well-manicured lawns. The once wooden bricks of the dollhouse are now made of stone. A curtain flutters in the window beside the front door. The mansion and its lawn float suspended in a black abyss. Beyond the lawn's perimeters there is endless nothing. There is not, however, silence. Incessantly, the song of the music box plays all around them on loop. "...Eze..." Josleen's voice drops a few pitches, shrinking in fear. "...Eze, where are we?" Her hand reaches for his, but her stare is fixed on the mansion. Before their hands can connect, she is lifted off the ground by an unseen force and taken to the front steps. She stands upright, smiles kindly, and knocks. An older woman dressed for tea opens the door excitedly and exclaims, "I am so glad you could make is, Miss Emilia. My darling Harriet will be thrilled to meet you! Please, do come inside." Josleen curtsies to the woman and follows her into the house.

Ezekiel needed a few sharp moments to gather what exactly had just happened. It was immediately clear they weren't in the same room as of seconds ago, and that strong, confident guise he'd been under with at her side was gone. He saw black, too much black- a never ending sea of black; he'd panic, he's been here before. It was how they met, ironically. The corrupt plague, her beautiful song and the weeks (or so it felt) of darkness. “Josleen, what hap- Jos!” He was just about to reach for her hand when that unseen force snatched her from his side. “Josleen!” He scrambled from his knees and stood on shaky legs. He started to move after her but paused when the door opened. He stood deathly still for a second and listened. “Emilia.. Who is Emilia? Excuse me- Hey, excuse me..” Could they not hear him? Why did she talk like that, who was this stranger, why were they here? Questions raced through his mind, along with panic and fear; he wanted to help but he didn't know how. He followed up closer and put one foot on the step while looking up. “Josleen..” He whispered it this time, trying to lean around her so that maybe he could get a better look at the woman, but by the time he'd even get close enough they disappeared into the house.

"NO!" As soon as Ezekiel's foot touches the step, a child's voice booms over the music. Now Ezekiel is picked up by an unseen force and moved back onto the lawn. Under the spell, his mind is blank. He loses his sense of self. He cannot think, there is no "I," he is not self possessed. As soon as he is released, he is himself again. Should he attempt to rush the house, he will be moved again, and this time the voice will boom, "NOT YET!" He will also be prohibited from jumping into the black abyss.

It's hard to say some time passes, since there is no real sense of time. It's best said that at some point not on a linear progression of time, but at some point in this plane, Ezekiel gets picked up again. This time, when touched by the unseen force, his identity is not emptied, but rather replaced. He is Henry Archibold the Second, a young soldier in an unnamed war. The politics are fuzzy. The enemies are poorly defined. He is no longer wearing slacks and a dress shirt, but instead a military uniform over padded armor. He feels, in his gut, that it is now two years ago. He went back in time. The dollhouse has been replaced with a battlefield. The enemy are dire bears, trolls, ogres, etc. His comrades are all handsome young dark-haired men. They slay the beasts one by one without casualty or injury. The beats do not bleed, they simply roll over, their eyes turned to x's and tongues slapping out of their maws. He swings a sword wildly without finesse, and most surprisingly, with two arms.

The battle takes place. For how long is hard to discern. Eventually, Ezekiel, excuse me, my mistake: Henry Archibold II is now five years into the future from that battle and approaching the dollhouse once more. He no longer sees a black abyss around the dollhouse, but rather farmlands and a quaint village in the distance. The music has ceased. Henry's memories contain a fuzzy year of drifting and occasionally torture as a prisoner of war, but the specifics of any torture are missing. The memory is literally just 'And then I was tortured,' with absolutely no detail. The chronological order of events of his memory make no sense. He knocks on the door, and the same woman who greeted Josleen opens it. Henry Archibold immediately recognizes this woman to be Susan, his mother. Susan breaks down, embracing him, crying about the return of her baby boy. She thought he was dead - lost in the war! She screams out Henry's fathers name, Martin. Henry Archibold the First was his grandfather, as Henry has known all his life. Behind his mother, a young woman unknown to Henry sits with a cup of tea. Henry does not recognize her, but Ezekiel would recognize her as Josleen. Unfortunately, Ezekiel is a spectator to this scene, trapped inside the mind of Henry and unable to reassume control of this body.

The scene plays out as such: Martin and Susan embrace and kiss Henry, then bleary-eyed, introduce him to Emilia Rose, the young lady recently hired to be Harriet's governness. Emilia will teach Harriet other languages, music, history - all the subjects a young lady needs. Emilia is dressed quite finely herself - a proper lady. Ezekiel, from his spectator seat, may notice how clumsy the characters move and the childish and stunted vocabulary they employ in elementary sentences.

Finally, Josleen and Ezekiel reassume control of their bodies, and Susan and Martin no longer sport fine clothes but rather, Susan is dressed like a nanny and Martin like a groundskeeper. Josleen rushes to Ezekiel, embracing him tightly and sobbing against his shoulder. Terrified is an understatement.

The man who was Martin speaks first, like an adult and with a hillbilly accent. "I'm right sorry this happened to ya'folk." The woman who was Susan adds, her voice kind and accent native to Xalious. "You'll get used to it."

The first time he was removed from the steps, he'd fall back to his knees and scramble forward only to be shouted at by this tyrant of an unseen force and hastily drug back to his original spot on the grass. He'd try for a third but that was right about the time his nerves got the better of him. He stood up and glanced around, did a hesitant, but full three hundred and sixty degree turn surveying the blackness, the empty sky above (which was also black) and the house before him. They were last seen turning the crank on a music box connected to a dollhouse. In time, he'd come to recognize the dollhouse as the one they were towering above minutes ago, but stood under now.

Seconds, minutes, hours- he'd never know exactly how much time actually passed, only that it happened in the blink of an eye. It all happened so fast, another man's life blurred before his eyes, however he was left with the knowledge and feeling as if he'd lived it out personally. The feeling of an eternity with the cover of a few seconds, it would end up doing a number on his mind later. For now, everything seemed to slow down a bit. He was stuck walking up those stairs, the same stairs he'd been ripped off (moments?) ago. Susan shouted out in exclamation and scooped him up in her arms, Ezekiel was confused.

Even if he didn't personally know her, the memories of Henry Archibold II did, and right now they were flooded with joy. It was the kind of joy only a son could feel for a mother, especially one he loved so dear. He smiled, he cried, and he hugged her back with both arms. Ezekiel was stuck behind the glass, watching through the eyes of this man's life and memories without any control what so ever. It was the same feeling he'd had when corrupt, trapped within his own mind and surrounded in such blackness, there was no hope of getting out. Even if it wasn't real, he felt uncomfortable. He never knew a woman by the name of Mom, all he knew was a man named Father, and he wasn't anything like Martin. No, Martin was kind. He didn't smack Archibold in the mouth, didn't belittle him till he was nothing. He didn't do anything but love the poor guy. This made Ezekiel uncomfortable.

When they were finally 'let go', given control of the bodies they'd been stuff in- Ezekiel moved quickly around the table to scoop Josleen up in his arms. He'd squeeze her tight, holding the back of her head with one hand while occasionally reaching down to rub her back. He didn't know how long they had till this dark magic started up again, so he'd try to make as much sense as he could with her while they could. “Josleen, is that.. is that you?” He didn't need to ask, this 'Emalie' wouldn't hold him like this. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He glanced to the other two, "Who are they- what do you mean we'll get use to it? What in the hell is going on.." Even as confused, afraid and angry as he was, he still didn't raise his voice. To be quiet honest, he was keeping as calm as he could, as opposed to having a flat out panic attack like most would know him for having in a situation like this. He'd lean back and try to get a better look at the Bard, but instead kissed the top of her head and held her tight.

Josleen kisses Ezekiel's shoulder several times, her panic slowly restrained to terror thanks to his petting and relative calm. "I'm alright," she whispers in response. She takes a couple deep breaths to try and calm herself further, except there is no air to suck. They look like themselves, and feel like themselves, but the physics of this plane do not behave like in their native world. They don't need to breathe, and thus there is no air. In this place there is only a dollhouse, a song, and darkness.

The woman who was Susan speaks up, her voice underpinned by that incessant song that echoes around them. "Let's start over. I'm Martha. This is Dilly." The groundskeeper nods to both of them. Josleen turns her face towards them but her body remains glued to Ezekiel's. There's no way she's letting him go anytime soon. "I'm Josleen. ...This is Ezekiel." Martha smiles sympathetically at them and explains as casually as possible, "We're in Harriet's dollhouse. We're her dolls. When she plays with us, we're in her story." Dilly interjects, "What year it is?" Josleen answers and he pales, "By gods, so I figure more than 15 years since George came in scared like a pup, and almost 50 years since me and Martha got sucked in this pit." Martha explains helpfully, "George is the final doll. His character is Harriet's equestrian instructor Sir Cornelius Strongson, but in the real world he was a tailor. Harriet must be playing with him now."

Martha and Dilly have grown so accustomed to this existence that the absuridty of their words do not phase them. Josleen, however, is new and rebels against acceptance. She looks to Ezekiel, whispering hurriedly, "What we do? How do we get out of here?" Dilly laughs sardonically, "Sorry, dearie. We tried, well everythin'. Tried jumpin' into the abyss, but She stopped me real good." He speaks the pronoun as if it were capitalized, and indeed it should be for in this strange and unique plane, Harriet is the sole god.

Martha again, "It would be reckless of me not to warn you about-" Suddenly the music stops, the abyss is replaced with farmland, and the four become dolls once more. "Here comes our beautiful daughter now!" Martin anounces. The stairs creak lightly under the slight weight of a toddler. Equestrian boots can be seen first, then riding pants, a shirt with overalls, and finally, the cracked and bloodied face of a mal-formed girl with no ears, hair, lips or nose. Her eyes more closely resemble two blood-filled sacks*. The girl looks no older than four.

Henry rushes to his baby sister and embraces her! Though it looks as if her skin would crack, in this plane, it doesn't. The limitations of the girl's birth defects are conveniently non-existent. He kisses her cheek. Harriet is so happy to have her brother back! Treacle saturates the room. Susan introduces Harriet to Miss Emilia, her new governness. "Do you know about dinosaurs?" Harriet asks Emilia. "Why of course I do!" Miss Emilia practically sings back. The rest of the playtime pans out with the illogical sequence of events one would expect from a toddler. Susan announces she will make dinner soon, and although her long lost son only just returned, he will happily volunteer to go hunt! Henry rides horseback through the woods near their house and flails a sword wildly at foxes, who don't bleed and immediately become perflected skinned, deboned, and cut slabs of beef. Kid's logic: it just is. As Henry hunts, Emilia rambles absolute nonsense about the triceratops. The four sit around the table to eat the fox/beef. Harriet leaves to go ride her pony with Cornelius and before she's even fully left the room, the darkness returns to the horizon and the music kicks up again. Harriet, the beef, the drink in their cups, and all detail beyond what came with the dollhouse's original manufacture vanishes when the four are released from their playtime duties. Books no longer open, the stove no longer hearts, etc.

Josleen stares at Ezekiel across the table from her, at a loss for how to react. This already feels eternal.

Ezekiel was utterly heartbroken. The moment Harriet started down the steps and was in full view, the man behind the view glass did not cringe, or hiss or flinch away in disgust. He pressed forward with sadness in his eyes, his own eyes; not Harriet's big brother. If his metaphorical prison were real, he'd be seen with both hands pressed to the glass that was Henry's eyes. A part of him felt a tingle run down his spine, paranoia suggesting the little girl could see him from this perch even if it wasn't exactly correct. If he could turn- just turn his head damn it, Henry! He needed to see Emilia, needed to see Josleen. Ezekiel needed to know if he was the only one out of the four that felt the way he did. No one should have suffered like she did, because little by little pieces of the story were all coming together. At the very least, a general idea.

He was just about to ask Martha what she meant by her warning, but they'd been interrupted by the puppeteer that was Harriet. He was helpless to do anything else but sit back and watch the story unfold. If they'd tried everything, was there truly no way out? No, he refused to believe that. He refused to take anyone's word for his own, and instead would rather get his own. There had to be a way out, there just had to be. He'd find one if it was the very last thing he ever did, even if it killed him. There were two things on the man's mind right now, the sae two things that had been on it since the start of this crazy nightmare: getting out and keeping Josleen safe. And what a splendid job he was doing.

“Hey.. Josleen. Are- Are we..? Are we us again?” He'd move around to pull her into his one armed embrace if she let him “That little girl..” She'd see the sadness in his eyes if she looked. “We have to find a way out, there has to be a way.”

Josleen leans into Ezekiel's embrace, shutting her eyes against this mad world and feeling only him, but she can't shut her ears against the music. That music serves as a cruelly upbeat reminder that they are truly here, not home. The music won't even let her escape this grim para-reality in her fantasies. "...Are we us," she repeats the question softly, her gaze growing a bit distant before she shrugs. "That poor girl... She seems sweet." She glances towards Martha, her hand clutching Ezekiel's. "What happened to her?"

Martha sighs sadly. "She was born that way. It's a rare birth defect. I was her caretaker. She never enjoyed much of a life. Going outside was dangerous for her, so she spent most of her time in her nursery. Her parents spent their fortune on trying to cure the disease but... well I think Harriet would have preferred they had spent their time and affection on her short life. She was very much alone, I'm afraid. This dollhouse was her favorite toy and into it she poured the fantasy life she wish she lead. And well, she is now, in a way. She died from her condition just before her 5th birthday. When I was cleaning her nursery after the wake, I... I just wanted to connect with her things. I played with the dollhouse and... here I am." Dilly chimes in, "I got told to clear that room of some of the big furniture, and. Whew. What a fool. Who seen a grown man play with a dollhouse, eh? But I never seen nothing so fine in all my days and I went and played like a guppie and, well, let's just say I'm lucky Martha was already here to calm me down. She and I worked for the family, you see, so I knows her and it was good."

"Is there ever a time when you are in control of the play? The story?" Josleen asks. Martha shrugs meekly, "Sort of. Not really. Anything we move like this she sees and can choose to accept or reject in her play." She nods to Ezekiel, "I believe she rejected you when you tried to approach the house the first time. I once decided to make the bed, you know something to give myself a routine, chores. She accepted it, started playing with me, and had the bed made and gave me that chore in the game as well. Dilly is the one who introduced the pink mane to the pony. She accepted that. You basically do something now, and she will either like it or not like it. I'm not too sure that counts as being in control, though."

Josleen looks to Ezekiel, hope quickly fading from her stare. "I am so sorry I brought you here."

The mage sighed and leaned into Josleen's side. He needed someone to lean on right now and who better than the one and only person he ever felt the most comfortable with. “Hey, it's fine. Don't be sorry.. you didn't know, neither of us knew.” All he could do was shrug and squeeze her hand tight. While leaning against her, he'd press his lips against her head like he wanted to give her a comforting kiss, but found he was still very much people shy. “I.. I have to ask. Martha, did- Did she know her parents well? I mean.” He might have been projecting a little, but Martha and Dilly wouldn't catch the strange tone in his question. Josleen on the other hand.. “Are you and Dilly- I mean, Susan and Martin her parents?

He took this time to explore the dollhouse a bit. He didn't wander too far from the kitchen where they all sat for fear of being rejected as something she didn't like. The gears in his mind started to spin, each piece clicking into place while he worked intricately to devise a plan to escape. He had to think outside the box, or in this case, outside the dollhouse if he we were escape this one. They said they tried everything, and so far jumping into the abyss and an unfinished warning was all he'd heard. “Martha, you said you would be reckless to not warn us about something, what as it?” He moved back to Josleen's side, “Dilly, you were just the groundskeeper, but what else did you know about the family or its stead?” Somewhere in between their replies if given one, he'd find the time to check up on Josleen, ask her how she was doing and if she was ok. He knew she was terrified, she had to be. This was unlike anything she'd probably experienced. To him, this felt dangerously familiar; he wasn't sure what didn't sit with him more. The fact it was so reminiscent of a previous time, or the fact he wasn't as shaken up as she.

To be locked in a small word like this, hidden away from the world and all its trouble, living freely in one's own imagination. Yeah, it was far too familiar for him to like. Even if it was all just a metaphorical comparison, it felt all the same. “Can we talk to her? Is there any other way we can reach out to her directly, besides changing things here?”

Josleen doesn't move from her seat. If her mind is working on a solution, she doesn't let it show. She's too numb to spare energy on unnecessary words. Her gaze follows Ezekiel, alertly picking up on his strange affinity for this scenario. His ability to empathize with Harriet on a deeply personal level only adds an additional coat of despair to the situation.

Martha shakes her head at Ezekiel's question. "Martin and Susan in this game share Harriet's real parents' name and appearances, but the similarities end there. Harriet wasn't the first or last child Martin and Susan had, but she was the only special needs child. While they poured money into her condition, they left her rearing to me. To be honest, they were rather embarrassed to have such a sick child, but on some level felt guilty for neglecting her and favoring the other children. They threw money at their guilt until Harriet passed. The most personal contact Harriet had when alive was with me and her doctor. I was going to warn you about George. He never accepted this fate," she glances at Josleen as if fearing Josleen may become another George. "He is angry, often violent. At one point or another he's tried to kill all of us, including himself, which is just silly since we can't die, though we can feel pain. He managed to once control his character, Cornelius, and slaughter Harriet's pony in the game. Dreadful. We have no idea how he did it, and I've never been able to reproduce it. Thankfully, Harriet is a resilient girl and simply willed the pony back into existence. Nothing strays from her game plan, so to speak. I just warn you to steer clear of George. For the most part he keeps to himself. He took the attic as his home, stays there, until he thinks of some insane plan and enacts it - always violently." She glances between Ezekiel and Josleen, "Don't let that anger take you." Her wisdom is directed largely to Josleen.

Dilly nods sagely in agreement with Martha before answering Ezekiel's question. "Not much to say about the family. Rich. Normal enough. Sick kid, tough. They could have handled it better, but I've seen folk handle it worse. They denied her love, but nothing else. Just a great a room as any rich kid. Just as many toys. All the doctors the world could bring, but they never spent time with her. No deep dark secrets as far as I'm aware, if that's what you're trying to get at, son."

Josleen glances restlessly between the trio, listening and storing information, her face dispassionate - a rare expression from the typically vibrant bard. Whenever Ezekiel checks in on her, she simply nods unconvincingly. At last she speaks, her voice impassive, "I have an idea."

But so does Harriet. Josleen is summoned to play upstairs as Emilia, her body floating away from the dining room. Ezekiel, Martha, and Dilly stay as they are. Martha winces sympathetically to Ezekiel as he is robbed of Josleen. "She'll be back. Don't worry."

He could see she wasn't herself, that much was obvious, but he wouldn't press it. One, because he didn't want to upset her more, and two. Well, he just wasn't good at that sort of thing anyway. In short, Ezekiel would have made a terrible boyfriend; some girl would be all sad and crying with a bucket of ice cream, he'd ask what's wrong and when she said 'nothing', he'd simply reply with ok and leave. On a more serious note, he did reach out and call her name when she started to float away, not chasing when Martha reassured him she'd be just fine. For now, all he could do was take a seat at the table and wait. Perhaps he'd be selected next to play, maybe he'd be left alone. Where they just left to do as they pleased, at least when interrupted by things Harriet didn't like?

Click. Click. Click. Those noisy gears, perhaps soon he'd come up with something- anything, to get them out of this mess. Even still with the threat of being held here forever weighing down on his mind, he couldn't help but frown and feel sympathy for the little girl and her unfortunate situation. He knew something wasn't right with the way Martha- or Susan, in this case, hugged him. The tears, the feelings, yes they felt real- but they didn't feel genuine. They were plastic, sharp, didn't conform well like the passionate hugs Josleen gave him. He knew what it was he felt when he was with her, and he didn't need anyone else to describe the emotion. It was something he kept dear to himself, and expressed only with her. Maybe when they.. if they.. got out of this house, he'd confront her about it; at the very least, try. Far as he was concerned though, that little girl didn't know love and he could relate all to well with her.

It was fabricated, all of it. Stereotypical love for a stereotypical family. Everything felt so rehearsed, so artificial and fake.. or in this ironic twist of example, a child's made up fantasy. He knew because it was the same fantasy he lived out more than enough times in his own head, especially as a child. He'd wait patiently for Josleen to return, when and if ever they were given enough time to talk, he'd try his best to explain this to her. He needed to talk directly with Harriet; he needed to meet George.

Martha doesn't linger long after Josleen is gone. "Routine keeps the mind busy," she advises Ezekiel as she leaves to take a walk around the manor. Dilly announces he will go take a nap. What else is there to do? Nothing works unless you have been chosen to engage in playtime, and even then, you cannot control your body. He can't read a book. He can't write a poem. He can't play an instrument, and he gave up trying to escape a long, long time ago. Maybe. It'sd hard to tell just how long he's been here. The point is, Dilly takes lots of naps.

Harriet and Emilia-Josleen can be heard laughing upstairs, then silence, then laughter. Eventually, Josleen races back as herself to the dining room. It's hard to say how long she's been gone, but her panicked, searching eyes grow excited at the sight of Ezekiel. "Eze! There you are, Eze!" She embraces him tightly as if she hasn't seen him in months, reluctant to release him. "I missed you so, so much. It's been too-" Suddenly she stops, brings herself up short as she realizes the truth. Her voice drops to a somber, irked whisper, "I haven't been gone long, have I?...Dammit...Harriet made months pass just now, in the game with me. It felt so real. It felt like I was stuck there for months teaching her piano and jokes. I just wanted to see you, but I couldn't stop playing." She lets out a frustrated growl, rubbing at her face before taking a deep, long breath. "...Eze... what are we going to do if this is it for us?"

Ezekiel thinks she got off pretty light with just a few months. He was subjected to years, five of them; fighting dire creatures in some unnamed battle. That was before being tortured for another year after that. He wouldn't tell her though, she didn't need to hear that, not now. Instead, he just whispers in her ear, words of encouragement and reassurance. “It's alright I'm here. C'mere-” he moved to the seat beside her and draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her in. It was a change to see him comforting her for once, it left him with a small spark of hope, believe it or not. Was this what she felt helping him out all those times? “We'll figure something out, don't worry.” Martha was kind and simply averted her denying glance; she- like Dilly, were pretty set on living out this life for the rest of eternity.

When she went about her daily routine, he'd whisper to her in hushed words, words so quiet he thought maybe Harriet wouldn't hear. Could she even hear them? She saw what they did, rejected some of the acts while accepting others, but could she actually hear their conversations? “I need to talk to Harriet. I need to find George, too. He found a way to take control of the character, I need to do the same.” He'd squeeze her shoulder if she let him, “She had parents, and from what I gather, they cared enough. She didn't get the love she needed. I.. I want to talk to her, directly. That poor girl..” he'd just sigh and end it there. "Maybe if we could talk to her?"

Josleen really enjoys the role reversal. She is always more than happy to comfort and lead him, but right now he has a firmer grip on their situation and she can't find the strength to be the strong one; she's so glad he can be. His ability to empathize with the poor girl is attractive, as is his cool under this type of pressure. Between them, they can face any obstacle. Social pressure? Jos has got the grip. Trapped in another, haunted plane? Ezekiel's got that. Unfortunately, this feels like it may be the final obstacle they'll ever face together.

Josleen and Ezekiel find a semi-private spot to plot. Harriet seems to be playing with Susan and Martin at the moment. She nods at Ezekiel's plan to talk to Harriet and George. "I know. I think my idea may help. She accepts what she likes, right? Well, we know the things she likes. What if we just played constantly. We stopped being Josleen and Ezekiel, and played house the entire time, even when she is not playing with us? She may take what we offer, and may even follow our lead. She just wants people to play with her, right? Not just be forced to place? So let's play with her 100% of the time and see what happens." The riddle-like nature of their problem keeps Josleen invested enough to think up solutions, but her hope that any of this will actually free them is all but entirely gone.

For a brief moment she selfishly thinks that the only silver-lining to this debacle is that she has Ezekiel here with her, but just as quickly as she entertains that thought she squashes it. No, she doesn't want this for him. She doesn't want it for her either, but given that she is here, it only makes her more sad to know that his life is likely forfeit too. This fact comes across from time to time in pessimistic phrases, such as "Meeting me was your greatest mistake" and "I am so sorry I got us here." The fact that their existence will consist of this indefinitely also disturbs her to her core. It rocks her psyche and makes her question the nature of her existence before, now, and into the future; it makes her question her identity. This crisis of self she keeps quiet, but it occasionally exposes itself through cynical, defeated remarks that mock the game to which they are slave. What's the point? Here, everything is futile. The only thing keeping her from spiraling into existential despair is Ezekiel's ability to keep her engaged in riddles. How do we get Harriet to talk to us? Where's George? But this plane offers a finite number of riddles, and once they are all cracked, who knows what will keep Josleen sane.

Ezekiel had to reach out at certain points, sometimes when one of those cynical remarks of doubtful comments slipped out. He sometimes laid his hand on her knee, or embraced her in a caring hug. He'd even kiss the top of her head when held close, something Harriet made remarks to, most of the time he didn't catch or understand them. One thing was certain, she was losing faith and that bright little saving light of his was growing dim; that light was Josleen. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone, even the way she moved said it all. He was strong, he needed to be. After all she'd done for him, it was his time to finally repay some of that debt. For now, he did the only thing he could which was keep her comforted while sifting through the ideas exiting his mind.

When not being used as Harriet's toy, he spent every second he was allowed by her side, talking of plans, chipping at riddles and generally working to keep her spirits up. He was ready to play with her if Josleen was ready, which thinking on it further gave him some insight. The mind of a child was an interesting thing and Harriet's imagination was like that of any other typical four year old child. If pretending to be Henry and Emily could get her to forget she wasn't controlling them, maybe then they could talk freely to her. He'd relay this information to Josleen with a squeezed hand and a genuine smile.

“George, I believe Dilly said he lived in the attic. They said it was best to just avoid him, he could get violent; that bothers me. Harriet chose to let him be this way. Granted, not when it attacked her creations, such as the pony, Martha said he was typically violent. If making beds and dying the pony's hair were acceptable, what was letting him act that way? Surly not Harriet. “He took control once. If we can't do it, I can try talking to him. Are..” nervous laugh, “Are you good with children? I'm afraid I've no experience. I wouldn't know how to talk to one.” And there it was! The back of the neck scratch, brief, but very much Eze.

It breaks Josleen's heart every time her cynicism or pesimism affects Ezekiel, and despite this she can't stop herself from doing it again and again. The depression sets in, and when Ezekiel is being played with and she is alone, she broods and dwells on some of the darkest thoughts the abyss around them inspires. After each cynical slip, she tries her best to smile and reassure him that she'll be alright, but each smile is duller than the last.

The plan she and Ezekiel concoct seems as good as any. What else do they have to go on? She won't admit it, but kept deep inside her a sliver of hope that this will bring them closer to an escape. She tries her hardest not to believe - the disappointment would be soul-crushing. "I'm alright with kids. I can... why don't we just start playing now? You be Henry, I'll be Emilia. We can... have tea?"

Josleen leads Ezekiel to the tea room and pantomimes the tea making process. There is no water. The stove doesn't heat. Regardless, Josleen moves the pieces as if they functioned, hoping Harriet will bring it to life. Josleen dons the persona of Emilia - bright, rosy cheeked, energetic, cheerful. Frankly, it's like Josleen outside this place - the real Josleen, albeit a bit more stiff and formal than the bard. "Harriet is just so bright. She knows all the dinosaurs, and will be a master pianist. I see bright things in her future." She pours air from a wooden kettle to a wooden teacup and hands it to Ezekiel-Henry before sitting in an armchair with her own tea. She goes on about Harriet's gifts and success, but none of this seems to inspire Harriet to play. Suddenly, an idea clicks and Josleen-Emilia leans in conspiratorially to Ezekiel-Henry and whispers, "Has the family planned a special event for her upcoming birthday? I have some ideas for a lovely surprise myself." Suddenly, the music stops, the dark abyss fades, and their teacups are made of ceramic and full of warm tea. Emilia dons her formal attire and Henry is in his soldier's uniform. Harriet crouches behind Emilia's armchair, eavesdropping on birthday plans. Henry can see her boots poking out. To Josleen's surprise, she is allowed to continue assuming control of Emilia. Ever the performer, Josleen doesn't break character. "I think we should have a small carnival. I could face paint!"

He rose an eyebrow following her initial lead. He smiled, complimented both Harriet and Emilia even if one wasn't present and even though he hadn't taken a single acting lesson in his life, stayed true to character. He sipped at the air in his cup and hissed when it was too hot. He talked of memories from the past, before he'd joined the war, how he'd use to spend his time riding for hours out in the hills as if they were something truly did. In some sense, he had. He met her gaze with a suggestive nod as if to encourage her to keep going despite their lack of results. Martha even had to peek around the corner to see what exactly was going on. Luckily their over enthusiasm went unnoticed by Harriet; it was sometimes too easy to trick children.

It wasn't until Ezekiel caught that sudden spark of interest in Josleen's eyes that he leaned in. “Her birthday party?” His eyes trailed upwards, scanning the ceiling as the music stopped. “Oh yes, she'll be turning five, very exciting.” And then there were cute little boots sticking out from behind Emili's chair. The grin that followed was perhaps the most true to nature one he'd shown her since their arrival in this twisted dimension. “Face painting, that would be wonderful. Oh! I could send word to some of my old solider friends. They still have left over signals, and..” His speech slowed for a second, his improvisation wasn't as refined as hers. “Fire..works. We use to use them to signal our battalions , same with the marching drums.” Ideas one by one, he'd take it if meant getting Josleen out of this place. That's right, he was more set on getting them out for her sake, rather his.

He could see what it was doing to her and it pained him. He'd nod with Josleen and stand up. “I bet we could have a petting zoo!” That last part might not have actually been Ezekiel, but Harriet influencing his next decision in the most sneakiest of manners. Judging by the rapid blinking in his eyes, Josleen could tell he'd lost control then gained control immediately after. “I like it, a carnival for a birthday party.” His stomach was clenched and his toes curled, he was hesitant about proceeding from here. “I wonder where she is right now? Should we keep it a secret, Emilia?”

Ezekiel's improvisation makes Josleen smile as genuinely as she possibly can in this place. The smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, but she does enjoy him. Josleen-Emilia reacts enthusiastically to Ezekiel-Henry's ideas, especially most of all the petting zoo, playing to Harriet's birthday wish. "A petting zoo would be great! I bet we could even bring in a triceratops, her favorite!" She glances furtively around, lowering her voice to a stage whisper. "I don't know where Harriet is, but I think we should keep it a secret. Let's let Susan and Martin know so they can help us plan." Harriet, as if on cue, summons Susan and Martin. Josleen-Emilia fills them in on the birthday plans. Harriet continues to eavesdrop.

Eventually Harriet releases the four characters to go play with Cornelius and her pony for a while. To Martha and Dilly's surprise, Josleen (and likely Ezekiel) continue to pretend to be Emilia and Henry despite the return to their normal wits. Martha catches the plot first, clues in Dilly, and eventually they too play at being Susan and Martin. The game goes on for another two in-game weeks. Ezekiel and Josleen are forced to spend time apart. Henry has to do Henry things and Emilia is busy teaching Harriet. Although they do not need sleep in this plane, they must pretend to sleep to mark the passing of time. They cannot speed time up at will the way Harriet can, but they can pantomime the passing of time. During pretend sleep, they must sleep apart. In fact, Josleen-Emilia tried to sneak into Ezekiel-Henry's bedroom one night and Harriet did not like that one bit. The house shook and her voice wailed, "Sharing beds is for mommys and daddys only!!" Their only interaction occurs when they plot the birthday carnival, but otherwise, they are starved of each other. Josleen misses him, his comforting arms, his reassuring kiss, but shoulders on, buoyed by a hope they buds in spite of her depression. It makes sense, doesn't it? This child was robbed of people who wanted to play with her, and robbed of her fifth birthday. Here they are, playing with her, and it will culminate in the grandest 5th birthday that Harriet's wild imagination can devise. It's just like in a haunted story. The restless spirit will find peace, and they will be free. For 14 'nights,' she repeats this line to herself, counting down to the day this poor child's spirit will be put to rest and they can escape this cage.

During those two weeks, Harriet speaks to Emilia and Henry, but the conversation never strays beyond the same old topics she always brings up in her game: dinosaurs, the war, ponies, and how two year olds are very immature, unlike four year olds. Riveting stuff. Should Ezekiel or Josleen try to redirect the topic outside of her narrow interests, she assumes control of them briefly until they are back in play line. They briefly meet Cornelius in game, but never chance upon George out of the game. Cornelis is an earnest horse lover and equestrian expert with an impressive mustache and monocle. George is a recluse.

Finally, the big day arrives. Josleen fake rises from her fake bed with a real smile. This is it. The big day. The liberating day. All of them will at last be free, including Harriet. It's all come to this. Harriet's imagination divines everything they plotted, from firworks to face paint to cakes shaped like a princess castle, to a real live triceratops, which Harriet rides as if it were a pony. The petting zoo animals can even talk and befriend Harriet. It's very sweet. Harriet is a good egg. Emilia is bustling, practically singing throughout the day. On some level, Josleen truly enjoys the carnival. It's a bittersweet send-off, but all the same she looks forward to the conclusion of their syrupy nightmare.

The party dwindles down to a natural end. The carnival disappears. The music and darkness returns. Harriet goes to play with her pony. Josleen and Ezekiel return to their native attire. No one is free.

Josleen stands in the lawn where the petting zoo once stood. Her gaze flits about the darkness looking for an exit, growing more desperate with each passing second. "No," she whispers. That hope she cultivated is uprooted and thrown over the edge of the lawn into the abyss. "No, no, no," she sobs. She falls to her knees, her shoulders hunched over and pinched in despair. Her face buries into her hands and she cries. Tears flood her palms. She doesn't care that she broke character. She doesn't care that Martha and Dilly are witnessing this breakdown. She can't care about anything. They're stuck here.

He wasn't exactly sure what was suppose to happen once the birthday party ended. He didn't think seeing to the party would grant them an exit. If anything, if Harriet enjoyed the party enough, he was afraid she'd fabricate more on her own accord. He'd stay in character and he'd follow through with the entire play. Him and some old friends from back in his military set off the fireworks and flares they had, while formulating a small show with percussion drums and a horn. All in all, it was a grand birthday party, something a child could literally dream of. He figured in some sense this was Harriet's dream. The characters acted in much the way she wanted them to, and as a man who grew up with no family.. admittedly, this was close to the same one he built in his own dreams.

When the lights turned off and blackness filled the world around them, he could feel his shoulders drop in disappointment. It wasn't necessarily because the plan didn't work, but more because of how broken and defeated Josleen looked. It broke his heart, ultimately to see her like this. He didn't care if Dilly or Martha saw and watched, he didn't care if he'd have to be subjected to another around as Harriet's brother. He just didn't care about anything anymore, he only cared about her and keeping her happy. “Hey..” He'd kneel down in front of her and wrap his one arm around her back, forehead pressed to hers, “Hey, shh.. don't cry. I'll figure something else out, I promise.” It was a steep promise to make, even if it was mostly meant to calm and reassure her. He could see a grim future here, to be honest, it wasn't something he looked forward to. “Hey, Josleen. Remember that day we met, well.. sort of. You were trapped and I stumbled upon you? You know, once the ice shattered and I fell, I was ready to just give up. I know I told you once before, but it was your music and song that kept me alive. Kept me going. I must have wandered around in that black abyss for weeks, maybe months.” Really, it was just a few days. “But your song gave me hope. Please don't give up, Jos, I need you right now.” He even leaned in to press a short kiss to her forehead before getting up. “Martha, could you maybe help her inside?”

He'd leave her side and pass between the three, making his way up the steps so that he could look for Harriet. He knew the story was on pause, and he knew he'd have to say something that she'd like in order to get her attention. Well, he had something else on his mind, and depending on how well the four year old would take it, she'd either accept or reject it. He walked in all dramatically and crossed his arms. He popped down into a chair and huffed once, sighing loudly. “I sure wish I had a mommy and daddy. I'm so sad right now. That poor lady outside is crying and I can't fix her.. owie?” He was getting better at this, but still had some kinks to work out. It was a long shot, but it was something. He didn't know exactly what was suppose to happen, but any direct interaction with Harriet was a plus. She'd let them stay in character and mostly in control for the entire party, maybe this one time, he could interact with her as Ezekiel, the boy who didn't have the love and affection of a family.

Josleen clings to Ezekiel's body when he embraces her. She buries her face in his neck, unable to stop the tears from soaking him. His presence is the only comforting thing in this living nightmare. However, when Ezekiel proclaims he needs her, her anguish deepens and a cry shudders past her lips. His need only brings into sharper focus her impotence in this place. "I can't. ...I'm not me anymore, Eze..." she whispers fearfully. "How can I be me? Look at this place. It's just..." She takes his hand in both of hers, holding it stiffly between them. Her gaze is intense, as if trying to sell him on her new philosophy. She tries again to explain.


"Before this place, I was always self-posed, 100% of the time. I had agency. Time moved forward at a consistent pace. My body needed things - sleep, breath, food. There was weather and landscapes changed slowly over time, not at the whim of a single creator. Here, none of those things are true. The physics has changed, and for that reason my behavior and thought process is fundamentally changed." She hesitates before explaining her dread. "Hasn't this place changed us to our core? Can we say we are Ezekiel and Josleen with certainty? I sometimes feel like I am a whole new being, a new entity altogether, and the cruel part is that I am left with the memories and the appearance of my old existence."


Herein lies the nature of her existential despair: it's a crisis of the self. She doubts the very core of her identity. "The only question left to me now is... is my old incarnation dead? Or is it on hold to be resumed if I ever escape this place? Is it frozen, or fundamentally changed for good?" Kyl'oriel taught his daughter to think critically, philsophically - to question. The problem with the philosophical mind is it is quick to despair - especially when confused. It makes sense that after that little trip down identity-crisis lane Ezekiel would prioritize finding a way out of here; Josleen's struggling to keep it together. His kiss and departure leave her empty, but that's more or less a consistent feeling for the woman of late.

Martha escorts Josleen inside, but soon gives her space. Shortly after, George comes to Josleen. "I heard your questions. I understand you, and I have the same questions myself. Come, I want to show you something." He walks towards the stairs, waiting for Josleen to follow. She hesitates briefly. So this must be George. Martha warned them about George, but what is there to fear? Death? It would be a welcome change of pace, but Martha also made it clear that this place isn't kind enough to deliver them that sweet, final repose. Should she fear pain? Josleen would laugh sardonically at that. No physical pain could excede the numbing ache of her despair. She follows George up to the attic.

Ezekiel soon finds that the music is gone and the abyss has been replaced by another sunny, picturesque country landscape. However, this time he is not Henry Archibold the II, but instead a dark-haired, dark-eyed boy of about 5 years with no name. Harriet appears before him, wearing a knee-length, sleeveless sun dress. Her entire body is covered in bloody, cracked flash. Her blood-filled eyes turn towards Ezekiel. "You don't have a mommy and daddy?" she asks with concern. "You want to share my mommy and daddy?"

It was those memories she talked about that kept him alive on in the inside. Every single day he had to remind himself of who he was, and what he did. He was Ezekiel Malovich, a young aspiring mage head over heels the woman trapped inside this nightmare with him. They were at a party and sneaked off to accidentally find an enchanted dollhouse, the same in which they were trapped in. He repeated this in his head daily, sometimes more than once. When he'd been taken control of, he did his best to blur his focus, tried his hardest to ignore the story he was apart of. Sometimes it worked, but when flooded with the emotions and memories of a man who had everything he wished for as a child, it wasn't possible. Henry had a family, a mother and father who loved him, and a little sister he loved. He had a heroic past of glory and valor, having fought in a victorious war that everyone praised him for. The reason Ezekiel found it so easy to cope with this nightmare was because in some way, it was an old dream from way back. It was the picture perfect family that he'd envisioned as a little boy, when hiding in closets under stairs, crying his eyes out.

So when Harriet changed his appearance to better match that faded dream, he nearly panicked. He didn't want to be that little boy again. That little boy had nothing but mountains of books and a very angry father. On the outside, he was a wonderful man. A renown professor at the local mage college, admired by many, hated by two: the boys mother and the boy himself. Ezekiel never knew why she left, they fought a lot. She usually yelled at him about things he wasn't, or things he had became. Complained about the days he disappeared and the love he never showed them. He was more in love with himself, his fame and glory, admirers alike, and not the family he'd started. When she left he broke a lot of things, used his magic irresponsibly. He'd accidentally set a room in the house on fire and blamed Ezekiel for everything. He blamed the little boy for everything that went wrong in his life, and as a result, his self loathing and hate got him fired from the college. He'd taken his problems from home to work. From there everything went down hill. When he became of age, he was to apply for admittance to the college, it was there he learned he possessed no magical talent; no affinity for it like his father had. The poor teenager was nearly put into a coma that night. It wasn't until weeks of healing later, he ran away and started his life as a wandering mage, striving to obtain just the tiniest sliver of magical capability.

Ezekiel took a moment to glance down and inspect the clothes, the hair, the tiny fingers and the scar on his left hand. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but muse over the fact it would be gone years from now, scar, limb and all. The boy looked up from his seat in the chair to the little girl that asked him the question. He moved to the edge of the seat, his legs were dangling due to his new age, but he'd eventually stand with both feet on the ground. “I- I didn't get to have a mommy and daddy for long.” That voice.. that tiny voice of his. He was glad Josleen wasn't in the room to hear this. “He.. He was mean to mommy, and mommy left. Then my daddy was mad at me every day after that.” He wasn't acting or changing his voice to better suit the child like appearance. In a way, a lot of this was the little boy speaking from the heart. It made the full grown adult inside sad. “I'm ok now. That lady-” he pointed in Josleen's general direction, “She made me happy again. B-But.. now she is sad. She has a mommy and a daddy already. They love her so much, and she loves them a lot, too. She is crying because she misses them. She wants to go home and see them, but she can't because she is trapped here.” Much like a child, he continued to ramble away, almost without pause or break, stopping when he had to take a breath. “I'm ok now without a mommy or a daddy, but she needs hers. I wish I had ones like yours, so that they could help me get her back to Her mommy and daddy.”

Dilly and Martha, as much as they were eavesdropping, kept their distance. Truth be told, they weren't really sure how Harriet would react to the little boy's rambling, but there was concern in their eyes. The little boy reached around and scratched his left elbow and coughed, unable to sit still for long. He wanted so badly to go find Josleen, but she'd stopped crying some time ago, when exactly he couldn't say. Things happened so quick and fast in this place, or at times for months on end. Even though he was somewhat himself and in control, Harriet had taken control at some point to keep him as the little boy he was. “My name is Ezekiel, what's yours?”

Harriet frowns severely at Ezekiel's story. She is silent and patient throughout, only speaking when he's finished and asked her for her name. "My name is Harriet." Like most children, she gives her name along with descriptors that define her. "I am five, I like triceratops because they can breathe fire, my big brother Henry is a hero, and one day I'm going to be a pony doctor." Not a general vet; ponies only. All other animals need not apply. Although her descriptors are awesome, she quickly returns to his story, her disposition fading to empathetic sadness. "How come that lady is stuck here? Why can't she see her mommy and daddy?"

Five year old Ezekiel scratched his nose and climbed back into the chair. He'd end up sitting on his knees while leaning his body on the arm of the chair. “We don't know. We are both stuck here. All the peoples are.” He'd sit up a little more, putting more of his weight on the arm rest. He couldn't sit still, like any child, he had all that energy and couldn't spend it all quick enough. He wanted to ask her so many questions, so many direct, demanding questions, but he knew he couldn't. Questions like, why was she holding them there, or why she hadn't 'moved on', and instead remained attached in this dollhouse. He mostly wanted to ask her how to get out of this place, but he highly doubted the five year old knew such an answer. They were her toys and he had a hunch she wouldn't want to give them up. “We just want to go home. Can you help us?” Maybe a suggestive question could lead to more insight. He couldn't help but wonder where she was right now, and if she were still crying. He frowned.

Harriet's non-existent brows pinch in confusion. "What do you mean you are stuck here? Where?" When he asks her for help, she shrugs and shakes her head. "Where is your home? I don't understand... but, Miss Emilia knows!. Miss Emilia knows everything!"

As if on cue, Miss Emilia enters the room. "Hello Lady Harriet!" Miss Emilia bows clumsily towards the childern. "And who's this?" It's clear from the childish, stuttering nature of her movements and dialogue that Harriet is in control, not Josleen. Josleen sits behind Emilia's glassy eyes as spectator, witnessing Ezekiel as a child for the first time. It is undeniably him. She'd recognize those dark eyes anywhere. He looks so sad; she wishes she could reach out to him.

Harriet introduces Ezekiel and Emilia leans forward to shake the little man's hand. "Hello Ezekiel!"

Harriet explains, her shoulders lifted in a frozen shrug throughout her statement, "Ezekiel is stuck here and wants to go home." Emilia frowns with the boy and leans forward in her stand, hands on her knees. "How are you stuck? You look perfectly free to me! Do you mean you want to go outside? Why don't we go for a walk? The three os us. It's a beautiful day." It's always a beautiful day.

Ezekiel felt his stomach sink when he realized she hadn't the faintest clue. He was afraid this would happen, he didn't want to tell Josleen because he needed to keep her thinking positively. That went right out the window along with his plan. For the first time since their arrival, he'd repeat after her and silently think to himself, we're stuck. The little boy pulled his knees to his chest and hugged them with his tiny arms, sighing quietly against them. What made it worse was Harriet summoned Josleen in the guise of Emily. Even if she wasn't in control, he didn't want her to see him like this. He felt vulnerable, weak, tiny.. all things she'd done away with. Even more, she'd see the little boy with not only sadness in his eyes, but a darkish blue circle under one. “I- I don't want to go for a walk. I want- I.. I want to go home. I don't want to play house, I don't want to be Henry, I don't want to live in this world..” He'd tried so hard to be strong for Josleen. He held his chin high and pushed the worry of this world to the back of his mind while trying to figure it out. He tried to figure out what made it tick, what gave it the energy to keep on going. How was it this nightmare was fueled? “I'm sorry Jos, I tried.” By now Harriet and Emily would be terribly confused. How much longer Harriet would let him continue, he didn't know. She'd most like reject this soon and Ezekiel would be whichever character she deemed fit. For now, the little boy in the chair just teared up and hugged his knees tighter. He pushed away from the edge and backed into the smallest corner of the large cushioned chair. It was hard to think like this, so scared and confused, feeling helpless and with the thoughts and memories of a five year old Ezekiel. He sniffled, “I want my mommy.”

All Ezekiel could do at this point was stay curled up and hidden from his problems while waiting for Harriet to stop it. She was in control and he was not. His one and only goal was to get them both out of here and he couldn't even follow through. She was stuck and it was all thanks to him, that's how he would feel. He should have told her no, should have drug her away from that door. If he could have been just a little more confident and not so afraid, he could have stayed outside and perhaps danced with her. Hell, maybe even dance with someone else. But because he was broken and she kept trying to fix him, they were stuck in this never ending purgatory of a child's imagination. “Can we just go home, Jos?” His face was hidden by now, buried in his arms while he sobbed quietly.

Harriet reassumes control of Child-Ezekiel when he breaks character. They play pretend. Emilia is released before Ezekiel is. In Harriet's latest game, Child-Ezekiel is a lion and she's a lion tamer. Who knows how long that lasts. Doesn't even matter in this place? Does any of this matter? Finally, Harriet leaves Ezekiel and Josleen to their native bodies - to that incessant whir of music and the dark abyss around their tiny, haunted island.

Josleen sits on the floor with her back against a bookshelf and pulls Ezekiel's head onto her lap. She combs her fingers through his hair repeatedly, staring down at him affectionately. "I know you tried, Ezekiel. I know you tried so hard." Her thumb fans fondly over his cheek. "I met with George," she whispers. "He keeps a journal of all his attempts to escape. He's... he's done quite a bit, but nothing has been successful. I read over some of his ideas, some of which included killing the others, hence the violence. He'll do anything to get out - he's a madman, but... Hell, at this point..." She forces an exasperated sigh to keep herself from sobbing. "I have an idea..." Her shoulders jostle in a helpless shrug. "It likely won't work, but it'll keep us sane to just... try. I don't know how to go about doing it." Her stroking extends past his hair over his shoulder and back. "I think we need to get Harriet to leave the dollhouse. In the game, I mean. Like, leave the property. George said he's tried but she always refuses to leave and comes up with excuses."

Ezekiel was thankful Harriet didn't separate them. He needed Josleen dearly, and he needed a moment to just sit, think and clear his mind. He stared emptily up past her, soothed by her gentle touch, craving and yearning for just one night, just one single night to cuddle with her in a bed like they use to. It didn't matter to him, how many limbs he'd have to lose, how many times he had to be attacked or the amount of blood and tears he'd have to shed, so long as he could end up in her arms at the end of the day, he would bare the weight of it all. In this situation, he'd play the role of Henry Archibold II and the sad little boy known as Ezekiel, trapped in a never ending cycle of nightmarish stories, all of which were played out by a five year old child that died years ago. Ezekiel was like a cat right now, and nuzzled his head against her lap. He was content right now, if they could just sit like this and be left alone.. Well, he'd have nothing to complain about. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that.” He mumbled against her as he closed his eyes. “That little boy feels more pain than you can imagine. I was reminded of just how much today.”

He went quiet for a little bit long and relaxed while those soft fingers trailed through his hair. It was times like these he was glad he didn't cut it. He'd listen to her discovery and wonder why it was he hid up in the attic. Was that where she designated him to stay, Harriet that is. Or was there something in the attic that kept him safe and hidden from her direct control? No, she'd seen him taken control of numerous times. He pushed it all to the back of his head just so he could listen to Josleen. “I'd imagine with her condition, she never left the plantation, let alone the house. She probably never even left her room. It made me wonder just who her parents were. All those toys, so many rooms full of toys. You don't think..” He shook his head and pulled his knees together. He'd been laying out across the floor. “A pony ride? A dinosaur ride, even. Perhaps a picnic off the property. Surly there has to be a way to get her to leave.”

When Ezekiel apologizes for being seen in that broken, vulnerable way, she shushes that line of thought away. It has no place here. His presence takes the sting out of her misery. He makes it easier to cope.

"I think George tried those kinds of tricks. The thing is, that's just moving the play around. She is content to play here and doesn't care about playing out there. I think we need to appeal to some other sensibility. Maybe like.. growing up? Taking a big step?" She hesitates before sharing her idea, stroking his hair, cheek, and jaw adoringly. "I was thinking... she could be entrusted to help ... you, the child version of you. Maybe she and Emilia can resolve to go find his.. your... parents. I know you don't want me to see you that way, but I think it may be our best bet. It gives her a responsibility, a mission. It helps her grow up."

Ezekiel opened his eyes and sat up, twisting so that he could face her. “I- I don't know. I mean, what if she doesn't buy it.. and I, me- that little boy, he doesn't need to brought into this.” There was a hint of panic in his voice, it was bad enough he'd had a breakdown as that child, he didn't need to relive his fear and anxiety. But he'd listen, he'd hear her out and as much as he knew she was right, he'd hesitate. Deep breath. He'd slowly go back to laying down so he could lay his head back in her lap. “If it can get us out of here.. then.. then let's do it.” He didn't want to and she could probably read as much. He'd do it for her though, if only to see her smile once more. “Hey.. if we ever get out of here, can we just hide in your bed for the rest of forever?” He joked somewhat, smiling while he closed his eyes. They were glossing over with the anxiety he felt. If somehow, some way Harriet was in control of his memories or the little boy of the past, he didn't know what he'd do. It was hard enough to keep from losing it as a child, it would be even worse if the figment of memories he had of his mother and father came to life. It was his only fear. He reached up and laid his hand across her knee and squeezed.

Josleen chuckles at his light joke about staying in bed. "If we ever get out of here, we can do whatever you want. We're done with my 'bright' ideas for awhile." The residual smile from her laughter fades fast, replaced by an concerned expression. She sees the anxiety setting in and she wishes more than anything she could pulls that black, inky, sticky thing off of him. "Maybe we don't have to involve your childhood. I'll think of something else. I'm good at that." There's no way she'll force him to do this. She can't ask it of him. Since the day they met, she's done what she can to protect him from his own demons, and even in this strange place, she isn't about to stop saving him from himself. Even if facing his tortured childhood could mean their freedom, she won't ask him to do that - she won't let him.

She slides out from under him and lies briefly alongside him on the floor, resting her head on his shoulder and rubbing her hand over his chest. "Remember the second time we met? At Eleenin's?" she grins at the memory. "You were so terrified when you saw me that you fell right over. That was the first time I really saw you. The first time we met is a blur. I was so terrified. But the second time... that's when I actually met you." She bites her lower lip, her gaze cast over his chest at a distant object. The musical loop underpins her reminiscing, a constant reminder of where they are. "In retrospect, it was a bit mad, that day, I mean. We had just met, and I invite you to stay in my apartment and, gods... I told you so much. So many things that I haven't told, well, anyone else, really. I just told you, not a care in the world." Her gaze turns up towards his in search of the detail there. She finds it hard to smile genuinely in this place, but in this shared moment she is able to let go of her despair, for however brief it may last.

With a deep breath she disperses the moment and sits up slowly. "We should try this. Let's get Martha and Dilly in on it so they can try to help nudge Harriet in that direction too." Her shoulders sag as she realizes this is likely futile, but working as a team towards a common goal can only help. These people are her family now, in a way, and likely will be for eternity.

The four dolls, Martha, Dilly, Ezekiel, and Josleen, conspire and fine tune the details of this plot. True to her word, Josleen tries to find a to keep Ezekiel's past out of this. The new plan she devises is to pretend all of them save Emilia are fatally ill. Harriet will likely reject this, but Josleen shares a little insight. Apparently, George managed to behead the pony by trying it over and over and over. He was rejected scores of times, until finally, it happened. Harriet has a strong will, but after all is said and done, it's still a child's will which can be overcome. Granted, Harriet quickly corrected the dead pony, but he succeeded. Josleen thinks that if she stays true to Emilia, she can get Harriet to accept the illness plot quickly. In this plot, Harriet will be the hero. Emilia will explain that their illness can be cured if Harriet goes off to find a special herb that only little girls can see - therefore Emilia cannot see it. Josleen tries to involve George in their plot, but he doesn't care to socialize or conspire. He's obsessed with spending all his "free" time in the attic. He's an addict to whatever it is he hides up there.

Ezekiel didn't mind the distraction. Laying there quietly, reminiscing about how they met, the crazy events that followed. As hectic as it had been, it made him smile; he wouldn't have traded it for the world. When she slid out from under him and repositioned, he'd wrap his one and only arm around her body and hold her loosely. He slid his hand up her back and trailed his fingers through her hair much like how she'd done for him. It was little moments like these, he could forget about his troubles no matter how severe they were. At least, if only for a moment. A moment in this hell felt like an eternity. Was this hell? He'd began to wonder from time to time. “It was that song.. Trapped in my mind like I was, it was the last thing I heard; the only thing I heard. I could watch from afar, much like how do now, but I didn't have a house to float on, just myself and myself only. Your song, it kept me company, it gave me hope. It was a beautiful song, I told myself when and if I ever got out of that abyssal darkness, I'd find you.” And it was true, after he'd woken up beside Eliason and fled the scene, he bumped into the dragon that gave him refuge for the night. He might not have been in his right state of mind, but even to her, he swore he'd go back to find the lady in the ice. And he did. “And just think, I actually spent the entire night on the couch. I'd been offered some in the past, but never did I stay. Sometimes I'd wait till they were gone before slipping out into the night.” He'd shrug against her head and sigh. “I'm glad I did though, stayed I mean.” He'd meet her gaze with a soft smile and lean in to press a caring kiss to her forehead. From there he'd sigh and return to the grim question at hand.

As much as he'd try and suggest using his childhood to her, she seemed pretty set on going with her own. He'd beg and plead with her, telling her he had no problem with doing it, but she saw through his guise. Before long he'd just fall back against his chair and listen while she explained the plan to Martha and Dilly. It was a brilliant plan he'd admit, but something about traveling with Josleen-Emilia and Harriet using him as a child seemed like it would have a bigger impact. Something about growing up and moving on seemed to fit his role better. “When would you like to do this?” He'd fiddle with a fake wooden cup, running his finger around the rim. “Listen, Josleen.. we can- I promise I'll be fine, we can use me. If your plan doesn't work, can we?” He bit his lip. “Not that I don't think it will work, I mean- A backup plan. Can we use it as a backup plan, at least?” Whether or not she agreed with him, he'd not argue or talk about it anymore. Instead he'd just sit back and wait till all the details were ironed out.

Using Ezekiel's painful past as bait isn't really an option Josleen considers too seriously. Sometimes the means don't justify the end. Besides, even if Ezekiel did want to employ his childhood as a mean to a liberating end, Josleen doesn't believe an exit exists. It would be a hopeless exercise in emotional torture that will only make their stay heremore grim. Her plan will also likely result in nothing, but at least it unites this cast of characters towards a common goal. All they have is each other and they may as well play as they wish, not just as Harriet wishes. Ezekiel's offer to use his childhood as a Plan B is met with an indifferent shrug. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there.Let's not worry about that now..."

The game starts. The character commit to their roles. Much like with the birthday ploy, they mark days by sleeping in fake beds. Fake day after fake day passes and Harriet rejects the illness. Josleen does what she can to introduce the idea as Emilia by talking about Susan's fever whenever she controls Emilia. However, often, Harriet just robs Josleen of control. About 8 fake days pass before Harriet accepts that Ezekiel-the-Child is sick. It's more difficult for the child to accept that her family members are sick. She plays doctor with Ezekiel-the-Child, and eventually comes to enjoy the nurturing experience. After about 10 fake days, she accepts that her family members are ill too,and then Cornelius, by casualty of their plot, falls ill. George doesn't seem to enjoy this one bit, but he is rarely given control of Cornelius these days. Poor Ezekiel flickers between the dual rolls of Henry and Child-Ezekiel, sometimes under his control, and sometimes under Harriet's.

Slowly, Josleen starts to introduce the idea of magical herbs and medicines, without setting Harriet on any missions too quickly. She doesn't want to spook the girl by racing to the goal. She perfected this ability with Ezekiel, actually. She learned to push patiently with him, to coax him into letting her in.

A fake month passes, but it feels so real. Josleen refuses to break character long past the point most would have called it quits. Harriet's slow progress in accepting the plot encourages her to keep going. However, the fact she doesn't break character means that it feels as though she has spent a month cruelly seperated from Ezekiel. She can't interact with him. They can't hold each other and whisper memories as they did seemingly weeks ago. She misses him terribly. When she lies there marking the fake passing of time with feigned slumber, she closes her eyes and pretends he holds her. She tries to recall his scent. With each passing night it becomes more difficult to remember how he feels.

On the 40th day, Harriet agrees to go in search of the medicinal flower only she can see. This is it - the moment they've been working towards. Will she simply will the flower into existence and leave nothing changed? Will she leave but return? Will she leave, and not return, but they are still stuck? Will she leave, and this plane crumbles and they die? Having never truly believed they would reach this point, Josleen never considered the possibilities. Will this be the end and she'll be robbed of a chance to say goodbye? She panics, and in that moment wants to break character and run to Ezekiel and prepare for what may happen - though it may likely be nothing at all. But what if? Unfortunately, she isn't in control of Emilia at the moment. She is powerless. Emilia waves goodbye to Harriet who steps off the lawn, into the abyss, and vanishes.

The music stops. The dollhouse and the abyss remain unchanged.

The dolls, all five of them, are once again self-possessed. Josleen bursts out of Emilia and barrels towards the house where Ezekiel's characters recently lay ill in bed. "EZEKIEL!" She shouts at the house, her voice shrill and panicked. Her voice pierces through the new silence. The lack of music amplifies her voice. It sounds strange to hear her own voice unaccompanied by that nursery song. She doesn't know what to feel. She feels everything. All emotions flood through her at once, but despite the tenor of the noise inside her, everything pushes her towards Ezekiel. "EZEKIEL!"

Then, something remarkable happens. George runs out the front door, past Josleen, jumps into the abyss, and ... disappears.

On day 40, he followed his role as intended and simply laid there in bed, sick. He ran a fever, suffered from the chills and occasionally coughed, but for the most part he seemed fine. Luckily for him, Harriet knew of being sick in one way, and it wasn't her condition. But on the 40'th day, he laid there, doubting his existence and the success of this plan and then something new happened. The music stopped. Had he died? Was it over? Did they win or had she won? Ezekiel.. he heard his name, and sat up. Again, it was Josleen, not Emily. She was calling for him and getting closer. Could it truly be her? Or was this part of the game, no. Only one person called his name like that, “Josleen?” He said quietly to himself. She wouldn't hear it, but it was confirmation. He had control, Henry would never speak her name. The man sat up and pushed the covers back, swung his legs off the bed and sat. He waited with eyes fixed on the door.

Josleen erupts through the door and runs to Ezekiel, arms outstretched, impatient to reach him. She clutches him tightly, exhaling with relief but not releasing him until her nerves have calmed significantly. Eventually she looks up at him, a slow grin growing wild on her lips. "Harriet left."

Martha and Dilly are already running outside onto the lawn. The spin in wild circles, arms outstretched as if enjoying the first rain after a long drought, but what they enjoy now is the silence. The music is finally gone! Sweet sweet silence! Dilly grabs Martha in a barn-yard dance pose and they do a brief little silly barn dance in playful celebration. Dilly even tries to do a cartwheel, but sort of flops forward rather than wheel over onto his feet. He doesn't care. They're ecstatic. But soon it dawns on them that they're still here. What now? "Josleen! Ezekiel!" the call towards the dollhouse. And reluctantly, they even call "George!" Though admittedly, his name is more hissed whereas Josleen and Ezekiel were called kindly.

Ezekiel's heart skipped when she came bursting through the door. “Josleen..” He'd mumble her name while she scooped him up and he held her back with his one arm. He'd squeeze and rub her back, clutch at her dress and even plant a few desperate kisses to both cheek and forehead. “She left? The music, it stopped.. for how long? Josleen, what do we do now?” He could hear the others calling from outside but figured they could wait a few minutes. He was enjoying the company of a dear friend that meant the world to him, for the first time in 40 days. He'd lean back from her embrace and whisper; the silence was almost too much. “We should go soon.. she could be back any second.” He didn't really know if that were true, but why risk it? They'd earned a moment of true freedom, what they did with it was up to them.

When Ezekiel plants kisses on her face, she steals one on the lips and savors it, her expression pinching the way it does when one enjoys the perfect meal. She missed him so much. She doesn't want to go down to Martha and Dilly either, but they really don't have moments to waste. Her fingers lace with his and they head out to the lawn.

Martha throws her hands over her head and wiggles in that stiff embarassing way older women do when trying to be cool after they score a goal in beach volleyball or something similar. It would be groan-worthy in any other situation, but here, it is highly appropriate. It makes Josleen grin. Dilly also grins like a happy idiot.

"Have you seen George?" Martha asks. Josleen nods. " I did. He ran past me as I ran into the house. He... he jumped! Just jumped and vanished." Martha and Dilly look awestruck. George left. To where? Who knows. Is it a better place? Is it a worse place? Is it home? The uncertainty of that jump - that blind leap in the truest sense of the word - starts to dampen their spirits. A silence settles among them. They withdraw into private thoughts and fears. They have an opportunity to change their situation, but they don't know where they'll end up.

Finally, Dilly breaks the silence with a fearful whisper, "Will you jump?" Martha hesitates before nodding. "Anything is better than this, dear. We've been here far too long." They embrace.

Josleen looks anxiously to Ezekiel. She leads him a few feet away from Martha and Dilly, casting a glance over her shoulder at them to communicate silently that they need space. The distance affords them some privacy. Josleen rubs at her collarbone, her face tight with apprehension and fear. Her lips part as if to speak but words fail her. The problem is obvious. If they stay here, they are doomed to the maddening island of a dollhouse. If they jump, they may never see each other again. In fact, given all the possibilities that may await them in that abyss, it's almost unlikely this will have a happy ending. This could likely be their final goodbye.

He stood on the lawn with her hand in his, never once letting go. He didn't say much, to Martha or Dilly, but simply listened. George had jumped over the edge and disappeared. Swallowed by that intimidating darkness, perhaps never to return again. Had he died? Was he floating in dead space? Did he simply cease to exist? Or did he actually manage to find a way out of the dollhouse? They'd never know until they tried themselves. He had to admit, it was intimidating. “Jos, hey.. I-” He paused when they moved away from Martha and Dilly, privacy was much needed right now. “I don't know if this is the smartest thing to do, but.. I'm sorry. I can't. I won't do this dollhouse nightmare anymore.” He let go of her hand for the first time since leaving the house and reached around her back. He'd squeeze the back of her right shoulder while resting his chin on the other. He tickled her ear with a warm sigh and dropped to a whisper. “But know that whatever you chose to do, I'll be there by your side.” He was addicted, “be it 40 days or 40 minutes, anytime I'm away it hurts. I just wanted to say, thank you.” If ever there was a time to get sappy, now was it.

He leaned back so that he could fix his gaze on hers, but that only resulted in him pressing his forehead against Josleen's instead. He couldn't let go, nor could he get enough. Their time spent in this dollhouse had brought him closer to her in ways the real world couldn't. Then again, it broke and twisted him in ways that only time would tell, if it were repairable or not. “Thank you..” he'd whisper, “I.. I..” He folded and pressed his lips to the top of her head instead. He couldn't finish that last sentence, even if this was possibly the last time they'd see each other. For now he just rocked back and forth with her in his arm and glanced towards Martha and Dilly. They were chatting in hushed tones between themselves.

Josleen's sinks into his embrace, relieved he can't see the way her lips work and quiver the way they do before an ugly cry. The cry doesn't quite come just yet, but he face has definitely have more attractive expressions. When he leans back, she hides her lips behind a hand, struggling to keep it together. It isn't fair. None of this is fair. "I'm jumping too. I can't stay here... Ezekiel, I'm so so sorry. I'm so sorry." Her hand wipes at her mouth, jaw stretching a bit to try and dislodge the knot in her throat. It twinges her voice. "I've been so cruel. I haven't always been my best self to you. You deserve so much better than what I gave you in the apartment every morning. I don't know why I-" She has to glance away just to try to find something to compose herself on, but all she finds in darkness. She shuts her eyes tight against the regret, pushing back tears. She takes a couple deep breathsto at least restore her ability to speak. "If I could do it all over again, it would be different. I'd be so good to y-you." She falls into his arms and tries to commit to memory the feel of his body, the way he holds her, his scent. Just in case.

Martha and Dilly hold hands and look to Ezekiel and Josleen. Although they say nothing, it is clear from their open and receptive body language that they intend to wait for them so that the four may jump together.

Poor Ezekiel didn't know what to do in times like these. It was one to lack the skills to socially interact with anyone and everyone on a day to day basis, but to take care and console them when in tears? It was all so new and admittedly, he was nervous. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he did something to make it worse? Could he ask for a hint? He took a brief second to silence the doubt and worry in his mind regarding her and let it out with a deep breath. He'd plant one last kiss at her forehead before whispering quietly, “You.. You were better to me than anyone else in my life. I- I want to thank you. Please don't be sorry.” He'd say nothing more till they moved towards the edge of the small little island. She'd need a little coaching mostly because she seemed pretty stuck on wanting to just stand there holding him, but eventually he'd get her to stand at his side with the other two.

He stood at the furthest left while Josleen waited on his right. He held her hand tightly in his with all fingers entwined. He glanced once at the darkness below before fixing his stare on the woman at this side. It hurt to see her in tears, even if a part of him found it in some ways painfully adorable. It broke his heart to see her like this and he couldn't help but wonder if this was what she felt for him when he'd been at his worst. “Hey, wait for me on the other side?” It was a figurative comment, none of them knew what was on the other side; it was a wild guess that turned up more doubtful responses than positive. They didn't care, a mysterious fate versus an endless eternity of being used as a child's toy was nothing in comparison to the misery they'd been put through. “Ready?” He whispered again.

Josleen embraces Martha and Dilly briefly, thanking them for their kindness, before standing beside Ezekiel. She tightens her grip on his hand, not wanting to let him go, hoping that physical contact will keep them together no matter where they end up. Her gaze deepens to that private one they share - the one that looks for the details and finds the other's truth. It is holding this stare that they fall forward into the darkness.

Ezekiel floats. He sees darkness. Moments pass and he is utterly alone. He is without body or feeling.

Back Home

Lids lift like a curtain and his native world looks flipped 90 degrees. He knows he is home intuitively. It's like a stamp on the soul - a honing skill on one's home plane. It feels however briefly like he is where he belongs, even if by social standards he is not where he should be, for he is still on the forbidden floor of that forbidden nursery room at the estate in Southern Xalious. A couple feet away from him, Josleen is just beginning to stir as well. Behind her, Ezekiel alone can see the dead spirits of Martha and Dilly who smile, relax, and fade away. George is also here, but unlike the peaceful Martha and Dilly, George is consumed with anger. He doesn't move on. He rages out of the nursery, rattling shelves of toys in his wake.

Ezekiel took a deep breath and held it while they tipped over the edge. As they fell he'd turn to face her and press as closely to her body as he could. Somewhere during their decent he'd try to whisper something but only made it as far as mouthing the words; even those were unreadable. He squeezed his eyes shut, released his breath and held onto her for dear life. Somewhere in the fade of darkness, he'd lose her. He felt nothing; he felt no one, not even the panic that should have been there. He didn't suffer long, the empty floating he felt grew heavier and heavier until he felt the weight of his body pressing down against the wooden floor. He blinked slowly and took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He didn't move; he was afraid to move. He saw Josleen- then suddenly he didn't seemed all that bother by moving. He crawled to his knees, stumbled once due to the missing limb he'd forgotten he lost and ended up at her side. He sat on his knees with both legs spread out and wrapped her in his arm. He embraced and held her like he'd never held her before, the sight of those two fading spirits left him in tears. She would feel each warm little drop paint her shoulder while he lost control of his breathing. Much like the nightmare he'd woken from that night in the shaman's tent, he'd react the same tonight. He didn't have anything to say, he didn't want anything to say. He just wanted to hold her against him and never let go. He'd spend as long as it took for her to gather her barrings before getting up. It was over, the nightmare was gone and they were home. But best of all, he had her. That's all he ever wanted in the beginning.

Josleen holds Ezekiel just as tightly, her hands roaming his back and pushing into him like she'll never be close enough. She sobs and cries in such a way that it's hard to tell if she is overwhelming happy or overwhelmingly sad, but given the circumstance, it's likely the former. Once she's exhausted her relieved tears, she kisses him deeply and unhurriedly, relishing him until she needs a breath. "Let's go home," she whispers.

At the party, only a few hours have passed. Most guest have left, but a few still linger in the garden and first floor parlor, drinking and laughing, oblivious to Josleen and Ezekiel's existence. The band has left, and took the liberty of leaving Josleen's things piled near the wait staff's door with an angry note. She missed her opportunity to solo and seek a patron, and she left the band without a member for the remainder of the gig. Josleen doesn't react to what would have been just hours ago a devastating upset. Her personal definition of devastating has been redefined. This is now just barely a mild inconvenience. Carriages are conveniently lined on the front drive to shuttle guests away. The rich really do have a gift for detail - and a wallet to back it up.

In the carriage, Josleen continues to hold Ezekiel. Although they have technically not been apart, to her it feels like they were apart for 40 days, then reunited for a few painful minutes to say good bye and be torn apart. She feels no need to look back and talk about that nightmare. There's no need to debrief; she just wants to forget. She leans against him, listening to his heartbeat and breath. "I don't want to sleep in seperate beds. My parents can just deal with it." Her words come hushed but self-assured. It feels nice to be in full possession of one's own body again.

Just as they were about to leave, he'd stop in the doorway and hold them back. He'd kiss her once on the forehead and tell her wait wait for just one minute while he doubled back to do one last thing in this empty nursery. He could see Josleen panicking as he approached the dollhouse, but held up a hand to reassure her he wasn't going to do anything foolish. Instead, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and retrieved the small hummingbird he'd created for this specific party. A part of him felt bad for the little girl, they'd fabricated a lie to trick a child out of her toys and only company. Whether or not she moved on for good, no one would know, but just in case he'd leave her with a friend. He'd carefully set the small ball down inside the dollhouse without touching it, and very quickly backed away. From there he'd tangle his fingers with hers and quietly leave the room.

From there, it was just a matter of navigating the dying party while carrying Josleen's equipment. He felt numb to the anxiety he'd initially felt when first arriving. After what felt like an eternity in that dollhouse, braving a few bumped shoulders and elbows was nothing to him; at least for the remainder of the night. Once inside the carriage, he'd lean and rest his head on hers, his cheek wiggling and bouncing gently with each rut in the road they hit. He half held her in his lap and kept his arm around her back. He rubbed soft circles from start to finish, afraid to let her slip away if even for a moment. He was quiet, terribly quiet. Even though they had escaped and were free, he had things on his mind he'd never hoped to visit again. Josleen saw that little boy and his breakdown, and one day he'd have to explain that part of his past to her.

But for now, they were free, and she at his side. He was content. “Let's pray your father doesn't take my head off for it.” He smiled jokingly, he needed to smile.