EMPYREA, Research Facility 002.

#GHRevelation2025

[revelation-research]

( Blade, Kallen Kaslana, Mr. Reca )

The afterlife looks different than you imagined it would. The afterlife looks bright, at first. Your eyes struggle to adjust not just to light but the sheer amount of it, white walls and ceilings greet you, a white floor too if you're so inclined to investigate such a thing so soon. The afterlife looks like a hospital, sterile and not a thing out of place. It looks like a row of examination beds, like rows upon rows of them. Not a single one is empty, but the contents of each have been draped in sheets. The afterlife is a morgue, or maybe it isn't. Because you are alive. You can feel your heart beating, warmth beneath your skin. This is not the afterlife, the fluorescent lights are not heaven. They are a lab, and you are one of a hundred of its rats. Two beds that are not your own have begun to shift, it seems you are not the only living thing here. "Boss!" Something squawks, its voice just automated enough to assure you that it is not among the beating hearts in the room. "Look alive, look alive!" You're not sure how you didn't notice him before, how you didn't notice the window that seems to span an entire wall. Behind it is a man, slightly slouched and nose deep in what would appear to be a tablet. A mechanical bird perches on his shoulder, the source of the squawking, and pecks at his ear until he looks up finally. Two fingers to the bridge of his glasses to push them upright, he seems to sigh. "Ah. It would be about that time..." He wrinkles his nose. "It seems the game's over for you."

Where the hell are you?

Definitely not dead, that much is for sure! Though you're not to sure what this is, either... Welcome to your enclosure for the rest of the event! If you're lucky, maybe a few more faces will be finding their way here too.

So what can I do?

Consider yourself apart of the secret fifth team! This group is different than the others, however, as you will not be getting the same narrative updates as the others.

You may:

Interact amongst yourselves (and any new faces to join your crowd.)

Interact with this blog. That weird man isn't always in the window, but you're more than welcome to flag him down and see what you might can learn about this whole situation.

You may not:

Interact with other groups or start new interactions with anyone outside of this one.

I'm not in this group, what does my muse know?

Nothing. As far as anyone outside of this team is aware, the characters within it are dead. Any information divulged in interactions between muses here is not known by your characters. Please avoid metagaming.

[revelation-research]

Conclusion.

At first, he had only stepped away for a minute. And then a minute became thirty, an hour, hours. Long enough to beg the question of how you're supposed to eat in here, of just how long you'll have to remain. There are five of you. A sheet rustles. There are six of you. Seven, eight, nine... The entire room, seemingly all at once. Familiar faces, strangers, people you've never met all trapped in the same sterile cell. There is no sign of that researcher, not even his odd bird. Only silence and brilliant white, the company of every body you recall stepping off the ship to Paradise. The power goes out, swaths your single room of a world in darkness. Somewhere, a generator might be humming. It does not last very long, the lights do not return. The darkness is endless, impossibly empty and yet so miserably full of bodies. Trapped here, sentenced to the same fate. Reprieve comes in a single sliver of light, the opening of a door. There hadn't been one before, or maybe there had been all along. It doesn't matter, someone will step through it. And what they will find is freedom. Paradise in ruin— or perhaps what had never been paradise at all. There is the grand entrance to the corpse of a hotel, a beach of stone and murky green ocean so thick with seaweed it might be better considered sludge. A city in ruin, crumbling down upon itself, and a forest barren of leaves such that you can see the horizon through it. There are no voices to tell you what to do, there is no researcher to scowl at your questions. No guide to show you this nightmare the world has become, only the crushing reality that this is perhaps what it always was. In the sky, the silhouettes of airships begin to appear. They promise homecoming, escape from this faux-heaven. They promise that it will end.

Wishing farewell to Paradise.

The event has concluded! Information on prizes and claims will be delivered shortly. Thank you all for your participation!

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[memoriauteur]

The story certainly seems to be taking shape; while Penacony was molded with the Family's supervision, Empyrea appears to be more strongly affected by the wills of its guest stars, perhaps resulting in these present disasters in "Paradise." THE DIRECTOR opens his mouth to comment, but his attention is seized by a development behind them in the white room. The disjointed, confused haze of one suddenly thrust into new surroundings reaches him first, with the man's groans acting as confirmation.

THE DIRECTOR turns around. Someone new is awake. Someone who had even been at that fateful party that night, though they hadn't formally crossed paths--until now.

"Ah...~"

Out of consideration for AVENTURINE'S condition, he miraculously dials back the enthusiasm he's otherwise feeling. Still, he can't resist gesturing to the bed with a sweep of his arm.

"Actors? I do hate to interrupt our lovely exposition scene, but it appears a new cast member has arrived on the set..."

[arboriter]

This is not the afterlife.

Su sits up slowly, searching his surroundings with an air of confusion- his form once again untouched, and feeling as though nothing had quite happened. That was normal. What was unexpected was the sheet that drifted down from some point in space, suspended by something unknown. He slides off where he had awoken- or at least, makes a mimicry of the action, moving to stand on a sterile floor. Eyes open, blinking away light- the afterlife, his afterlife, had not been so bright.

And he had been alone. 

That is distinctly not the case here; surrounded by rows upon rows of bodies, carefully covered by the same white sheet that now holds nothing beneath. An eerie sight, at the very least, one that bids him a breathless,

“What in the world…?”

But he is not lost for long, as a voice cuts through any further thoughts, a little ways a way. A few figures, standing amongst the field of white (and a glass pane, one that calls to mind labs that he did not necessarily approve of.) Two unfamiliar, and…

Ah. So this is where she went. He supposes his wish to find her first was fulfilled. Kallen, the missing member of their group. Not in any particular rush, but having no desire to waste time, he drifts over to her side (and to join the two with her, he supposes).

[virtuouslife]

Infuriated by Jude's answers and enraged by his bird's stupid laughter, Kallen storms toward the window again. Or rather, she starts to—oblivious to the stirring white sheets among the examination beds. These are real people, tormented by real emotions, haunted by real regrets—how could anyone regard their lives as matters of interest? How could anyone seriously think of their existences as merely a performance?

“Performers? Actors? Do you hear yourselves?” She has no idea what Mr. Reca's allegiances are, surface disagreements with the researcher aside, but she can't ignore the seeming similarities in their rhetoric anymore. She's sick of it. Scenes, cast members—enough! “I'm a real person. That's a real person.” she gestures toward the blond individual sitting up in their examination bed, “All of us are r—”

Abruptly, she stops speaking, cut off from the source of her righteous anger. Bewilderment flashes through her eyes as she stares at them, belatedly registering what Mr. Reca had actually meant. Someone else has woken up—and she recognizes them. She's certain she does. Before she can pinpoint why, in the corner of her eye—

“Su?” Kallen turns toward him, startled, as he approaches, and the bewilderment etched clearly into her face shifts toward guilt, regret, fear. “Why are you...” Did he die, too? Had the rotting creatures overtaken the camp, despite her efforts? Her head swivels toward Jude again with renewed rage—with a sudden, sharp, unearned sense of betrayal. “Wait, what finale are you talking about? What's happening to the people still inside Empyrea?!”

@revelation-research / @memoriauteur.

[revelation-research]

"Actors are often real people," Jude retorts. The new arrivals don't seem to throw him off, though he looks almost more irate with each. His focus shifts back to the previously abandoned tablet, mouth screwed into a frown as he taps away at it.

The woman is asking questions again, which just serves to sink him deeper into the cushions of his chair. As if things could possibly get any worse for him, a ringtone begins blaring from his earpiece.

Promptly, he rips it off. It skips across the floor uselessly.

"I just told you that you'll be free to go. You refers to all of you," again he speaks as though such is obvious. Though he explains nothing of to where or in what shape. "That's all for questions. Do me a favor and fill in your new friends on our little chat, I've got a crisis to handle."

Where it lays, the earpiece is still blaring. The crow on his shoulder moves to scoop it up in its beak and find somewhere better to dispose of it.

@avcnturine @arboriter @memoriautuer

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[neverendingdeath]

Blade thinks carefully before he speaks. This man was Reca's sort. Rhetorically ask and that would be accepted as his question. They were needling, pushing where they should not push.

This was a place that could not exist. No such paradise attuned to all could exist. That was not what paradise was nor what it should be. This was a mimicry of vice. Desires and urges that could not hope to reach the depths of what true paradise was.

For all his inner turmoil, his face is still. His eyes travel back to the assistant director. He doesn't really want to throw the frog again. Aside from Reca on his back, he can't help but wonder what sort of methods they have to keep them in place if they somehow did manage to take out the cameras.

"Its nature --purpose-- is a mockery." He finally settles on leading with. "I believed the dreamscape to be the worst of it." The never ending headaches and the lights that never faded aside from in the darkest recesses. "Yet, you have outdone even it in desecration of that word."

"Paradise is not a place like this."

He rushes the window and arm, still stitching itself together leaks blood onto the surface. Red eyes do not seek to intimidate, not even to pierce. They simply stare.

"What is paradise to you then? Disappointing dinner dates and a job watching the unconscious?"

This place could never be a paradise of any sort for anyone. Naivete was all that kept such farce afloat.

@revelation-research / @virtuouslife

[virtuouslife]

All of this philosophy talk goes over Kallen's head—and quite frankly, sounds like made-up nonsense, too. She frowns, listening to Jude's useless non-answer, then to Blade's refutation. The sight of his arm bleeding again alarms her, and she twists the strip of cloth in her hand, now a balled fist—remembering the man's refusal, his strange self-healing. These questions don't sound like they'll get them any actual answers. Anything useful to get out of this room, or to wake up the sleeping bodies, or to get back to her endangered friends.

Frustrated, Kallen interjects before Jude has a chance to answer. “Penacony... This is just Penacony, but worse! At least in Penacony, there weren't rotting corpses paraded around by mushrooms!” An anger returns, bright and hot and unrelenting—as a realization clicks in her head. How dare this man toy with people's dreams? With their hopes and aspirations? How dare he bastardize them into a search for Paradise—whatever the fuck that means to him? She swings out her arm, gesturing toward the sea of white examination beds around them. “So, then—all these people. Us. We're just, what, stepping stones for you to find out what Paradise is?”

Bitterly, she glares at Jude. Her own Paradise is a distant dream, unachievable and harrowing. A haunting, permanent like death. Not—this, whatever it is, not the culling of defenseless, mindless human shells. Not the inability to protect, to change, to save. “What's your end goal with all of us? Why can't we leave, if our story's over?”

What she doesn't ask is—What's stopping me from just waking everyone up?

@revelation-research.

[revelation-research]

The man's lip curls, displeased with the mess being made of his otherwise spotless room.

"To me? Ha," the sound of laughter that drags from his throat is hardly one, more of a bitter sigh, "I don't believe in Paradise."

And then he smiles. "That's what makes me perfect for developing a place like this, isn't it? I've no illusions of what it should be, only what it is."

Though he does not elaborate on this, because his attention turns instead to Kallen. The mentions of Penacony seem to make his eye twitch, and he sniffs at her evident anger. Another adjustment of his glasses and the return of his companion to his shoulder.

"I prefer the term performers," he clicks his tongue, "the human concern for such an unreachable concept is the most interesting thing about them. You don't agree?" The bird squawks a looping laugh track, as though it has been programmed to do so. To the woman's proper question, however, he huffs an irritated sigh. It would seem his need to hear his own voice outweighs his interest in ensuring only a single question is answered.

"Because your story is over, but you are not the only people on this planet. You'll be free to go when this all ends, which it will." Of this he sounds certain. "You merely have to see it through to its finale, or else I'd have done all this work for nothing."

@memoriauteur @neverendingdeath @avcnturine

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[virtuouslife]

“We didn’t destroy anyth—” Kallen looks down at the strip of white cloth in one hand, and the metal support still in the other. “Oh.” Right, Blade had torn it off one of the examination beds. She lifts the thing up, examining it again, and decides to hold onto it, not at all embarrassed by her possession of it.

She has half the mind to say something else, to interject with a retort about the man’s—Jude’s—own lack of hospitality as a host. Sneering at his guests, keeping them in a strange, windowless room, disappearing for an hour to do who knows what. But she thinks better of it, letting him finish, her attention following his remark back to the assistant director on Mr. Reca’s shoulder, then to Blade, then back to Jude. “…Okay, we won’t throw the assistant director again.”

She answers for Blade without thinking, then tosses a meaningful glance in his direction, as if asking for temporary acquiescence. Please?

They have three questions among them. What should they ask? What should they say, to encourage a slip of the tongue? Kallen's never been good at this sort of thing. Playing the social game, interpreting subtleties, dissecting another person's psyche.

She chews on the inside of her cheek. “I can go last.”

@neverendingdeath / @memoriauteur.

[memoriauteur]

Only one question, eh... Tricky characters in positions of power have a nasty habit of revealing as little as possible when they give such offers. THE DIRECTOR would have to phrase his inquiry carefully. He glances to BIRD MAN--JUDE--then glances back at the beds and their sleeping occupants, turning the situation over in his mind. Now would be the time to put his recent discovery to use.

THE DIRECTOR locks eyes with JUDE, dropping his usual smile.

"Given current evidence, I have to cast doubt on this premise of 'Paradise.' Mr. Jude, what is the true nature of Empyrea's existence?"

[revelation-research]

"Good, glad to see we can all get along." To the woman, at her confirmation that the poor creature will not be sent skyward again.

Fingertips come together in a tent, fluorescent lights reflecting off the lenses of his glasses as Jude turns to the first to inquire. He looks displeased at whom, and sighs when the question has finally been phrased.

"It's Paradise alright," he says with a sniff, "that's what it's designed to be. It begs the question of what the word means to you, but I'd guarantee it means something."

His eyes look idly to his hands, which have begun to fidget.

"Is it an ideal? A promise? Is Paradise a beach or the height of luxury? Is Paradise heaven? The end of all things? Does Paradise have an end?"

The man shrugs, pushes his glasses higher on his nose.

"Empyrea is whatever Paradise is," as though it were obvious and as though he makes any sense, "that is its nature and its purpose. So then the truest answer lies within yourself."

@virtuouslife @neverendingdeath

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[virtuouslife]

“Wait, watch out—!” Too late. Kallen watches as Mr. Reca stumbles into the occupied examination bed, rattling its contents. The white sheet slips, but the body doesn't move. Still asleep, still akin to dead, as if nothing had disturbed them. She breathes a sigh of relief, shouldering the residual unease Blade had raised earlier. Whether this place is a separate plane after death or the real world beyond a dream, maybe it's better to let the sleeping residents awaken on their own terms.

Mr. Reca seems fine, though. And the assistant director—the frog?—doesn't look any different from before. Kallen stares at her for a little longer, holding back potentially thoughtless questions, then glances toward Blade, expectant, as if waiting for an explanation—

“You're bleeding.” She says urgently, taking a step toward him. “Your hand...” Concern, etched onto her face, replaces the traces of confusion and exasperation once lingering there. Tearing a strip of cloth from the nearest bed covering, she hesitates briefly before offering it.

“I don't know what history the two of you might have, but... Until we figure out what's happening and find a way out, can we please try to cooperate?” With a sigh, she surveys the room again. No doors, no ways out—except for the sturdy window. The incessant blinking of the camera light remains taunting as ever. What does a camera really do, anyway? “That man might come back any moment now.”

@neverendingdeath / @memoriauteur / @revelation-research.

[neverendingdeath]

His script? "Only the end is set, director." Surely Reca was aware of the implication. The warmth trailing down his arm is a feeling he missed. Wounds have hardly had time to fester. Kallen's approach is met with a raised brow. The trip torn from sheet turns confusion into concern. "That's unnecessary." It was slow, but the wound was closing on its own though ripped sleeve could not so easily mend itself. The history of him and Reca draws a stern 'Hmph.' on his end. "He's simply difficult." Tendencies aside, his vibe was...of the sort he disliked. "...a slip of the tongue is more likely to free us." If they could get him to reveal more to work with, they might be able to find a way to get through this all.

@memoriauteur / @revelation-research

[memoriauteur]

THE DIRECTOR rolls his eyes while his back is turned from BLADE and KALLEN. He wasn't the one being "difficult" here, but there was little point in arguing. He sighs, returning THE ASSISTANT DIRECTOR to his shoulder.

"I agree, more information is necessary to make sense of these developments. Until then, all we can do is...speculate~"

He paces around the beds, pulling the covers down of one body and inspecting it--palm to the forehead, fingers to the neck, as if checking vitals. He closes his eyes, seeking memories instead. Poking around in a stranger's mind is a bit blatant, but THE DIRECTOR feels he has little choice, boxed up in this white room with no exit.

"Hmmm."

Past the veil of dreamless sleep is a scene one perhaps expects to see--the subject going to bed, as anyone does.

But does it make sense here?

He checks a few others wordlessly, finding variations of the same concept. A camper going to their tent, a beach-goer retiring for the night, all missing any evidence of them being brought here. THE DIRECTOR furrows his brow. Their minds are connected to their selves back on Empyrea--perhaps they've been spirited away to this room for longer than anyone realizes, any memory of it...erased.

These clues feel important, but the full picture hasn't yet come into view. THE DIRECTOR turns to his companions, but hears another character approaching.

[revelation-research]

The strange man returns in even more of a hurry than he had left. Dinner must not have gone so well, as he appears to all the world impossibly disheveled. He hardly pays any attention to the three figures behind the glass, one hand over his mouth and the other moving rapidly over that tablet from before, which is being held in place by a very displeased looking bird.

"I told you-" he's speaking to nobody, muttering intensely as he pivots on his heel to begin pacing. The bird squawks and beats its wings to keep up. "I said it was a big deal, but nooooooooooooo. It's always 'Jude you never have time for us anymore.' Well us never has time for the st-"

His shoes squeak on the floor when he halts, abruptly enough to send his crow friend careening past him. One hand catches the tablet, though the bird is not so fortunate. He adjusts his glasses with the other, stares through the glass. That's right.

As though he had not forgotten entirely about his company, he clears his throat. "My most respectful of guests," he sneers, "do you make habits of destroying the property of your host?"

The bird yet again returns, this time flapping its wings to coax a desk chair towards its owner. The man, Jude, sinks into it with a sigh.

"You have questions. I will answer one from each of you. If-" He looks to blade, eyes narrowed. "-you stop it with throwing that damned frog."

@virtuouslife @neverendingdeath

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[virtuouslife]

Kallen slams her hand against the window again—this time, it's pulled into a fist. “Those aren't answers!” Another slam against the window, even though it doesn't budge. She doesn't seem to flinch or relent, her knuckles white as they dig against the glass. Glaring at the gaunt man, she's about to continue shouting, to continue demanding answers—when something he said gives her pause. The story up above...

The voice from a week ago had spoken about a story, too, hadn't it? About Roles and Paths and inevitability. Did this man, their captor by the looks of it, know something about it—or worse, have something to do with it?

Kallen scowls, sparing an unkind glance at the weird-looking bird making dreadful sounds, before she turns her back to the window, leaning against it. Perhaps, it was naive of her to think that she would get any answers this way—by making demands, by hitting a window, by seeming panicked and righteous. She takes another look at the two other men in the room with her. They're strangers, too. One of them remains on his bed, seemingly confused. —What is that? Is that a frog in his lap? Momentarily stunned, Kallen shifts her gaze toward the other man, the one that spoke.

“—Wait, you're right.” She says, quietly at first, then—as her eyes widen and she swivels around toward the researcher again— “He's right! How am I still—” Had she died? Does she remember? Had the two others beside her died, too? Was that what the man who had joined her by the window meant? “...How am I still alive?”

@neverendingdeath / @memoriauteur.

[neverendingdeath]

"Death" had done naught but separate them from the others in that case. They had done their part. "Were you ever alive to begin with?" Blade asks. The seemingly humorous questions holds no such tone when he speaks it. He was certain he had died...but he was also certain he would not have been taken here. Kafka would not have left him to resurface alone. He turns to her as she seems once more to gain fervor. As much as he was curious what sort of place here was, gaining answers from their captor seemed unlikely. "Rather than focus on how you are alive, what was it that has convinced you that you met your end?" Blade wasn't for calming people, nor did he think he could manage if he tried...redirecting their efforts was the best plan. Though.... To the director his head swiveled. "If this is a production of yours, speak before it's the last."

@memoriauteur

[memoriauteur]

The girl catches THE DIRECTOR'S attention--she possesses a fire in her heart that would drive the plot as the protagonist of a film! He offers a small smile when she catches his gaze, but his expression twists as BLADE speaks. Met with his accusation, he holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling sheepishly.

"Ac~tor! I may be directing this film, but as you can plainly see, I am still a character in it, trapped in here as you are..."

THE ASSISTANT DIRECTOR climbs onto his shoulder, keeping close to the side of his face, as if wary of BLADE. THE DIRECTOR motions to BIRD MAN with a tilt of his chin.

"The script for this film is provided by the producers. Out of devotion to the theatrical arts, I have played my role as requested, but..."

He folds his arms and pouts.

"I have to say, cast member of Empyrea, I find this treatment of the actors rather lacking. If we are to disappear for reasons of immersion for the remainder of the performance, why not simply take us off-world? This room is no better than a cage, so pardon me for suspecting your motives run deeper than us sitting here idly."

[revelation-research]

A rather loud sniff is the only reaction the man gives.

"Because off-world is expensive," he retorts, seeming particularly annoyed with the eccentric one. In fact his mouth opens like he might argue further, but it snaps shut at the sudden pinging of his tablet. He forgoes continuing for muttering something under his breath and tapping frantically away at the screen.

It pings again and then again, and with a frustrated huff a hand comes to adjust an earpiece.

"Yes," the man grumbles into it, "yes I know. There's been a- No, I don't care what we have for dinner. There's be- yes that's fine. Th-" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "There's been a minor error in the lab. It- I do not care about the wine!"

He scowls at the three figures behind the glass as though they have anything to do with this.

"I'll be there," into his receiver. The bird on his shoulder begins laughing again, and the man points towards the ceiling where a flashing light indicates a camera.

"One hour. Do not bother trying to escape. I will return."

And with that he storms past the edges of the window and is gone.

@virtuouslife @memoriauteur @neverendingdeath

[virtuouslife]

⋆✦₊‧ — PURGATORIO.

Blade, Mr. Reca, & Kallen. — Revelation 2025 : Research.

[virtuouslife]

The bright, lifeless light pricks at Kallen's eyes. She squints, and for what feels like a long time, stares at the window and the strange duo behind it—the mechanical bird, the slouched man. Sitting up cautiously, she tries to remember what the man's name is, how she got here, where here even is—and comes up short for each question. Her gaze sweeps across the room—and a slow, viscous panic lights up inside her.

Are these—corpses? The white sheets, the shapes of bodies underneath them. She gasps, startled, as two of them begin to move, the white fabric slipping away to reveal what she expects will be horror—the rotten, infected creatures that she had hoped to lure away from camp—but is, instead, human. She stares, agape, at @memoriauteur and @neverendingdeath. At first, the shock yields to confusion, but then she remembers—the camp. Her comrades—are they still in danger? Where are they?

She tears her gaze away from the two strangers as they wake, darting off of the examination bed to slam her palm flat against the window. The expression on her face isn't quite panic, isn't quite frantic—not pleading, not desperate, but angry, demanding, stubborn. “Hey!” She shouts, seething at @revelation-research. “Where am I? What are you talking about? Where are my friends?!”

[neverendingdeath]

Blade felt he shouldn't describe the sensation he felt. Instead he focused on the lights that flooded his eyes and the unusual manner in which the bodies around him were displayed.

Most lay still. Two moved. One was recognized.

A woman is the first of their number to jump ahead and...interrogate their captors and he sees no reason not to listen. The information he had on hand was sparse and his body felt strange. Steps carried him to the window not too far from her and eyes made to pierce through the slouched man where sword couldn't.

"...if our game is over- how is it we're here, in front of you?" It's an inquiry spelled out through clearly irritated tone. The woman had already asked what was most important to, he hardly suspected they'd get answers for.

@revelation-research @memoriauteur

[memoriauteur]

SCENE: ???

THE DIRECTOR feels a metal hand pawing at his face. Indistinct conversation, banging, a general feeling of distress, yelling...

His eyes snap open to find THE ASSISTANT DIRECTOR staring back. He grabs her and bolts upright, legs first, throwing the covers off with little care. His frog hangs in his grip limply.

"Assistant Director...!"

A thousand excited thoughts are cut short by the blinding white in THE DIRECTOR'S peripheral vision. He sets his mechanical companion down in his lap, remaining seated on the bed. He takes notes on this perplexing new set.

It's quiet here. Not in terms of noise--fragments of memory, normally a dazzling tapestry crystallizing in real time, are absent. At the boundaries of this room, there were none. The architecture is silent. The BIRD MAN behind the glass is silent. THE DIRECTOR conjures a mental image of his room at the resort, or perhaps the beach, or even his studio in Penacony, but he cannot jump into those memories and leave this room.

They had accounted for him. It makes THE DIRECTOR uncharacteristically uneasy. His expression serious, he awaits the exposition from their captor.

[revelation-research]

The man, who peers back from behind a pair of thick-lensed wire frames, does not seem at all startled by the shouting woman, nor does he pay any much mind to the gruff question posed by one of the two men. The crow on his shoulder cocks its head mechanically every 5 seconds, you count four before he speaks.

"You are here," he answers, uselessly, "and your friends are out there."

He paces along the window, fingers twiddling idly with his collar. His every inch is befitting of a researcher, lab coat and slacks, a sweater vest paired nicely over a button down. The clothes seem ill-fitting, however, as though they were bought a size too large or perhaps there is no such size to fit a man so narrow and angular.

"You have each done your part, and so the story up above dictates you remain here until its end. This is very simple, there is no need to be so loud."

He speaks as though it is obvious, and also as though he is being very gravely inconvenienced by having to explain it. His companion loops a sound like squawked laughter.

@virtuouslife @memoriauteur @neverendingdeath