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There was anothing back here. Shun picked up a cardboard prop, but dropped it soon afterwards. While he was investigating back here, he still listened to the conversation going on stage. The mention of hands grabbing at the voice... that was the other vision he had received from the jelly-wisp-things outside. Had those been the hands of the mannequins, or something else?

The detective made his way back to the stage area.

There had to be something they were missing. He refused to believe that there wasn't any way out. The next idea that came to mind made him feel... a little stupid. Mercer mentioned that magic here was powered by will, more or less. Shun had a very strong feeling there was more to it than just that, but... Well. He supposed he might as well give it a shot, as dumb as it sounded.

And such, he looked towards the barred entranceway into the theater and attempted to will it open. Somehow.

There was so much going on that they may not have even noticed but Dawson would. A hand landed on his shoulder, a single finger held up to where lips should have been on the face of the mannequin.

Head tilted, the mannequin could not be argued with and - while people were on the stage or dealing with Connor - Dawson was spirited away. For your safety, a voice whispered in his mind, there is danger here and you are not ready yet.

Dawson was brought to a wall that had a curtain on it and pushed through it. When he came out on the other side, he was exactly where he was supposed to be in Ashdown.

No time had passed.



Temperance received no response for a time before the voice finally called back out. "... thank you." For the advice, obviously. "I can't see any doors! It's too dark!"

Then, as Alister tried to push the trunk and it moved a little bit (it would take more than him, the trunk unusually heavy; perhaps that was why it had never been moved?) ... "What was that? Was that you?! I heard something!"

As Acacia lifted the dress, for the moment she had the sense of another time, another place. The fabric shimmered, as if something new, and then the the sensation was lost.

For a moment, as Shun stared at the doors, it seemed as if they would move but then something was pushing back at him. Here, in this place, will ruled and his will was nothing compared to whatever it was that kept the doors barred.

Acacia jolted, realizing suddenly that, well, maybe she had been a little quick to say moving the trunk would be easy. Here she was thinking about names and strange feelings (Had she imagined it, the way it had felt when she'd picked up the dress, or had it really...?), and her current companion wasn't making any headway at all. He must have thought she was the rudest thing in the world for not offering to help to begin with.

Shun's approach came as she was pulling herself back to her feet to do just that. She nodded to the detective with a small smile, more than a little certain that his help might count a bit more than her own. Then she bent to lend a hand. Between the three of them, it had to move!

Ashdown Whaler

happy bonsai

Blade Kuroda

"I know you're afraid, but you need to answer my questions, okay?" Temperance kept her voice calm and firm, but she had a weird feeling about things. Regardless, she didn't let her frustration show through in her voice. "Are you alone in there? Are you physically hurt?"

She stayed crouched by the stage, keeping an eye on the people moving the trunk out of the way. "Help us to help you."

Connor's shoulders remained hunched, but he straightened up slightly, hesitated, and then nodded slowly when Chris told him that he was going to touch his shoulder, ready for the contact and yet still shifting uncomfortably at the touch that he couldn't see coming. For a long moment, he was silent, distracted by the sounds of the others as they worked on whatever they were working on. Trying to find a way out, by the sounds of it, unable to focus between the commotion and his own rising feelings of panic, disgust, and more than a little guilt.

Finally he took a deep breath. "Look man, I don't even ******** know what I'm doing here. I just wanted a drink, and my kitchen became this ******** place, and when I asked where I was, the best answer anybody could come up with was in a ******** pocket universe, and that we were here to see something." His voice was becoming slightly higher as he spoke, until it cracked at the end and he let out a laugh that was a little too loud.

"How the ******** am I supposed to see anything, now? How ******** ridiculous is this?" Chris would probably notice that Connor was beginning to shake a little, as the more he spoke, the more he began to unravel completely.

Focus. He had to snap at himself. Breathe. And so he did, a few deep, slightly shaky breaths, his arms uncrossing, his hands going carefully into his lap. He realized that Chris had asked him a question, and that he hadn't really answered it yet.

"I sat down. I put my feet up and hit the head of the mannequin in front of me. Before I even knew what was going on, something grabbed me across my eyes from behind, and something grabbed my foot, and when they let go..." He gestured, and let his hand fall.

Al harrumphed. With his and Shun's strength united against the chest's bulk, they had managed to shift it almost all the way off the trapdoor. Almost.

The red-maned man paused to scowl at the younger man suddenly forthright with his misgivings about what they were trying to do.

"Got any better suggestions then, boy? Should we stick 'round and wait for help for however long the person beneath us has?" He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead and tightened the ponytail at the nape of his neck. His back ached, and he was reminded that he wasn't quite as young and sprightly a man as he used to be. "There aren't any other ways out of this room, 'sides this trap door... if it'll even open. So either find us another way outta here or keep your shite to yourself."

He cracked his knuckles and glanced back over at the detective. "C'mon then, let's get this chest outta our way." He knelt down and continued to put all his might into moving the heavy oak.

With their combined effort the deceptively heavy trunk managed to slide across the floor, upsetting the dust around it and leaving a scraped trail across the wood.

The voice continued to talk to Temperance, "I'm not hurt!"

It then hushed a moment, there was a pause, and when it spoke again it was softer, "I'm alone now. Those people things were here but then there was a loud noise and they left."

The freshly revealed trapdoor seemed to be almost brand new. The silver handle and latch were shiny and silver, and even the door itself had fresh edges as if it had been installed recently.

For all their searching, they seemed to have finally found a door to somewhere.