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They'd been about to have a talk, a conversation... that was a bit rudely interrupted by the world seeming to pull them away. Elsewhere, to the king... to new memories. His eyes closed again briefly. He didn't know if that person was even here. He clearly recalled her, a bit of a temper, very outspoken, and... actually quite sweet down under the rougher surface. He hadn't seen her in this place, and that was likely for the best. Mia... would not have enjoyed any of this. At all.

But that did complicate things further. He had gone to some dance with her, which meant... well they weren't dating. But he liked her, right? He wasn't entirely sure, but where did that put Olivia? She'd been at that place as well, a kiss to the hand. But... he sighed, shaking his head. They were both just friends and it was an odd situation, right? That had to be it. He just shouldn't be worrying over it.

He sighed, looking around him at the area now. An island, a bit lonely. All he could see was a tower reaching up into the oddly hued heavens. He had nowhere else to go, so with that he slowly made his way up to the doors and opened one. He was just starting in, noticing a set of stairs up, though as he went to take a step a voice caught his attention. Gaze fell to the side as he spotted it, a gargoyle that had an attitude issue apparently. He merely stared, unimpressed as it spoke on about the place being a prison and the need of keys to move on. And then another voice chiming in from above about giving him the key? Well, that would be nice, rather than rambling on... and on... an-

He was babbling about an exchange at that point before the other voice cut him off again. He was mentally siding with the second gargoyle. Brutalis was a pain. Fine, he wanted a snack then he could make one.

So with that he shook his head, keeping the comments he wanted to make to himself before making his way toward the kitchen. Which... somehow reminded him of a small room. It was compact, but everything was where he thought it should be. Neat, tidy... it was a bit nice actually. He easily made the tea, a well trained behavior, but... when it came to snacks he couldn't recall. Cooking? It seemed foreign. Thankfully, there were some oddly shaped[why were they bats?] cookies on the counter with a note. "Please enjoy these, Xiu." The handwriting was rather adorable, and while he wasn't sure WHO Xiu was, he'd have to thank them later. So with that done, he placed the tea and a small plate of the cookies on a tray, eating one in the process to test, and started out. For the record, they were rather delicious.

He held the tray out to the beast at that point, offering it up as it happily snagged the thing before handing him a purple key.

..well then. Time to move up he guessed.

He had made his way to the dungeons, preferring to be in a dreaded place with others, than a lonely place alone. Haruka had helped his decision, suggesting that the violet lock would be more interesting, and more of a game. Haruka always liked a challenge.

Shiloh did too, and so he made his way across the island and to the tower beneath the purple sky, swinging its large doors open and stepping inside.

---

The first floor holds little to be marveled at, the room empty aside from a set of stairs and some crumbling statues. He paid them no mind at first, heading straight for the stairs. But before his foot could hit the first step, a curt voiced sounded behind him, telling him it was locked.

Shiloh turned around to curiously stare at the talking gargoyle, its limbs cracked and falling apart. Haruka yapped tirelessly in his head, full of questions and then, suggestions on what to do with the gargoyle, should it prove to be unfriendly. But it turned out the gargoyle was as chatty as his mind’s companion, and between the two of them, Shiloh was about ready to agree with the gargoyle shouting from above. He laughed at its frustration, but sobered the moment Brutalis turned serious, setting him up with a task to complete before the creature would give him the key. Shiloh nodded at Brutalis, shrugging; how hard could making tea and tasties be?

---

Very easy, it turned out.

Stepping into the kitchen is nothing that he expected. Instead of the rudimentary medieval kitchen he had expected to find, the room was homey, the space large and open. The counter-tops were a light marble, and all the cupboards surrounding them a warm and inviting oak. He knew this kitchen. He knew where the plates were, and the teacups, and he knew where his mom had always hidden the good sweets. He went to the cupboard beside the fridge, and beneath the junk drawer, crouching on the floor to dig inside of it. There was some candy, and chips but what he really wanted was- Aha, he’d found them! They were fudge cookies, divinely delicious and perfect with a cup of warm tea… Or at least, he thought it was divine. As he carried the items to Brutalis, his expression thought that perhaps he felt otherwise.

Taking a cookie and chomping it down anyway, the gargoyle passed Shiloh the key, ushering him on his way.

Kettil was trying to figure out a way onward when the Gargoyle spoke at him. There was a small startle on his end but he got over it and eventually he was just simply amused by the creature as it moved and spoke. He wasn't sure why but he was very much liking this fellow even though it dumped a task on him in order to get a key.

Tasks meant challenges. Challenges meant victory.

Victory meant becoming the greatest ever.

So without complaint and perhaps chuckling a bit too much he wandered to the MYSTERIOUS KITCHEN OF MYSTERY... Which looked like a kitchen from back home, he'd almost forgotten it. He could almost see the phantom image of his mother busily moving about cooking dinner for everyone. A small happy smile appeared on his face as he went into the fridge where Mother kept the small cakes she sometimes made for dessert, sweet light pastries with a bit of a sugary glaze.

He got that out and made a bit of tea as well, finding everything in the place where it should have been. It was relaxing. Kettil was soon back again meeting with Brutalis and giving him the food and drink in exchange for a simple Key.

That was easy enough!

Quinn shuffled around, crossing his arms across his chest and holdimg himself. Oh darn, oh darn. Where was he now?

He did not remember much, but what was he supposed to do? Really, in front of him was a single tower. Around him was a small island of pretty much nothing. What did they expect him to do, swim? That sounded like a perfect idea to get eaten by a shark...

So he went towards the tower, the door opening with an ease he had not expected. What? Common sense said that door SHOULD be totally squeaky... it even looked dirty. Who was keeping it clean?

Once inside a quick glance around and he realized he was alone. He visibly even relaxed a little at that thought.

The voice that piped up earned a frightened squeak from his lips.

"....Why do i want to climb the tower?" He asked the gargoyle in return. Wait why was he talking to an object? Even more freaky, why was it responding? It bothered to shrug at him.

Ok fine. GOing into the kitchen (was this here a moment ago????) he grabbed some bread, smeared some peanutbutter on it, and grabbed a pepsi. Returning to the creature, he set it down.

Amrita found herself on the violet island, looking around the empty landscape of drifting purples. The only thing that seemed to break the landscape was a tower, and naturally she found herself drifting towards it, hoping to find answers that would at least make some slight sense. She pushed open the doors and stepped inside, surprised to find not an ounce of purple within. Everything was grey and crumbling, and as she stepped in, she heard a voice.

Locked?

Well, of course it would be locked. She never was that lucky. THe only thing that worried her was the idea of it being a prison. Prisons were...well they were terrible, and horrible, and every other horrible adjective she could call to mind. Though she would take the Prison over Flying Fire Swords any day.

The gargoyle's cry startles her, but it has a purpose; it got the gruff one back on track, even if it was just to send her on an errand. He wanted something? fine, she would get him something. Tea and Tasty things. How difficult could that really be? It seemed, in that moment, she completely forgot that she had spent most of every life as an undead, with little to no sense of taste.

The kitchen she found herself in was very, very familiar. It screamed of something from a cafeteria, only on the horrible horror side of things. She grabbed some water and boiled it, adding whatever spices she could find because she had no idea how tea even worked, and after going through the fridge and finding slightly-less-than-rotting meat for a moldy sandwich, she brought it back in a platter crawling with bugs.

It was perfect, and she even got a key for it! Yay.

How did she get here?

Hel blinked and stared up at the tower. “Wait…” She looked around. “…I am on a ******** island!?” Her face pulled into a look of disbelief. She wasn’t even going to ponder how she ended up on an island after she helped her tree grow.

Oh well.

The reaper huffed, and stared up. She wanted to keep going forward, but now apparently, she was to go up. Well, not like she had anywhere else to go. Stepping inside, she was soon blocked by some gargoyles, which had her rolling her eyes and huffing some more. Couldn’t even go up a flight of stairs—

Wait…a prisoner?

“No, I am—“ Apparently it didn’t matter, because if she wanted to go forward, she needed to get a drink and some snackies for the talkative thing. Okay. Hel made a face and opened her mouth, pointing at the door that just magically appeared before she huffed again and stomped her way over to it. She flung the door opened and marched right on in—

To her childhood home kitchen.

Hel gaped as she looked around.

“WHAT!?” She cried, and then immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. Was her family home…? She didn’t want to be back home, how was she here!? Not wanting to get caught, and wanting to hurry up and move on, Hel scrambled her way to the fridge, and yanked it open. Meat, meat, and more meat. She grabbed a ham leg, and a bottle of milk, slammed the fridge shut, and ran out, casting a glance at the living room door way.

“HERE!” She screeched, all but throwing the items at the gargoyle, and getting a key in return.

Clara was standing outside, feeling short compared to the immense structure towering over her. She cautiously walked up to the door, trying hard to ignore the gargoyles that seemed to follow her with their eyes. She gently knocked on the door, which seemed to open easily, and walked through.

Clara had a hard time making sense of what the gargoyle was trying to tell her. However, she did know one thing, from a few words she picked out of what the broken stone statue said and what she could see: she needed keys. Another gargoyle spoke and said she needed to prepare something for them in order to get the first key.

Heading toward the kitchen, Clara looked for what she could give to the gargoyles. She was shocked to see....a very familiar kitchen. Seeing as how everything was in the place she last remembered after checking a few cabinets and drawers, she reached for the milk in the fridge and some cookies because she wasn't sure what the gargoyles wanted, but everyone liked milk and cookies, right?

She returned and got the key.

He had definitely, most certainly, positively without a doubt, been asleep this entire time. That had to be the reason Thrain woke not only feeling terribly groggy and very much unrested, but also would explain his foul mood and general sense of confusion. All the talking he remembers mostly goes over his head, unnoticed and uncared for. As long as he had a place he was supposed to go, that would just have to be good enough for him. He was terribly upset at himself for not helping more, not even able to remember if he was normally this useless, so in an effort to curb his own atrophying state of being, Thrain hustled on over to a pretty little island.
A mild nod was passed to the gargoyles, half out of politeness and half out of an inexplicable sense of superstition. Though their faces remained placid, unmoving and fixed, there was something about their stoney eyes that made him want to not do them any injustice. Once through the entrance the room was little to look at, little to interest him beyond the fact that another door was his directional guide. With a shrug of his shoulder the man took one step toward the stairs that would lead him up and heard a voice.
"Locked?" He echoed, turning to face the speaker. Of course it was a gargoyle, as though it would be something different. The man stood patiently, careful not to fold his arms in a look of impatience at the stone thing kept on and on. Lightless Misery of Existence in General, eh? That sounded pretty close to how he felt now but he would skimp on those details.

It took some time to finally get around to it, Thrain silently nodding when it felt appropriate and passing a small raise of two fingers in thanks to the other gargoyle who seemed a little more on track. The presentation of a new door was curious, but he only headed toward it without additional movements. Just a blink at the door and then forward motion.
The kitchen he found was not the one he expected, however. This one was outfitted all in dark blues and somber silvers, the walls hung with fabrics to keep the warmth in and the chill out. The centerpiece of the kitchen was a stone hearth, a monstrous thing that looked half like it had been used for metal work and half for food preparation. A bright fire roared within, made the room seem a little bit warmer than it might normally have looked.
The gargoyle had specifically said tea and Thrain was pretty sure he knew the perfect kind, having only just realized it when he reached up on the metalwork cabinet to pull down an ornate box. With a light hum he went about making the tea, setting the water to boil and fetching some bread while he waited on that. Once done, the man brought out a lovely metal tray with steaming tea spiked with his favorite ale and a side of sliced bread with jerky.

As he handed the tray over in favor of a key, he kind of wished he had taken a nibble first.