There was a weapon in here for her. Somewhere. The big red sign had said as much, so had the two guys, Cain and Aiden. She still had to resist calling them Cain and Abel, and a small bubble of laughter just this side of hysterical popped from between her smeared dark lips.

She'd caught a glimpse of herself in some of the shiny pods. The waterproof eyeliner was holding up ok, though faded. Shadow was faded into nothingness, too, her lip stain was pretty much out the window--smeared, yikes--and she felt pretty confident her lips were raw from her chewing on them to hell and back.

Images flickered in her head still, and Kara shoved them away, shoved them way back to the back burner in her head and looked down the rest of the stairs. Her feet had taken her down most of the way, the small room of sorts visible to her. Mostly, anyways, unless there was something she was missing and the little torch wasn't hitting everything. Her butt hadn't moved from the cold stone for a while, elbows digging imprints into her thighs, chin heavy in her palms. Fussing with her hair had taken up some of her time, a minor distraction from the weird decor of the room that looked like a horror movie trap waiting to gobble her up.

As if the blurry things in her head weren't already enough fodder for that.

How long would the guys wait back up there for her? Absently she turned, peering back up the looming stairs at her back, to the hall were, supposedly, she'd meet back up with them. And what? Get a tour? Learn more about whatever all... this now was? Turning back around after she determined she couldn't see any antsy or waiting figures up above, her shoulders lifted slowly, falling in a rush of breath as her eyes focused again on the room still somewhat below and beyond her.

Choice. She'd made a choice to be here. To find out more of the world written about in myth and legend, laughed about as childhood stories or wives' tales. Find out more on the source of those creeping shadows and figures out the corner of her eye that'd accompany her through the archives or the labs as she worked with the various pieces in her family's collections. Things she'd always dreamed of doing. Embarking on some amazing adventure. Find legendary weapons. Meet sorcerers, witches, fairies. Those childhood dreams that stick to the subconscious and giggle and waggle their fingers at you ever now and then. Yep, still here.

But this wasn't like that. This was closer to the exact opposite. An organization, weird technology. Sure there were still weapons, but she didn't see any. Just a small room covered in weird tiles, and a single measly light. Bright eyes narrowed, squinting to stare further into the room, as if she could will a sword or wand or something to just appear in the middle of the room.

Or. Maybe that's what would happen when she actually got to the bottom of the stairs and into the room..?

It took a few minutes before Kara finally got her legs to cooperate with this idea, stiff from how long she'd been sitting and stiff with tension and her pulse couldn't decide if it wanted to beat her heart out of her chest or settle down and chill out. Her boots echoed with each step, even when she tried to walk down with all the decorum and grace that her family had always ingrained in her to be a primary function and force of habit. Like the sweet, serene smiles and dainty touch and modest behavior that was ideal to some of those social circles.

But she didn't descend down the stairs in a swirl of grace and control and serenity. She thumped down the stairs with trepidation and excitement and a tiny groan at the back of her head as she considered she'd have to walk back up those stairs.

Her foot hit the bottom step, and she took a few more paces, head held high, eyes wide as her pupils tried to adjust to the light and the darkness and this was not enough light to see properly ok seriously-- and...

Nothing... happened.

Kara's shoulders deflated in another rush of air, looking about. Was this a joke? See how long the confused newbies last before they storm back upstairs to where someone was waiting, snickering, with their legit weapon? Tablets covered the walls, a bit bigger than her hand, with designs of some sort carved into each. There weren't weapons here, this was a joke--

<Finally . . .>

"E-excuse me?"

Her voice sounded dull in the small room, the only sounds registering in her ears being the rustle of her dress and the clop of boots against the floor. There were no dark figures, no glimmering ones either. No other person or thing that could have spoken.

Should have spoken.

<Was not . . . sure . . . you would ever . . . come down . . .>

Was this when the magical girl transformation stuff happened and she got some pen from a talking plush toy? No? For all the answers she had, at this point Kara was almost sure she'd not be the lest bit surprised if that was what happened next. "I... apologize, I was unaware I was expected, or that I had company down here." She tried to keep her voice strong, unwavering, but she wasn't entirely sure she'd succeeded by how the disembodied voice seemed to scoff.

<I have been waiting . . . you continue to make me wait . . .> The voice sounded... terse? Her brows furrowed. As if she'd offended whomever was speaking by not being punctual for an appointment that she'd no idea existed.

Seeing as no figure formed itself for her to gaze upon, Kara began to slowly walk, moving towards the walls with their countless odd tiles. A passage, perhaps? Or a hole where someone could see her, and vice versa only once she found it?

But the voice wasn't... in her ears. It was more like... in her head?

Should she be worried about this?

<You are dawdling.>

The closer she got to the wall where the lone light hung, the more... tense the air became. No, not... not that. More... electric? Like an anticipation before a fireworks display, or a huge storm. Something spectacular waiting, or something horrible. A tentative hand lifted to the tiles, tracing a pad along the cool stone. The carvings weren't just odd symbols, to her perspective, but... weapons? Kara blinked a few times, squinting to try and view them clearer. It... looked like all of them, that she could make out, bore symbols of swords, shields, bows, spears... and who knew what else.

"Where are you?" Was the hole under one of these tablets? Or... was the voice one of these..?

In her mind, the voice seemed to sigh, and she had the distinct impression of someone pinching the bridge of their nose through the sound of that exasperated sound. <Find . . . me . . .>

Helpful. Her shoulders drew back slightly as she began to follow the wall, her hand tracing the symbols and tiles. Each was cool, a simple stone, but the air... the air continued to tease her, make the hair on her arms and back of her neck stand on end. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a boom of a canon or the crack of lightning. She was getting too close. At what point did she pass that event horizon?

Choice. She'd made a choice. She'd made her choice to learn more and aid in working at the museum. She'd made her choice to press into her research. She'd made her choice to leave Ireland. She'd made her choice to come here, wherever here really was. She'd made her choice.

In some other world, some other life, Kara had made different choices. Or maybe, she always made the same choices. Over and over. An endless, repetitive loop that bore to witness the same choices, same actions, same results, countless times over. Perhaps that was why she found that tile. Just barely out of her reach, one that required the short young woman to stand on tiptoes and stretch till she was sure she'd fall over or pull something, or maybe have to see if she could climb on some of these other tiles--

The spark jolted her as her fingertips hit the tile. The voice sighed, relieved. Kara's fingers barely had to pry at the tile before it came loose, stumbling back with her as she gripped the heated tile, like a coal, in her palm.

<Finally.>

The heat spread. Up her arm, through her hand. Her fingers were pushed open, no longer gripping a tile, but a pole. Long, dark, the top arching into a long blade. She marveled at the craftsmanship, at it's existence, at the intricate lines along the head of the blade. A bird looked back at her. Unmoving. Not the source of the voice but...

"They... weren't lying when they said I'd get my weapon here." She wasn't sure what else to say. Her tongue was effectively tied as she stared at the scythe now in her hand, the metal nob at the end hitting the floor softly as she set it down.

<They did not . . . you took your time . . .> There was no praise, only an edge that made Kara lift a brow.

"My apologies, again. Do you have a name? I'm Kara." She felt like she should be checking herself in to see a shrink.

<Branwen.> Simple, done. The voice spoke no more, tired as it sounded, Kara couldn't help but wonder if it'd spoken too much. Worn itself out. Or... herself?

"How long have you been down here?" Her queries were met with no response, and Kara sighed, lifting the scythe instead so the staff rested against her shoulder, the blade pointed behind her. The stairs weren't going to climb themselves, and perhaps, if the guys had any further answers, she could let her new... partner?

Well. Let Branwen rest.

<Mine . . . as . . . yours. Now and . . . always.>

Kara nearly tripped on the stairs, turning her head to stare at the lifeless bird at the top of the scythe. The empty carved eye stared back at her, unseeing, unblinking. Somewhere, Kara never made her choices, or perhaps, always did. Perhaps Branwen knew those cycles, knew the patterns, the dance. Waited for Kara to make the same choices, over and over. Eternal recurrence, merely waiting for her to play her part.