The Game - Acting it out [Team Dawn & Dusk]

[Kamalia Timandre]

Kamalia was pulled from her body towards the ocean of dreams, and a maternal peace enfolded her. The vision was crystal-clear, almost blindingly so, in its sheer clarity. Kamalia instinctively knew that it was a fragment of memory from Mizahar’s golden years. The konti had never before seen glimpses of the chavi of one who had existed in pre-Valterrian ages. The seer was utterly spellbound by the vision, knowing that it was a memory so ancient, preceding even the existence of the Konti race. Like a silver shadow, the konti’s soul glided past through the gleaming corridors of the palace. Through her seer instincts, she knew that she was inside the royal citadel in Ahnatep. She listened closely to the exchange of words between the cold-looking Eypharian lady and the concubine.

Those faceless abominations were once real people too, the konti realized in horror. They seemed vastly different from the golems whose djed-given life sprung from the discipline of Animation. This noble Eypharian, Lady Lalilah, radiated with an icy beauty about her while she spoke about the Goddess of Logic and Order, Gnora. Kamalia realized that the four-armed lady was a follower of the stoic goddess, and as she explained the clarity granted by the absence of emotions, the Konti’s curiosity grew. The sorceress herself, as a Konti seer, had always envied her elders for their clarity of mind and certainty. But a life bereft of emotions? A life without passions? An unclouded mind was something Kamalia wanted to achieve, but this was too much. What caught Kamalia’s full attention was when Lady Lalilah mentioned how the attachment of the heart branches one away from the “Way”.

What was the “Way”? Was the Eypharian referring to the True Way, the magic wielded by gods long-forgotten? At the same time, what was Gnora’s role in all these? Her mind reeled to think how so many gods seemed to be connected to this Game.

Lady Lalilah’s emotionless voice trailed off in the wind, and an invisible force snatched the Konti back from her goddess-given reverie. The dream flickered, and her soul slipped back into the physical realm. Reality opened her eyes, and the seer found herself once again on Dira’s chariot as the platform was being lifted from the stage. The konti lay still and motionless, silently thanking Avalis both for the vision and that this unholy theatrical tragedy was finally over.
When the platform stopped, Kamalia rose and followed the masked actress of Dira. She observed the room studiously and methodically. She had seen this in the vision Gromhir had transmitted through his ivaski telepathy: a small square room lit by flickering candles. A larger door was on the opposite wall, with five hooks protruding in a pentagonal fashion.

Kamalia gently removed the white frowning mask of Princess Iolanda with both hands. She took Queya’s light blue frowning mask from the folds of her cloak. She stared at the princesses’ masks in each hand, smiling knowingly. Her movements certain and sure, Kamalia hung the two masks on the hooks of the door, with Queya on the left and Iolanda on the right. The konti girl faced the masked actress and smiled mysteriously.

“You were once a servant of Gnora,”the konti said softly in Ancient Tongue, her voice strong and musical. “Or have you forgotten her ways? Have you forgotten your mortal name?”

The konti stared at Stitch and Nyahna, and gestured for them to attach their masks on the door.

The konti closed her eyes and sang an enchanting spellsong, pulling power from the djed within her body. The reimancer concentrated as she emitted silvery res in ethereal gases through the centre of the glyph on her palms. Her body swayed in a gossamer dance, and her hands weaved the summoned res, making it congeal like a tendril-like whip with the consistency of gel around her right arm. With a single word in Nader-Canoch, the konti transformed the outer layers of the res into highly pressurized water. Since water is almost incompressible, the sorceress can use this water whip as a semi-solid weapon that can be controlled at will, and be pressurized to such a level it could slice through bones and wood.

She turned to face the man who played the role of Iolanda’s guardian, Fyodor. The water whip moved menacingly like a ravenous viper, as if it were waiting to strike at the human male. Kamalia smiled mysteriously, yet her crimson eyes remained icy and calculating. “You must forgive me, kind ser, but I cannot allow you to pass. I cannot allow you to win the Game. There are children’s lives at stake here—orphans in Syliras, innocent souls,” the konti said gently, but her voice was determined and unwavering. “If we are not proclaimed victors, the orphanage will be smouldered, along with the children.”

“If you are not willing to concede—well, that can be arranged,” the sorceress said icily. The water whip rose sinuously in the air in a serpentine manner. "What say you?"

Hurry up and win the Game, so I'll be one step closer to taking over you.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden’s gaze remained open from under the mask, his hand slowly reaching out to snag his longsword once again. Laying from his prone position as the platform began to ascend. He watched as the audience’s masks followed them rising upward slowly. Soon, weapons were dropped to the floor, the rattling noise echoing through the entire theater. The sound was soon replaced by the sound of applause and Jaeden finally gave a slight exhale of relief. Finally, as the platform finished it’s ascension, Jaeden finally moved to his feet and slowly gazed around, noticing the camoflague door. His head slowly turned to the faux Dira, hearing her words. “Good, lets just go in there and get it over with.” Jaeden said as he pulled the large stained shirt off his frame, untying the straps that held the waterskin in place, dropping them to the floor of the platform as well. “This place and it’s surprises have been enough for me.”

Jaeden once again sheathed his sword. He then paused, seeing the magic woven by the Konti, the silver gas slowly sliding out of her palms and soon forming the shape of a viper as it hovered in front of Jaeden. He slowly quirked a brow, seeing the smile on her face. As her words and the hollow plead of forgiveness echoed from her lips into his ears, followed by her threat, all Jaeden could do was release as sigh. His left hand slowly slid upward as his thumb hooked under the edge of the mask. “For someone who seems to think she’s so grand,” Jaeden said as he slowly slide the mask off his face, “you don’t listen to others too well.”

“I’ve said repeatedly that I don’t really care about the game or it’s prize.” Jaeden then said, lowering his mask. “I came in out of simple curiosity, and only stayed to try and make sure no one who entered was killed.”

“Let’s get something strait however.“ Jaeden then tossed his mask forward a little. Using the mask as a visual distraction, Jaeden’s right hand flashed towards the hilt of his sword pulling it free in less than the blink of an eye. His feet planted along the ground, ready to spring forward as he leveled the sword in Kamalia's direction. Jaeden usual calm façade melted away, a serious look shining in his eyes. “I’m sick of your insults and of your threats. I’m not intimidated by your magic and your allure as a Konti only gets you so many points in my book. I don’t much like violence, but the next time you make a threatening action towards me, you better be prepared to follow through with that threat because I’ll only ignore it so much. You don’t have to like me, or even respect me, but the fact of the matter I’ve done nothing to illicit your ire, save for being a person of circumstance and winding up on another team.”

Jaeden’s foot slowly lifted into the air before coming down heavily over his mask, smashing it into pieces. “Now, let me tell you something else.” Jaeden then said, holding his sword where it was at. “You’re a little petched in the head. I don’t know you or your circumstances, but from what I’ve seen of you so far, you’ve just been getting worse as this whole thing has progressed. Are you sure your doing this for an orphanage and innocent children, or are you blind with some lust for power that this place is offering.”

Jaeden then looked turned his head slightly towards Stitch, his gaze remaining on Kamalia. “And what of you, Stitch was it?” Jaeden then said, his tone remaining steady and calm. “You know this woman apparently well, so I’m assuming you have an investment in this Orphanage she’s talking about it. Fighting for the children’s safety is a good cause to have in life, but do you want some prize or power obtained through a means that at every turn forced people to confront each other, to act methodical and try to think of ways at every turn to petch over another who you didn’t know and had never met before now? Is this how your friend here usually acts towards you and the children? If not, I’d say this game and her drive and lust for it’s prize is high motivation enough over all to outright reject any prize offered here. Because if this is what individuals start doing to one another just to get the prize, what insanities will the prize itself drive people to do?”

Jaeden‘s face then turned fully in Kamalia‘s direction. “Now, just so there’s no mistake in my statement that I don’t care about this game or it’s prize…” Jaeden said before his left hand slowly lifted upward, falling along the edge of his longswar. His hand then slowly slid across the blade, the razor edge of it cutting into his flesh some until small drops of blood began to slide down along the blade. Jaeden then waited for the sinner’s mark to appear on his own hand, thus nullifying him from having any chance to claim the prize.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Lying on the floor, Sasin couldn't help but snicker inwardly at Stitch's speech. He did a very good impression of a madman. He started slightly as the platform began to move. Opening his eyes, he saw the audience beginning to clap. He let out a loud sigh of relief as the platform came to a stop. "Thank the gods that's over." He moaned. Getting up, he sheathed the dagger. He glanced around the room, idly noticing the hooks in the door. Wonderful. Now what?

He watched the konti curiously as she walked towards the door. She hung both the masks she held on the door, and stepped back. He glanced at Stitch, then shrugged. "You still have the Jester's mask, no?" He murmured, quietly enough that only the blind man could hear. He too, walked forth, and pulled his mask off, placing it beneath Queya's.

When he turned back, he started slightly as he noticed Kamalia holding a whip. That was definitely new. Furthermore, was that whip made of….water? What kind of magic was this? Nothing he had ever seen before, certainly.

His eyes widened as she spoke. What could she mean? Surely she didn't mean.. "I wasn't aware you had a rather personal stake in this." He said quietly, his eyes on Stitch. Well, that didn't really matter right now. What did matter was that she was threatening Jaeden, who seemed to be a rather valuable ally.

"You're not seriously going to do this, are you? As far as I can see, there are only the four of us still in this game. Did you see the crowd? What if we have to fight them? We could really use and extra hand here." It appeared, however, like his words were falling on deaf ears. Jaeden was already retorting, and too late, Sasin saw him slice open his hand.

He hissed in frustration. "There is something wrong with the both of you." He hissed. He pulled out the scroll "This" he snarled "could have solved everything. All we had to do was get him into our team with a vote. Two innocents, two sinners, and a much better chance of winning."

[Kamalia Timandre]

The konti sorceress did not flinch when Jaeden tossed the mask as a visual distraction, for she had readied herself for any surprise. She stared at him, without a trace of fear or intimidation in her calculating eyes, as the whip-like water limb danced sinuously in the air. She listened to the man’s insults, yet the konti remained unfazed and undaunted. “Next time, I assure you that there will be no more threats,” Kamalia promised, smiling darkly. “I spoke to you simply because I did not wish to engage you in battle right away, out of a sense of fairness if nothing else. Had I wanted to resort to true violence, I would have flung daggers of ice to pierce your heart without a word and while you were not looking. I do not seek your approval nor do I care what you think of me, but you are either very bold or very foolish to not fear magic. And you assume that you illicit my ire?” The konti’s siren chuckle filled the room like a beguiling song.

“No, you do not. I am but simply playing the Game,” she said in a voice that was not entirely yet her own.

“For someone who claims he does not care about winning this game, it struck me as odd that you deliberately worked with the dhani to knowingly protect your innocence. I did not doubt your words the first time you said them for I have the gift of sensing the truth, but your recent collusion with the dhani had made me think otherwise. I intended to force you to sin. I only had to make sure that you have no chance of winning, so no hard feelings,” the konti purred in a dark, seductive voice. The konti’s blood-gem eyes glittered when Jaeden slid his hand across his blade. She stared at his bleeding hand, satisfied that her ploy worked somehow. With a single spell word, the konti released her magic, and the water whip collapsed into many tiny shards of ice on the ground.

Kamalia shifted her head slightly to face Nyahna, yet her measuring gaze remained on Jaeden. “My dhani friend, for an assassin, you are quick to trust an opponent. The Scroll of Betrayal costs one’s innocence, does it not? Would this man have willingly given up his innocence had we politely asked him to do so, particularly when he went on at length to preserve his innocence? We both did not know that, of course. Now we do,” she said, as she waited for the mark of the sinner to surface on Jaeden’s palms. “Either way, he would have been a sinner, whether or not he joined us.”

“Stitch,” the sorceress said softly and calmly, “you know who your true enemy is. It is not he,” she gestured to Jaeden, “not Ser Sahsin, not I. The human speaks the truth. This Game might corrupt me. It might shatter me in ways that only I could imagine. I fear what will become of me if we win the Game. We might become victors, but it is I who shall pay the price,” the konti said anxiously. “But we have come this far, and you must protect the orphanage. I have my own battle, and you have yours.”

[Stitch]

Stitch stepped forward to follow Kamalia's wishes, thankful that the play was over. It had been a draining and emotional experience, and he wouldn't likely be setting foot on any kind of stage any time soon. Then again, it might be a new profession for him to explore. If he could manage to act convincingly in that kind of enviroment with that kind of crowd, then he was pretty sure he would be able to handle about every other crowd thrown at him. Chuckling under his breath, he stopped in front of the door. His nerves were obviously fraying. Leave it to him to find some sort of humor in this twisted situation. First came the Jester mask, then came the mask attached to his face. Both went on the wall, and Stitch let out a sigh of relief, thankful to have the cold object off of his skin. Now that he was free from it, he realized just how dirty it made his skin feel. This entire place made his skin feel dirty. Was this the last door? His hopes soared for a brief moment, but then he made himself actually think about it. No, of course it wasn't. The last door required an innocent, correct? Not masks. Stitch inwardly sighed, his stomach sinking. There was still a few more moves they had to make. Hearing commotion behind him, Stitch turned, his blind eyes seeking out the problem. What met his Auristic vision was the beauty of magic, and the horrible scene of various negative emotions reaching their summit. The Lady was feeling violent, and her watery whip paled in comparison beside the ice of her Aura. She had wove magic once again, and now she was threatening a fellow player. The Lord Jaeden. Someone who had helped them through the play, and someone who they had needed in order to advance this far. He too was quietly raging, having pulled a sword when Stitch didn't even notice. No, wait, he had pulled that sword too fast for Stitch to notice. Stepping forward, grimacing, Stitch tried to figure out how to diffuse the situation. Stitch knew skill when he saw it. He also couldn't deny the subtle shifts in Jaeden's aura, ones that had occured when he had drawn that blade. He was a potent swordsman. Perhaps more skilled then even Stitch, with his fists. The two of them would certainly have a violent battle, and one of them would die. Stitch didn't wish that. Nor for either of them. The only thing that caused him to pause was their two voices, rising to meet his ears. Jaeden made the logical choice, the brave choice, the selfless choice. He smashed his mask, and hurt himself. If the Game played out right, then Jaeden would have just lost the Game for his now- nonexistant team. Kamalia and Stitch had no reason to worry now. But... Jaeden's words reached Stitch's ears, as did the Lady Kamalia's. But without a doubt, he knew who he would stand with. Stepping forward, Kamalia would find herself toe-to-toe with the blind man, his glowing eyes staring sightlessly straight at her. She spoke, but this time, he did not listen. Not to a single word. His reply was out the instant she finished speaking. "This one has his own battle. You betray yourself perfectly, milady. And if milady pleases, if you truly think this is about separate battles... this one would like to fight his own battles. You do not step up to Milord Jaeden with me in thought, do you? You do not threaten the Lord out of fear for the Orphanage. Did you hear what you just said? You have your own battle. You no longer think of the Orphanage as your battle. Are you still with this one, Kamalia? Are you still with Gromhir?" He slowly turned, but his eyes were still on hers, his voice colder than she had likely ever heard. "You can't hide from this one's eyes, milady. Do not use this one's Orphanage as an excuse to weave your infernal magic. You promised, both me, and Gromhir. Several times you have broken that promise, and under pretenses that you use as excuses. No more." Stitch fully turned away from her, flexing, whipping his neck back and forth, the bones crackling as they moved. He tried to relax, bracing himself for what was beyond that door. As he spoke once again, his voice was softer. Much softer. "If you are with this one, then know that this isn't a matter of seperate battles. From this point on, this entire thing is our battle. You do not fight alone, lady Kamalia. This one will protect you. This one will protect you all." He paused, taking a deep breath. He spoke one last time, and this time, his voice held definite sadness. "Milord Jaeden is wise. If this one would have to kill an innocent to make sure the Orphanage stayed whole..." "...then the Orphanage can burn. Let us be clear on that one fact, my precious friend."

[Kamalia Timandre]

Once again, she felt that dull, hollow emotion in her heart. Betrayal was nothing new. Her clan had betrayed her, her sisters had betrayed her, as did the entirety of the Konti Isle. Kamalia had thought that Stitch was unlike other men. She had thought he would understand the konti's situation more, knowing that among all the participants, Kamalia was the most susceptible to the Game's corruption.

She faced Stitch squarely, standing stoic and motionless, staring at his sightless eyes without fear. The konti had only said what she knew as truth, but Stitch wrongly accused her of using the Orphanage to earn what she wanted. Once again, she was falsely accused. Once again, she felt as if she were back in the Taviasa, the Konti Court, when she was being tried for murder of Matalla Shivkani, and everyone condemned her under glaring eyes. The konti genuinely cared for the children of the Orphanage and for Stitch. She had come to love The Welcome Home as her new home, and had vowed to protect it with her own life. Kamalia had done everything in her power so that Team Dusk would win the Game, and she believed that the Game would change her, should they win.

Change her for the worse.

She would be farther away from Mura, away from Gromhir, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to do for those whom she had come to love. She could not make him understand. If only Gromhir were here...

“No,” Kamalia said, when the man turned his back on her, her quivering, pained voice shattering the gathering silence like fragile glass. Her eyes trembled, too, but they shone with determination. “You are blind as your eyes are. If you think I am but a shallow, power-hungry simpleton then you know nothing of me.”

“What I battle is myself! You cannot protect me from myself. My fight is my fight alone.” A sudden profound chill fell over the konti sorceress, freezing her body and soul, like the embrace of a jealous spirit. In her mind’s eye, she saw an exact mirror of herself, standing before a burning orphanage. Her own visage turned to face her and stared at her with a dark smile and gleaming crimson eyes that shone with malevolence.

“Deep down, it’s what you want. It’s all you ever wanted,” she heard her own voice in her mind, dark, sultry, seductive.

“No!” The konti shouted, wrapping her arms around herself and shaking her head from side to side in fervent denial. “Get away from me!”

[Jaeden Kincade]

“You’re taking this game to seriously then, if it could even be called a game.” Jaeden said as he looked to Kamalia, releasing his stance and lowering his sword. “Fact is, you claim to sense the truth. If you found the truth in my words by sensing it with your gift, then why doubt it? Only conclusion I can come to is that you’re gift is just a fancy term you like to throw around to exhibit a woman’s intuition, or you’re looking for an excuse to fight, to use your magic. If it‘s the latter, than I stand by my statement that you’re petched in the head. Whether it‘s this little event and castle that‘s driving that attitude or some sort of little itch you have, I‘m not going to speculate. No point in it since I don‘t know you well enough to care, nor has your initial first impressions warranted me to develop such.”

“You accuse the him of trusting too much. Perhaps he did because I showed him enough trust not to rip my gut out with that performance, to hit his mark.” Jaeden then said in defense of Sasin. “You can ask that question of whether or not I would have accepted it, but the fact of the matter is you didn’t even bother considering such. You just wanted to do it this way, wanted to flash your magic around, to appear all scary and stuff, to illicit a fight. You could have just as easily offered the scroll, waited for me to turn it down, then went with this approach. Your own actions and word lead me to such. So don’t lash out at him for your misgivings.”

Jaeden then brought his longsword up to rest along his shoulders as Stitch then stepped in, speaking his mind to Kamalia. He gave a twitch of his eye when he felt the wetness of his own blood along the blade rub off a little along his hair, giving a soft curse over the fact before he wiped the blade clean from his blade. His own levels now calmed down, Jaeden simply kept his blade to his side, but didn’t sheath it. Whether Kamalia’s magic was visible or not, he didn’t trust the Konti at that point. Not within this place, that seemed to fuel almost everyone with negativities in some form or fashion. He slowly began stepping forward, resting his hand along Stitch’s shoulder as Kamalia broke down. “It’s enough, we’ve all aired out our grievances over this matter. It’s spilt milk for now.” Jaeden simply said, his calm nature taking place once again. “Cleaning it up can wait for after we’ve left this petching place. A complete and rational conversation can’t seem to be had in here anyhow, and I don’t feel like all of us hashing it out and giving this place or its master an opportunity to throw something else at us. Bad enough that this prize that’s being offered may not even be such by our standards. Too much deviance about this place for me to think that there’s some box with a pretty ribbon on it that will make the winners feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Unless you all feel like taking the black door now, let’s just go meet this master and get the hell out of here.”

Jaeden then began moving into the next room, stopping next to Kamalia for a moment as he gazed over her as she held herself tightly and shook like a leaf in the Autumn wind. “I will say this though: I may have not seen or met you before now, but that inner battle you’re talking about? Looks like you're losing right now.” Jaeden then said, letting out an almost sympathetic sigh. “You may claim you’re not power hungry, but this little dark side of yours certainly appears to be. I don't delude myself that everyone in the world can be a happy shiny person, but it may be best ask yourself what you really want, and whether what you’re losing to get it is worth it in the end.”

Jaeden then fell silent, walking up to the door and waited. Whether the others would follow, or continue their chat was up to them. In the end, Jaeden just wanted to get this over with and get out of the castle. He could have just left, abandoning the game all together, but his nature kept him there. He didn’t know what would be in store. Looking down at the masks already in place, Jaeden almost felt an urge to smash them as well. To end the entire thing all together and not risk letting this apparent prize deteriorate any of those who remained any further. At the same time, however, it wasn’t his choice to make for them. All he could do was hope that whatever choice they did make, wasn’t one they would all regret.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Petch. Petch. He had somehow forgotten about that. "Defection is a sin." How had he forgotten? Still, he would have much preferred that they worked together, as a single team, instead of two teams working side by side. He was worried, of course. This game was changing people, nudging at their weak points. Kamalia appeared to be being consumed by some inner demon, and Stitch… well, from what he had seen so far, the man was gentle. The type to do anything to stop his orphanage from burning up.

Ugh. When had things gotten so complicated? He was silent, listening to their conversations. He ignored Kamalia, and merely glanced at Jaeden at the man's defense of him. He was merely an observer here, watching, and waiting for them to finish, red eyes glancing from one to another.

He frowned softly as Stitch spoke. He would be willing to let the orphanage burn, just so Jaeden would live? Too soft hearted, it seemed. Kamalia was cracking. If what she said was correct, and what she battled was a part of herself, then she was unstable. And in a situation like this, an unstable person was a liability. He was fairly certain that if she went batshyke insane, she'd go after Jaeden first, and that Stitch would be able to calm her down, but he couldn't count on her not killing him first. Not good. And Jaeden, it seemed, had a bit of a hero complex. Whatever he might say, he appeared to be attempting to play the good guy.

None of this was comforting. Not in the least. This game was playing them against each other. Still, Sasin intended to get on top, and stay there. He had a slight advantage, in that all of them, while they may not like him, had no reason to dislike him either, more than he could say for the others. Kamalia and Jaeden were at odds here, and Stitch had chosen the warrior over the konti. There would almost certainly be some resentment there, even if they claimed to forgive each other.

A plan was forming in his mind as Jaeden walked over to the door. Keeping himself in their good graces, while perhaps pitting them against each other again, would help him very much in keeping alive. Stitch was, by nature, a caring person who saw the good in everyone. If Kamalia and Jaeden were to continue fighting, he would probably be far too preoccupied with the two of them to bother much about Sasin. It may, he thought, be possible to appeal to Kamalia's darker side as well, subtly, of course. She seemed like a person who valued efficiency over sentimentalities. And Jaeden had already admitted that he trusted Sasin, to some small extent. With a luck and effort, he could have them all in his pocket.

Sweet Siku, but he sounded like a politician. He had been spending too much time with Eypharians.

[Tarot]

Dira's actress considered Kamalia's words for a long moment before giving a vague response. "The one of whom you speak is long gone, lost in the collective. There is no longer a 'me', only 'us'. That is, unless someone wins the Game." She turned then, and the platform began moving again, descending back onto the stage in case someone else from the teams had not surrendered and still wished to participate in the final round. She shook her head, however, as the sounds of an argument broke out in the antechamber where she left the quartet. The way they were handling themselves, she - or whatever the collective was - thought this couldn't end well. While the Game had been designed so that it could barely be won, this assumed constructive play until the end. Regardless, placing the masks in their slots unlocked the door and caused it to swing open, revealing another round of corkscrew stairs going up. The windows let them take a look at the exterior of the castle, where the sun was soon going to set. Thankfully, it wasn't a long trip to the summit, though it probably felt much longer to the remaining quartet. They emerged near the edge of a square room, perhaps the smallest they'd visited so far, measuring roughly twenty-five feet across. In the middle of the opposite wall, a door unlike any other awaited them. Made of iron, it had engravings with the same moon and sun seen on the initial archways leading into the Game. A masked man, dressed in rich red brocades, was sitting with his back against the door. One half of the mask was smiling, the other half was frowning, combining comedy and tragedy. To the players' left, a wooden door. To their right, two black doors, one close to their position and one closer to the man. "Welcome to the top floor of the central tower, my precious guests. Welcome to the final stage of the Game." The man got on his feet and adjusted his crimson silks over his body. "The Game has been played three more times over the past 150 years at different locations, with seventeen casualties and no winners. This is the first time the participants make it this far without losing anyone to Dira, even though there were heavy defections. All in all, I am moderately impressed. I must apologize," he brought his hands in front of him, "but I will not be answering any of your questions until the last stage has been cleared. May the challenge begin… the challenge that no team so far has been able to overcome." The man clapped his gloved hands twice, and the wooden door suddenly opened. Four masked people entered the small room, lining themselves up between the final door and the party. While the people were really no different from the hundreds they had encountered in the theater, those had worn vanilla masks that made them all look alike. The likeness of these masks was truly unsettling because it literally hit close to home. "And now we come full circle. We unmask for the last dance." It was them. The only female wore the unmistakable porcelain visage of a Konti seer. There was a blind mask with no holes for the eyes. There was the pleasant visage of a human male, and the less pleasant visage of a half-Dhani. So this was the Game, and why no-one had ever beaten it. "The actors have become the masks, and the other way around. This was the entire point of the play, after all." The Master of the Game stepped away from the door and positioned himself in a corner to watch the show. The four impersonators - sTITCH, kAMALIA, jAEDEN and sASIN - was all that stood between them and the final door. The Konti made an all-too-familiar motion and conjured an all-too-familiar whip of water. She spoke softly, the voice not really like Kamalia's but the inflection and timing exactly identical. "You must forgive me, kind ser, but I cannot allow you to pass. I cannot allow you to win the Game. There are children’s lives at stake here — orphans in Syliras, innocent souls. If we are not proclaimed victors, the orphanage will be smouldered, along with the children." The blind mask bowed at the real Jaeden. "Greetings, milord. This one hates to meet you again under such stressful circumstances, and on opposing sides, as well." He spoke to the rest of them. "This one is able to fight, if needed." He flexed his muscles. "And this one can prove it, if needed." The Dhani mask sighed, and was more to the point. "Why can't anything ever be simple?" He said, and drew his dagger, though he made no motion to move towards the participants. As for the Jaeden lookalike, he drew his sword too, pointing a finger at the real Kamalia. "I don’t much like violence, but the next time you make a threatening action towards me, you better be prepared to follow through with that threat because I’ll only ignore it so much." Every single line here, every single word was one they had uttered during the Game. The eternal dilemma of life imitating art imitating life presented itself in all of its splendor. And which would win here? Life… or art?

[Stitch]

Before Kamalia had her arms around herself, Stitch was there, his arms going around her too. Just like that, even if the man had spoke harsh words that he had thought were truths, he was right by her side. His strong arms wrapped around her small body, and he pulled her against him, easily overwhelming any kind of minor struggles she might manage to put up against him. He simply held her, trying to calm her through any of her inner attacks, letting her know that he was still there. He had turned his back, but it hadn't been to abandon her. It had simply been to face the door that they would have to go through, to protect her from whatever would come through it. He had made a promise, and that promise rang deep within his heart. He would protect the Lady. He had promised Gromhir, and now, this was the real test. He would have to protect her from the turmoil within her own heart. He whispered to her, ducking his lips to her ear, giving her words that only she would hear. "Listen, and listen well, milady. This one is not blind. This one can see it, your aura collapsing on itself, attacking itself. This place corrupting and corroding you, gently prodding at you with it's magical influence. This one is not as wise as you when it comes to magic, but this one does have common sense. This one does know what you and Lord Gromhir have told this one. Overgiving, was it? Was that the term, milady Kamalia? This one fears that it sways your judgment. How can this one be so sure you aren't using this one and his Orphanage as an excuse?" Stitch paused, drawing in a shaky breath. She might notice then that he was crying, if only a bit. A few tears had streaked down his cheeks, perhaps lightly dampening her own as well. "This one is scared, milady. Scared of what is happening. Scared of what this place is doing to us, and especially you." He stroked her hair, doing the best that he could to comfort her, trying his hardest just to soothe away her hurts and fears. "Priskil help you. This one can protect you from yourself. You just have to let this one. But please, do not let the magic sway you. It will whisper, but you must not listen. Just don't use it. Please. You have other weapons, milady. Please try and depend on them for now. This one will protect you." Stitch finally released her, stepping away, his hand grabbing hers and giving it a squeeze. He reached out a hand, touching it to her chin, forcing her to look up and at him, his blind eyes vacantly staring right into her. She would know that he was watching. That she had his full attentions. "This one does not mean to accuse you of being power-hungry, or shallow. This one is simply scared for you, and scared for us. The Kamalia that this one knew wouldn't murder an innocent man. Not even for the children. Did this one come to know the wrong person, or simply assume too much of you? This one would certainly like to be proven wrong in his assumptions." He offered her a brilliant smile, one that the old Stitch always gave. Stitch was silent for a moment, then pulled away, still offering her that beautiful grin. "This one will not question your methods, milady. This one still sees you as a beautiful, kind, wise friend. This one knows the Game wears you thin. Just please, respect this one wish. No innocent blood shall be spilt for the children. We are all in this together. This one would like us to work as a team. Please?" Taking a deep breath, he glanced at the rest of them, giving them each a rather beaming smile, considering the circumstances. "This one is continuing on, but even for all the talk of working together... If any of you wish to take a black door, even you, milady... Then please do so. You will be safe that way, and this one wishes for us all to come out safe." Both Jaeden and Sasin would feel Stitch's gaze sweep over them, and he would give them each their own special smile, before once again turning to face the door. Just like that, he continued on, taking the lead. He was the first to reach the room, and he silently stood by, listening to the announcer. He opened his mouth to phrase a question, but the creature quickly made it clear that questions were not to be answered, causing Stitch to close his mouth and assume a slightly annoyed expression. He just continued to wait until the final obstacle came into view, causing another reaction to play across Stitch's face. Surprise. Cocking his head, he stepped forward, eyeballing the puppets. Had he just heard right? Were those his voices? And odder yet, while the other puppets had all had the very same Auras as the next... these puppets... They had the definite taste of Stitch's fellow party members lingering on them. One shone with the magic of Kamalia, the other with the wild warmth of the Dhani, and the other with the calm confidence of Jaeden. And then the final one... Stitch stepped forward, the magnitude of the situation not yet striking him, his curiosity and child-like wonder overcoming all else for the moment. He stood a few paces in front of himself (his other self), cocking his head, scanning his Auristic vision over the doppleganger. He made sure to place himself just out of sTITCH's reach, knowing himself well enough not to trust himself. He was fascinated, though. sTITCH's voice had sounded exactly the same as his own. And unlike the other masks present, his was missing eyeholes. Was he blind too? Stitch drew in a breath, glancing back and forth between all of the constructs, not so sure how to react. They each had the same goals as the rest of them? Did they play by the correct rules? Stitch absentmindedly glanced over each construct, looking for sinner marks. "If we are supposed to fight, this one thinks the rest of you should know something." He paused, and tilted his head back toward his comrades, signaling that he was speaking to them. "This one uses martial arts, and is also skilled with the Flux. This one is confident he could handle any one of you, from what this one has seen, at close range. Please be careful." He paused again, and finally spoke to their dopplegangers, offering them a bright smile. "Hello. If the lot of you is fueled by our very motives, then this one apologizes. We all have something important to fight for. This has been a horrifying evening, has it not? This one has experienced your pain, and wishes that you yourselves did not have to experience it. Do the lot of you even feel pain? How much alike are we?" Stepping back to his group, Stitch lightly flexed and stretched, keeping his Auristic eye on all of the opposing Auras at once. He was on guard, truly focusing all of his energies on watching those Auras, and reading them. If any one of them made a move toward any of his comrades, he would attempt to shout out a warning. If he could, he would attempt to read their movements before they even made them. "This one shall stand back. Keep an ear out for this one's voice. With this one's Auristics, this one may be able to watch all of our backs at once." He offered the dopplegangers a sad smile, speaking to them now. "This one assumes that there is no way to talk our way to an agreement? If the lot of you are to fight for the reasons we fight... Then there is too much to lose, is there not? "