[MODERATED - player memory] [CRITERIA: defeat NPC(s), find the linchpin] [RESERVED: Armani & Chanel Addams]
"I'm sorry." It's a young voice, and while being escorted up a solemn staircase, the boy catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dark hair, glasses, perfectly pressed clothing. The house is grand and dark, and very, very quiet. Just him and the man with a hand on his shoulder.
"You know the rules, Laszlo." He doesn't look down at his son, and his face never quite comes into view. "I don't have any use for your apologies now."
Laszlo falls silent. Outside the sun is hanging low in the sky. Trees stretch on for miles outside, with no signs of other people nearby. The pair pass the window swiftly, clinically, and Laszlo hardly drags his feet at all. He's stopped trying to see his father's face, and just lets himself be led.
"You could have gotten us discovered. Broken the statute. Or were you planning on leaving with those children?" His father's voice is less calm now, more desperate.
"I was—I was going to—tell— I would tell them it was—private property, and—"
"Enough, I am too busy to listen to you stammer."
They reach a door, and his father opens it. A small, plain room. No toys, just books. Some plants. A window nailed tightly shut. Laszlo turns around, perhaps to try and say something, but the door is already shut. He hears it being locked behind him.
The memory freezes and Armani pulls little Laszlo into a tight hug, weeping all over him. He can't help it.
"We found him!" he sobs, patting his neatly styled hair. He knows this isn't Laszlo-Laszlo like little Chanel wasn't Chanel-Chanel, but they're so close to freeing the real one. "Look at where his dad kept him. Look at the nails on the window, Chanel."
Chanel stalks immediately toward the door the man exited from and pounds at it with her fist, daring the man to come back. Fight her properly.
When she remembers herself, recalls that this is just a shade of the past, and she’ll have to wait to give Mr. Pataki a new nose, she stops and goes to Armani’s side, instead, squeezing his shoulder gently. “He’s out, now.” She reminds him. “He won’t ever have to come back here.”
"We could make sure of that," he murmurs softly, chin resting atop the boy's head, like he's not at all implying murder. He is definitely implying murder. He runs his hands down the sides of Laszlo's arms before pulling away and wiping his face clean on his robes.
They're now wrapped stylishly around his neck like a cowl cape, draped behind him over one shoulder. Beneath them, he wears a black bodysuit that twinkles like stars in the night sky. You can't save the day if you ain't cute.
He tries the window, touching it and then deliberately running his hand over each of the nails to try to trigger a glow. He'd been careless in Chanel's memory, touching the record player and not the record. Now he's gonna be more thorough.
"We will." She knows exactly what she's agreeing to, and sounds it. It's really a rational decision to kill Laszlo's father. They'll have to confer with him first, of course, but. Eventually.
She follows behind Armani, taking his lead, a little, for once. This is Laszlo, after all, and as dear as he is to Chanel, she knows how much more that's true for her twin. So she feels she's here for support. Primarily. And to escalate by attempting to tear the boards off the windows, also nail by nail, with fingers that will not be very well manicured after tonight.
Even though he's a memory, little Laszlo deserves the sun.
"Don't bother," he tells Chanel. "The sooner we find the Root, the sooner we can set him free."
Armani brushes his fingers over a plant and along the spines of books on the bookshelf as he makes his way to the door. The sorrowful journey stuck out more to him than their current surroundings.
"Keep looking in here while I check the hall?" Despite knowing it's locked, Armani tries the door handle anyway. Just to touch, just to be thorough. "Alohomora."
Ah, but something about Chanel that Armani should’ve learned just decades ago is that she will always bother. And this time, she thinks, it pays off. “I heard something, though.” She hisses and proceeds immediately to start bashing at the loose board with the blunt end of the hockey stick Armani had gifted her.
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peckenpaugh2020-06-01 11:18 am
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
[CRITERIA: defeat NPC(s), find the linchpin]
[RESERVED: Armani & Chanel Addams]
"I'm sorry." It's a young voice, and while being escorted up a solemn staircase, the boy catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dark hair, glasses, perfectly pressed clothing. The house is grand and dark, and very, very quiet. Just him and the man with a hand on his shoulder.
"You know the rules, Laszlo." He doesn't look down at his son, and his face never quite comes into view. "I don't have any use for your apologies now."
Laszlo falls silent. Outside the sun is hanging low in the sky. Trees stretch on for miles outside, with no signs of other people nearby. The pair pass the window swiftly, clinically, and Laszlo hardly drags his feet at all. He's stopped trying to see his father's face, and just lets himself be led.
"You could have gotten us discovered. Broken the statute. Or were you planning on leaving with those children?" His father's voice is less calm now, more desperate.
"I was—I was going to—tell— I would tell them it was—private property, and—"
"Enough, I am too busy to listen to you stammer."
They reach a door, and his father opens it. A small, plain room. No toys, just books. Some plants. A window nailed tightly shut. Laszlo turns around, perhaps to try and say something, but the door is already shut. He hears it being locked behind him.
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
"We found him!" he sobs, patting his neatly styled hair. He knows this isn't Laszlo-Laszlo like little Chanel wasn't Chanel-Chanel, but they're so close to freeing the real one. "Look at where his dad kept him. Look at the nails on the window, Chanel."
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
When she remembers herself, recalls that this is just a shade of the past, and she’ll have to wait to give Mr. Pataki a new nose, she stops and goes to Armani’s side, instead, squeezing his shoulder gently. “He’s out, now.” She reminds him. “He won’t ever have to come back here.”
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
They're now wrapped stylishly around his neck like a cowl cape, draped behind him over one shoulder. Beneath them, he wears a black bodysuit that twinkles like stars in the night sky. You can't save the day if you ain't cute.
He tries the window, touching it and then deliberately running his hand over each of the nails to try to trigger a glow. He'd been careless in Chanel's memory, touching the record player and not the record. Now he's gonna be more thorough.
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
She follows behind Armani, taking his lead, a little, for once. This is Laszlo, after all, and as dear as he is to Chanel, she knows how much more that's true for her twin. So she feels she's here for support. Primarily. And to escalate by attempting to tear the boards off the windows, also nail by nail, with fingers that will not be very well manicured after tonight.
Even though he's a memory, little Laszlo deserves the sun.
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
One of the boards, however, loosens slightly. There is a small clinking sound behind it, like metal on glass.
MEMORY: Rulebreaker
Armani brushes his fingers over a plant and along the spines of books on the bookshelf as he makes his way to the door. The sorrowful journey stuck out more to him than their current surroundings.
"Keep looking in here while I check the hall?" Despite knowing it's locked, Armani tries the door handle anyway. Just to touch, just to be thorough. "Alohomora."
MEMORY: Rulebreaker