The Shadow Carnevale (RP)

"Well there’s Raynor, your... god," Lille says dismissively, not seeming to fully understand the term. "But I’ve never met them." She seems to do some quick math, the change of subject pulling her fully out of her previous fear. "If that was Ezme, then where are Daryl and Theo? Everyone was asleep when I left. I just meant to check here for a few minutes to see if there was any threat..." How much time has passed? She struggles between concern and guilt for a few moments, the expressions growing more and more pronounced.

"I’m sorry," she says, her voice low but intense. She stands up straight with one hand on her staff. But instead of leaning on it, it appears to be part of her strength. "I will do better," she declares firmly.

"Yes Raynor. Why does that sound so familiar? Yet I can't put a face to it." The question is easily ignored when Lille changes the subject.

"What woke you up then?" Albeart asks her. "Because I saw you asleep when I came to check out this place. Also, who sets up a circus in the middle of the night? I haven't seen Daryl or Theo. They must still be sleeping."

''Oh my, Daryl.''
Roald wants to run over to Daryl but when he spots the snake, he freezes.
'' You should feed the duck to the snake so it will turn into wood again''
He has no idea where this knowledge comes from, but when the words leave his mouth they sound right.
''Just throw it to the snake''

Ezme does her best not to shrivel at the sound of Daryl's wretched screaming. She nods her head at Roald's suggestion. "Right." She fishes out the wooden duck and runs swiftly, stopping between the snake and Daryl. She tosses the duck so that it lands directly in front of the slithering creature.

"Nothing woke me," Lille explains patiently, managing to keep almost all of the defensiveness out of her voice. " YOU were all sleeping and it was my watch. I never went to sleep.." She trails off in confusion, suddenly uncertain of her claims. "What woke you up?" She looks around at the tents suspiciously, obviously in agreement about the middle-of-the-night carnival being strange in many ways.

Roald quickly runs over to Daryl, and tries to remove him from the tent by grabbing Daryl under his armpits and pulling hard. But Daryl's to heavy... Or he is to weak.
'' We're here Daryl, look I have the Damsel of the Duck with me. Everything will be alright now''
'' We need to get him out of here! Let's work together ''

Ezme hovers next to the staff as Roald runs to Daryl's side, still reticent to touch the holy weapon, but afraid to leave it lest it transform again.

She nods urgently at Roald’s suggestion. "First come get the staff!" she yells over the din, waving Roald over.

... The screaming is horrendous. She can't think straight.

Roald lets go of Daryl and turns around to pick up the staff.
He thinks for a few seconds and then takes the staff with both his hands. One on each end of the stick.
He looks at Ezme, his expression saying 'was this so hard to do?'

Ezme squints her eyes at Roald in response to his unspoken critique, then runs to Daryl.

"Shake out of it, warrior!" she says, rattling him gently by the shoulders. This does not work to rouse him from his terrified, screaming trance, however it does trigger a memory in her mind.

Yes, she had already been through this....

There was something about his neck. I need to...? Ezme wraps one of her arms under each of Daryl's, hoisting him up off his knees in an awkward, dangling hug. As she does so, she places her hands over the base of his neck, pressing the warmth of her palms there, not entirely sure what (if anything) will happen....

"Wait..." Albeart says "I was asleep? But I was keeping watch. You were as well? This doesn't make sense." he looks at her questioningly. "What's going on? Where are we?"

Lille’s eyes open wide as she takes in Albeart’s words, and she goes as taught as a wire as the realizations dawn on her. "Are we.. sleeping? Or.. not in our bodies?" Each impossible sounding question only makes her more frightened, like a cornered animal.

But cornered animals are often the most dangerous ones, and Lille is clearly in that sort of mood by now. Without a word, she stands up and strides over to the nearest passing worker. As they go past her, her purposeful gait changes to a sudden low sweep of her staff, trying to cut their legs from under them.

Lille appears unmoved by their emotions and points the end of her staff at their throat. "What is this place? Where are we? And no more stories!"

Roald, thinking Ezme is trying to get Daryl out of the tent, jams the staff behind his sword belt next to his sword.
my sword...
It's the most beautiful sword he's ever seen. The handle inlayed with gems, and when he draws it... Of course he draws it... He can see his own reflection in the beautifully polished steel.
Damn I'm one handsome son of a butch. Errrr,... What?...
Daryl's screams pull him out of his 'thinking loop'
He wants to put the sword back, but it's already there at his side again. Only now the handle is the same as his dad's hatchet. Worn and dirty.

Roald walks over to Daryl and hoists him by the legs.
'' I'll walk backwards, let's go''
And he starts pulling Daryl's legs (which are far heavier than he expected) in the direction of the exit.

Albeart watches in disbelief as Lille takes direct action. Was he really in a dream world, or some outer body experience? I would explain the strange things he's been seeing. "But if we are sleeping and this is a dream, Lille. Can't we do whatever we want?"

He puts this to the test and focuses on the metal bars of the cage. If Lille is right, then these bars don't exist and should simply vanish as he tries to walk through them. He takes a deep bear's breath and closes his eyes, trying to believe that the cage doesn't exist.