That’s right, I’m Raphael. Welcome to my House of Hope … or I suppose you are intent on leaving soon, aren’t you?
[ Raphael watches you all yell at each about self-sacrifice quietly, waiting until calmness has returned. And then gestures with a hand. Rondo and Ashlyn lower until their feet are on the floor - still held, but as requested, not hanging in the air. see? politeness gets you everywhere. Ashlyn does still have her spell scrolls but she can’t turn her head to read off of them from this angle. she is facing forward. ]
Now now. I’ve no interest in keeping you. As it stands, it seems your souls are already committed to another cause, are they not? You cannot trade something you do not have ownership of. Be reasonable.
You’ve seen this all before, haven’t you? Just last week, four of your number stumbled into a little traipse through imagination, torn to shreds both physically and mentally. I can see it already - you falling through some portal and splashing down hands and knees into some muddy waters while every onlooker rushes to see what all the fuss is about. `Where did you go?` `What happened? `Are you alright?`
We’ve all done this before. At least, some of us.
You know that whatever that is - [ he gestures at Hope, who takes a step backwards.] Is nothing more than a figment that won’t live on any longer than this foray will. As soon as it ends, so does she. You aren’t rescuing anything, anyone. You are soothing yourselves, assuring yourselves of your morality. Acting out a play on the stage for our benefit. You won’t be helping her.
What will be a benefit is what you can receive from this. Items, power, information. Things that can used. A prize. Everyone gets one.
My trade off is this: if you try to leave with her, I will ensure you receive nothing should you exit this place. No items. No little notes or tidbits or clues. But you will have … Hope. Whatever that means to you.
Or you can return her to me, and I will make sure you see your reward. And I’m perfectly content to keep your secret. You can tell everyone back home whatever you like about your choices here - they will remain between you and me. It makes no difference, does it? A lie can run around the world before the truth has managed to tie its shoelaces.
You are going to return shortly to whence you came, to your stinking little cult games in the middle of a filthy swamp.
So you have a choice.
You can have Hope - that intangible, untouchable thing that will whittle you down to the core and leave you hollow inside - and return empty handed with nothing but the oh-so-touching feeling of the moral superiority.
Or a prize. Something you can hold on to. Something you can use to help yourselves, your friends - your real friends - escape fates worse than these so called nightmares you’ve laid witness to here.
But you won’t be leaving with both.
[ a contract hangs in the air beside him, being magically penned as this continues. bound in blood. it’s one or the other.
no subject
[ Raphael watches you all yell at each about self-sacrifice quietly, waiting until calmness has returned. And then gestures with a hand. Rondo and Ashlyn lower until their feet are on the floor - still held, but as requested, not hanging in the air. see? politeness gets you everywhere. Ashlyn does still have her spell scrolls but she can’t turn her head to read off of them from this angle. she is facing forward. ]
Now now. I’ve no interest in keeping you. As it stands, it seems your souls are already committed to another cause, are they not? You cannot trade something you do not have ownership of. Be reasonable.
You’ve seen this all before, haven’t you? Just last week, four of your number stumbled into a little traipse through imagination, torn to shreds both physically and mentally. I can see it already - you falling through some portal and splashing down hands and knees into some muddy waters while every onlooker rushes to see what all the fuss is about. `Where did you go?` `What happened? `Are you alright?`
We’ve all done this before. At least, some of us.
You know that whatever that is - [ he gestures at Hope, who takes a step backwards.] Is nothing more than a figment that won’t live on any longer than this foray will. As soon as it ends, so does she. You aren’t rescuing anything, anyone. You are soothing yourselves, assuring yourselves of your morality. Acting out a play on the stage for our benefit. You won’t be helping her.
What will be a benefit is what you can receive from this. Items, power, information. Things that can used. A prize. Everyone gets one.
My trade off is this: if you try to leave with her, I will ensure you receive nothing should you exit this place. No items. No little notes or tidbits or clues. But you will have … Hope. Whatever that means to you.
Or you can return her to me, and I will make sure you see your reward. And I’m perfectly content to keep your secret. You can tell everyone back home whatever you like about your choices here - they will remain between you and me. It makes no difference, does it? A lie can run around the world before the truth has managed to tie its shoelaces.
You are going to return shortly to whence you came, to your stinking little cult games in the middle of a filthy swamp.
So you have a choice.
You can have Hope - that intangible, untouchable thing that will whittle you down to the core and leave you hollow inside - and return empty handed with nothing but the oh-so-touching feeling of the moral superiority.
Or a prize. Something you can hold on to. Something you can use to help yourselves, your friends - your real friends - escape fates worse than these so called nightmares you’ve laid witness to here.
But you won’t be leaving with both.
[ a contract hangs in the air beside him, being magically penned as this continues. bound in blood. it’s one or the other.
choose. ]