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balance_logs2019-09-16 08:41 am
balancemod) wrote in balance_logs2019-09-16 08:41 am
Entry tags:
- ace attorney: maya fey,
- ace attorney: mia fey,
- doki doki literature club: sayori,
- final destination: alex browning,
- good omens: aziraphale,
- my hero academia: izuku midoriya,
- original: ferran gallagher,
- red vs blue: agent washington,
- the good place: michael,
- umineko: lion ushiromiya,
- umineko: willard wright,
- undertale: sans
Field Mission 5: Il Prigioniero, Part 2
 1. THE MANAGER'S CHALLENGEA. MEET THE BOSS Once upon a time, there was a man, a woman, and a little boy. They were a family. They loved each other very much. Once upon a time, there was a monster, a protector, and a dreamer. They never asked to be a family. One by one, they fell under the pressures of each other. There are always layers to any story. There are at least two sides to any reality. When a man kills his wife with no consequences, what is the end of the story? Will the universe allow such an unhappy ending? Or are there forces that drag it on long past its natural span? With a single act of resistance, four Reclaimers have Remembered and thereby broken the cycle of the Night Show. But this isn't the end. This is barely the middle. Because the Wonderland you've seen so far is a layer of new pink skin over an ugly infection, one that goes deeper than anything the Bureau has seen so far. You can see what's underneath, now, as the theme park is whipped away in an implosion of void-space to show you . . . Emptiness. A space that is no space, blank and white in all directions. Free of gravity, every Reclaimer in the park — and, shockingly, Angus McDonald — is held in place with hands cupped and outstretched in front of them, all facing the same way. They cannot move. They cannot speak. They are the audience. Before them stands a man. Slim, tall, nondescript. He wears a bow-tie with a pattern of Rolands on it. And he is smiling.  "Welcome to my Wonderland! My name is Adrian Morgenstern, and I am the Manager. It's a pleasure to meet you. Each and every one of you have had a very interesting effect on my Wonderland in my absence. Some more than others, and at greater cost to yourselves — but I encourage individual choice in Wonderland, and ownership of personal consequences. Suffering is a part of life. It builds character.There's a crack in the facade. A literal crack; something in the structure of his face is off suddenly, like something has fractured and slid. One cheekbone higher than the other, a hairline fracture underneath his eye. You blink, and it's fixed. His smile is wide, but his face is whole. Suddenly, in each Reclaimer's outstretched hands (and in Angus's), there is a single three-sided die. On each side is written a word: BODY, MIND, or SPIRIT. "Don't lose these, now! These are your cheat codes. If you find yourself struggling with the scavenger hunt and in need of a little help, you can play a little game of chance to give Wonderland something of yours. It won't take anything that will kill you, don't worry. But it will take things that matter, and it won't give them back.He winks. And blinks out of existence. And suddenly, the nonspace you occupied is gone, and you are Somewhere Else. 2. WONDERLAND, UNDER THE SKINB. THE ILLUSION COMES DOWN CW: Emetophobia, body horror, reality caving in on itself For a short time after Adrian leaves, everything is as it should be. Wonderland is Wonderland, but quiet and still aside from the background music. After a few breaths, heartbeats slowing, the music warps and bends like rotting wood, going further and further off key until it grinds. Clangs once, loudly, down to your bones, and halts. The world freezes in absolute silence. Then. A sizzling noise. Burning paper. The illusion starts to die. To your left, the floor peels up like it's made of paper, mist, waving like a mirage before your eyes. Colorful red velvet floors reveal dark green and glowing violet moss and fungus. Gold tile floors give way to ebony wood, gone rock solid in atrophy. Disease. A small black vine reaches from the floor towards you, towards Life, but withers and hardens before your eyes. You need to leave. To your right, a wall bleeds. Is it actually blood? Sap? The color seems to run away from your eyes - goldredwhiteyellowblackblackblack - covered with an iridescent sheen, an oil slick, pouring out and up and towards in ways that burn your eyes and soul. You need to leave. All around you, the Wonderland you've come to know burns like shadows in sunlight, or sunlight to shadow. The ceiling and walls and everything morphs to the inside of some unfathomably large tree. Roots and branches and gouged out holes, forming paths of the most non-ecludian sort. Some... things out of sight climb up and down in the darkness, looking for purchase, escape, travel. Far too many limbs, or none at all. You need to LEAVE.  Not yet. You want to help. You need to help. You grab the nearest non-reclaimer - an elf, a visitor, someone - and they are both far too light and far too heavy. Stiff like wood in your hands. Their skin is gray, ashen, black veins in porcelain skin. Eyes gone solid black, they try to say something, but all that comes out is a spew of thick black tar - leaking from their eyes, ears, nose, vomit, cracks in their joints and once-flesh. The amorphous Black they just expelled pulses, then skitters down between the wood at your feet.You look at your skin. Your veins are too dark. Visible. Present. A weight builds in your heart, The Reclaimers (and Angus) can still move, bolt for what was once a cascade of colors, lights and joy. Now it's a gaping maw, jagged edges like splintered teeth around a hole like a cavity, sap like pus seeping out of the edges. The once-elevator now-branches bring you back to Shadowdale, covered in a charcoal smog that seems to smile at you from every angle. C. THE CAVALRY ARRIVES Lucretia, after receiving Sans' text about the current state of affairs within Wonderland, is faced with a decision that only she could make. Years ago, she came upon this place and lost decades of her life, all in an attempt to stop the mechanations of this horrific landscape. Her biggest failure, a thorn in her pride, she assembled the Bureau of Balance not long after her visit in order to take down places like this. People or things who obtain a power they should not have. She doesn't know why Wonderland is the way that it is, she can only guess that the Grand Relic has corrupted the World Tree down to its core. But more than that, more than the years she put onto her life for a wager of chess, more than the meticulous, maddening obsession she has with destroying every single one of these objects that threaten the world- her Reclaimers are here. Her Reclaimers. Against the judgment of most of her advisers and Moon Base employees, she grits her teeth and holds tight to her staff. Carey, Killian, and Lucretia descend upon the forests of the Cormanthor region. It takes them far, far too long to make it through the wilds. The forest can sense when someone is coming to destroy it, and thus, sends everything it can against them. Enchantment after enchantment gets flung their way, but she knows better. She's seen Wonderland before and she reckons that no one has ever visited this place twice. Arriving in Shadowdale, she looks up to see Yggdrasil in its sad, sorry state. Clasping her staff in place, finally here, she is resplendent in her detestation of this unholy place. A few of you might be there at the base of the tree when Wonderland transforms into its hellscape, and you might see her approaching, purposeful, as if every step is one of reclamation and poise. Angus McDonald looks upon her and tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is that's going on. Lucretia warmly smiles at him. "Hello, Angus. I've heard much about you." "Ma'am?"  But her attention is turned to another little boy, terrified otherwise. His face is darkened, sickly colors rooting through his veins and showing up against a pale skin. Niel. Ah, she remembers him, too. Her face gives no sign of anger, of fear, or resentment. "Don't worry, Niel. We'll free you from that monster." She doesn't renege on her promises. Lucretia slams her white oak staff on the ground and in an instant, a flash of brilliant luminescence fills all of Shadowdale, expelling the darkness that lingers around the corners of the sleeping town. She erects a magic dome from the center of her origin, expanding out from her as she concentrates on her magic. Lucretia's gifted in the arcane herself, you see, and a giant Globe of Invulnerability spell now blocks entrance nor exit from this zone. And for the first time in centuries, Shadowdale sees sunlight. Carey and Killian flank her. She needs to concentrate on this spell in order to keep it active, and they're there to stop anyone who thinks about getting in her way. D. NEW RULES OF WONDERLAND It's a zero-sum game here that Adrian is wagering. Lucretia didn't bring Dr. Tank down to Shadowdale for a very specific reason; an expert chess player herself, she always thinks in terms of move by move encounters. She figures that the rules would change quickly once the Reclaimers had figured out what was behind the curtain, so to speak. There's no way that Wonderland would allow healing or restoration of a body within its confines. She aims to cut this place off from the outside world. To quarantine it away from escape and cage it inward like an animal. No, Dr. Tank would be useless here, and if anything... dangerous, to put their chief of medical staff here in the middle of the mission. And thus, no one can come in or out of the area once she's erected the barrier. Returning to base is no longer an option for the remainder of the mission, including any and all facilities provided by its administration: Bender's food, Fantasy Costco, items you may have left behind, etc. Those of you who have opted out of the horror plot for the month will most likely be spending your time in Shadowdale for the next two weeks, providing back up and support to Lucretia. The work you do out here is equally as important as the work that needs to be done on the inside. Whereas the forest was quiet and still before, it seems to have taken on a new life of its own, now that it senses the Source of its life deeply threatened. Killian takes command from here on out. Anyone not willing to go up to Wonderland needs to stay down here and stop the encroaching darkness from attacking. And she means that, literally.  As you look around the outskirts of town, the dome extending well beyond the vantage point you can see, there are creatures, made of darkness, dripping a deeply red sap that sparkles in the newfound texture of light Lucretia's spell provides. One bounds forward from the edge of a building, four legs crawling and made of pure shadow, and attempts to make an attack towards the Director. Carey cuts it down as it splits into two and vanquishes into a dark dust. "What the hell are these ugly gods-damned things?!" Some of you might've noticed it before in your rolls, but in the light provided by Lucretia's spell, there's no denying it. Negativity forms a dark cloud straight from Carey's mouth, as her eyes go wide at the sight of it. The monster at her feet, now a cloud of dust, seems to feed on it as it reassembles back into its form. What the actual fuck. 3. A TASTE OF GOOD SUFFERINGE. REEDS GROWING OUT OF MY FINGERTIPS The Wonderland the Reclaimers and Angus find themselves in now looks nothing like the Wonderland they left behind. The feel of it is similar, except that the creeping dread has officially crept. It's here now, fully-formed and breathing down the back of every single neck. What was whispered before is screamed now: Wonderland is here to hurt you. The fun it seeks is not for you, but fuel for something else, something you haven't found yet. Nonetheless, you're here to feed it. And so, you begin to realize, is Yggdrasil. The naturally-minded among you begin to realize it with sickening certainty: the roots, the veins, the stiffness and the ever-present tarlike substance stem from the sickness of the World Tree. Wonderland, and all of you, are within Yggdrasil's rot now — and as much as it tries to reject this magic, the insidious power of the Compact has taken over too far. The tree is dying. Inside of it as you are, you can practically feel it. The entire place is a warren, structured like the tree it's draining the life out of. From the central trunk, the central locations that used to be Squares slide off from the main body in long, twisting branches that turn in nonsensical directions before abruptly coming to a halt. Each Square exists in uncomfortable parody here — or maybe the original was the cruel joke, because the purpose of Wonderland is suffering. At any turn in your path through the channels of Wonderland, you'll be swimming through darkness creeping in on all sides. No light can penetrate past your periphery, with very few exceptions; you are a moving lantern in this blackness, functioning on faith that whatever comes at you, a mystery until the last moment, will be something you can handle. Stumble into Battle Square and find yourself face-to-face with a monster of vicious intelligence and amorphous shape, delighted to cut you to ribbons over a period of hours while telling you every secret shame you've ever harbored. In Event Square, a knot midway up the endless trunk, time goes taffy-sticky as you trip through loops of memory blasted on every wall, loud and confusing and overwhelming, going on for what seems like forever. There's more, of course — more discrete spaces than you could even see in Wonderland. Any manner of horror you can consider can be found here, as vast as Yggdrasil itself. One or two places, though, will be particularly easy to recognize — and difficult to escape. F. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU Sometimes, investigation gives us little tips and tricks for solving the next stage of the puzzle. For example: Michael found a map to the mirror maze, back in the first iteration of Wonderland. But unfortunately, sometimes the setting also cheats. Ghost Square is still here — but maps aren't going to do you any good. Enter this section of Wonderland and the door behind you doesn't exist anymore. It doesn't pop out of existence; it just isn't, like it never was, like maybe you imagined it in the first place. A hallway, apparently manmade, stretches out in front of you, dark and cold. It appears to be approximately 60 feet long. The walls are black. When you reach out to touch them, they are freezing to the touch and too smooth to be natural, not shiny enough to be polished, too hard to be plant matter. You have no idea what they are, but touching them saps the warmth out of you, so you stop.  You keep walking, a halo of light around you but stretching no further than a few feet in any direction. You walk for 60 feet. The hallway keeps going. It hasn't gotten longer, but it hasn't gotten shorter, either. It keeps going. It keeps going. You continue until your feet hurt or you get sick of this bullshit, whichever comes first, and then you turn back the way you came. Maybe you think you'll see a door, or maybe you're not thinking very clearly anymore.Back the way you came, there is a staircase. It wasn't there before. You certainly didn't pass it. It spirals down into the depths. It could be a story deep or a hundred. You have no way to know. You turn back towards the direction you originally walked, and there is only a wall. It's the spiral staircase or it's nothing. You go down. As you descend, it gets colder. Colder and darker, and the darkness and cold press against you, creep under your skin and make you shake. The halo of light around you begins to dim the deeper you go. If you go deep enough, it will be hard to tell what's light and what's your imagination. Because really, honestly? The longer you stay in this place, the more you begin to think you're hearing things. Whispers just beyond your ability to decipher. A soft laugh, like that of a child or someone trying to stay quiet. And if you stop, or rest, or feel something negative — anger, frustration, sorrow, despair, it doesn't matter, because a black fog drifts out from between your lips. And in the distance, something roars. Just a little bit closer every time. Every once in a while, as you descend the staircase, you will pass a mirror with a red X taped near the top. Sometimes you'll see yourself in it. Sometimes you'll see something worse. When you get right down to it, what you get out of the world has a lot to do with what you put in — so we hope you're staying positive, or you might see something really nasty. G. THE SONG BEYOND THE SONG The aftermath of MARIA's destruction, the Area That Was Once The Night Show is a blasted husk. More than anywhere else, the walls ooze Yggdrasil's lifeblood from where something... was. Something large used to be chained here. Open gashes and empty sockets line the walls and floor. A large root knotted like a spine shoots through the very center of the room, a support pillar, entwined into the ceiling and floor and Everything of this cavern. Growths like tumors rise from the floor - what was once gambling tables look more like grasping hands. A few curl into themselves, knocked over, shattered to splinters in the wake of what was once there. Maria is gone. She is free. There is a sob. Small. Weak. Mortal. At the base of the pillar, half-absorbed into the plant matter of Yggdrasil is Stylosa. Black roots creep up through her arms, chest, face. Her tears are tinged black, but the eyes are still hers. One arm reaches out. She whispers 'please help, it hurt̷̟͂s̶͕̓ ̵̻͂ĩ̸̺t̸͔͐ ̴͙̍ḧ̷̜́ù̸̘r̶̢̓t̶́͜s̸̫͒ ̸͑ͅî̶̺Ṱ̴̿ ̵̠̃H̷̙͊U̸̻̒R̶̯͛T̸͓͠S̸̢͌`- The world goes static, right then wrong then right again, and the original Wonderland surrounds you. Silent - for a second. An explosion of color and canned applause comes from behind you. What was once a stage opens once more. There is the Henrik some of you were searching for, skin plaster, eyes matte black, a rigor mortis smile across his face. His voice booms out of speakers that aren't there.  "Welcome, one and all, as we embark on this, our first night! To the new and improved Night Show, with one hundred percent more audience participation!!! Guaranteed to keep you rooted to your seats, haha!" Confetti falls from nowhere, more false cheers from an invisible audience. He bows, stiff and chipped as a wind-up toy. It gives you a chance to angle your gaze to where there used to be an exit. It is there no longer. Doors appear and disappear in wrong places. Chandeliers swap between designs. The new Show is still trying to acclimate itself. "Now, I know some of you have had a bad time here before, but please romaine calm. We-"And then Da Vinci's Body, appearing from nowhere, the same black eyes and battered smile, smacks him upside the head. A slapstick comedy in all the worst ways. "That one doesn't work! We're in an ash tree!" "No, we're in a cactus!" "Ahahaha! Oh, Henrik, you know I'm a succa for your jokes!" Both them and the invisible audience crack out into raucous laughter, doing matching poses like they're both on the cover of Vogue magazine. They whisper something to each other and 'Da Vinci' runs off stage to prepare. "Tonight, in celebration, we'll be holding our first ever... talent show!!! Our main acts are just boooring now. You know what I mean? Look at this mess-" A hand waves out, and Minato unfolds up from the floor, harp welded into his hands, painted and decorated and held in place with pipes and wire. 'Da Vinci' waves her arms, unveiling the elaborate music box. His hands play against his will, plinking out the sad notes to a certain Velvet Room theme. He gets left alone in tired silence for a bit before a note goes off key. 'Da Vinci' yanks his face into the same smile, freezing it in place. TODAY IS A JOYOUS DAY, we are all so very HAPPY, and the eyes of 'Minato' go black. The room is filled with cheers and rainbows, an excited irish jig played out by their wind-up stage musician. 'Henrik' doesn't wander the room, choosing instead to make sure the background music keeps going. The statues and paintings once lining the walls bend before your eyes - reforming into memories from your home, replays of your failures, but all done up in catchy pop-art style and played for hilarity. Rather than Marias, all newcomers are visited by a black-eyed ghoul wearing a human skin. They hand out drinks and paperwork, what would you like to participate with in our talent show? The winner not only gets a job but- One wish from the Compact. Surely that's way more interesting than trying to get out, right? 4. OOCIn order to keep to our goal of providing the most personalized Wonderland experience for all of you, we're setting a limit of 1 RNG attempt per character this log. Additionally, please be aware that while some mundane rolls will have standard-level DCs, many rolls, including those with the potential to uncover plot information, will be high-risk high-reward and will have a very high DC along with steep penalties for failure. As always, we will let you know of this before we roll, and you have the option to decline any roll at any time. If you would like to gain a bonus of +2 on any given roll, those who have opted in to horror content may make the choice to sacrifice something of body, mind, or spirit. We will determine your sacrifice based on your horror homework. It is up to you whether this sacrifice is for the duration of the mission or a permanent sacrifice. As an additional reminder, there is no healing in Wonderland. To a few of you, this will be even more detrimental than usual. To those of you who went too far with your debts or your choices, who have lost your very Selves to Wonderland. A list: ○ MichaelDespite Lucretia's spell, the Light won't effect you guys. Over the course of part 2 you'll find you're slowly falling prey to what hit everyone else in wonderland. Your skin will turn pale, your veins will turn dark, you'll start vomiting viscous Abyss that occasionally comes to life, and eventually your eyes will turn black and you will Petrify. Should you as a player not want to play out the vomiting part, it can be exchanged with breathing out black mist. Whichever's cool with your school guys. The speed/intensity of this change and all of its symptoms is also up to you. There are two exceptions. Da Vinci, while she is still a Roland, will simply start going rotten, seams growing old and fur collapsing away. Constant Mending will mitigate this, but she's on a timer to get her body back now. Willard will find that as the hardening of the glass continues, it will start to lose all color and begin to crack in places. These cracks will leak the same tar infecting the other players. Minato, despite being a Music Box right now, is still in his physical body and is not an exception. On a more general note, we encourage you to make your own mini-horrorscapes in this setting! The entirety of Wonderland is available to dark-side, with the exception of what we've already laid out for Ghost & Wonder Squares. Improvise and make a mess. Just make sure to tag anything warning-worthy. Anything on the OOC post is fair game, and if there's something you'd like to try, please don't hesitate to let us know on the RNG thread. Should you have any questions, please direct them to the OOC post linked above. blurb code by photosynthesis |
cw: asphyxiation
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Hey, kiddo, you got band-aids or somethin'? [Sans doesn't think Sayori is ready to do much conversing after taking a neck injury like that, but a yes or no question would work, right? Sans knows how bandages work, at least, and if she's got sticky ones then he won't have to try and figure out how to attach bandages without choking her again.]
cw: emetophobia
Despite that, it's arguable if she even understands the question at first, because she doesn't. Her instincts are focused solely on breathing and the part of her brain that processes other information isn't back online yet.
But after a few seconds, she nods once, trying to minimise the agitation of her neck pain. Shadow leaks from her mouth in heavy bursts.]
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Smiley face suns, good choice. Y'know, I stayed up all night once tryin' to figure out where the sun went. Then it dawned on me. [He opens the box and holds it toward Sayori.] You wanna put 'em on yourself? [Sans isn't sure she can, but he's also pretty sure someone else grabbing at her neck all of the sudden would be bad.]
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When she takes her hands away from her neck it's like prying off a vice. She goes to reach for the box, and then--
Her hand. It's covered in blood, why, why is it...
Her neck already hurt, but as she stares at both her hands and the amount of blood beneath her fingernails, realisation brings the pain of the scratches screaming to life. And the landscape screams along with them, horrible metallic mechanical sounds grating against the soul as the room glitches and glitches and glitches.
She shakes her head. She can't do it.]
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He's startled out of his thoughts by the whole world screaming and grinding together around him. His whole body tightens up as he prepares to attack things that aren't really there. Okay. Just Wonderland. Just this place. They were working on bandaids. He has to help. Her neck is absolutely covered in blood. That's not going to help the adhesive.
More water slips out of Sans's canteen, floating on its own and clearing the blood away. He knows he doesn't have a towel, so he grabs an extra t-shirt he's got in his own backpack (contrary to popular belief, Sans does usually sometimes wear clean clothes).]
Don't worry, kiddo, I haven't worn this one yet. [He's afraid to touch her neck, though. When he does, it's with reluctant, light touches as he tries to dry it enough for the bandages to attach. Are they even big enough for these injuries?]
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Her whole body trembles as he works, but she doesn't do anything to stop him. In fact, aside from the shaking and the stream of black smoke from her mouth, she's painfully still. It takes all her concentration not to recoil from the contact. Her stomach churns with instinctual revulsion, but--the flow of shadow stutters--Sans is her friend. She trusts Sans. He's trying to help.
The harsh noise around them slows. And slows. And slows. Like hearing every small click of the parts inside a clock.]
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Just let me know if you want me to stop. I can be kind of a bonehead, after all. And go ahead and use the shirt if you wanna wipe your hands.
[The marks from the rope keep shifting around. Not as real as the scratch marks, maybe? He keeps from pressing too hard anyway.]
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She closes her eyes and tries not to think of Wonderland. Tries not to think of all the horrible things she just saw, all the awful knowledge she'll have to reckon with sooner rather than later. Shadow spills in spurts from her clenched teeth as she gains and loses ground in the fight not to let the darkness consume her.
She reaches for the shirt, but she doesn't make any further move to clean her hands. It just makes her feel better to hold on to it. After a few moments, her voice, thin and grainy, fills a beat of the silence.] Thank you.
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It's only fair, right?
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The scenery tries to take the shape of the clubroom. Sayori's voice, again, but she's still on her knees, not speaking--her voice echoes everywhere, ever-present, like Monika's.] All along, that's all I ever wanted. For everyone to be happy and care about each other.
[But in the corners of this room that isn't a room, the edges of the warping amalgam of pixels and pandemonium, the shadows start to form.]
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Sans can see the way the shadows shift in ways that aren't quite shadow-like. They need to move. Sans pulls Sayori's bedroll out of her backpack and coats the bottom of it with web.]
You like sledding?
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[Of course she hasn't. The game didn't have a winter event, after all.]
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He's still keeping an eye on those shadows, of course.]
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As she's moving to sit down on the makeshift toboggan, a creature leaps at them.]
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She releases the bloodied shirt with one hand to wave it and put one of the beasts to Sleep. (Do they sleep? Doubtful, but it slows it down.) Her voice, again, not in her mouth but Everywhere.] Because I'm President now, I understand everything.
[And then, Sayori in her own body, speaking over the pit of dread in her stomach with her battered voice.] Sorry. Didn't mean to make so many.
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The clubroom, normal and then cosmic and then normal, full and empty, and Sayori-as-the-President's voice layered over itself, two endings along the sad spectrum of bitter and sweet.] I wanted to thank you--
-̵̥̪̈̑-̵̡͇̂f̸̛̻̓o̶̰̠͛͝r̶̯̘͒͂ ̷̲̽͝g̶͔͋͘ḙ̷̉͋t̴̛̺t̶̡͇̽͝i̴͓͋n̶͔͊͂g̶͓̼̾͘ ̶̮̌r̸͎̎̚î̸̦̰d̵̳̜̃ ̶̻̜̆̅o̶̱͋f̸͖̪͝ ̷̢́M̴̺̙̂ọ̷͌̓n̵̛̬̭̂ï̶̟̫̇k̵̠͍̚ȃ̴̭̗-̴͚̻͂̑-̶̤͘f̶̦͆o̶͖̯͛ŗ̶̓ ̴̹͠s̴̙̆p̶̘̓͛ḙ̴̎ǹ̵͖̚d̴̾̑ͅi̷̥͚̔̀n̷͉͂ģ̶̽̋ ̶̢̺̂̈s̶͓̀o̶͍̙͑̇ ̸̻̿̄m̴͈̖͋̉ụ̴̇̃ç̷̯̃h̵̻̮̆ ̸̧͓͗t̴̜̃̒i̷̹̾m̶̗̜͊e̸̢̜͑ ̷̟͂ẃ̵͚̪̀i̴̼̍͠t̸̝̩͋̌h̸̲̊̕ ̶̳̗̍̃ü̴͜ͅs̶̠̲̆͂ ̷̥̹̅a̵̛̳͈͒l̴̙̍l̴̠͂-̷͈̅-̶̨͘
[Sayori coughs out another glob of shadow, then lifts the crumpled shirt to clutch it to her chest and shakes her head.] Let's...get out of here.
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[He attaches one more web from the makeshift sled to himself, and then the sledding journey begins. He's pushing yet more water underneath the web, freezing and unfreezing it as they go. It's a real sled ride now.]
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An empty room. An empty room. The hallway--An empty room.]
I can't wait to spend every day like this...
[Time sticks. Stops. Like it doesn't want to let them go.]
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Sayori's voice. This is more of Sayori's situation, though he can't be sure how much of it is twisted because of Wonderland and how much was already twisted by that Monika girl. This is an enchantment. This is reality-warping magic. He knows reality-warping magic.]
Sayori. You know this place, right? Close your eyes and point to where the door is. You've gotta really picture it in your head. You know where the door is, because the door is there.
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It's not. The last thing she wants to do is picture anything from these memories. But she reminds herself again: she trusts Sans. He's trying to help. He knows about this kind of stuff.
So she closes her eyes and pictures the clubroom. The normal clubroom, not the empty mockery of a Club President gone mad. She tries to envision every last detail--the chalkboards, the number of desks, the placement of the closet full of manga, the way she could never quite get comfortable in the crummy chairs but it didn't matter because she was with her friends.
President Sayori tries to speak again, but it's garbled behind the gradual materializing of the room that Sayori remembers.] F̶̗̈́ọ̶͑r̶̛̩̪̽e̸̩̕v̵̳̹̉ë̷͇́r̷̡͈̄̆ ̴̻̈́a̵̺̐ň̸̝̰d̸͇̻̆̆ ̶̲̠͝ȩ̶̔ͅv̵̻̆͠e̸̗̘͂r̵̢̧͌
[Some of the details are lost. She can't quite remember all the posters, and so one of them bears an image of Sayori, hanging from a noose and long dead.
But she remembers enough.
Eyes closed, she points to the doorway.]
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Imagine the door out of this place. The exit. We can get to the exit, and then we can get out of here and go back to Shadowdale. [Being so optimistic is difficult, but he can pull off the sound of it, if nothing else.]
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The world bubbles with static as she realizes this gap in her memories, but she squeezes her eyes shut tighter. If she doesn't remember it, she'll have to do as Sans says and imagine. She has a good imagination--she's a writer, after all.
She starts with the hallway, because that existed. And then... She wants to think stairs, but no. She should just imagine a door leading them outside. Yeah, one of those kind of heavy doors, with the bit you have to push on, and a tiny window that you can see the school gate through...
The projection shakes and blurs as Sayori tries to concentrate on this mental image long enough for them to leave. President Sayori tries to say something else, but it's unintelligible.]