This is fine. It's fine. We're fine.

[sharpasanarrow]

[Well that was.

Something.

Underneath everyone’s door they’ll find a slip of paper, in shaky calligraphy, that reads:

INVITATION

Meet in the Dining Room.

Do not bring alcohol of any sort.

Upon arrival into the Dining Room it’s clear that this is very much...not a party.

The center of the room is cleared of all tables, and instead has all the chairs arranged in a circle, facing inwards. On the tables pushed to the side are jugs of water, cups, plates of saltines, and several hastily-made pamplets that read on the front ”How to cope with Child homicide” that contains an advisory list:

1. Try not to think about it.
2. Do not get hysterical.
3. Crying is permitted, but keep it within a reasonable volume. (For the consideration of fellow mourners)
4. Maintain civility
5. Do not plunder the belongings of the deceased.
6. No drinking or gambling your sorrows away. Set an example.

Standing in front of one of the chairs already is Mr.Arrow. He clears his throat as people start to slowly come in.]

I gathered you all here because I believed it would be conductive to group morale if we all worked through our feelings regarding recent events. Talk about your feelings with one another, but not with me.

[He steps back a little, out of the circle of chairs, in what seems to be an invitation for people to sit down and discuss with one another.]

Comments

It's Your Boy

[keyofimagination]

[When Rod officially contacts them...]

Hello, as I've told Moana, my name is "Rod". I'm a part of the group that's attempting to get you out of this manor. However because of the situation you're in, I cannot go into too much detail into the how, to prevent risk of being overheard by the unsavory sort.

And I request that you keep our presence on the down-low and don't attempt to figure our where we currently reside. The moment they find out where we are, the moment this plan falls into pieces, and I dread to think of what punishment they would have for us.

But believe me when I say that we do have a plan to get you out. Please don't lose hope.

[holdthetrumpet]

[Kit hasn't asked to see anyone -- Randall didn't call him out specifically, and he is desperate to believe that means Cinderella and his father and everyone are okay. He has to believe that's what it means. He doesn't want to check to confirm and make today much worse.

This, though? This is important for him to pay attention to, so he pulls himself together enough for it.]

Thank you. It means more to hear that than you can imagine.

[keyofimagination]

[You have no idea how refreshing it is to him to hear that kind of praise after months of looking after these hell children.]

You're welcome. I'm sorry that I can't tell you the details of our plan but rest assure, if this works we can get everyone out and back home.

[holdthetrumpet]

[Kit is a good boy and would never be rude to a nice black and white man who is just trying to help.]

Just knowing someone is trying is a relief.

[He was starting to wonder, honestly.]

[angelgoatdemon]

[....He's going to give that guy's voodoo doll a hug.]

[darnsitall]

[Waving excitedly in the background]

[bayoublues]

[He REALLY like the idea of escape and all, especially after what just happened. And, for once, he feels a little glimmer of hope in the back of his mind. But first--]

Why are you black and white?

[keyofimagination]

[In the kind of deadpan that you'd get from a guy that gets that a lot.]

That's how Walt built me.

[bayoublues]

...I don't know who that is, but okay!

[Thumbs up. Thank you for being our one and only hope.]

[bestchefinparis]

Good luck.

[Doesn't sound like Rémy's placing any hopes on people coming to help, even though this is proof that's actually happening]

[nachosquire]

[When Marco hears that --- "don't attempt to figure out where we currently reside" -- it has his heart sink. How else is he going to save Star? Just sit there and wait around, worrying every night about something horrid happening to her?

It's going to be so hard...]

Promise me you're going to keep everyone safe.

[He hasn't lost hope yet, but a little bit of reassurance would be nice.]

[keyofimagination]

[He seems to Get It.]

I promise. I'm done with idly standing by.

[sorrydoods]

[He wasn't paying attention to that conversation so it's a good thing Rod talks again.]

What about...what the people that died? Can we save them?!

[please say yes please say yes please say yes]

[keyofimagination]

... I'll admit, I'm not fond of the moral implications and unforeseen issues with reviving the dead.

[He's read the story The Monkey's Paw, you know.]

However, we might be able to revive the dead if we pull this off.

[hallotween]

WE HAVE A BLOOD RITUAL!

[theduck]

We are not doing a blood ritual.

[sorrydoods]

Who cares how it works and all that stuff! Just please, we need to bring them back!

[You wanna see a grown man cry? Trick question: he already is.]

[keyofimagination]

... You've read The Monkey's Paw, right?

[Like??? That story is all about why it's a Bad Idea to revive long dead people even if you desperately wanted to.]

[kickbuttseatnuts]

...Sorry, do I know you? You look real familiar.

[keyofimagination]

... For some reason, it seems like your host has taken the liberty to put a voodoo doll that resembles myself in the slot machine. For some reason he doesn't seem to like me all that much.

[...]

However, if you find my appearance familiar for a reason beyond that, perhaps you recall:

[He clears this throat lightly.]

You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into... The Twilight Zone.

[kickbuttseatnuts]

[Eyes so very lighted up.] Oh! Oh I get it!

You're from that Black Mirror rip-off!

[hallotween]

Don't enable him.

[tanukey]

Oh, hey. Randy's moron.

[yourghosthost]

[casually floating behind rod on mirrorvision:]

I’ll admit, your group seems to have a decent degree of fashion sense. And tact. Unlike Rod here.

[keyofimagination]

[Uuuugh when will you go away?]

I’ll have you know that I have plenty of both.