Play of Shadows

02.1: Paint it Red

Voices rose and fell, wax-soft against her skin. She could hear them, but she couldn't understand the words - they were just heat and color and the gossamer gleam of fairy wings.

The world dipped and colors light sound condensed into a single whole. Ann peered down into a room cluttered with things and people. It took her a moment to remember where she was, another to realize that her vantage point was all wrong.

"Hey, guys?" she called out to the other players meandering around piles of Victorian antiques.

Only she didn't. Her lips didn't move - she couldn't feel her lips, or any part of her body for that matter. She couldn't even blink. The room was a rectangle of color and the players moved in and out from her field of vision. They talked to each other but never to her, and not in a language she understood.

Ann was working herself into a nice little panic attack when a face appeared on the other side of her window into the world. Ann stared. The face stared back, awfully familiar.

"You," Ann snarled without words. She had never quite shed the Wolf, it seemed, or was otherwise always a little feral on the inside and had needed just that one push to let the fangs show.

Unfortunately, her bid at intimidation went entirely unmarked. The man frowning at her certainly didn't seem to hear the insults Ann hurled his way. His handsome face was creased surprise and some worry, which Ann found gratifying but not enough to make the situation nearly tolerable.

Because that was Michael Thornton and Ann had vowed that the next time they met, she would be punching first and talking after. And now she was stuck unable to do either while the man studied her like an insect pressed under glass.

Another face came into view. Ann would have snorted if she could; her darling ex had lucked himself into an instance with his very own security system-slash-best bro attached at the hip, because of course he had. Michael was a walking good-luck charm. The kind that leeched fortune out of others, like some sort of luck demon.

So. Michael and Frances Covey, face of YOMI and heir to the INFINITE empire respectively. The golden duo of the gaming world, too handsome by far, both staring at Ann dead in the face whilst talking gibberish. Ann wanted an explanation or something to throw, and she wanted it now.

Instead, she got Michael reaching for her with intent.

"Please mind the signs, dear guests."

Michael's hand was frozen mid-air, held back by long, gloved fingers. A man moved into Ann's frame of sight and Ann had never been as happy to see anyone in her life.

"K," she sighed. "Thanks."

K let Michael go. Ann listened to the conversation between them, hearing only one side the entire way through. Michael and Frances warbled questions. K answered politely and without much inflection in his voice. He didn't crack a smile, not a single creepy grin.

Ann watched the man closely as he made rounds around the room, weaving in and out of Ann's view. He never paused long and talked only when a player approached first. Ann would suspect that Alexander had tapped in for his twin somehow, but even Alexander was not so thoroughly lacking in expression - though what he tended to express was anger and irritation.

Time passed at a curious pace. Ann counted twenty players, some alone, some in groups of two or three. The room was not very large and between the dusty furniture and mountains of knick-knacks strewn over every available surface, the scene quickly turned claustrophobic. Ann found herself glad not to be in the thick of it. She still couldn't move, but it didn't really matter. There was nowhere to go, anyway.