In an enchanted ballroom, a lovely poodle stares longingly into deep green eyes that fill her world. Her arms slip about strong black shoulders, and she submits without resistance as he leans down to kiss her. Eyes close while her mind whirls with emotion, making her feel giddy, faint, and ecstatic all at once.

Abruptly, the kiss breaks off, and the canid's eyes open to horror as the world melts and disintegrates around her. She reaches out for her partner in desperation, hoping to reach him, aid him, save him, but he only recedes farther into the distance, stricken by unfathomable agony. Watching as he dies before her, she cries out, raging impotently against fate.

Elise wakes with a start, safe in her familiar bed at the de Bellefeuille manor. Her hands are fisted around sheets lit dimly by starlight, and she shivers in the aftershock of a distant dream, too often re-lived.

"Not again … ," cries the poodle quietly as she lets go of the sheets and moves a hand to rest her head upon it tiredly. She sits there quietly just so for awhile, taking some time to allow the horror to fade from her mind before she lifts her face up and gazes out the window.

A few stray crickets chirp outside, on the dew-covered lawn of her estate. The world is still and peaceful, as if mocking the savage beating of her still-racing heart.

Eyes narrow in response to the calm night. Elise stares out the window, peering into the dark as if searching for something, and then closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her other hand finally releases the covers in order to brace her body as she climbs out of bed. Lest she wake someone, she attempts to do this as silently as her jittery state will allow.

Years of practice have made her better at coping quietly with her dreams. She stands, shivering uncontrollably but without sound, beside her bed.

The poodle wraps her arms around herself in a loose hug as she walks over to the window she had been looking out only moments ago. Here she pauses to watch the calm outside for a moment more before turning and heading for her wardrobe. Time has taught her it is no use attempting to go back to sleep after this reoccurring nightmare happens, so she decides to get dressed and go for a walk.

Given the lateness of the hour, she opts for comfort rather than formality, and dresses in the exercise version of her uniform. She leaves the house without sound, and walks aimlessly into the hedge maze of the grounds.

Upon entering the maze, the Gallee lets out a soft sigh and stops but a few steps beyond the bushes. She tilts her head up to the sky and lays her ears back to gaze upon the Procession far above. "Are you … there?" she asks the sky quietly, her voice weak and barely audible. "Have … you left me, to walk with the First Ones … or your gods?" Knowing the winds do not answer, she watches the Procession move quietly anyway.

The pin-points of light, far above, glide with stately grace across the vault of the sky, undisturbed by mortal concerns and emotions. The night breeze brushes over her fur, ruffling her loose hair, and carrying with it a faint click-clacking sound, as of shears.

The woman's ears perk at the sound of the shears. Certainly she is aware that the gardeners sometimes arrive early, and normally she would pay it no concern. However tonight she could do with the distraction and thus quietly makes her away off towards the noise.

After a few moments of difficulty remembering the turnings of the maze, she sorts it out in her mind and makes her way towards the sounds of clipping. She sees the ears of the Zerda groundskeeper first, then the rest of him, bent by the corner of one turning, snipping away at stray branches that ruin the carefully cultivated lines of the maze. She realizes that he must be here either extremely early or extremely late, as there's no hint of dawn in the sky.

Upon seeing the man, Elise pauses in her steps and considers him carefully. From what she knows of the Zerda she knows they are quite adept at hearing, although not quite to the degree of Eeee, and so she just clears her throat a little and stands awaiting his response. No need to scare him out of his wits, she muses.

The gardener looks towards her when she calls attention to herself, and offers her a courteous smile. "G'd evening, yer Ladyship," he says to her. He pauses in his chore, straightening and offering a rough bow.

Elise in turn nods her head slightly in greeting. She does not smile, however. "You are here early," she says before she glances around. "I had not realized this was so an urgent problem as to require your services so early." Her eyes again focus on the man. "Or is it, you are late?"

The man nods. "Early or late, I guess you could say either." He kneels down to resume his work. "I like workin' at night, beggin' yer Ladyship's pardon. My people are used to it, and it's quieter at night. Fewer distractions, and this way I'm not here fussin' with your view when you're out enjoyin' it durin' the day." He stops clipping for a moment to offer her a crooked smile. "'Course, that's not much o' a help on my part if you'll be out enjoyin' it at night."

Despite the flashes to that dreadful scene that continue to reminder her of just why she walks so early in the morning, Elise fakes a return smile. She can at least pretend to be amiable, she considers. "Ah, yes. It is good of you to keep my enjoyment in mind," she tells him as she absently gazes around the hedges again. "Have you seen, or heard anything unusual I should be aware of, perhaps?"

There's the barest hint of hesitation in the gardener's reply, an instant's pause before he completes the next clip from his scissors. "Tonight, yer Ladyship? Naught apart from you bein' about."

Eyes dart to meet the Zerda's, and the poodle's brow narrows as her faked friendly appearance turns to a glare meant to put one in unease. "Is that so?" She looks carefully into his eyes and does not break the stare as she speaks. "You hesitated. Perhaps you, in a lapse of judgement, have forgotten something? Is there something you have forgotten to mention just now, groundskeeper?"

The old Zerda's ears flatten back against his head at the tone in her voice, and he shifts to pocket his scissors. He gets to his feet stiffly. "It's just so, yer Ladyship," he says, standing erectly. "I've seen nor heard none about this night save yerself and meself, nor does any go on these grounds save by permission of the de Bellefeuilles." He scratches behind one of his long ears, swiveling them back to alert position. "If'n that's the question you were askin', that's yer answer. I'm just an old man and I can't rightly say as I know what question y'are askin' now," he finishes at last, deferentially.

"Has there been anyone but you, or me, on the grounds all night? That is what I ask you," explains Elise. She sighs softly afterwards and reaches up to rub her temples gently.

A sigh of relief echoes Elise's own. "No, yer Ladyship," he answers without pause. He retrieves his clippers from his pocket and sets onto a different part of the hedge, feeling his way along for out of place shoots.

Elise allows the gardener to walk off without stopping him. Once she sees he is gone, she turns and begins walking randomly into the maze in a direction that should take her away from his path.

She takes the turns randomly, this way and that, and eventually, inevitably, ends at the center of the maze – a cleared, well-kept lawn bordered with flower beds. At the center, a fountain cascades water from the urn of a graceful poodle lady, while a couple of stone lovers' benches face towards it.

As she wanders through to the center, Elise' mind dwells upon her dreams to the exclusion of most anything else. When she eventually focuses on just where she ended up, she finds with surprise she is now at the center. A frown crosses her face. "I wanted to take you here," she whispers.

The night breeze stirs across the fountain, flicking drops of water onto her face and clothing, caressing the fur of her cheek.

Alone, Elise walks closer towards the fountain, stopping next to it. She lowers her head so that she may gaze into its waters and the reflection that stares back. Absently, she wipes some water from underneath her eye. It must have splattered from the fountain, she thinks.

The darkened water, rippling from the splashing of the flow from the statue at the fountain's center, reflects a fuzzy and distorted Elise, like a funhouse mirror. The image in the water looks sad and weary.

The memory of the funhouse mirror does nothing to help Elise's mind quiet the horror that continues to press at her resolve. Many nights have passed like this and despite it all, she could never dismiss them without pain. Unable to stand looking at the image in the water any longer, she turns away and drops herself on the nearest bench. An arm is rested along the length of it, and she in turn rests her head upon her arm. "I will have a new job soon. I will not be able to search for you anymore," she tells the night, knowing that despite her words, she will look for him again.

Weariness overwhelms the turmoil in her mind. Uncomfortable as the stone benches are, the poodle finds herself snuggling into the unyielding rock, pulling her cloak about her for warmth as she gazes at the water splashing down. Eventually, the hypnotic noise calms her, and she drops to sleep.

A perfect sunlit day shines down upon the snowy-furred canid as she stands, studying an elegantly carved fountain composed of sculptures of female Eeees. The poodle herself is the more splendid of the two to view, however. A dress of peach-colored satin with a full skirt and off-shoulder sleeves adorns her form. The skirt lays over a billow of white lace, and is cut away along one side to reveal the frothy fabric. A sash holds the waist close to her own slender one, and she wears matching lace wristlets and carries a lace parasol.

Eventually after studying the statue before her for a few minutes, Elise blinks as if coming out of a trance. Her head tilts slightly in her confusion before that strange reality of dreams reminds her everything is not so very bizarre as it should be. Still, she has to take a moment to let her eyes drift over the area before she can regain her bearings. "Mm?"

Dark against the splendor of nigh-paradise, a Korv dressed in airman's gear jingles about, his head turning this way and that. A pair of sabers hang from his hips. He pauses as he catches sight of the poodle, and is brought to a halt, staring.

In the near distance, whooping cries of delight are audible as a rattling contraption conveys carriage cars, pulled along by some unseen force at great speed. They swoosh up and down on a tilting pathway composed of long chitin rails bound to either side by planks of wood. The pathway seems built quite deliberately to create as many loops, twists, hills, and turns as possible, raised up from the mountainside on its own scaffolding.

It takes Elise a moment before she notices the Korv near her. Her head tilts a little more so that she can look at him out of the corner of her eye, the opened parasol moving up hide her face partially.

The Korv barely notices the great contraption of rails and carts roaring around nearby, intent on the poodle. After a moment, he realizes his beak has been hanging slightly ajar, and snaps shut with an audible clack.

After watching the man stare at her for a little while longer the poodle decides she had best move, lest he stand like that forever. Her parasol is twirled and moved away from her face to rest across her hands as she turns to face him more fully. A gentle, sad smile is shown him. "Oh, hello. I … see you are not him."

A tasteful poster emblazoned behind glass on a nearby building depicts a troupe of theatrically-costumed bats engaged in some kind of intricate aerial performance. The title on it reads "Masters of the Dance," and fine print along the bottom lists show times.

Startled out of his reverie, the Korv shakes his head, his neck-feathers ruffling out. "Uh … beggin' yer pardon, ma'am. I don't knows who ye were lookin' for. I seems ta be lost, but I can'ts fer the life o' me chart where I was s'posed t'be in the first place."

"Oh," mouths the poodle after she listens to the man's confusion. Her eyes narrow slightly in consideration and she nods a little. "You are, if I remember correctly, dreaming. This … ," she gestures demurely to what is around her, " … is the World of Dreams – more specifically, a path to Paradise, the paradise of the goddess Inala."

Not far from where the Korv and canid talk, a brown-furred Eeee wearing a flat-topped, brimmed white hat with a trim of red ribbon about it watches them from his perch on a countertop, one knee bent and foot casually braced against the flat surface. A cane rests beside him, and he holds a bottle of beer loosely in one hand, wrist against his knee. He takes an occasional draught from the bottle as he watches the people around him.

"I must be, if yer 'ere. No creature o' Sinai could be so… ," rasps the black bird. He seems to remember something, and bows deeply. "Er… 'scuse me again. Me name's Kensington St. Germain. Who've I the honor o' meetin'?"

"I am Lady Elise Antoine de Bellefeuille," replies Elise as she dips slightly in a curtsey without the hand motions. The parasol is twirled again before the poodle speaks more. "Sir, you may not wish to speak your name here. This is … a land created – created by mystical power and unsavory intentions." She strains her smile to appear slightly brighter. "Perhaps if you would be so inclined, you would offer a wing to a woman in need of defense against the temptations of this place?"

In the distance, a gigantic wheel, perhaps eight stories high, revolves slowly on its axis. Its shape is similar to a water-wheel, but instead of paddles, it holds little wiggling benches. Various non-winged folk occupy the precarious-looking benches as the whole contraption turns.

Kensington's crest rises a little at the mention of magic and ill intent. He looks around incredulously. This place? Bad? Instead of saying as much, however, he nods abruptly. "O' course, 'twould be me fondest pleasure, Lady de-… uh … me Lady." He politely extends the ridge of one wing. "Where would it be safe t'escorts ye?"

The bat with the cane chuckles. "I'd be wary if I were you, sir," he tells the Korv in good humor. "I dare say she is one of the temptations of this place." He winks, and takes another sip from his drink.

The lady makes her over and accepts the wing delicately. Her smile appears more genuine now that she has a arm to hold and someone near. "Oh, well as to where, I cannot be certain. You see, these dreams tend to lead themselves, given time, to express their intent. I have be- … ," she pauses as she overhears the words of the bat with the cane. A few blinks and a innocent look towards the bat later she continues. "I have been here before, though I feel it has been some time. Oh yes, might I inquire as to if you have seen an Eeee with the most beautiful green eyes? He is of my height, with black fur."

The corsair frowns around his beak, cocking his head to look at the bat through one eye, then through the other. "An' 'ow would I knows ye weren't jes' slanderin' the Lady ta tricks me yerself, eh?" he caws, though with less certainty than he might otherwise. Everything here looks so strange! It smacks of Bosch's whimsical disguises, disguises that hide very real threats. However, when the poodle speaks, he leaves well enough alone … the matter of green-eyed Eeee being unfamiliar to him.

At the corsair's implication, the brown Eeee raises both his hands, palm forward, and waves them in a gesture of peace. "No slander intended," he assures jovially. "Just that I dare say we've few attractions that could match the young lady's allure. And I should know." He takes his drink in his hand once more, eyes straying around the area.

After waiting for an answer and not hearing one, the poodle frowns slightly. "I see you are confused," she says before she lifts her head to look around. "Do follow me, sir. We shall go … " The area is again reviewed, and her review is distracted momentarily by the Eeee, before she gestures towards an open area not far away. "There."

"H'wha?" Kensington lurches his attention back to the conversation, as though he was driving his consciousness, and it handled something like a Titanian rocket-sled on ice. "Oh! Nay, I didn't sees no green-eyed Eeee. There? Certainly, me Lady." He falls into step, jingling as he goes.

The open area the canid indicated faces a large stone building with an elaborately frescoed facade. It appears to be some kind of theater, and advertises a production neither Kensington nor Elise can place, although the name seems vaguely familiar.

As she walks, the lady watches the Korv by glancing at him from time to time – although she does not turn her face to look at him fully, as that would indicate more than aloof interest. "Allow me to explain some things. I, as I remember, have been here many times before. I had not always looked like this when walking this strange world; no, it is a glamour placed upon me by my weak will. You must be strong to resist the temptations of this land … or they will weaken, and destroy you in a most ironic fashion. I believe the term would be 'killing you with kindness', but the kindness is superficial at best." She continues along and shakes her head slightly. "I am sorry you have not seen my Eeee, however. I miss him dearly. He … meant more to me than anything this world could offer … " She sighs softly and lifts a hand to clear a running tear from her fur.

The Korv looks vaguely discomfited by the warnings about this seeming ideal wonderland, but even more so at the sight of the tear. "There there, me Lady … takes more'n frouffy fountains an' drunk bats t'put one o'er the ol' Cutlass." He points towards the theater. "'Ere now, maybe a show'll raise yer spirits, aye? Now that's I think o' it… what were that poster? Mister o' th' Dunce? Kicker o' th' Pants? It hads all sorts o' bats all o'er it… "

Kensington's brow furrows mightily, as though the cogs in his head were grinding on a piece of grit.

"Oh, perhaps yes," concedes the poodle. Another glance is cast towards the Korv and after watching him a bit longer than usual, she glances off again. "Are you a … warrior of some sort?" She smiles a little again. "And I believe the name is Masters of the Ba- … excuse me, Dance."

As Kensington looks about for the previously-sighted poster, his eyes stray over the frescos of the building before him. When he focuses on them curiously, he notices that the carvings are of various different sentient creatures in … unlikely … positions. Realization sinks in on what some of the positions are, and the corsair gets the distinct feeling that these depictions are highly inappropriate for a young lady of good breeding.

The corsair's chest puffs out a bit, and a few of his steps have a swagger to them until it becomes impractical for him to walk that way. "On'y the deftest blade t'grace th' skies, me Lady," he rasps, matter-of-factly. He fingers the bell of one of his sabers, then freezes as he catches sight of the frescos. His first impression is to wonder if prints are available, but some sensibility snaps back into him, and he hastily tries to re-direct Elise. "Er, but then, methinks th' Masters o' the Dance routine were o'er at th' buildin' we were pretty close tas before."

If the frescos offend the noblewoman, she does not seem to show it. In fact, she has passed her gaze over them a number of times while looking around, and has yet to even flick a ear. Perhaps she does not see them, or maybe, they do not even bother her. "Oh? Is that so? I am a warrior too, you see. I slew a golem," she tells the Korv, smiling a bit more. She also looks to the other building noted. "Would you rather we venture there? Oh certainly then. Do lead on."

The Korv nods to Elise and offers her his arm, then looks about and selects a direction, boldly strutting off towards the chosen theater.

The noblewoman follows alongside the Korv quietly. For now, she allows the conversation to drop as her mind wanders, reviewing faint memories and cloudy urges that mock her from deep in her mind. She frowns ever so slightly at this internal bother.

The brown-furred barker awaits them at the entrance to the theater. He tips his hat to the pair, and offers a smile that shows one fang. "Good evening, my lady, gentleman. You're just in time. The show's about to start." He opens the door for them with a flourish and a bow.

Distracted still, Elise simply nods politely to the barker before continuing on inside. She considers what she told the Korv not long ago. The idea of her having fought at some point seems strange, yet she recalls quite clearly she volunteered to do so. Though disturbed by this conflict, she does not hesitate to head inside.

Inside the theater, dim candle lighting shows several concentric rings of comfortably padded benches that rise to a height of some fifty feet about the circular stage. Box seats stud the upper tier, and a number of what look like small stages are also scattered about at various levels.

Elise's confusion is pushed aside long enough so that she may stop and consider just where she should sit here. Upon spotting a nearby box seat, Elise proceeds in that direction without hesitation. It is, after all, in her mind only proper for nobility to take up the best and most comfortable seating.

No one comments on the poodle and the corsair as they occupy the vacant box. The theater is about two-thirds full of mostly Eeee patrons when the sounds of orchestral music resound through the theater, in a rich, mellow overture.

Spotlights, formed by bright fires burning inside ceramic drums that focus their beams, are uncovered to pinpoint dozens of Eeee as they swoop in from various entrances set high in the circumference of the theater. The rhythm of the orchestra's playing jumps in speed as the performers swirl together to form a spinning triple helix over the stage. As each threesome of Eeee nears the theater roof, they peel off in graceful arcs that connect back to the base of the helix.

Having reached the inside of the box seating area, Elise lets her arm fall from the Korv's wing and walks over to a chair. There she stands watching the performing Eeee arrive, up until the Korv remembers himself and pulls a seat for the poodle. Smiling lightly, the Templar carefully settles down into her seat and places the parasol off where she need not hold it.

After a few minutes, the helix disperses, the various dancers landing on different places throughout the theater, but most of them on the central stage. One female Eeee remains airborne, a slender but fit figure with light gray that burns almost white as the spotlights focus upon her. She wears a graceful costume that suggests a formal evening gown, although it has the bodysuit base of a dancer's outfit.

The female lead dances alone in the air, making upwards swoops that transform into freefall dives during which she twists through fantastic contortions before rescuing herself from the dive to swoop roofwards again. The other dancers watch her for some minutes, than swoop in to join her. The focus remains on her, however, as male after male moves to join her, dancing and weaving with her for a short time.

The elegant lead outperforms and outlasts each of her partners, however. After ten minutes or so, the elaborate game comes to a close, each of the dancers in turn flitting off to an exit. When she has no one left with whom to dance, the lead drops to one of the side platforms and seems to sleep. The spotlights are covered, and for a moment the theater is dark.

As the noble poodle follows the female lead around with her eyes, she considers just what it would be like to have wings – to fly about and never need bother with walking from place to place, except when necessary.

Then a spotlight comes up again on the "sleeping" bat. She rises gracefully, while an older, male bat offers her a book. She looks at it, and draws back, then reaches for it reluctantly. She stands for a few moments, reading, while the other bat beams on in approval. Meanwhile, the other Eeee dancers swarm in from the various entrances. They form an aerial "sphere" composed of four separate rings of flying bats, then break off to swoop about the gray-furred one and her tutor, beckoning to her.

She doesn't need much enticing, dropping the book carelessly to the floor and swooping away to join her friends. The spectacle begins anew over center stage, this dance involving even more aerial stunts than the previous one. All the spotlights save one dim beam leave the tutor's stage. He wistfully lifts the book and folds it shut, casting a sad look to the lead female as his spotlight departs.

Elise folds her hands neatly in her lap and sits up a little. This new change in the dance appears to her to have some sort of meaning, and she allows various wandering thoughts to escape her so as to focus on the show itself. "Hm."

As before, eventually the stage empties of bats, leaving the female lead dancer to return to a different ledge for a brief rest. This time, she awakes, accompanied by a grizzled warrior, who offers her a practice sword. They spar together with some enthusiasm, leaping and looping around the theater as they strive for the perfect vantage point, switching from one platform to another between choreographed swings and parries.

However, this interlude is equally brief. When the partying dancers rise to invite her off, she abandons her weapons master without a backwards look, casting the practice sword aside.

A scholar, and a warrior. Indeed these two things are of some significance to Elise, as they were two aspects of herself she had encountered some time ago. Knowing full well this strange world plays to her wants and desires, she considers that this may be about her.

In the center-stage dance this time, one male Eeee looks particularly intent upon the protagonist. He manages to engage her in the aerial dance, and guides her with his swoops to one of the side stages. He drops to one knee before her, and with graceful gestures, he seems to beseech her for some moments, before finally clasping his hands together and bowing his head.

The female looks at her suitor with a mixture of trepidation and desire. She reaches hesitantly for his bowed head. Around her, other males swoop, beckoning, inviting. Other females play with them in the aerial dance, continuing their joyous game. She draws her hand back, then reaches again, before finally shaking her head and returning to the dance. The spotlight lingers on the suitor, then dies.

The next "day" she offers a music teacher similar treatment to the previous tutors. When that "night's" partying ends, she drops to a ledge, only to be met by two hostile-looking sword-bearing Eeee. They confront her with their weapons, and she draws back, bewildered, into the air.

She circles around them, trying to land again on the platform, but the warriors fend her off once more, with theatrical swings of their swords. After a few more abortive tries, she retreats to a different platform to sleep.

Many suitors have come for Elise's hand in the past. She considers this, but also considers that none were particularly close to her. No one, that is, that ever asked for her hand before. She then reviews the next scene and the music teacher, and recalls having had to "reject" him as well.

She wakes again with the same aged tutor who first approached her. She seems to give his book more serious consideration this time. But when the dancers come, she once again leaves her study to join them. Their performance this time has a desperate edge, less joyous. Maneuvers are more reckless, more daring, and none is bolder in pursuit of the party than the gray-furred Eeee.

This next part requires some thought as to just what it may represent. Obviously it appears to be conflict, thinks Elise, but of what sort she cannot be certain of. The war? Not being able to return to where one is familiar? Rejection of some sort?

As the performance continues, a voice sings out the first lyrical accompaniment to the orchestral music. The song has the same strained, bold overtones as the dancers. "Onwards, upwards, higher, faster!" the singer cries out. "Easier to face the future than took behind and see what's past her!" he continues.

The female dancer folds her arms and wings about herself as she falls in a feet-first spin from the pinnacle of her dance. "Easier still to close her eyes and surrender," the song continues, voice deft and sure, "Hoping for rescue by some bold defender."

A flicker of red fur flashes on the stage, in contrast to the Eeee performers, as a frilly-garbed fox makes an elaborate bow. The female dancer rescues herself from the dive as the partygoers disperse, and the spotlights go dark.

A distant voice announces the intermission, and that the performance will resume in fifteen minutes.

"Easier to face the future than look behind and see what's past her?" Elise quietly considers. The sentence stings slightly, which only helps believe it may be from her own story. As for surrendering, she does not recall having even done so. She muses that perhaps this is an attempt to lead her to do so by showing a happy outcome if she chooses that path – but her musing ceases when the fox appears on stage. His arrival causes her to stand up quite quickly.

Strain her eyes though she might upon the spot that the fox had appeared, she can't catch a glimpse of him in the darkness after the spotlights were dropped. They rise again, diffused, to illuminate the theater during the intermission, but there's no sign of the foxish singer.

Suddenly, from behind her, she hears the strumming of a lute.

The poodles stiffens as the sudden voice pops up from behind her. She lets out scream which is quickly muffled as her hand whips over to cover her mouth. The hand drops and she sighs softly before she turns around to face the fox and wave him on with her other hand. "Yes yes, sing. Just do not scare me again … "

Beaming from ear to ear at being asked to sing, the fox continues.

The fop fox hasn't yet looked at Elise, but now, as he pauses in the song, he turns to catch her eye for an instant.

He winks and looks down at his lute.

"No, not quite true," replies the noble thoughtfully after the fox is done. "It has been some time, and I ask you … I ask you this time, as you requested, in rhyme. Why have I returned after such a long time?" Her face wrinkles slightly at having to rhyme her words.

He strums melodically on his instrument, glancing up at her question.

After a moment to contemplate the fox's words,Elise nods. "Yes!" she exclaims,clapping her hands together. "He … he told me I can yet go back;I can undo what is done and chose my own person. My own path." She glances off towards the exit. "The Hall of Mirrors. I believe I must return now."

The fop fox beams at her again. "Thank you! Thank you! You've been a wonderful audience!" He bows with another flourish, and disappears with a swish of his brushy tail.

Without a second thought, the Templar turns from where she was watching the fox, and walks off with some determination for the door. "I am a warrior," she tells herself, "but also a noble, a scholar, and much more." Allowing no one to stop her save for those going out of their way to do so, she makes her way out.

At the theater's exit, the barker sits on a high stool, twirling his cane. "Leaving so soon, m'lady?" he asks at Elise's approach. "Show's not over yet, you know." He tips the brim of his hat low over his eyes.

"No, it is not," replies Elise with a smirk as she walks past the barker and beyond. "I do believe I need to go see about Act Two."

A laugh follows her out, as the brown-furred Eeee leans back against the wall behind him, pushing his hat up on his head, still twirling his cane.

It's still afternoon outside the theater, and it takes the poodle's eyes a few moments to adjust to the brilliant sunlight after the dim interior of the performance hall. An occasional casual stroller wanders past the square before the building.

Pushing the distracting laughter and blinding light out of her mind in favor of keeping to what she is set to do, the poodle makes her way back to the entrance she remembers – the portal back into the Hall of Mirrors. The strange dream reality this place holds makes remembering more simple than it should be. The exit is this way, she feels as she goes.

After wending through a few terraced circles and past many little shops and other temptations, she stands before a polished stone building with a graceful arched entranceway. It's the Hall of Mirrors, she knows, although it looks nothing like the way she remembered it. At a podium beside the arch lounges the white-hatted barker.

"Hello again," greets Elise in a mock-friendly voice. "I do believe I will be going inside again." She folds her arms in front of her and tilts her head to watch the Eeee intently, awaiting his response.

The barker straightens and tips his hat back on his head. "Now, why would you want to visit my inconsequential little Hall again, m'lady? I assure you it's got nothing to compare with the wonders you've already found here."

A shake of the head. "No," says Elise, "it does have something wonderful in it. Something I left long ago, and I am here to get it back. I trust you will not do anything so silly as to prevent me from entering again?"

A broad smile answers her. "Of course not, m'lady. Assuming, naturally, that you have a ticket. You do have a ticket, don't you?"

"Why would one need a ticket when one is returning to claim something one lost?" The Templar's eyes narrow. "Surely you would not think to keep me from where I must go by a game, would you? I have certainly played enough games here. I wish to move on."

The Eeee is now standing in the way of the entrance, his arms folded casually across his chest, leaning against one wall of the arch while his feet are braced at the base of the other side. "Now, if you've lost something, it'll surely have turned up by now. What did you lose, m'lady? Your fan, perhaps?"

Undaunted by the taller man, the noblewoman steps forward so that she is toe to toe with him. She glares up at the Eeee and points beyond him. "My willpower, but no longer. I will not remain a puppet or a spectator to my own life. I will not be used." She waves him from in front of her with her pointing hand. "Step out of my way," she growls.

Looking down at the graceful if indignant poodle lady, the barker seems undaunted. "Now, sweet thing, no one's suggesting you be used," he says soothingly, almost as if to a small child. "But this is my Hall of Mirrors, you see, and no one goes in without a ticket." He taps his cane lightly against the ground.

"Oh!" exclaims the incensed Elise. Her parasol snaps shut and she drops into a combat pose. Just as quickly, she swings her right foot forward in a kick intended to knock the support right out from under the Eeee. "No one treats me like a child!"

An amused expression grows on his face at the lady poodle's adorable anger as she shuts her parasol, and continues right up until the point where she slams the base of her foot into his ankles. His arms unfold and pinwheel comically as his feet are knocked from under him, and he crashes to the ground, mumbling, "whu?"

Elise hefts the parasol back behind her as if it were a two handed sword. "Find me funny will you!" She braces, and swings the accessory in an over the head chop directed for the man's skull.

There's a sickening crunch as the delicate chitin membranes of the parasol crack on impact with the barker's skull, then the shaft thuds into his head. "Ohhhhh… " the bat groans. His eyes roll back and he collapses to the ground.

The now rather broken parasol is lifted off the barker's head and held before the poodle. "Ahem," she says as she glances around for the moment to see if anyone noticed this.

The street is not quite clear of onlookers. A couple of Eeee teenagers are watching with shocked looks on their faces. When Elise catches sight of them as she looks about, they exchange quick glances, and then take to the sky, fleeing.

The little noble's confidence soars as she watches the Eeee flee before her, even as embarrassment reddens her ears. She places a hand upon her hip defiantly and moves the broken accessory to rest on her shoulder. "Well then," she begins she looks back to the barker, "I do believe I will be going inside now. Any objections? No? Very good." She grins a little and begins walking forward, her hand sliding from her hip so she can pat the fallen Eeee's head as she walks on him to get past.

The stricken bat makes some slight ooofing whimpering sounds as he's stepped on. Distorted reflections of the poodle's broad grin and her disarrayed parasol greet her with mocking similarities.

Now that she is inside, Elise makes certain to give each mirror a careful examination as she walks past it. However, she does not let her gaze or thoughts linger on those she finds unacceptable. And only one is acceptable.

The poodle keeps to the right as she moves through the mirrored maze. For the first several turnings, the mirrors are all the same distorted style as the entrance way, contorting her elegant figure this way and that, making her head bulge or her hips vanish as she moves past them in dismissal. Then, at the far end, she sees an image of herself with ordinary proportions. Instead of the peach satin and lace gown she currently wears, however, this mirror-Elise wears a dress of sturdy, high-quality cotton – befitting a noble, but not ornate. She looks decidedly older than the lady poodle approaching. Her eyes reflect maturity, wisdom and self-confidence, and she wears little jewelry, apart from a gold band on the third finger of her right hand.

"Married?" says Elise out loud, the shock of seeing herself so causing her to slip. Despite expecting surprises, this is one she has to consider – to consider, that is, without dwelling on it, and at a distance. Knowing that to remain would be a mistake, she moves on quickly.

The matron keeps pace at Elise's side, her gold ring glinting, until the poodle is completely past her mirror. In the distance, the lady can hear footsteps – the sound of chitin boots on glass.

As much as she might like to stare at the matron longer, Elise continues onwards until the sounds of footsteps can be heard – very familiar footsteps. A shiver runs through the noblewoman's body and for an instant she considers turning around and fleeing towards where she was, where it was safe. But no. She clenches her hand around the parasol and takes in a deep breath before exhaling and walking forward at a determined pace.

As she walks steadfastly forward, the echo of boots grows louder. Strides more determined than her own ring against glass floors. Occasionally, there's silence for some moments, then the footsteps resume.

The frightening sound of the other pair of footsteps serves as a continued reminder of Elise's current state. Certainly she defeated a unarmed Eeee who was barely paying attention, but she wonders what she can do to the warrior if she must meet her again. And, she thinks, she will go on regardless of what may happen. Turning around would have her live as puppet, and she will have none of that.

The next right-hand turning takes her away from the sound of boots, and into sight of a mirror showing a woman in Inquisitorial robes, bent over a darkened chair. There's something in the chair, quivering as the Inquisitrix strokes the occupant's cheek.

At first the image before her might appear correct. Given the mirror is darkened, Elise steps closer in order to search out the details of it, for she certainly would not want to pass up her the true reflection by accident. She studies the Inquisitrix primarily, with some attention also put to who may be in the chair.

The Inquisitrix turns to smile at Elise, revealing a poodle's face with a cruel cast to the mouth. The figure in the chair has black fur, and membranes beside it that might be wings. Something's wrong with the victim's face, though. Something's wrong with his eyes.

"Not my face … ," whispers Elise as she looks to her dark reflection. She shakes her head for a moment before turning to inspect the person in the chair in detail. She gets the troubled feeling what she finds will disturb her, but she needs to know.

The images seem more vivid as she gazes at them, gaining reality from her look.

The poodle continues to gaze on long enough to see what exactly is wrong with his eyes. The cruel smirk on her reflection's face hints greatly that this is not the mirror she wants, however to be sure she needs to see what is wrong with him. What has her reflection done?

The victim's head turns to face her. By the ears, it's an Eeee. A Sylvanian Eeee, by the redness in the eyes? And then she realizes what's wrong with the eyes. They're not red … they're missing, and the sockets are bleeding.

"Oh no … no no!" stammers Elise as she staggers backwards and away from the reflection. "No!" Her body bumps into the mirror behind her and she shakes her head wildly before turning and nearly dashing off the way she was going.

While Elise makes this realization, the Inquisitrix's hand emerges from the mirror, reaching for the lady's tail as she dashes past. She misses, but her voice is heard purring regardless. "Got you, my dear." Her nails are gleaming red talons.

Elise's eye widen and she skids to a stop a good few steps from the Inquisitrix behind her. Her heart pounds furiously in her chest as something new comes to wash away the terror: anger. "You … you monster!" she calls out to the woman behind her before spinning to face her, damaged parasol brandished in front of her. "I am nothing like you!"

For a moment, as the lady turns on her, the Inquisitrix looks surprised, then she holds up her hand, red liquid staining the fingers. "How do you know, my pretty little self? Isn't this what you want – to be strong, and discover the truth?"

Elise just stares balefully at the Inquisitrix for a moment, considering just what to say as her agitated mind struggles with many emotions. "Strength does not come by torturing the weak, and answers can be found through other methods than pain. Pain is the easiest and most cowardly method, used only when no other technique works or is viable! You are not strong; you are … cruel … You stain my name by your very existence," she berates her dark reflection finally.

The Inquisitrix just stares at her. "You … you cannot talk to me like that!" says the torturer at last. "You're the weakest one of us all! I am strong! I do not flinch from what must be done!"

"You are without compassion, and that is the mark of the weak – the cowardly bully who teases and hurts those unable to defend themselves to strengthen himself. But it is false strength." The smaller poodle shakes her head disgustedly. "You may get your answers, but what does it bring you? Does it make you any better from what they might be? Criminals yes, but you … you show yourself to be far worse than they. You are a failure, because you could not protect what is most important to us. Without a heart, you are nothing." The parasol is dropped and the noble Elise turns away. "How can you love Rephidim when you are heartless? Consider it … for I think that is more than enough to make you suffer for what you have done."

Behind her, the robed figure seems at a loss for words, full of uncertainty.

Without another word, Elise continues walking away from her reflection. She knows that if that is truly her reflection, deep inside she must be hurting more than any blade could cause. There isn't any need to attack her verbally or physically, for … she is already dead. Elise proceeds further into the Hall of Mirrors now.

While Elise is walking away, she can hear the low murmur of voices talking in the distance. Behind her, there's a high-pitched, pained squeak.

The squeak causes Elise to shudder as she moves on. Though the thought of turning around and dashing to stop her evil incarnation occurs to her, she decides against it. After all, it is only a mirrored figment. The true way to win, she believes, is to find herself. Her ears perk once she notices the talking ahead, and she turns her attentions to what may now be coming.

"Now you … doubt … ," the lady hears from some distance still. "… cannot be free … " "… Zelak … " Both sets of voices are female; the first sounds decidedly familiar.

Although Elise finds two voices to be odd, considering she has never heard anyone speak here, she finds them favorable to the sound of approaching boots. Moving forward, she decides a stealthy approach would be best, lest whatever is ahead is dangerous and she gets its attention prematurely.

As she steps gently forward, she hears the voices distinctly. "The fox mentioned you'd made it through here before," says the second, in Envoy's voice. "Can you point me in the right direction?"

The answer comes in the first voice. "I believe it is this way." This speaker sounds distinctly like Elise herself.

"Would you care to accompany me?" the warrior continues. It sounds as if the two are no more than a few yards away, just around the corner.

Envoy's voice comes around the corner, "That might be best; we can distract each other then."

Elise blinks a few times as she hears her own voice giving what sounds like Envoy directions, knowing if it is Envoy and she has met one of her alternates, she will be in great danger. Of course, the warrior could pose problems, so she tries to get their attention while scooting enough away where the warrior can't dash to hit her easily. "I would not do that, Envoy!" she calls out.

The warrior bolts into view as she skids around the corner. "See what I have to deal with?" she says, aggrieved, to Envoy.

Envoy hurries after the warrior. "Remember, you need all of your Aspects."

A snarl forms on the armored poodle's face as she stares at her doppleganger, and she shifts her grip on her sword. "The Mage Envoy," she growls, "seems to think that you should be of some use to me."

"Your own ego? The weakness I represent?" asks the noblewoman Elise from a way down the next hall. She readies her broken parasol in front of her just in case, and continues speaking. "Envoy, you have met my dangerous warrior reflection. I suggest you stop and consider which of us is actually Elise … and please, move away from her while you do."

Envoy looks between the two. Her own Aspects never threatened each other like this. "Lower your sword, warrior; there is no honor in threatening a helpless civilian."

The warrior Elise shifts her gauntleted grip on her sword, tightening it for a moment, then nods, stiffly, to Envoy. With a sigh, she sheathes her sword, but still glares balefully at her lady-self.

The smaller noble Elise frowns slightly. "I am most certainly not helpless, thank you," she protests in annoyance. A sigh, and she lowers her own "weapon". "Well, you seem to be able to control her better than I was able. I always did have trouble dealing with that one … either incarnated or simply a aspect of mind."

A snort from the warrior answers that assertion. "Hah. It is I who have trouble controlling you and your impulses to disintegrate under stress."

"Nonetheless," Envoy says, "neither of you can survive without the other. Now, both of you swallow your pride and embrace each other, okay?"

The armored poodle makes a face at her smaller self. "I think that would be carrying things a bit far," she says distastefully.

Envoy frowns. "If she truly embodies all your fears and uncertainties," she says to the warrior, "then why do you hesitate now? Do you admit to having some frailty separate from her?"

"You know I am much better dealing with stress than I was. It has been a long time since we last met here … " The noblewoman glances at Envoy then back to the warrior. " … but I, and the world, have changed. I cannot fight without you, and you cannot control yourself or feel for what we believe in without me." The parasol is lowered fully and put to rest against a nearby mirror. The smaller poodle stares at the ground thoughtfully for a moment before looking to her other aspect. "Do you not want to find him?"

The fighter works her jaw, struggling for words. "I don't know what you refer to," she snaps, and then looks off at one of the mirrors … for just a moment before remembering not to. She sighs deeply. "Perhaps I do. I … I suppose it is true that I must accept all the parts of me. I just doubt the need of sealing it in such a … manner." She nonetheless spreads her arms, offering her dainty counterpart a hug.

Envoy smiles. "You'll be stronger for it. Courage comes from the overcoming of one's own doubts. Without the doubts, would it be courage?"

The smaller, more delicate Elise smiles a little as she sees her warrior side relent. She begins walking forward towards the hug and spreads her arms as she nears. "You should not be so ashamed of me. If I were truly weak, would I have returned here to find myself? Courage comes from ones faith and love, too."

Awkwardly, chitin-clad arms encircle the tiny, beautiful form of the lady-Elise. "Very well," she says softly. "I am sorry I tried to destroy you, Elise. There is more to even weakness than I suspected, I see." She pats the snowy poodle gently on the back. "We must find a way to be whole again, I think."

Envoy checks on the reflections of the two poodles, to see if there is any help in that direction.

The reflections show both the warrior and the lady, though badly distorted. Viewed at certain angles, the two forms will blend and then separate again, as contours melt in the warped glass.

"And I am sorry I disappointed you, mm, Elise. I was scared and quite confused at the time. I did not know how to defend myself against you, but, I do now," says the smaller Elise as she hugs. She rests her head on her large half's chest squeezes a bit tighter. "I am sorry I was not there when it happened, and I am sorry you were not there to help me."

"Perhaps the empty frame will restore you?" Envoy suggests, "It can't be too far from here."

The warrior frowns at Envoy's comment, releasing her counterpart from the embrace. "Empty frame?"

Lady Elise turns to regard Envoy as if just noticing her again. "Empty frame?" she asks in time with her larger counterpart.

Envoy nods. "A mirror with the reflection missing. I passed it on the way here, before reaching the broken one."

The warrior exchanges glances with her other self. "Shall we… ?"

Envoy starts to head back to the area of Aspect reflections, away from the distorted ones. "This way."

The glance is met with a slight nod. "Yes, let us be off," she answers before holding her delicate hand out for the warrior to take.

Holding the lady's hand carefully in her gauntleted one, the warrior leads her behind Envoy. Oddly enough to the Aeolun, the mirrors which had earlier shown her image undistorted now reflect it with melting contours, just as the two Elises' shapes are displayed. After a handful of turns, during which they pass the area with the shattered mirror, they come to a mirror that does not reflect Envoy.

"Here it is," the Aeolun says, just in case they can't see for themselves.

As both the warrior and the lady Elise approach this mirror, they see only one Elise in it; a mirror image in military uniform, standing 5'8" tall, with an outwardly calm facade betrayed by occasional uncertainty and doubt in her eyes.

"I am finding this quite bizarre," notes the smaller Elise as she walks along behind her larger version. She stops at the reflectionless mirror and looks at it only long enough to see it is indeed there. She sees … herself. "I believe we have found what we are looking for."

The warrior lets out her breath slowly, and lifts her free hand to place it against the glass, looking into the reflection's eyes. The mirror-Elise's hand raises to match her motion. "I fear so," the doppleganger says, and the mirror mimics her words.

"I suppose you both just … look into it?" Envoy says, sounding uncertain.

Standing hesitantly behind the warrior the lady tilts her head slightly to inspect the third Elise. There she stands for a quiet moment before moving to speak again. "My life, as it is, is not so bad as I had imagined at first," she says and takes a step forward. "I see now there is no use dwelling in the past, of embracing too much any one side of myself. As this has shown me … only as myself can I stand strong." She reaches her delicate hand and places it on the mirror, staring into it. "First Ones forgive my error."

The image's other hand matches the position of the lady's. There's a faint shimmer in the air around the two standing figures, and two throats produce the same low sigh. Then a single Elise stands with her hands resting against the warped glass of a funhouse mirror, looking into a distorted swirl that contains, just for a moment, a hint of peach and lace, of chitin armor. Then, just her.

Envoy blinks her eyes to refocus them properly on Elise.

Elise slowly traces her hand down the mirror before holding it up to inspect it for a moment. Her eyes close after, and she allows her hand to fall by her side once more before nodding slightly. Again her eyes open and she turns around to snap into a Star and Anchor salute. "Mage Envoy," she says smiling a little, "I am happy to see you after so long."

Envoy smiles. "It's good to know one is missed. Do you know the way out of here that requires a bit less soul-searching?"

"Oh, why yes of course Mage Envoy," answers the true Elise. She offers her left hand to be taken up by the mage. "Although I cannot thank you enough for helping me become one again, I can at least guide you through this cursed maze. I need not remind you to not repeat my foolish mistake and look into a mirror."

Envoy takes Elise's hand. "I've come to terms with my Aspects, don't worry."

Elise smiles a little more at the reassurance and nods again. "Your wisdom here is appreciated, then." She begins leading the mage off through the Hall of Mirrors. About half way she asks Envoy a question, concern flashing in her eyes. "Have … you by any chance seen the Mystic since you last met him?"

"No, I haven't, I'm afraid," Envoy says.

A frown replaces the smile as Elise continues leading Envoy through the mage. "That is unfortunate," she says, her words showing a tired sadness she does not seem to bother hiding. It is not soon after that a exit comes into view, and a grand array of merriment beyond it.

Just beyond the exit from the Hall lies the crumpled form of an Eeee barker, apparently unconscious on the ground, hat askew, cane beside him, and a few dusty, delicate foot prints on the back of his jacket.

"Gardens worthy of Aphrodite," the Aeolun comments, then looks to the barker. "Although I expected a more impressive gatekeeper."

A sudden wash of embarrassment chases away the slight saddened frowns Elise had been keeping since she last commented. "Oh, well, he … ," she glances around at anywhere but the barker, " … he was most unpleasant. I, mm, took offense." She clears her throat a bit and makes certain to not step on him this time.