He watched her, peering over the rim of his glass as she stood, indignant, demanding answers from him and glaring daggers from across the baroque chapel. An indulgent laugh sounded from his side of the room as he stood, giving her a full view of his form. The lines of the “mask” moved seamlessly into that of his neck, his muscled chest, a heavy leather belt with an ornate silver buckle holding a long, flowing garment cinched tight to his waist.

A fissure formed across the flesh of his face, tearing into a jagged-toothed grin as he brought the glass up to the broken, ragged lips and sipped from it, the strange, taut flesh healing quickly after he swallows.

“My, my, my, feeling rather haughty? No doubt your opinion of yourself has become inflated as of late, might I add an unwarranted change given the ungainly and graceless manner in which you fled my good friend,” his head tilted to the side curiously as he spoke, hand coming up as he lazily flicked his fingers outward, “Take a seat.”

It seemed as though she was buffeted back by a thousand strong, rough hands, pulling her down to where the hole in the floor was located, now replaced by an altar fitting in the room’s overdramatic and baroque décor.

“The book… well… I thought it would be funny…”

Kanoe struggles as unseen forces push the woman backwards. Only when she found herself sitting on an altar that was not there before did the woman stop fighting. Her eyes narrow in annoyance. This place seems to be able to change on a whim. It was apparent she held no real power here and shifts a bit to find some comfort in her seat.

"What do you want with me?" She asks, "And why abduct me from my class?"

She couldn't help but feel how trapped she was in here. The room was open enough but, this was a prison no less. Even if she were to find a way outside, there was a hundreds of feet of sky awaiting her along with a frigid wasteland below. Only by knowing how she got here could there be any chance of escape.

Icelus takes a few swaggering steps forward, his taloned feet sinking comfortably into the deep, blush red rug that covers the floor of the chapel. He smiles at her from behind the torn lips again, taking a moment to enjoy the particular scent of the wine he was delivered before taking another sip and swallowing it with a smile, the lips sealing back shut right over his grin, close enough that she could see the web-like sinew knitting itself back together over his bright white fangs.

“Pardon me, where are my manners?” he says with a flustered air, giving a bow to her before setting his drink down, turning around and walking in measured steps to the back row of the chapel. With a flourish and a bend, he picks up the tray and returns, setting the elegant glass down on the altar next to her right hand.

Slipping into a seat in the first, pew, he lifts one leg and rests and talon on his thigh, arranging the garment belted to his waist to preserve modesty.

“Now, what was it you were asking? Ah, yes, abduction. I didn’t abduct you from anywhere, technically you ran, but that’s just bickering over semantics. Even if we’re speaking literally, I haven’t abducted you. Honestly, it was just your time, it was scheduled, let me get my ledger, see…” he removes a positively massive leather-bound book from the seat of the pew.

The book is bound in a strange black leather, the front bearing the emblem of an elongated skull like that of a goat or deer with a pair of curling ram’s horns on either side. The spine is marked by the current year and an elegant, curling ‘K’ in gold leaf.

“Now, let’s see, shall we… hmmm… Kanoe, is it?” he turns the weathered pages delicately with a claw, “Ah, here we are then.”

He flips the book so that she can see it, the page cramped with small, curly script. The page is headed by her name and each small entry is preceded by a date. His claw points to the one for today, the text reading, “Midday – Classroom – Academic Anxieties (Book, blood, script (indescipherable), invisible)”

“Of course,” he says, snapping the book shut, “That says nothing about our meeting, but I do like to intervene on occasion.”

It was a disturbing sight seeing the lipless mouth seal back together with threads of flesh. She was not sure what he was. Some sort of demon maybe but her knowledge did not include any that had such an odd and elegant appearance. Kanoe edges away slightly as the creature approaches, waiting for him to set the glass down and move away before relaxing some. Relaxed would not the be term for her right now. She was completely lost in where she was at or even why she was here.

How he avoids the questions she asked was becoming even more annoying. Her thoughts were broken away at the sight of a large book he pulled from the pew. Why was her name even listed on that book? She was liking all this less and less as time goes on. Seeing muiltiple times and entries under her name causes her eyes to narrow as she gazes at the strange being.

"Scheduled for what?" She asks, "You are only giving part of the answers and have yet to even speak of who you are."

His attention focused on the book, paging back through the tome and reading up on some of her earlier nightmares, he pays no real attention to what she was saying. In all honesty, it was his domain and he felt that he could pay her attention whenever he felt like it. The pages turned in the silence of the chapel, bringing his hand up to his chin and rubbing the flat flesh where lips should be with the curve of one claw.

“I thought I might have intervened earlier, when you were younger, but no…” he trails off, paging back through the book and shaking his head, “Fears are so much more powerful then, have you noticed? Do you even remember a time when you were afraid of the dark? I’m not talking about being afraid of the things that lurk therein, you’ve plenty of reasons to be frightened by that, the school being what it is, but do you remember being afraid of the dark itself? Being afraid of the blackness?”

He closes the book, shaking his head and watching as slender scarlet ribbons with bright gold trim curl up around her legs, teasing her wrists and ankles with an unnatural sentience.

“My sister absolutely adores you, by the way. Says you’re capable of such loveliness, but she preferred you as a child. I always chide her that she has no vision, but there you have it.”

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Kanoe replies softly.

All children were afraid of silly things such as the dark. But, Kanoe now relied on the darkness. It was a source of magic and power for her. The tome she studies took her down a path of the dark arts and deals with demons and devils. The darkness? No she was not afraid of such things anymore. She was learning to embrace such environments now.

"I'm certain there are many other humans you can be watching that pose a much greater interest for you and your sister," She continues, "I will take my leave and find my own way out if you do not wish to assist me."

The witch had enough of these foolish games. She slips off the altar and begins walking for the door. Kanoe was not sure how she will do it but she will find a way out of here.

Icelus watched her pick herself up off of the altar, his gaze never leaving her as she strode confidently down the center aisle of the chapel, nearing the heavy oaken door that served as the entrance. He yawned, a little bored with the conversation, truth be told, and took to examining the state of his long, clawed nails with intent interest, picking something black and crusted out from being stuck beneath one of the long talons.

“Well we can’t both take you, that would be absurd,” he says with a laugh, “She does so enjoy seeing you people happy and I… well I don’t” another laugh, his voice deceptively pleasant, “It makes Thanksgiving a little awkward, mind you, but we make do.”

Waving her off with a claw, dismissing her as his interest in her stance of defiance fades completely, “Go on, then. Try and find your way out. Try and find your way out of my house. Fail, fail, fail, think you’ve succeeded and then fail, fail, and then maybe you’ll ask for my help again. If you need me, just scream…” he says, his attention returning to the wine glass.

The huge oak door before her swings open on well-oiled hinges, bringing a long high-ceilinged hallway into view, the hewn stone walls adorned with various macabre paintings, much of Dali and Giger. Doors line the walls, to her left one that seemed to be carved of ivory, high and thin. To her right, a simple wooden door with an ornate glass knob. The hallway curves back in both directions, and both lead to staircases that move upwards through the structure.

"Neither of you are going to take me," She replies coldly.

Try she shall. If she did not, she would just willingly be making herself prisoner. What sort of person would she be then? The witch gently flicks the upside down cross on her necklace as she looks at the large ornate hallway. There was no way to know the importance of the type of doors. There could be no importance at all and simply a way to make the place seem more exotic with various designs and styles.

She was unsure what to look for. It's not like she is looking for a way outside. She would simply freeze in the strange frosted lands below, assuming she survives the fall from this floating structure. Shaking her head, Kanoe opens the ivory door. One at a time was her only choice.

The ivory door opens onto what appears to be a balcony. A small, cozy reception area that looks over an atrium that is absolutely massive. A grand staircase drops down into what seems to be the largest library Kanoe has ever seen. Towering shelves the size of buildings hold piles upon piles of books, records, CDs, canvas paintings, sculptures, and any expression of creativity one can possibly imagine. Footsteps echo as small shapes on the floor of the atrium mill to and fro, picking amongst the meticulously categorized shelves down below.

The small receiving area into which Kanoe has entered, however, bears a more classical design when compared to the utilitarian shelves of the positively gigantic library. A chaise lounge and a number of chairs sit on the side by a small, elegant fireplace. The walls are decorated with gigantic art prints the size of two men: Blake’s The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed With the Sun, Giger’s TheDarkIsland, and a portrait of an unhealthy-looking man with a sharp face and long black hair leaning on a guitar.

A sweeping desk dominates the small reception area that leads out to the impossibly huge library, a red-skinned woman with luxurious black hair and a low-cut white blouse looking up from her book to regard Kanoe from behind thick-rimmed glasses.

“Welcome to the Nightmare devision of the Greater Muse Repository, Ma’am, are you a figment or a guest?”

Her eyes widen at the sight of the room. Space did not seem to be an issue in this strange palace. More books, cds, and data than anyone could digest in a lifetime were all in this large room. Whoever that person was, he seemed to fancy himself a collector of the arts. Did not change the fact the creature was a vile jerk though.

Kanoe steps forward towards the desk. A non human woman seemed to be the keeper of this library. It was safe to say she was probably the only human in this entire place for now. The witch was not fond of the term Nightmare devision. Greater Muse Repository? This was all confusing.

"A guest...I suppose," She answers, "I do not know what this repository is but I am certain I have over stayed my welcome. I just need to know how to return to Shokushu."

The woman pays no real attention to Kanoe’s questions. It seems to be a running theme in this place, wherever the hell that may be. She sighs softly, sliding a bookmark to hold her place and stands, circling around the desk, wearing a tight black pencil skirt, a tail curling around her ankle seemingly of its own volition.

“Please keep your visitor pass on your person at all times, you may browse at your leisure but remember that digesting too much negative thought in one sitting may be considered corrosive to mental faculties. None of the exhibits are to leave the repository, if we find that you have somehow managed to smuggle something out, we will find you and kill you…” the woman’s voice has a bored tone, lending credulity to the idea that either she is a remarkable deadpan wit or serious about the last clause.

She hands Kanoe a small card that feels like it may be made of black glass, the word “visitor” shining in gold text on the surface, literally giving off light. The red-skinned librarian circles back around the desk, returning to her seat and her book.

“Hello, Lord…” she says as the breeze of the door opening meets Kanoe’s back, the librarian not even looking up to acknowledge the entrance.

“Well, do you like?” Icelus’ voice at her back now, “Reznor offered to sign that one for me, but I told him it would only detract from the portrait itself, and honestly, what would I do with an autograph,” he says with a chuckle, pointing to the portrait of the somber man with the guitar.

"Your art collection is of no concern to me," She replies cooly, "Are you here to tell me how to get back to my school or is this just a coincidence?"

Kanoe slides the strange card into her vest pocket as she turns to face the strange jester looking being. Being ignored was becoming very troublesome. At the very least she is unhindered from going where she wished. But, digesting negative thoughts did not seem to be the way she wants to go. Who would want to take a negative thought with them when they leave? They can keep them for all she cared. Perhaps another room was in order. Returning the general gesture and attitude of the place, Kanoe walks by the 'Lord' and returns to the hall. Should she get this far she will continue to the plain wooden door.

Icelus watches her go once more, making his way over to the large sweeping desk and flirting innocently with the librarian. He trails his finger lazily over the ornate banister as he moves down into the gut of the repository, returning with a sleek device and a pair of headphones. Reclining on the lounge, he plugs the headphones into the small black machine and places them over his pointed ears, reclining easily on the chaise as he lets Kanoe explore.

-------------------

The wooden door opens on a room far less impressive than the last. Looking to be a natural cave that had existed before the rest of the palace was carved, the only break in the damp, dank surrounding was a smooth mirror anchored into the rock on the floor and ceiling, seeming to predate the formation of the cave itself if anything is to be gathered from the way in which the stalagmites and stalactites cling to its surface, the rock seemingly worn away from the mirror by centuries of erosion.

The mirror is largely unremarkable save for one unique aspect, the fact that it reflects everything but Kanoe. She can see the door, the hallway, the light spilling into the cavern, but she is not there. It may take a few moments to realize this, but it remains.

After she enters, a rumble sounds throughout the cavern and a pair of the stalactites dart down turning malleable in an instant and incasing her hands in firm rock, pulling them up to suspend them above her head, a pair of stalagmites doing the same to her slender ankles a few moments after.

The witch blinks at the dimly lit cavern. After the endless library of nightmares, she was not one to be shocked anymore by the oddly placed cave in the palace. At first she thought there was another exit on the other end of tunnel. But seeing the door moving with the one next to her reveals there was a large mirror taking up the entire passage. The image was missing something though, herself. Stepping forward, the woman was caught completely off guard as the very rock in the cave began to animate and mind her limbs. Kanoe was struggling immediately as she was pulled off the ground. Another gasp escapes her as she feels more rock wrap and hold her ankles leaving her completely bound and suspended in the cavern. What was this room for?

"Let go of me!" She calls out to whatever this thing was.

“No… no, I don’t think I will…”

The voice echoes blankly in the cavern, responding to her question from nowhere. Icelus still has yet to return to pester her, so it’s obviously not his doing, nonetheless the voice must be coming from somewhere. It fades, leaving Kanoe with only the steady drip of the stalactites to comfort her. After a few minutes, its questionable whether the voice was there at all, or whether she was just imagining it.

The hold on her arms begins to take its toll, muscles straining from the harsh rock keeping an unforgiving grip on her wrists. With nothing else of interest in the cavern, the face of the mirror eventually begins to swim before her. A ripple across the surface of the glass, a hand eventually reaches out from within, dripping with mercury with a texture of polished chrome. Followed by another hand and a smooth, featureless, dripping head and torso, the being falls to the floor, crawling the rest of the way out of the mirror in shuddering, jerking movements. It picks itself up, blobs of what appear to be a liquidized form of the mirror beading on its strange flesh like molten sweat as it takes a few staggering steps towards her, intentions unknown in its absolutely blank façade of a face, still reflecting everything in the room save her.

“Why let go? Things were just about to get interesting…”