[ hi strohl, you can find kate in the escape room. the two of them run into each other in one of the dark halls of the mummy's tomb, and... woosh! a mysterious wind comes in, bringing a memory with it. ]
[ sometimes i forget that kate's canon is so fucked up and then things like this happen
ANYWAY. MY GOD. the trappings are familiar, at first, but two sentences into the letter kate reads and there's an anger already starting to bubble low in his stomach that only roils further the longer this goes on. that little girl is clearly someone that she'd met before, someone she knew, and the mindless, vapid response of a person turned to a - to a doll, really - puts an array of frustration and horror and sympathy across his expression at first, especially as kate tries to convince her otherwise.
as the memory ends, he exhales out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding, with a low: ] Bloody hell.
[ where does he even start - sharply, ] They're people, not tools - [ though that anger's not directed her way, so it immediately switches gears. ] Were you able to get her to snap out of it, Kate?
Good. [ immediately, emphatically - because holy shit, that set off all his horror sensors, every hackle-raising sense of protective justice that he has, and he finds himself exhaling out with it, though it doesn't quite free up the frustration. ]
Of course. [ with an annoyed, derisive scoff. humans is still bizarre to hear, but less so recently, and - even if it is, that's hardly the point. ] Good on you for fighting back, Kate. You and your friend alike.
[ that it's fate, at least - that idea warms him up, pushes some of that injustice irritation away. ] The right person shows up at the right time, or so they say.
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Week 3, Monday
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ANYWAY. MY GOD. the trappings are familiar, at first, but two sentences into the letter kate reads and there's an anger already starting to bubble low in his stomach that only roils further the longer this goes on. that little girl is clearly someone that she'd met before, someone she knew, and the mindless, vapid response of a person turned to a - to a doll, really - puts an array of frustration and horror and sympathy across his expression at first, especially as kate tries to convince her otherwise.
as the memory ends, he exhales out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding, with a low: ] Bloody hell.
[ where does he even start - sharply, ] They're people, not tools - [ though that anger's not directed her way, so it immediately switches gears. ] Were you able to get her to snap out of it, Kate?
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She stabilized after a while... and slowly started thinking for herself more and more.
I don't think all of her memories have returned yet, but I was able to undo most of the brainwashing.
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...To what ends? Just for power? Control?
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To create a society where humans are subservient to shadows... and all worship the lord of the Shadows House.
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Of course. [ with an annoyed, derisive scoff. humans is still bizarre to hear, but less so recently, and - even if it is, that's hardly the point. ] Good on you for fighting back, Kate. You and your friend alike.
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[ that it's fate, at least - that idea warms him up, pushes some of that injustice irritation away. ] The right person shows up at the right time, or so they say.
How long ago was it?
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