Maria’s frustration seeped visibly out from behind her mask of condescending nonchalance, and Highball confirmed her choice to be the right one.  As far as she cared, the snooty, oh-so-pretty tough lady could stuff it.  If ever a character existed that Highball could bet money on becoming an antagonist later, the psycho mannequin here was it.  Ignoring her, she turned her attention toward the scuffle’s end.  The last of the dog-men fell, fingers clawing at the air while it whined horribly, but the woman whom they captured did not appear to be enthralled that her kidnappers lay dead.  Instead, she dealt a vicious slap to the nearest man she could find before breaking down into raving insanity, stumbling this way and that as she enumerated her sins.  Highball watched, her eyebrows betraying her macabre wonderment, while the woman edged closer to the well upon which she sat.  An awful scheme stole into her mind, and the woman ended her own life by plummeting into the well.  Surprised by the act and disturbed by the ensuing sounds, Highball shuddered, and deeming her position of derision to no longer be appropriate, she slid off the well-cover and onto her own feet.  Her stomach would not permit her to follow her impulse to peer down the well and see if the poor wretch lived still.

Nobody could consider the extravagant suicide for long, however, for from the coddling dark strode a dubious gentleman, his dapper if solemn appearance a far cry from the deplorable destitution and dinginess that seemed so prevalent to Iredele so far.  His greeting managed to instantly turn Highball’s opinion against him; she did not appreciate implication in events she purposefully abstained from.  Still, a choice few of his words piqued her interest, namely those implications that the town lay embroiled in a dark and sinister plot, and that forces beyond human control or comprehension withheld their ignoble wrath from Iredele only for the sake of these ‘rituals’.  While this intrigued her, she couldn’t say that it surprised her without lying; ever since the Church of the Absolute’s first mention, the notion of some insidious nightmare cult lay fresh on Highball’s mind.

These ponderings made Highball want to ask this man questions, but she instantly rebuked herself for that consideration.  After all, several of the other dream-people had already pegged themselves as prime question-askers.  It all slotted in very nicely with Highball’s conception of the World of Wasted Dreams as a game, for what kind of game eschewed exposition?  Sure enough, Donny and Kenji spoke up, while the white-haired brute opted to punch the mayor –surprise, surprise!- and bellow out his criticisms.  A moment later a new arrival, the strapping young man that she’d seen loitering in the church, vented his questions too.  Only too happy to keep herself out of swinging range, Highball paced leisurely around the rough perimeter set up around the mayor by the new hunters, arriving back at the well just as Maria and Spencer began to talk.  For once Highball listened intently, guessing that Spencer at least might offer some sort of task.  His joke made her smile, but his mention of danger lurking at Paraanon Ravine thrilled her.  Now that a task of both worth and peril lay out in the open, the raven-haired woman knew precisely what to do next.

Before she finished smiling, however, the spearman from before sidled up to her.  Guessing that he might be wanting to cooperate with her, Highball heard him out, but felt distinctly disappointed to hear no mention of the word ‘Paraanon’ in his request.  Furthermore, he asked of her the dog head that lay, congealing, near her feet.  His tone reminded her distinctly of a child asking for the last piece of food.  Highball, sensing a distinct chance to snark, tried to think of some way to communicate his foolishness.  Unfortunately, nothing came to mind—meaning she couldn’t keep her silence any longer.  “This scrap?” she whispered, poking the offensive object with her cane.  “No self-worth, eh?”  Crossing her arms, she continued, her lips barely moving.  “If you want to waste, by all means, investigate.  The game is on.  Paraanon is the place to be.”  She indicated with her cane the direction that Spencer pointed them, impatiently tapping her foot all the while, signaling that if Kenji wanted to be doing something worthwhile, they should depart before everyone else jumped on the bandwagon.