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[b][u]Los Paraisos: Pellagio Hotel - Moira and Syed's room[/u][/b]

Once Syed lifted his arms over his head and quietly reassured Amy that he couldn't approach her any further, she relaxed her grip - but the fear never left her eyes. She had allowed her arm to droop, loosening the tautness of her whip, as if ready to recall the weapon. Still it flickered brightly, humming and burning with energy. Her eyes watched his movements with distrust.

[i]"What happened?"[/i] he said.

[i]"I don't understand,"[/i] he said.

Though he spoke calmly, Amy more than recognized the worry laced with his words. No. No, she couldn't remember anything from the previous night either. But the fact that she was clothesless bar the snow white bedsheets wrapped around her, the fact that she had woken up inches away from a man under the blankets with her, the fact that she had to yank her leg free from his when she escaped that bed - immediately she extended her arm out again, the trembling gem held in Syed's direction. Her whip threatened the room with a snarl.

[i]Get the fuck away from me...[/i]

He had shuffled away from the bed to read something, much too far for Amy herself to see. Then he hunkered over, trembling wildly just as Amy was. He spoke again, his constrained calmness dripping away by the second, but the cleric heard not a word that escaped his lips. Her own frenzied heartbeat drowned out any other noise in the room. Whatever that paper was sent him spiraling into paranoia himself.

Then she noticed it. Her hand. Her hand gripping onto her gem, her precious weapon. Her finger. A ring. ... A ring!? The only rings Amy owned were two golden circlets, nowhere to be found along with the rest of her jewelery. This one was silver. Silver, with some undefinable engraved writing along the surface. Just like the one Syed...

"Oh, gods..."

Amy gripped even tighter onto the bedsheets she clasped with her other hand. In one fell movement she slumped towards the door, sliding her arm along the peachy wall to keep herself afoot. She dropped her precious gem - its animated light-whip receding into its sheath upon landing in her floored emerald dress - and fumbled for the doorknob, the exit from this hell, with her one free hand. But her palm slipped and slid all across its metallic surface. Once she managed to wrap her fingers along the knob, she hastily tried to turn it.

"Where's Trixie," she wheezed, her voice fraught with shivers. "Where's Trixie. Where's Trixie."

Turn and turn and turn. But the door never opened. Her churning hand merely ran circles around the doorknob, the only obstacle to breaking out from this hell.

Voices swamped her mind - her own voices, contending against one another for who controlled her thoughts, her reaction. It - nothing happened. Nothing could have happened. Surely she would've remembered something as horrifying as [i]that[/i] - and Syed couldn't remember either. Neither of them could remember. So nothing happened. Nothing happened! But then her fucking clothes - those fucking rings - these fucking games all over the floor. They... but she couldn't remember anything. She couldn't remember. She remembered no fear. She remembered no pain. Yet... yet all the evidence was right fucking there in front of them. What was she [i]supposed[/i] to believe?

She hadn't even noticed Moira flopping herself over on the bed, sleeping as soundly as someone could sleep in this situation.

No. No it's - they can't remember anything. She opened her mouth to reassure herself, to reassure Syed - to mostly reassure herself - but her conscious doubled over. The door would not open. She was trapped. And Trixie - Trixie wasn't there to bust her out. She let her guard down, she let her comfort and trust run free with these people, and...

"I'm - I'm done. I don't want to play guilder anymore." Where was that stupid little girl now? She promised. She promised to protect her. She promised. And yet she was not there. She was not there and - [i]oh gods.[/i] "I'm done. This isn't fun anymore. Where's Trixie. I'm done. I can't do this anymore." She continued churning her hand around the doorknob with no luck. "I'm done, I'm done with this, I'm done."