Though every aspect of Otsune's current situation would have appealed in a sane world to the protective, considerate, or sympathetic instincts of any normal human, no help came. After freeing her from her physical restraints, Donny left to help the others. The brawny fellow, receiving no response from the near-catatonic woman, mistook inability to ask for aid for a lack of need for aid and coldly left her. Though the others could now move, wonder, and speak, none stepped forward to empathize with her and help her come back to her senses; nevertheless, her senses began to return to her.
Otsune's eyes blinked open. Though the cold, the damp, and the smell did not please her, at the very least no riotous sound rattled her skull. Her shivering stopped, and her limbs began to unfurl. The same thoughts ran through her head as had those of the others, but as always she kept her thoughts inside. What a strange manner of place. Are those people, all around me? Have I been lying on this smelly, rough ground? Blood on the stone...? Why can't I remember? Oh, I know. A dream, obviously. I recall going to sleep, being sick too, I think, but not much else. But one never remembers how a dream begins exactly, do they? Slowly, Otsune propped herself up, making each movement with careful deliberation. No matter what, dreams tended to be highly selective in the ways they made sense; she would be certain not to act before she understood how this one worked. Her eyes swept over her nebulous, fetid surroundings. No faces stimulated her recognition, but the architecture of the building itself fascinated her. Almost medieval, this place. I can tell already this is going to be an interesting dream! It's so clear, and real. Her mind drifted to the world she left behind, that hazy but all-important void. Something seemed off about this dream...some sort of expectation. I don't know why, but I feel like I should make this dream count. She sat against the wall, believing the other people to be nothing more than figments of imagination, for they had not demonstrated any humanity to her.
For the next few seconds, she examined what she wore. Upon her person there appeared to be a longcoat, striped leggings, thick-soled shoes, a scarf, an ascot, and fingerless gloves. At this, Otsune smiled. Fancy, but functional. This stuff is cool. Like some classy heroine would wear on a nighttime expedition to fight crime. I remember having dreams like this before, indeed! How wonderfully perfect. Could this have been meant for me? Since this dream feels important, and real, it's like some kind of blessing.
Then came the words of Maria, cutting through the somber, musty dark. Otsune listened with rapt attention, silently and imperceptibly eager to figure out the nature of the dream world. Of all of life's possibilities, exploring one's own imagination struck her as one of the most intriguing. As Maria spoke, Otsune examined her. Bone-white skin and hair, and such elegant clothing! She's like a puppet, or a vampire. I should be careful. After all: red eyes, take warning. Well, they do seem a rather purplish shade of red, but same principle I imagine. Being evasive is good, though. If I die in this dream, or maybe even get hurt, I'll wake up early. What a waste that would be! Of course, the contents of Maria's little discourse made the library of gears within Otsune's mind turn as well. Logically, she assumed that, like a person playing a videogame, she would be the 'hero' of this grim adventure. Otsune, of course, imagined that Maria addressed her directly; what was the point of interaction with dream characters, after all? She almost laughed aloud to hear about a meeting with 'The Absolute'. It is a quest after all! This is going to be a memorable dream, for certain. I'm looking cool, this place is horrid but still neat, and I'm about to meet the exposition character! Thanks be to God for such an amazing gift.
Suddenly flexible and spry, Otsune leaped to her feet, ready to embark. She dashed for the stairs, thinking, hey, in here I'm practically a different person. This looks like a violent and kinda disturbing world, judging by that dead guy in the corner. She did not ponder overmuch the fatally-wounded madman. I'll have to be more assertive to make the most of this kind of world. Let's see, name, name, name. Absolute is a kind of alcohol, right? I'll just call myself my favorite drink: Highball. She quickly made her way up the stairs, just behind a man in black doing the same, only to find the doorway slammed in her face by her predecessor. This unanticipated choice of action drew an appropriately surprised response from Highball. “Ah?” she intoned, not quite a word but still the first noise she'd made.
The sound of human speech from behind her caused her to spin on her heels and throw a questioning glance at Kenji and Donny, not recalling the service of the latter. When Donny charged toward the door, followed by the inhospitable brute, Highball courteously slid to the side to let them pass, and seated herself on the bannister. She watched, impassive but interested and with a derisive expression on her face, as Donny and Sinthe powered through the closed door to attack Bishop and get him away from Maria, who he'd been attempting to do...something too. Highball couldn't tell exactly, given the light and field of few limitations, and felt no small amount of surprise that both of the men could so easily witness it.
In very short order, the hooded assailant found himself overpowered by the combined yet inexplicable gallantry of Donny and Sinthe. When the former suggested killing him, Highball gave a snort of laughter, and relaxed upon her bannister. Wow. It's like a movie!
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