fearlessly | batb part two: electric boogaloo

batb part two: electric boogaloo

[ alisaie is not afraid of the woods.

truthfully, alisaie is not afraid of much at all - not the things that most are afraid of, at least. she does not fear the dark, or wolves, or bandits. she does not fear loud storms or knives in the dark of faerie tale monsters stalking haunted forests. what she fears is being along. grieving. losing those she loves.

and that is why she is here. alisaie has ridden tirelessly through the night, driving baptiste hard over the hard, wintry earth, her breath frozen in her lungs, the frigid wind stinging her cheeks and ears and eyes. alphinaud is her entire world. he is all that she has, all of her family that remains, and the thought of living her life without him, moving forward alone..

she would rather not move forward at all.

and so she will find him, regardless of he consequence, heedless of the potential danger, for without him, she has no life at all.

baptiste remembers the way, and though she can feel the tension and fear in the body of the horse beneath her, still they press on, hooves slamming hard into the earth, empty branches pulling at her hair, whipping over their heads. the forest seems to go on and on, deeper and deeper into darkness and mist, until at long, long last the space opens up, and a dark castle looms ahead, its twisted spires climbing into the gray sky, its gloomy edifice frowning down as she approaches the wrought iron gates choked with decayed vines.

alisaie is not afraid of much, yet still the sight of it sends a chill down her spine.

what is this place? she's heard of no such estate as this - a castle, so close to the village? how have there been no stories? no history? she has ridden less than a day to find her brother, not far from home at all, and yet.. there is nothing in their books about this great castle, no tall tales, nothing at all. it is a phantom. still, somehow it feels familiar to her.. like a memory of a dream's dream.

exhaling a shudder, alisaie slides from baptiste's back, leading him to an icy, overgrown brook for a drink, looping the reins over a strong, bare branch before at last she approaches the castle. it's silent, sinister, but she.. she has no choice. if this is where alphinaud is, then she must press forward. the rusted gates groan, splitting the silence, and alisaie approaches the great doors, the old rotten oak swinging beneath her weight as she slips carefully into the great, dark foyer. ]

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[ since finding access to the library, alisaie's days here have been far easier. she still misses home greatly, of course, she thinks about her brother and her house, and all that she has left behind, that was swept so quickly away from her, but her days and nights here are no longer complete torture. painful, but manageable.

it certainly helps that there are thousands of books at her fingertips, books of all shapes and sizes and genres and ages - there is so much that she has learned even in a short span of weeks, and much, much more to be learned even still ahead of her. every morning she wakes to that excited tug in her gut, ready to rush off to the stacks of tomes, often even before eating - the castle's many staff, at least, are always quick to deliver her a meal when she misses it. it was strange and uncomfortable at first, to be waited on so much, alisaie does not particularly enjoy having things done for her, but it's difficult to deny the joy that it gives them to work. they were so old when she arrived, dusty and despairing, near inanimate for how long they had gone without purpose - if it can give them even some small measure of happiness to serve her, then well, she can suck it up and allow them to.

they were once people, after all. they had lives, loves, ambitions, things they may never entirely have again. she can sacrifice some sliver of her pride to bring them a bit of joy.

sleep, however, is not so easily come by. the books and globes and astrolabes and all number of gadgets interest her so fully that she finds it difficult to pry herself away. more than once she has fallen asleep slumped over a tome cracked open on the table, or attempted to go to bed only to find herself tossing and turning and returning to the library again in the middle of the night when particularly obsessed with a manuscript. it's all right, really, she can rest whensoever she chooses, so if she is up late into the night, what does it matter? it feels good to be joyful about something again.

right now, alisaie has no idea what time it is. the sky beyond the frosted windows is inky black, and has been for many hours now, and she finds her stomach rumbling, interrupting a particularly good read of an astronomy passage. at first she ignores it, but the gnawing soon becomes so distracting that when she finds herself reading the same sentence for the fifth time in order to absorb it, she relents. pulling her dressing robe more tightly around her for warmth, alisaie lifts a (non-animate) candelabra and sneaks off to the kitchens.

they're warm now, clean and welcoming - when first she arrived everything was rusted with disuse, blanketed in a thick layer of dust, but now the woodburning stove is always lit, the stone floor warm beneath her feet, the scent of tonight's dinner still hanging about the air, perfect and savory. the servants sleep, so she moves as quietly as she can to the larder, searching out a fresh loaf of bread and some butter and jam. ]

[ Things have settled into a pattern, in the weeks since she arrived here, and that's all the better, because it makes it easier for Prompto to stay out of her way. He has grown accustomed to her presence, but not used to it. There's nothing comfortable about the way he dodges around her schedule, and tries to predict the odd hours she keeps, but he no longer keeps her monitored as much as he initially did. Whether she has ambitions to escape or not he cannot be sure, but she has not made an attempt yet, and for that, he allows her more space. Guards are still posted outside the castle's exits, and he still has eyes and ears everywhere...but for now, things are probably as peaceful as they'll ever be.

It doesn't help that the servants seem fit to tell him about her every chance they get. About how clever and sharp she is, how fire and warmth burn within her. How they see her strong will as a possible solution to this curse that has befallen them all. He can't blame them for hoping, but...they still don't understand. He just doesn't have the heart to tell them that their curse will never be broken, that they dream of something impossible.

As winter settles in around the castle, he finds himself more restless, for even if he doesn't often venture outside the castle walls, there is something deeply isolating about the wind and storms that buffet against the parapets. It makes him more active than usual, skulking about the halls late at night, eager to find things to do with his hands. It's one such night that brings him to the kitchens, where he rarely ventures anymore. Ever since he got this body, he lost the need to eat, and a lot of the desire. But he goes there now, maybe to find something to nibble on, or to even attempt to make something. Maybe to emulate a very old friend of his...

But as soon as he pushes through the door to the kitchen, he realizes that he is not alone. Gods, why is she here so late? Surely he hasn't been away from society for so long that mortals no longer need to sleep during the night. But here she is, grabbing something to eat in the wee hours of the morning, and this is hardly the only time she has kept such strange hours. He's just been able to avoid her until now.

Given the weight and noise of his mechanical body, his presence cannot possibly go unnoticed by her — nor the fact that he wears his hood down, a fact which he realizes a moment too late. Unmasked by the shadows, well-lit by the warm hearth in the kitchen, his expression is open and wide with shock, his patchwork automaton face on full display. It seems both youthful and ancient all at once, rusted and welded, twisted and broken and uneven, gears apparent beneath gaps in his shell. But his eyes still remain ever as they were, clear blue as the sky, so very human for how much of him is plainly not.

A split second later he is pulling his hood back over his head, but a second is all it will have taken for her to see. He turns away, as if she still can see him, see the hideous metal face he wears beneath the hood of his robes. ]

F-forgive me, I didn't realize...you were awake.

[ Maybe he should be furious, but he isn't. He just feels...small, like a startled mouse. ]

[ he certainly has no aptitude for stealth, and her keen ears hear him before he reaches the door, the sudden screech and drag of rusted metal more than enough to give anyone a fright in the middle of the deep night.

alisaie yelps in surprise, startled, the bread dropping from her hands and onto the floor. ]

Gods -

[ she hisses, catching her breath through her teeth, straightening up to turn toward him. until this moment she has.. never seen his face. well, she has seen some of it, enough of it to make some educated guesses as to the shape and form of it, given what shadows she has seen, and what light has sneaked beneath his hood, but seeing him clearly in the light is another thing entirely. alisaie cannot help the look of surprise that cracks like a bolt of lightning across her face, nor the way her breath catches in a soft, feathery gasp. even her imagination could not have filled in the blanks.

he is.. extraordinary, like nothing she has ever seen before. what in the world.. is he? he speaks like a man, and his eyes are astoundingly, hauntingly human, so incongruous with the rest of his face that it is jarring, but everything else is metal and springs, more machine than living, breathing creature. she hardly knows what to think. was he made by someone, enchanted to move and speak like all the rest? but his eyes..

gathering her thoughts, alisaie shakes her head, exhaling a sound like a dry laugh. ]

Why in the world are you asking my forgiveness?

[ Still he does not turn towards her, his fingers curled fast around his hood to obscure even the idea of his face. But it's too late — she has seen him. He heard her gasp, the unmistakable sound of her dismay — and repulsion, naturally. There is a reason he keeps his face hidden, and it is not to make himself more sinister and aloof.

He does what he can to gather himself, the spark of humiliation and fear still lancing through his clockwork nerves, and if he had a heart, it would surely be hammering against his ribcage right now. No one outside the servants of this castle have ever seen his face...

Until now. How could he have been so careless? ]

I-I...

[ How easily he becomes a sputtering boy once again, at a loss for words, all to eager to slip away and hide himself from the world. ]

I only...I didn't mean to surprise you. [ He startled her with his entrance, and then...his appearance. ] I-I'll leave you to your...crust of bread.

[ He never should have come here in the first place. ]

[ her bread. right. alisaie dips to scoop the loaf from the floor, dusting its bottom with her hand - thankfully the servants have been full of vigor and ambition, like as not these floors are scrubbed as clean as the good china. setting it onto the table, alisaie hesitates.

she should let him go.

but.. it is not right that he should flee the kitchens simply because she is here. this is his home, after all, and his kitchens. she is the stranger here. and he seems so afraid.. what does he have to fear from her? she poses no threat, and yet he has drawn away from her from the very start, avoiding her at every turn. at first she assumed it was the size of the castle, but she has seen him turn away from corridors she has occupied, disappearing like a shadow any time she draws near. he is keeping away from her purposefully, which is.. strange, given how every one of the castle's denizens is all but clinging to her skirts most of the time. ]

Wait.

[ she approaches, and, despite her shuddering heart, she hesitantly lifts a hand to push at his hood. ]

You needn't leave simply because I am here.

[ She'll let him go. There will be no protest. What could she possibly have to protest about? His presence isn't welcome. He has actively imprisoned her, made her life outside these castle walls impossible. He took her brother. No matter how comfortable the servants make things for her, no matter how much he leaves her to her whims, no matter how many books in the library, that cannot possibly make her want to spend even a single moment longer in his presence.

The last thing he is expecting is for her to approach him, and...and touch him.

He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, one hand still clinging to his hood, the other flinching away as she reaches for him. Isn't she...afraid? After seeing the twisted, mechanical beast, the inhuman thing beneath the hood? Yet since the moment he met her she has moved forward despite her fear. But then...why?

He allows her to push his hood back, but only just, so she can see his wide eyes peering out from beneath it.

It's been so long...so very, very long since he has felt the touch of another person. Since a warm hand offered him gentleness. It's brief and foreign, but it still reaches deep into a part of himself long forgotten, filled with wistful longing he had buried under loneliness and regrets.

At last, he finds his voice, though it has gone quieter than before, almost...defeated. ]

No. [ He huffs a dry sound in his throat. ] But you can't possibly want me to stay.

[ Why would she? ]

[ he flinches away, and that is.. fair, really. she should not have reached for him to begin with, she does not know him, does not know what he might do, and it would be rude even if things between them were.. normal, which they are very much not, so she is quick to withdraw. the tips of her ears flush pink with faint embarrassment.

she clears her throat. ]

We share this space together now. We should not tiptoe around one another.

[ for better or worse she is.. here, now, and they both must accept that. ]

You are the one who keeps me here, after all. Why are you avoiding me? None of the others do.

[ Because I am the one who keeps you here, here thinks, but the words don't quite rise to his artificial tongue. Surely she must see that, right? Maybe it's silly of him to dodge out of her path when he comes across her, but neither can he think that that means she actually wants to be around him for any longer than absolutely necessary.

No one does.

His gaze falls, obscured by the shadows of his hood. He has taken so much from her. He won't take her time, too. ]

...N-never you mind. The others would be better company for you, but most of them are asleep at an hour like this.

[ And then he turns the conversation towards her instead of himself as he steps 'round her and into the kitchen. If she doesn't think he should leave, then...he'll stay for a moment. But just a moment. ]

Why are you awake?

[ it's so strange, how he stammers when he speaks, how he seems almost.. meek, but he is certainly the last person in the world that she would have thought to describe as meek. he's hulking, powerful, with a voice like scraping steel, and he had certainly been forceful and intimidating the moment they first met.

but things have been different, as she adjusted. as they adjusted. alisaie's eyes follow him curiously as he moves away from her, and it's a few moments before she rouses herself to move, carrying the loaf toward the counter to begin cutting it into slices. ]

I've been reading.

[ she says, matter-of-factly, because this is more or less the norm for her, now. alisaie has always tended to keep off hours naturally, but it's certainly been far worse since she was given access to the library. ]

There's a wonderful manuscript on the winter constellations that I've found..

[ It's not as though he had any appetite to lose, but Prompto certainly seems restless as he begins to poke through the cabinets and barrels, uncertain of if he she pick anything to eat, or if he should just tell her he's no longer hungry and make his exit after a few minutes. How long should he stay? How long is not long enough? How long is too long? He has been so far removed from the social expectations of other people that even having a conversation that lasts more than a few short exchanges with her is unbelievably novel.

And to think, he once was able to talk for days on end, that he was the one who filled the silence with the sound of his voice. Silence used to make him uncomfortable, but now, it is his oldest friend.

At last, he settles on an apple and some cheese from the larder. Even then, he doesn't move to sit at the table. That too seems...presumptuous, so instead he breaks off a piece of the cheese to nibble on, watching her from the corner of his eye. ]

You should avail yourself of the observatory, then, though you'll need a clear night, first....

[ The storms have been especially brutal this year. ]

[ it's strange for her, too. alisaie would not necessarily call herself talkative, but the castle's keepers have kept her quite busy, always chattering, making conversation, asking questions.

but he is different. she does not know what to say to him. how can she? it may be a gilded cage, but he is her warden nonetheless, keeping her here against her will, however gently. it is not easy to know how to converse, with a relationship just as theirs.

thankfully, alisaie is ever honest to a fault, so she simply says whatever pops to mind. ]

If we ever see a clear night again.

[ she says, dryly, and turns to carry the tray of sliced bread toward the table, but.. he is between them, and she means to simply move past him to sit, but instead she stops before him, hesitating. glancing down toward the bread, she lifts her eyes to him. ]

Would you like some?

Hm.

[ Is all he says in response to her comment about the skies. Once it would have fallen to him to be the optimist, to insist that eventually, they will see the stars again, but it has been a long time since that was his first instinct. So instead he remains silent, uncertain where he stands, until Alisaie moves towards him to sit.

Until she stops to surprise him once more. Not only does she allow him to stay, but now she offers him some of her food? It leaves him struck dumb, searching her face for some sign of guile or farce. Does she mean to poison him? To incapacitate him long enough to make an escape? Maybe. He wouldn't blame her for it if she did. ]

Oh. [ A beat. ] Um...I suppose.

[ Tentatively, he plucks a slice of bread from her plate with his gnarled, glinting fingers. Maybe if he just makes sure she takes a bite first...

Lingering an uncomfortable moment longer, he moves to the table to sit at last, staring down at his assortment of food like he just can't comprehend it. However he expected his midnight snack run to go, this evidently wasn't it. ]

[ he takes the bread, which is.. something, at least, and after a moment's thought, alisaie reaches fearlessly for the block of cheese he's holding in his clawed hand, breaking a hunk off into her own grasp. he won't eat all of that on his own, will he? and what's bread without a little cheese?

also he literally watched her slice the bread, when does he think she slipped the poison in!!

.. is he even able to be poisoned?

at any rate, she moves to the long mess table and sits, pouring wine into a wooden cup from the flask on the table. ]

Why are you awake?

[ does he.. sleep? ]

[ Look, she could be a master of sleight of hand, he doesn't know?! He also appears vaguely affronted when she takes a hunk of his cheese. She could have at least waited until he offered her some!! If...that even actually occurred to him. When was the last time he was compelled to share food of all things?

With a huff, he settles down into the chair — a soft, quiet sigh slipping out of him, unbidden, as the weight of his mechanical body is taken off his feet. For a body made up of wires and gears and screws, he still manages to feel all of the pain that a human body would, and then some, and without any of the benefits of one. Even this food carries a strange, foreign taste with it, like it's something that really shouldn't be in his body.

It takes him a moment to answer her, one sharp, steel nail cutting into the flesh of his apple and slicing it up. ]

I'm always awake.

[ He answers bluntly, gazing off into the fire in the hearth. Even that being the case, he sure sounds tired. ]

Always?

[ she can understand the sentiment, alisaie isn't much of a sleeper herself, but there's a difference between realism and hyperbole, here. he says he is always awake, and that is what he means, quite literally.

she can hardly imagine..

in some ways it must be wonderfully convenient. more often than once alisaie has wished she did not need sleep, there is so much that can be accomplished during the long eight hours one spends asleep, and she has sacrificed sleep for books or work many, many times. but to be forced awake always is another thing entirely. somethings there is nothing that feels better than a warm, soft mattress. and how can he possibly keep himself occupied for so long, when he never leaves the castle? ]

But you.. eat?

[ she should not probe with such questions, but still she cannot help her curious nature.. she has wondered so many things, for so long. ]

[ It would be a lie to say this line of questioning makes him somewhat uncomfortable, but then again...any line of questioning would make him uncomfortable. The servants know about him, who he was before, and who he is now, and why he is the way that he is. They know what was lost, because of him. They know what his payment was. They don't ask questions, because they suffer, too.

But Alisaie is young and curious, and, he would wager, has never seen a being such as him before. It's only natural that she has questions. He just wishes she would ask one of the servants instead and spare him the embarrassment of answering them. ]

Not out of necessity.

[ Not quite out of pleasure, because nothing is especially pleasurable to him these days, but...it's comforting, somehow, and it passes the time. He never asked the servants to cook much for him, but they did anyway, to have something to do.

He unceremoniously crunches a slice of the apple in his mouth. ]

[ oh, she's asked the servants, all right.. she's asked them over and over, prodded them in different ways, attempting to wriggle the details from them, but it had been a waste of her breath and energy. for all he seems cruel and wicked, they are devoted to him, and any question she has posed to them regarding their master's nature was swiftly deflected, or met with awkward, apologetic silences; any other questions she asked were answered with zealous excitement, save for those. for all that he has done, and all that he seems, they are loyal to him.

she cannot say that she understands, but in the end, she can respect it. they have been kind to her, what happened to her brother was not their fault. they do not want to be pushed, and so she pushes no further.

but gods how her curiosity burns! ]

I see..

[ it's even fascinating to watch - to see him chew with his strange mouth - doesn't the juice make the gears sticky??

at last, alisaie breaks some cheese off onto one of the bread slices, and takes a healthy bite. ]

[ Stop making me think so hard about his fairy tale robo body...but yeah he probably will be tasting that juice for the next few weeks, and there will be crumbs stuck in his nooks and crannies, it's gonna be a bad time.

Perhaps this is the moment when he should ask a question himself, about her, but the thought just...doesn't occur to him. It isn't that he isn't curious about her — he is. She has proven herself to be a remarkably...unusual individual, unpredictable with a rare kind of strength that reminds him of...well, it doesn't matter. He shouldn't get closer to her. He doesn't want to get closer to her. She's his prisoner. In the end, being cordial is just a farce, isn't it? How she must loathe him.

So instead, he falls into silence, chewing a chunk of bread (now that she has taken some herself) thoroughly, noisily, as he passes several moments just watching the fire. ]

Why are you speaking to me?

[ Blunt again, but he just...does not understand her at all. ]

[ she's gonna have to get out the wrench and clean his gears.. heheh

bluntness is something alisaie can respect, at least. she has never had the patience for diplomacy, for flowery words that dance around a subject, and this? well. it's a good enough question. why is she speaking to him? she detests him, and what he has done to her - what he did to her brother before her. he has stripped her of her personal freedom, which for someone like alisaie, is an egregious transgression. even in this enormous castle she feels claustrophobic, and even the vast library cannot quite scratch the itch that has been beneath her skin since those gates closed behind her for the last time.

it could be worse. of course it could be worse. she is not locked in a frozen dungeon, he does not raise his hand to her, starve her, or torment her. but that does not mean that she is not angry. ]

I don't know.

[ she answers honestly, after a thoughtful silence. her brow knits, her gaze dropping away. ]

Because ignoring you would serve no real purpose. Because I am curious about you.

[ oh......yes :flushed:

That is...more or less, about what he expected. She has no real personal interest in him, and he cannot blame her at all. She does not wish to get to know him, she does not wish to befriend him, she does not wish to break the spell. She only wants to know about him. Maybe he should tell her, and tell her everything, all in one fell swoop so she will leave him alone and she can have nothing else to ask. Wouldn't that be for the best? For the both of them?

He just wants to be alone. He just wants to be alone. He wants to go back to being numb, immobile as a statue, losing his sense of self in the passing years, as he was before her brother stumbled into this place and ruined everything. ]

....Right. Just like your books. I'm something to be studied.

[ He shouldn't be angry. He has no right to be. And he isn't angry with her, exactly. He's just angry at himself, and at everything else. ]

Keep searching the shelves, then. I'm sure you can find the answers you seek there.

[ He stands swiftly, his hands tightly balled at his sides, his jaw set. ]

[ his reaction is.. unexpected, but alisaie finds her temper flaring nonetheless. she had only answered honestly, what is wrong with being curious? no doubt he must be curious about her, too. and despite what might be wise, alisaie allows her heart to get the better of her, and her jaw tightens. ]

Well if that isn't a childish response -

[ she says, heatedly, sitting back in her chair, her arms crossing tightly over her front, staring pointedly, fearlessly, up toward him. ]

And you are not curious about me? About anything beyond these horrid walls? Or are you saying you are truly happy to skulk about here doing nothing new until the end of time? I had not known that curiosity was such a crime beneath your roof.

[ It all falls apart so quickly.

But of course it does. He did this. He deserves this, and really, isn't it better that she's angry, that her true feelings are exposed? That they aren't playing at polite conversation when she can't stand being around him? And why would she tolerate him, after what he's done to her? What did he expect, for her to become his friend? It's foolish. Impossible. There will never be nothing but animosity between them, until she finally finds a way to slip out, or dies. And then it will be quiet again. What's the lifetime of one Elezen, after how long he has kept vigil here?

So why does it hurt?

He channels that pain into his anger, the fire in his voice, deep and booming and so much bigger than he feels. ]

I was perfectly happy before your brother intruded here! Before you came here and disturbed everything! I was happy to rust!

[ Already, he's said too much, but he can't stop now, he doesn't know how to stop, doesn't know how to dam the flood. ]

Do you think I want to keep you here? Don't you think I wish I could set you free and forget you were ever here?! Would that I could be so lucky!

[ it stings, somehow, though she is not entirely sure why. perhaps it is the reminder of how she is kept, and that even her very presence is bothersome to him, when it is by his hand that she is here at all. perhaps it is the mention of her brother, whom she misses so viscerally that even the mere mention of him is enough to make her eyes sting. ]

Yes, you are so very good at being alone, aren't you, with an attitude like that!

[ she shouts, pushing her plate roughly away - she was hungry a moment ago, but no longer. the servants make her stay here as pleasant as they can, but she cannot truly be happy when she is not free, and that pain has festered for weeks. ]

Forgive me my lack of compassion, and my poor brother's hope that he might find mercy here. You're nothing but a brute and a bully, aren't you? Take your meal and go then, if your time is so very precious!

[ It's better this way.

It's better this way, and he must make himself believe that, before the soft, weak parts of himself that linger at every corner of his being do not take hold and break him. The years have made a callous of his heart, have pried his humanity from him, have made him into a machine, instead of a man. By necessity, he has grown to be like this. By necessity, he must stay this way. Because to do anything else...

To hope for friendship, companionship, to hope that this spell might at long last be broken, only to have it to be dashed to pieces, would unmake him. So instead, it must be like this.

It's better this way. ]

You're right. It's what I am. A monster—

[ But his voice quivers over the word, and he hates it. He should not stumble over the truth, over what is immediately apparent, to himself and everyone around him.

Before he can say another world, however, there is a thunderous crash from somewhere in the castle, loud as cracking lightning, and Prompto turns swiftly with a start, his posture instantly on the defensive. ]

The doors.

[ He utters fearfully, and without another look back at her, he is moving swiftly from the room, heading to investigate the sound. ]

[ he's so damnably frustrating. mayhaps he has done monstrous things. that much she must admit. he locked her brother in a freezing cell, he would have died within days, and he has shown her more kindness than that but that does not erase his deeds, nor his continued behavior. but that is clearly not all there is to him. there are layers hidden from her grasp, ones that he guards jealously, but if he means to keep them secret by force, than damn him, he will keep them. it is not her responsibility to pry them away, especially when he is behaving so foolishly.

but then their argument dissolves immediately, the loud crash like the crack of a whip, and alisaie startles, leaping up from her seat, reaching - by rote once more - for the rapier at her hip that is not there. ]

What in hells -

[ she hisses, but he is already sweeping from the room, and she follows immediately behind. was it truly the doors, or another sound, from another place? gods, she hopes it is not the doors, for that would mean that alphinaud has broken his silence, broken her deal, and what might befall them both if he has? ]

batb part two: electric boogaloo

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