[Sleep doesn't come so easily these days. She's been growing more agitated over the week, and that restlessness eventaully propels her to rise from the sitting room and head for the vestibule in the dead of night. Tia's hand curls around the handle of the main entrance, only to meet resistance when she attempts to twist it.]
Huh?
[She tries to turn the handle again. It doesn't budge.]
[And food and idle chatter and sycophants and . . . Never mind. Thinking about it all is irritating.
She strides over to the sitting room, her usual haunt. It's bereft of her usual male roommates this time around, but they're free spirits who can go wherever they please. Walking over to the fireplace, she sits down on the nearest chair.]
Hasn't the whole time we've been here a sleepover?
Well, maybe it has. At least in the sense we're all sleeping over in a strange home...
[She keeps a polite distance from Tia, but the whole being trapped thing has her unsettled enough to want company so she takes up a perch on one of the overly stuffed chairs.]
It's certainly not like staying at the MBCC, even if there's more freedom to do as you wish.
No, no, I didn't do anything like that. I contained them in the Carnival.
[...After a moment of awkwardly realizing she's making this sound worse than it is(?),]
It melt many people safe, but I was deemed too potentially dangerous and powerful a Sinner to not be under the MBCC's watch. The Chief treats me very well, though, so it's not too bad.
[Is that what they call a gilded cage? It's an absurd concept, but by her admission it's the best she's had. Tia can't wrap her head around it—except.]
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Week 1: Thursday
Huh?
[She tries to turn the handle again. It doesn't budge.]
Hey, what's with this?
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Is something the matter with the door?
[does it owe her money...]
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[She tries again. The handle jiggles, but holds fast. Tia expels an aggravated huff.]
Is it broken?
[Maybe she'll break a window.]
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[That's usually how things get broken, and she didn't hear anything happen to the door? Or she's pretty sure she didn't.]
Are you sure it's not locked?
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Tia releases her grip on the door.]
. . . It is. Someone's locked us in.
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Really...? Why would anyone do that?
[Not that she expects Tia to know any better than she does, but?? That's weird!]
Maybe it's... a lockdown for a particular reason?
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[She pauses.]
This had better mean he's ready with his spell.
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[She drifts back out of the vestibule.]
If we can't leave, we should perhaps find other things to do tonight? Though I can't say I'm familiar with things like sleepovers and parties.
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[And food and idle chatter and sycophants and . . . Never mind. Thinking about it all is irritating.
She strides over to the sitting room, her usual haunt. It's bereft of her usual male roommates this time around, but they're free spirits who can go wherever they please. Walking over to the fireplace, she sits down on the nearest chair.]
Hasn't the whole time we've been here a sleepover?
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[She keeps a polite distance from Tia, but the whole being trapped thing has her unsettled enough to want company so she takes up a perch on one of the overly stuffed chairs.]
It's certainly not like staying at the MBCC, even if there's more freedom to do as you wish.
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You can't do what you want at the MBCC?
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[Reasonable, right?]
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[As in, that it's a mere title rather than an indicator of her sins.]
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[Can you feel the capital "s", Tia?]
...I was also charged with suppressing over ten thousand Corruptors.
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What are those?
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[they're monsters,]
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What . . . Are you saying that you're the reason those Corruptors were made?
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[...After a moment of awkwardly realizing she's making this sound worse than it is(?),]
It melt many people safe, but I was deemed too potentially dangerous and powerful a Sinner to not be under the MBCC's watch. The Chief treats me very well, though, so it's not too bad.
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If you're so powerful, you can just leave, can't you? Or are you staying for that chief?
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[Sure, she can't leave without a chaperone, but she can make her own decisions and refuse what's being asked of her, so... It's a very nice cage.]
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So you're . . . grateful.
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[Don't worry if it doesn't make sense, Tia. Hamel might seem chill, but she's as mad as the rest of the Sinners,]
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Is that what it is? . . . That's fine, then.
[There are too many ingrates these days. It's nice to see someone like Hamel once in a while.]