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Reaching down, you pick up the shawl and run your fingers across the delicate lace. It feels virtually weightless, as if you were holding some ephemeral thing. Just holding it leaves you with a sense of sadness, of loss. Elle stares at it, a thin sheen of tears glistening her eyes even as she is unable to tear her gaze away.
With the shawl held out before you like a funeral shroud, you brush aside the gauzy curtains and drape it over the mannequin's shoulders. It shifts slightly as you do, like someone stirring in their sleep, but soon falls still once more. After making a few more minor adjustments to better hide the truncated stumps that pass for arms, you step back to examine your handiwork. It still looks grotesque, and more than a little depressing, but you feel a little better about yourself.
“...Thank you, Isambard,” Elle whispers as you're leaving, “That was a good thing you did. I hope, in some small way, it brings her better dreams.”
“I hope so too.”
-
The Galseans don't say anything when you return, and you don't need to say anything. Anything that needs to be said, they can see it written on your face. You brush past them, ordering them to stay close with a curt gesture. The clock above the door now stands at the seventh hour, and you're about ready to see the master of this demented place. You're just not sure what you'll do when you see them.
A ripple of movement runs through the caged mannequins as you enter the narrow corridor, reminding you once more of a person shifting in their sleep. Turning sideways to narrow down your already slim profile, you awkwardly shuffle past the first few mannequins. The next puppet has its arms outstretched, forcing you to squat down low before inching past it. Glancing backwards as you do, you see the others following in your wake. Alina slips through easily, as if she was born for this, while Elle tries her best to match the lithe Galsean's motions. Usik comes in behind this, his bulky frame causing him obvious problems in such close confines. Mihail, you assume, is bringing up the rear, but it's hard to tell with Usik blocking so much of your view.
With the muscles in your thighs burning, you gradually ease yourself back upright again and move on. The end is in sight now, and you feel an urge to quicken your pace. Fighting back the urge, you look back once more. Alina and Elle have made it past the outstretched arms, while Usik is just about through.
“Come on,” Elle whispers, offering the heavyset man an encouraging gesture, “You're almost there.”
With a groan, Usik pushes himself back upright, but too soon. He jostles one of the outstretched arms as he stands, and the reaction is immediate. With a sudden blaring shriek of static, the mannequin begins to thrash within its cage with the others soon following suit.
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