Mother, Tell Me What To Do- Event

[missrecalled_mods]

It began with flowers. Now, flowers were nothing new to Auradon, but these were clearly no ordinary flowers. For one thing, they were distinctly not native to the area, looking much more like they hailed from somewhere far more tropical, though even should anyone- Missrecalled or local- be familiar with such things, they wouldn't be able to identify what species they were or exactly where they might be from. For another, rather than growing over time, they'd all just simply appeared overnight. And they'd appeared everywhere. From outdoor spaces where one would usually find flowers, to all sorts of places indoors where one normally wouldn't find them. Draped in living garlands around the shoulders of suits of armor. Twining around the legs of tables and chairs. Literally sprouting right out of the woodwork or wallpaper in places. 

Avoiding them entirely would be difficult, though doable if one were particularly determined. Fortunately, aside from their mysterious appearance and their sudden ubiquitousness they seem to be harmless. They even smell nice, though no two people will be able to agree on exactly what the smell is like, just that it's pleasant.

However some of the flowers will randomly cause something odd to occur. Touching one, or breathing in too deeply from one of the random flowers will draw forth a memory for all nearby to see and hear. Only one memory will display at a time, and anyone in the area can see and hear it, but only those close enough to have caught the scent of that particular flower will get the full effect. They'll see the figures and setting as solid, and may experience subtle additional effects related to the memory, such as the feeling of a breeze or the smell of cooking food. Anyone else will see and hear everything fine, but will not experience any additional sensations and will see the scene as somewhat transparent. The figures aren't solid, they just seem like that to anyone who was close enough to smell the flower when it triggered.

The memory, oddly enough, will not be from the perspective of the one it belongs to; they and their companion or companions will be observing from a third party perspective, thus allowing a person to see their own face in the memories without the aid of a mirror. Nor can the memories be interacted with; those viewing them are observers only, and while they'll be able to hear the figures in the memory and each other speaking, no one in the memories will be able to hear or perceive them in any way. The memories vary in content and tone from person to person, for obvious reasons, but a common thread will soon be spotted: all the memories involve the person's mother or similar maternal figure. Generally they are more likely to be positive memories, if such memories exist. 

Once the memory fades that flower looses its ability and becomes just like any other flower in this event. However another flower nearby might have been activated...

Picking one of the flowers and taking it back to their rooms- which are one of the few places that remain entirely flower-free, for some reason- will result in the person having vivid dreams of their mothers or maternal figures. Again, while the content of those dreams will vary widely for obvious reasons, in Auradon, the tone will be generally positive. Perhaps bright and cheerful, perhaps nostalgic and somewhat melancholy, but the dreams will be generally good ones, and those who have them will wake feeling generally refreshed and like they slept well. The dreams are just that, dreams. Even those with no memories of their mothers can have these dreams - but in the drams they will have a mother, and the dream will center around that maternal figure one way or another. Again, these are dreams and our minds can create the sweetest fantasies when so inspired. These dreams will linger one day past the event for every day the flowers had been kept in the bedroom. Also, oddly, of the flowers people pick will show no signs of wilting or drying out, even days after being picked no matter where they're left.

Then, after a week, all the flowers- whether picked or left alone - vanish overnight, just as suddenly as they appeared. A strange phenomenon, to be sure, but once it's over, other concerns will likely take precedence once again. After all, something like that couldn't possibly happen again, right? 

Comments

[mal_contented]

"Different realities, remember?" she asked, sneering to hide that she was a little shaken. That she had needed the reminder herself.

[queen_butterfly]

She shrugged, and looked back to the image of the adult Chell, her attempt at a smile fading again. It didn't look like she was even thinking about it, as she moved a hand, or that she was consciously directing the image, as his lifted to take hers. For all that she'd brought it up simply to illustrate something to the younger lady, it seemed to be having at least as much of an effect on Mallia herself.

"Perhaps, then, you're confusing the two entirely. Perhaps someone else had a poppet child named... Pinnoicho, was it? And Pin? ...Were they also slain by humans... simply for existing, and therefore being an inconvenience, like so many other fae?" Far from sounding accusatory, despite her word choice, she simply sounded sad, the question almost a whisper at the end. And she wasn't looking back to Mal yet, her eyes on this phantom of her own making standing in front of her there... but she probably needed a moment anyway. This Chell, for all that he wasn't actually standing there, was indeed a rather convincing illusion....

[mal_contented]

".....No. This is Auradon, remember?" she sneered. "Though if I'd been around and asked, he'd probably have been on the Isle too, come to think of it..."

[queen_butterfly]

She was quiet a little pause, sighing silently to herself and slowly dismissing Chell's image, letting it melt away into nothing as he stood there, his face the last to disappear as she closed her eyes. More to herself, though audible enough, "I see so many problems with a division like that... perhaps it's for the best that whoever was somehow behind it isn't here for me to speak with." Apparently, she was going to try getting off of what had evidently been a painful subject there, regarding the seeming dryad-like figure, and turn to the flowers again.

They obliged; the scene that appeared was inside another of the elves' tree-walled houses. A good many kids were present, and only one figure looked to be an actual adult here. The latter was certainly not Mallia, but a lady who looked to be caught between dismay, annoyance, and complete and utter bafflement at what was before her.

As for what she was surveying... the kids - ages ranging from barely older than a toddler, to in their mid teens or so - had made a bit of a mess all over the table and living area with berry pies. The younger the child, the more of it they wore on their face and hands, evidence of pastry carnage in brilliant reds and purples, and most of the little ones still held hand-pies, munching away happily on them while the older children held the remains of larger ones. It was easily a day's worth of baking, seemingly devoured behind the adults' backs.

And there, with barely anything on her face at all, that kid giggling in the back as she ate her pie had to be Mallia. She looked to be what, fourteen? Fifteen at best? Rather than having all of her hair twisted up behind her head, she'd merely had the front part of it twisted into meeting at the back, with a large dark ribbon tying it into place. But her clothes were much the same, flowy black fabric edged with purple panes.... "I'll clean it up," she said in mild protest, unable to keep the smile off her face.

"How did you get--" The lady trailed off, unable to complete the question. "Where did you get--" Almost absently, she grabbed a rag and attempted to wipe a child's chin, only for them to duck away, her attention more on the pies than the kids themselves.

The older kids were silent, mouths occupied, opting to try eating as much as they could before their baked goods were potentially confiscated. One of the little ones simply informed the lady that they were really good pies.

"Would you like one?" Teenager Mallia stepped out from the little crowd, holding up a perfectly untouched pie on a plate, offering it to the lady. "You could share it with Wellan...?"

Judging by how the lady blushed as the suggestion registered... well. Something might've been going on there. "Is this a bribe, fairy?"

"You tell me." She was being terrible at feigning innocence on purpose, and it showed.

The lady eyed her... eyed the pie... eyed her.... "This had better not become a common occurrence. And you will clean it all up after."

"Of course!"

"....And we'll discuss this later...?"

Younger Mallia sighed dramatically, but she was still smiling. "I know."

Another pause, and the lady accepted the pastry, looking down to it. "I suppose this means I don't have to cook tonight."

More giggles from the kids, who were relaxing; their dessert-for-dinner was evidently safe from confiscation after all.

Meanwhile, present-day Mallia was just looking among the faces of those present, seemingly trying to figure out if she remembered any of them....

[mal_contented]

There had been something like wistfulness, longing, and a little bitterness in her eyes. But as the image faded she quickly schooled her expression so Malia couldn't see her reaction.

She didn't know what Malia hoped Mal would see here, but this was getting to be too much...

[queen_butterfly]

Evidently, Mallia wasn't sure what she was looking for in this scene either, and frowned a bit as it faded, wasting no time in running her hand across more of the blossoms.

Another moment in time sprang up around them -- Past Mallia was stepping back into the village, one made up of those odd little houses that incorporated live trees into their structures, and everyone present apparently an elf as well, with those only barely-pointed ears and the larger irises to their eyes -- and things were not well, it was obvious. Someone had come in before her, one figure being talked to more obviously, and others crowding around, some crying already. A horse had been led off to water not far away, the blanket on its back askew.

It was hard to follow just who was saying what, but the gist was clear enough, at least. There was talk of trying to find out what recovery efforts there were, talk of if people were needed, to search. How quickly could they rig boats? Or bring wood? But it was so far away! Had anyone talked to one of the dragons? Maybe they could fly out and-- No, it can't be too late! They'll make bodies, for if anyone can still be found that might need one!

Past Mallia's eyes widened as she stepped in quietly, cradling a few bottles of what looked like it might've been wine, but for how it glowed with a light of its own, a soft white that the dark bottles barely helped to hide. Rather than approaching to further pester the figure who looked most tired, already talking to those around them, she began to step toward a figure that'd been shown before -- the lady who'd carved a new arm for the child Chell -- but the older elf didn't seem to see her before turning, tears in her eyes, and leaving quickly. The fairy looked around, noting that Chell himself -- now not quite a teenager, but definitely a taller wooden doll than earlier, and already leaning into such an aesthetic, with leaves for hair, though he still wore regular cloth clothing -- followed after her, also distressed. She glanced around, and changed direction, to try speaking quietly with another of the adults.

This one turned toward her after a second, still evidently in shock, and pulled the confused and worried fairy into a hug. The words were muffled from her at first as her face was buried on Mallia's shoulder, but she sobbed and tried to continue anyway. "...It sank. It burned down."

"No.... It can't have, they were careful. They're on the sea, besides, it-- It couldn't have....!" Past Mallia all but dropped one of the bottles she was holding, and shifted to catch it.

"They were attacked," she managed.

"Who would--" She did drop a bottle this time, and it hit the ground beside her. She didn't try to pick it back up.

The lady opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak in the moment, wiping her eyes again.

"Why would they-- How could they do that? There were thousands...!" She dropped the other bottles to the side, freeing her arms so she could hug the lady back; they both needed it, at that point.

Present-day Mallia finally turned away from the scene, already running her hands over more flowers, trying to find a way to interrupt it. She was trying to keep a straight face, but it was clearly a rather painful memory for her, all the same. "It was a city on the sea," she whispered in explanation, not looking up at Mal. "The elves made it, and a great many of them tried to retreat to it, to live apart from the humans...."

Perhaps of some mild interest was that although everyone in the magically-shown past was upset, none quite seemed angry there. Upset, sad, shocked, horrified, of course... but no one was calling for retaliation or making threats, only trying to figure out how they could potentially salvage some of the situation, once they were able to get past their initial reactions of denial and shock....

[mal_contented]

"Look, if you want to get all emotional and need someone to cry on, you picked the wrong fairy," Mal said, sounding sharp to hide how uncomfortable she was. "Ben's good at emotional stuff. He'd stand here with you."

So why did it have to be Mal?

She turned to leave. Was it accident when she brushed a flower? Had to be. Couldn't be kindness or pity. Not from Mal. Easier to think it was an accident. That's what she wanted anyway.

A miserable looking place. People in rags sewn together trying to make the best of a horrible situation, it seemed. There seemed to be some sort of party in the wide area before the ramshackle castle that loomed over it all.

Rickety market stalls and crumbling store fronts were all festively draped in tattered banners. There were lanterns and flickering candles.

At the center of it all sat a child. Maybe five or six. Bright blue hair in a mix of braids and loos locks. The child's clothes were more carefully mended than most. And she at in a chair, the center of attention, like it was a throne. A large tigger snuggled against her, purring like a kitten. Adults fawned on the child. Some, like the man with a hook for a hand that put his had in a gator's mouth just to make her laugh, showed off for her. The other children were screaming happily like little monster going over loot bags and pulling out baby animals - cats, fishbowl with eels, hyenas, and the like.

Finding Mal, at any age, in this scene wouldn't be hard, it would be impossible. Unless Malia looked up.

For little Mal, five or six herself, but looking very much how she looked now just younger with slightly darker purple hair, was on the balcony of the rundown castle. She stood, miserable, watching the fun below.

A woman stopped behind Mal a moment, letting her shadow loom long over the child. Maleficent. Closer to her heyday than in the other memory, her robes no more tattered than they had been that fateful day a decade or so back.

"Mother!" Mal yelped, jumping.

"What is going on here?" the woman demanded as she advanced.

Below a tall slender man in a patched suit was performing a highly inappropriate shadow puppet show for the delighted children.

"It's a birthday party," Mal said. She sniffed, trying to hide how upset she was. Trying, and failing. "And I wasn't invited."

"Is that right?" her mother asked. She stepped closer to Mal, looking down over her. For a moment their shadows were one. For a moment it seemed to Mal that her own shadow had grown larger and gained horns. Little Mal stared at the shadow. The woman had eyes for the festivities only. "Celebrations are for the rabble," the woman scoffed. "Never the less, Evil Queen and her horrid progeny will learn soon enough from their pitiful little mistake!" she declared.

The woman moved around the child who was now staring at her in awe. She stepped to the edde of the balcony, where only the rail stood between her and a terrible fall. She raised herself to her full height as thunder crashed and lightning flashed behind her.

Everyone at the party stopped at once and turned to face the balcony, looks of horror stealing across their faces.

The woman glared down at them all, eyes filled with vengeance and hate not yet dulled by the Isle. "THIS CELEBRATION IS OVER!" she declared. "NOW, shoo, flee, and scatter like the evil little fleas you are! And you! Evil Queen and your daughter! From now on, you are dead to the entire island! You do not exist! You are NOTHING! Never show your faces anywhere ever again! OR ELSE!"

The crowd scattered as boar-like henchmen flooded out of the castle to harass them.

Little Mal watched it all. Watched as the Evil Queen, still lovely then, rushed her terrified daughter away. And little Mal stood straighter, eyes glittering. When the last of the crowd was gone, her mother turned dramatically and swept inside. Mal stared after her a moment longer, then whispered to herself, "One day I'm going to be that evil," her voice was awed. And determined. "One day the whole Isle will fear and hate me too... and then I will have the rest of my name..."

Eyes still glittering, an evil little smile curling her lips, she rushed off after her mother, into the castle.

[queen_butterfly]

She'd probably thought that she had managed to interrupt the previous scene; her confusion was evident, if Mal were to look. By the time Mallia'd realized what was going on, there was a faint blush on her cheeks, those tears which had been hinting were paused by the distraction. She'd already figured out that Mal wasn't likely to want others to see her memories, but shaking the flowers wasn't interrupting this one.

She sighed quietly, looking somewhere other than at Mal, by the time it was over. "For what it's worth, it's plain to me that you've grown to be far more intelligent than she ever was. You've clearly figured out that fear and power aren't synonymous, no matter how much overlap one may think they have."

Still petting the flowers, hoping to prompt another scene, she stepped around another bunch of them, not looking back up just yet.

[mal_contented]

Mal was not looking at her either, back stiff, arms crossed. "They can be, but they can be separate too."

[queen_butterfly]

"It isn't a matter of can be, in my experience. One may influence the other, even be entangled to the point of seemingly coming hand-in-hand, but they aren't the same. If one relies entirely on fear to obtain others' compliance, they will only retain such power so long as they inspire that fear. If one manages through other means -- actual respect, for example, and developing positive relationships -- that loyalty and aid will prove far more genuine, enthusiastic, and resilient." She was quiet enough as she said it, mind clearly enough on something of her own, rather than trying to scold Mal to any degree. She continued to run her hands over the foliage, searching for another that would change the immediate view around them. It had been just about nonstop earlier, though with somewhat repetitive, generic-to-Mallia scenes, so why was it so uncooperative now?

Flower, flower... come on, flowers, give her another scene! She's trying, but it just won't--

The garden became a forest, suddenly, as voices echoed through the trees. A horse's panicked sounds as it tried to flee quickly were overlaid by a man's yelling, something decidedly uncomplimentary about wicked spirits and killing them all as they fled, and nearby, an elf was on the ground, sitting against and behind a tree, holding the side of her abdomen, evidence of a fight all around the area. There was no way her injuries had been accidentally inflicted. There were also no conventional weapons in sight; the elf almost certainly hadn't been the aggressor here.

Past-Mallia herself was nearby, screaming back at the fleeing human, something about returning the favor if ever they dared come to harass them again, and then she quickly turned around to find the elf. The lady was pressing down again harder on her side, and though her hands were glowing, it evidently wasn't enough, or perhaps wasn't as quick, as was needed to solve this. Mallia ducked down to help her sit up against the tree, her hand glowing to join the elf's efforts, falling into crying as she did. "No no no no..."

"Shh. Shh. Focus! I need your wine...."

"I'll make it better," Past-Mallia said, failing at staying calm. The situation was pretty clear to her, and she wasn't handling it as well as the lady was.

"Molly!" The lady snapped, exasperated, "What's in the wine?"

"The--? There's berries and-- and--" She may not yet have been focused, but at least she'd been surprised somewhat out of crying for the moment.

The lady made a sound, wincing. "Make some, please. I need it!"

"I--" She was baffled and it showed, but as the lady asked again, she closed her eyes and drew a breath, concentrating and then pulling the cork out of a bottle she hadn't had in hand a moment ago. She did what she could to hold it up to the lady's mouth, and the lady turned her attention to it, not yet removing one of her hands from her abdomen. "Like this?"

The lady managed a nod, barely pausing for breath as she drank it down, and finished the entire thing in record time. "More," she managed, gasping for air. "I still need more, I can feel it...."

"Why would you--? Wine? Now?"

"What's in the wine?"

"Berries and water and-- and--" She brought the bottle up to see it, tilting it to pour the last few drops out onto her hand. The black liquid glowed faintly there in the shade of the trees, and in the bottle again as well as she absently turned it back upright.

"It's not the alcohol that I need," she said, attempting to sit up a little straighter again. "It's-- Oh!" Her eyes went wide as an unexpected little weight dropped onto her lap.

It was the scene's Mallia, leaning down as she turned to climb onto the lady's thighs, having shrank as she did. Her hands glowing, she reached around her to hug her. She looked to be what here now, a toddler? She'd given up that appearance of being an adult, and the elf lady could only manage a surprised little laugh at that, despite everything, as she brought her other arm up to curl it around the now-small fairy's back in a return hug, confused though she was by the move. "What are you--?"

"No more wine," the now-child said, closing her eyes tightly, burying her face against the lady. And sure enough, the bottle had entirely disappeared from view, as though it had never existed. To be fair, perhaps it never really had.

"Please, I need--" She trailed off there, blinking, and tried to look down.

The fairy didn't answer; the two were silent a little pause, the lady relaxing as she tried to figure out what was going on. She no longer looked as though she was in a dire condition, though she'd need to change her clothes once she got home.

"Mallia...? How are you doing this?" Her tone was quieter, but her voice was stronger.

The little fairy was barely audible there against her. "You didn't need wine. You needed its energy." There, in the translation -- its energy, its magic, its soul, its life.

The lady carefully took her hand away from her side, revealing... apparently nothing. She'd need to clean herself off now, of course, but she wasn't injured any longer. She double checked, rubbing the spot, surprised and impressed by this turn of events, and then pushed herself to sit more upright there against the tree. The now-tiny Mallia was promptly hugged up with both arms, her head kissed. "Thank you. I don't know how you did that, but thank you...."

Present-Mallia sighed, looking away from the scene as the lady in it carefully picked herself back up, still holding the tiny fairy. She resumed running her hands over the flowers, looking for another memory among them.

[mal_contented]

Mal had spun at the sound of the horse, but it was just another memory. She kept her arms crossed as she watched.

"Did you get revenge?" she asked when it was done.

[queen_butterfly]

"...Revenge?" Blink, blink. This was, for some reason, taking her a moment to make sense of. "...We saw that I went back home with her. And I didn't see what happened here, before this, any more than you did. I don't remember any of this myself." She paused in petting the flowers, thinking. "I know what I'd have done, had this happened more recently, however...."

[mal_contented]

"Which... would be revenge?"

[queen_butterfly]

"I don't know that I'd call it that. Revenge in the usual sense doesn't solve many such problems very satisfyingly.

"It would also depend on who they hurt...."

Flower, flower... another scene of an elf supplying the little insects with more wine, that they'd not be able to fly straight.... Mallia ignored it, continuing to mess with the blossoms.

"Most people...? Disarm the aggressor, aid the one injured... And after that... I'd have asked them what they felt was fair penance for their injuries. If I couldn't save them... fae custom dictates it would fall to their community, what happened to their murderer. They would be at their mercy.

"Or... if they'd hurt Sia like that, he may have simply returned their weapon to them." Something about the way she said that, though... it didn't come across as though she meant that he'd hand it back nicely. "That, or he'd die quite dramatically, stalk them down later, and haunt them until they were begging to, and trying to make amends with, his 'ghost'." She was smiling despite herself, amusement in her voice.

"Of course, if it happened to me... I might let them." Was that a note of mischief creeping in, even moreso than when she'd seemingly praised a friend's tactics? "There's really no more satisfying deterrent to future misbehavior, than heartfelt repentance, when things don't go their way. Hurting them back in the moment is a lesser satisfaction by far, than more lasting psychological effects."

[mal_contented]

"My mother was so terrifying they're still scared of her twenty years later. I'd call that pretty lasting," she said, dryly.

[queen_butterfly]

"Twenty?" She sounded a little confused again, her smile fading some as she paused in messing with flowers and peeked back to Mal. "I'm... certain that's long enough for someone to feel it worth noting." Her reputation lasted a mere twenty years so far, really? Interesting. Maybe someday she'd be more used to such a short view of time, but today was not that day.

Another scene interrupted them, though it was a quiet one: the workshop-home of the carver lady, who'd fixed a new arm for the then-tiny Chell. Mallia was much smaller here, perhaps a head high, standing on the little shelf just inside a window, opening and closing her now-huge wings agitatedly, a bird cradled up in her arms. "...and he can't move!"

The lady frowned, leaning in to see better, and held out her hands for the creature. The fairy handed it over. It was moving, but not well, as if struggling against something, even having a difficult time breathing, if the strained, upset notes were anything to go by. The lady petted it, holding it up to see better, working to gently calm it down. She narrowed her eyes, carefully working her fingertips down into the feathers of its body, feeling for something. "Fairy, was this little one injured recently?"

"I saved him from some humans," she said.

"...Hunters?"

"Yes! They were horrible! They said they were looking for food, and they took the food I gave them, but they wouldn't leave! And then they hurt him! And they looked happy about it!"

The lady winced and sighed, petting the bird some more, making a few soft sounds to it. "We can fix this," she said, and peeked about her workshop, eyes going over her shelves, searching for something.... "We may need to make something to do so, though."

[mal_contented]

"Twenty and counting," she growled, oddly offended on her mother's behalf as she crossed her arms again.

[queen_butterfly]

"That's... ah...." She looked confused, honestly, caught for how to reply as the scene played out around them. "...I see."

The elf lady in the scene was wasting no time in grabbing up some little scraps of cloth, and with a few quick stitches from a needle and thread she pulled out from somewhere, she was turning it into a small doll, a rough plush of a birdish shape... she'd set the injured bird up on her shoulder, by her ear, so it could see what she was doing. "Come help me with this? Your hands are so much smaller than mine; can you tie the threads together here and here? Keep in mind, you must do it with intent; this will be his when we're done."

"But how is a doll going to help him?"

The lady sighed. "Those humans hurt him badly, dear."

"But I fixed him! I healed him up and kept him alive!"

Present-Mallia leaned a little more toward Mal, not quite taking her eyes off the scene. A little quieter, as though thinking to perhaps try avoiding interrupting the apparent play being put on for them: "Is twenty years considered long, among humans?" She didn't know, all right?

Meanwhile, the elf in the vision was still at work. "You've... kept his spirit here. But he's like you and I are now. And he needs a new body. So we're making him one to use for a bit, while we fix up one he can use for longer, you see? Because his first body's getting stiff. That's why he's having trouble now."

"Oh...." The little fairy on the desk took over the crafting while the elf lady turned to her shelves, digging out little containers, poking through them.

"I'm certain I have something around here we can use for-- oh, here we go!" She quickly fished out a few beads of various types, setting them out on the tabletop. "And if we string some longer ones together, we can even make some nice little legs that'll bend easily and everything!" She poked through some other things on her shelf, while the tiny figure finished making the simple doll's fabric shape, and passed over a tuft of dried grasses and flowers. "Here... for the stuffing. A soft bed to settle his spirit, to hold him kindly...." She picked up some small tools, and used those to hold the last spot on the fabric body open, so that her little helper could push them inside. "Fill it with your love for him," she said quietly. "And that spark of healing...."

[mal_contented]

"Yeah, it is." The current scene was making her uncomfortable, so she turned to leave. And might have succeeded if she hadn't brushed a flower. She jumped back as the memory started.

[queen_butterfly]

She was silent, staring at the back-and-forth, waiting until the display ended. Her reaction had been some mix of disbelief and mild disgust and annoyance, though she tried to hide it behind neutrality. The degree to which she managed to do so was questionable, but she tried.

"Something of a larger version of those 'phone' things, I see?" It sounded rather rhetorical, but... look, just because she was given one, didn't mean she was used to using it. In fact, she hadn't thought to take it out in... how long, now? ....Wait, was she still carrying it? Hmm....

"My condolences, that there seemed to be multiple people like that. Ought I hope they've all been put into positions where they can't mistreat anyone again?"

[mal_contented]

"That was kind of the point of the Isle," she said bitterly. "Put all the villains off where they can't bother anyone but each other." She made a face that made it clear she was frustrated. She didn't even try to hide it. "Each other, and then once we were born... us. Carlos was basically his mother's slave. Evie's mother made it clear to Evie that beauty was all that mattered and beat into her head that Evie'd never be as pretty as she is, never mind that she's an ugly old bat and Evie's gorgeous. And more? Like Carlos, she's smart. Very smart. And then there is his lordship of the faded velvet tracksuits and annoying pet parrot. And of course, Maleficent." She waved to where the image had been. "The worst of the worst reduced to being the worst in a whole other way."

And all four kids could have died or worse in Auradon and their parents would only care that they hadn't gotten what they wanted first.

[queen_butterfly]

She was failing at keeping her expression unreadable, but at least it only made it obvious that she disapproved of how the kids had been treated. A little pause as she took a breath, looking down as she did, and then back up to Mal. Deliberately calm-sounding, "But... you're all safe now? You and your friends? ...Were there others as well...? Was something done, to correct the situation?"

[mal_contented]

"All safe?" she asked, sounding bitter. "I wasn't friends with all the kids on the Isle. I actually had very few friends at all. Learned that lesson early. We weren't raised by good people to be good people," she snapped. "We were raised to be villains. Until just before we left the Isle, none of the four of us had friends. Jay was the closest I had and we were both sure the other was going to stab us in the back as soon as there was a reason to. I know he was planning to use me to steal my mother's staff. We weren't friends. We just stole together. If I died, he'd have been the best thief on the Isle. Instead of always being second best." she shrugged, realizing she was getting off topic. "CJ and Freddie came over without permission. Shri... Uma," she corrected herself, kidnapped Ben and held him hostage to try and get the magic wand. She later spelled him for the same purpose. To lower the barriers and let everyone be free. We had to chose to close the barrier forever, no more in and out for the few VKs who had proven that we could adjust to Auradon, or let all the VKs have a try. And just as we came up with a plan to let all the kids have a chance, to see if they could adjust or if like CJ all they wanted to do was be just like their parents... all this happened. I don't know, maybe it is the universe telling us we let the wrong people out. Someone stole something to start this all out, after all. Someone broke the rules in such a way that EVERYONE vanished. Isle and Auradon both. These are not small things, Mallia. And once all of you get to go home, we have to deal with the fall out we have to figure out who to punish and how, or if they already suffered enough, whatever enough means. We have to live here! So if you could spare me your certainty that you know what is best I'd appreciate it!" she snapped.

And maybe, just maybe, those words were aimed as much at Lea as at Mallia.

[queen_butterfly]

She blinked, managing to finally resume hiding behind a far less readable expression... and bit the inside of her lip a little, clasping her hands in front of her again as she let Mal continue to have her say uninterrupted. Honestly, letting her vent could only be for the best; she hadn't really much idea of the details, of what had been going on, as frosty as this young lady had been toward her previously....

Certain she'd finished, however, slowly, clearly, carefully, softly: "I'd asked questions." She hadn't been lecturing, she'd been shocked and concerned.

She didn't really wait for a retort to that, though, tilting her head a bit, eyeing Mal. "I do wonder, though: how old do you take me to be?" Was that a challenge of some kind, or a point she wanted to make? Because she hadn't changed her delivery, still not raising her voice any, certainly not seeming any more stern or annoyed... just baffled, almost. Just looking to clear something up, because apparently she suspected this was not just part of some kind of misunderstanding between them, but that it had something to do with the current topic...?

[mal_contented]

"I don't care how old you are or aren't. You were just asking questions that imply that you know better, when your better is exactly what was wrong in the first place!"