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Briar awoke with a start, sitting up fast with a sharp breath. A light ache pained her cheek as though she had fallen asleep at her desk in high school. Something that seemed rather fitting, as now she found herself sitting at a huge, wooden desk. The surface was wide before her, occupied with a few trinkets. A small glass vial, a wilted feather quill, some yellowed parchment paper, and a dusty old spellbook. That’s right…the book. Briar had been exploring Duskvale Manor. She found the book sitting by itself in a broken glass case in the library. Something about it had caught her eye. Old spellbooks and occult texts had always fascinated her, but something about the deep reds and leather-adorned cover had really drawn her in. But after that? Briar’s face scrunched with a strain. She couldn’t remember. So how had she gotten here? It looked like she was in a study of some kind. A warm fire crackled from a fireplace in the center of the wall to her right, two red velvet chairs

It was almost the final scene of her performance, and Juliette couldn’t help but take a look at the crowd. A younger-looking couple sat at the small table in the dark corner under the burned out light, one artsy man watched from the wobbly table in the middle of the room, and three people sat at the bar with their backs turned toward her (all in various stages of slumped over drunk). Most of them looked at least a little familiar. With a controlled, delicate touch, Juliette ran her fingers over the mimed mask she pretended to wear on her face. She kept her expression sad, forlorn, and unchanging until finally, she managed to slip her fingers under the edges of the pretend mask and pull it from her face. The perfect companion to her performance, the house accordion player escalated his somber tune into a jaunty and jovial reveal as she put on a bright smile and joyous eyes. Juliette twirled about the stage, flowing through her celebratory unmasking dance with a motion she had