2019-09-28 - Musical Fever Dreams

Being stuffed up while you're coughing up a lung certainly isn't sexy in the least. When someone has the flu, they're trying to survive, not seduce. Mae is curled up on the bed, lying on her side as she hugs a pillow tightly to her torso. Somewhere in the background there is music playing, something soft and tinkling as if from a music box, the notes disjointed and somewhat creepy sounding. It doesn't sound like it's coming from just one place, the sound moves as if the box itself is hunting for something or someone.

The heat kicks on again in the house, which causes the occupant in the bed to toss off her covers, kicking them toward the foot of the bed fitfully.

At some point, Dylan has ended up sprawled on the bed in all the wrong ways. His legs are propped up against the head board, while his head is beneath the covers, at least until that fit from Mae kicks them off. One arm dangles off the side, and his pillow? It rests beneath his butt. He's dressed in a t-shirt and underwear. A groan comes when his head isn't covered any more, but he doesn't rouse. It's the music that has muscles twitching idly, absently, his fingers tapping out time with it though his consciousness doesn't even realize it.

The music drifts closer to the bedroom, a breeze following to ruffle the curtains and what remains of the bedclothes. Not that they're awake to notice, but when the small music box appears, it's daintily made. Pale purple and mauve flowers painted along the sides and top of the porcelain box, gilt decorating the edges. The key in the back is a fine filigree, and its eight legs are daintily jointed, allowing it to move smoothly with each step.

The tune slows down as it gets further into the bedroom, the box itself coming to a halt near Dylan's side of the bed.

It's a thing that just seeps into the mind and body, and his legs draw down, tucking in against the bed as he turns to his side, letting his body face the source of that music when it starts to come from his side. Out a hand reaches, idly patting around like a man trying to find an alarm clock that just won't quiet down, but he's unsuccessful. Back he scoots instead, right until he bumps against Mae's legs, his pillow drawn up against his stomach in a near mirror of how the dancer holds her own.

A music box doesn't have eyes, of course, but it stays where it stops, facing the bed. There is a soft click and then the box opens. One might expect a ballerina inside, but instead a tree can be seen, a swing hanging from it. It starts to move back and forth slowly as the music starts to play again. The haunting melody tinkles softly, despite nobody having turned the key.

It starts to slow down as if it might stop, the swing twitching as it comes to a stop.

It's a peeping eye that barely opens, and Dylan clearly isn't sure if this is fever induced, a dream, or real. His eye closes, and he figures it will all sort itself out, at least with a bit of help. A hand reaches back behind him, patting around until he finds Mae's thigh, giving a small nudge. "Mae. Whyyyy my side." He's still in the whole produce more words than normal state of mind, given the draining of glimmer. It's only when everything seems to start winding down that a breath of a sigh comes from him, his pillow cuddled in closer as it seems like silence.

Mae wakes up when she's nudged, but she's hot so she tries to scoot away, almost spilling herself onto the floor. "This is my side." She responds, groggy and low, her voice sounding like she's full of something in her sinuses. The box snaps, closing and opening, a few notes of the song playing each time it opens. The swing is gone, and now there is a noose hanging from the tree, a body tangled within it.

"Dylan. Put your box away." Mae doesn't notice the legs, if she did, she wouldn't be quite so blase about the whole thing.

His whole face scrunches up as she states its her side, and it takes a few seconds to put two and two together on what she means versus his complaint. It's only when she says /his/ box that another groggy eye opens, peering at the tree. And then the noose. And then the body. Well, that's just creepy. "Not mine," He squeaks out, pulling his pillow up to his chest, and then hiding his head behind it so only his eyes peek out and over at the thing. "Your macabre music box."

Mae flops on her back and sighs, eyes opening even though she very much wants to be asleep. She took enough NyQuil to fell a small elephant. "FIne. I'll get it, but it's not mine. I brought clothes here, nothing else." She doesn't even own a music box. She lazily slides off the bed, her feet hitting the floor with a dull thud. She puts her hand down on the soft mattress to steady herself and then she's stepping around the bed. When she spots the legs, she lets out a reedy shriek and kicks out at the thing sending it toppling over onto the bed. The legs come out again, shorter than they were when the thing was on the floor and it skitters toward Dylan quickly. Mae has overbalanced herself, and disappears from view, having landed on her ass behind the foot board. "Shit."

It's the shriek that has his eyes flash open, just in time to see the thing go flopping on the bed. He's in the process of getting up to see wtf caused all the concern when it starts skittering towards him. It'd be comical, were it not for the fact there is a creepy music box with legs, and out his pillow comes as an improvised weapon, trying to swat the thing left and right. The bed? It's thoroughly pummeled by pillow, but the music box just barely manages to dodge left and right out of the way. "Don't like this tune!" Screeches Dylan, all the while.

There's a creak in the floorboards outside in the corridor. Which is strange because there's no one else here at the moment. Maybe a friend stopped over? Maybe it's something else. If it is a person, they'll be in view of the door shortly, though the music box seems to be keeping the bedroom's occupants busy.

There is something leaking from the box now, and in the dark it's not clear what it might be. It is roughly the consistency and color of blood, and it's making a mess of the sheets on the bed. The box manages to evade Dylan's swinging pillow fu and clambers up on his chest, the top opening all the way. Thick, gory things drip from the inside, splashing on his chest, the liquid oozing toward his neck. The tree and the noose are gone, and the song plays a disjointed tune, like someone knocked the keys out of whack.

Mae is trying to sit up, but she's bumped her head and she's still heavily under the influence of NyQuil. "The fuck was that.. thing." She hasn't seen the blood yet, or there would not be words, there would be screaming. She does notice the footsteps, and she flops on her belly to make an attempt to get to her feet.

"AHHHHHHH!" Dylan's seen the blood. And the fact it's on his chest. And ooze dripping towards his neck. He's suddenly a flurry of motion , though he hasn't heard what is going on outside the door yet. The sheets go flying off, no problem for Dylan to deal with as he leaps from the bed, pounding across the room in giant leaps. He even manages to get his hand on the door, and starts to fling it open... just not quite in time as he SMACKS right into it, chest first, at least giving the music box something else to think about. And whomever is on the outside? Well, they are presented with a door opening, and the artist spilling down in a tangle of arms and legs onto the floor in the hallway.

"What kind of sexcapades require this much screaming?" Love's asking, blearily rubbing her eyes as she rounds the doorframe and steps into the room. She sneezes mightily into a tissue, eyes squinched closed. When she finally look up, the sight of two flailing adults making short work of a music box has her squinting. Confusion. Confusion is the expression on her face. "I thought I heard music. I swear I fell asleep in the woods." She looks between Mae and Dylan, adding distractedly, "... in a cabin in the woods."

"Dude, whatever's dripping out of your face is not right." Give her a minute and she might actually notice a skittering music box. Like maybe. She's barely got her eyes open.

Love stands there in a pair of sleep shorts and a hoodie, not hers, obviously a little bit large on her.

Mae manages to get to her feet as Dylan takes off for the door. He's bleeding. The fuck? She stumps toward him, her feet heavy and then there is screaming, Love, more blood and the music box is nowhere to be found right now.

"Why are you bleeding?" She reaches for Dylan, and that is precisely when the music box crests her shoulder, blood dripping from inside of it down her front. She is a little out of it so it takes a few more seconds than it might have for her to notice it. When she does, she grabs at it in an attempt to throw it somewhere else but the thing clamps down on her hand. "OW!" She starts to swing her hand around in an attempt to dislodge it, and eventually it flies off, and hits the wall.

Being made of porcelain, it should break. Instead it sounds like a person hitting the wall before it slides down toward the floor, blood smearing against the painted surface.

A thud sounds in the other room, followed by a few others. There are sounds in the basement as well, footsteps on the stairs.

"Not mine!" He claims about the blood, and ... whatever is leaking from his face. Hopefully. He starts to pat himself down to check and make certain of the truth of this particular statement. He doesn't seem to notice just what Love is dressed in, or the fact she was supposed to have fallen asleep in the woods. In fact, he seems quite torn for a teetering moment, the screaming all gone, and he? He looks ready to charge off towards the basement and deal with whatever is fucking with his whole life down there.

"Oh. Fuck." Out he reaches for Love to tug her further into the room before he slams the door shut, just in time to wheel around and see Mae fling the music box off and against the wall. "You okay?" There is concern etched in ever fiber of his being as he seems her own injury, before a gulp comes as a thought registers. "Uhm.. masks?" You know. All those down in the basement. That are of various demons, goblins, dragons and more.

Love, as ever late to the this is srsly fucked up party, finally, finally notices there's something rotten in the state of Denmark, aka Dylan's bedroom.

She follow's Mae's progress to Dylan, the blood, the dark-haired woman reaching for his shoulder, and the music box creepin'. "Why —" Which is when it clamps down on Mae's hand and Love's eyes open fully. "..." She steps out of the doorway. "What the everlasting fuck is that porcelain abomination." Love doesn't swear all that often, so the vehemence in that particular combination is sharp. She takes one more step into the room, the scrabbling and noise starts up elsewhere in the house, and she reaches for the door to push it closed, her back against the wood.

The masking coming to life. "I am not the agent of my own fucking destruction." Love's silver-eyed gaze turns to the music box. "That thing start it?" She doesn't move, doesn't leave her lean agains the door, but something happens. The music box is lifted like it was chucked hard by an invisible hand. It sails by in a blur and slams into the opposite wall, farthest from Dylan, Mae, and Love.

The music box slams into the wall with a puff of drywall or plaster, whatever this particular house is constructed with, wedging into it, cracking a long fissure along that porcelain surface. It bleeds profusely, blood slipping down the wall like spilled paint.

Mae still hasn't caught up with the class. Masks, basement, closing the door. Blood everywhere? She is still focused on the thing that had her hand, checking her fingers as she stares at the box that bit her. When it suddenly sails in the air and does a one eighty before turning to slam into the wall, her mouth drops open, hazel eyes watching as it gets stuff into the wall, blood leaking from the cracked lid.

There are footsteps in the hall now, light and slow. The trio can't see it, because the door is closed, but the dummies from the seasons room are on the move as well. Faceless things made of wood and linen that can be propped into positions for a discerning artist to sketch. A random doll that was somewhere in the house, maybe left by the last tenant, raggedy ann with a missing eye and a discolored dress. The masks are on the move as well, short, spindly little gremlin legs carrying them along as they sway from side to side. A small army of things standing outside the door, gazing up at it. Plotting.

Mae wiggles her fingers and lets out a slow, relieved breath. "Well it didn't break the skin, but what the fuck was that thing? Anyone?" She sounds barely more awake, but she's at least stringing words into sentences now.

"Next time?" It was Love's project after all, and so it is to her that Dylan looks, "Cute masks." Cuddly things that one wants to hug and snuggle. As the box flies across across the room and splats right into the wall, a puff of plaster going up and a crackle of the thin boards behind it splintering, a hand lifts up to cover his eyes. "All gunna be homeless at this rate."

He peers through those fingers when the box stops moving, and then he's stepping over to peer into his closet. Hopefully the godzilla slippers aren't in on their demise. "Music box," Dylan offers up not helpfully at all when Mae asks, "Noose. Body. Tree." As he lists off everything he can recall seeing it present. It's a beat of a pause, his head tipping to one side, before he concludes, "Nice song." He finally pulls out a hockey stick of all things from within, peering at the door that Love is currently propped up against. "Sooooooo. They'll go away, right? Eventually?"

Love can't see what's out there, but she can feel it being all ominous and creepy through the wood against her back. She has to try several times to clear her throat. "I mean maybe they'll go away." She turns to face the door, hand on the knob. That overwhelming feeling when you want to look to see if the hungry lion is out of it's enclosure, but if you do and you move, it will see you and know you're edible and tasty.

"They're either coming for us or the box, right?" She leans heavily on the door, lacking the energy to do much more than prop against it. "Who feels lucky?" That's what she says, but she more likely means who feels well enough to climb out that window and run? Answer: nobody in this room.

"Wait.. what?" Mae finally figures out what is going on, and that's when Love puts her hand on the door knob. She glances at the box, back to the door, and then at Dylan and Love. "Don't open that door." She finally says, eyes wide. "Or.. are we going to open the door and run for it." Or, you know, hobble with meaning?

There is a polite knock at the door. A faint tap tap tap. Silence. Tap tap tap. Silence. Tap tap tap. Mae gazes down to where the tapping seems to be coming from. "That is fucking creepy." She remarks quietly.

The tapping comes one more time, and then the music starts again. It's broken now, so the song is fractured and some of the notes are missing completely. It limps along on some parts and then plays at the right tempo in others. The music box starts to move, twitching as it tries to free itself from the wall. When the music starts playing, the tapping on the door gets louder, more hands joining in until the noise at the door is overpowering the music box.

They're going to come through the door at this rate. It's only a matter of time.

"Broken box," Dylan murmurs about Love's thoughts of what they are coming for, and he casts a sidelong look over towards the thing where it's crammed into the wall. This has his frown reforming, even deeper at Mae's suggestion of running. Or hobbling. "Distract them?" He muses, idly waving around that hockey stick, right up and until those taps come on the door.

Blink. Stare. It's as if he could hope to see through solid wood, but when that doesn't work, Dylan just clears his voice. "Who is it?" Because of course that is what you ask the creepy, potentially murderous masks, their doll friends, and whatever is leading that small army. "We don't need house keeping?" It comes out as far too much of a question, hopeful that they'll just take the hint and go away.

Given the speed at which those things scrabbled up out of the basement, it's unlikely one of them would make it to the window before they were through the door. Love doesn't open it, but she leans against it. She blinks when there's a knock. "Occupado." What? That's her first instinct and she rolls with it. "Mae, has this been going on the whole time I was gone?"

"Um... can we help you?" She says that after Dylan calls out his who is it. Okay, second instinct, go! Covering all the base before she starts a slow slide down the door from lack of energy to stand. Love is the worst door sentry in the history of same. She snorts when he says we don't need housekeeping. Stop, laughing and holding the door shut are difficult.

"Um... if this was one of those movies I liked as a kid, of the stories I used to make up for the cancer kids, we'd either destroy the box, or we'd wind the box."

Mae just offers Love a faint shrug as her eyes stay on the door. "I .. took enough NyQuil to keep me asleep for like two days. I haven't heard music until tonight." She glances at Dylan, maybe he hadn't taken as much NyQuil, but she doubted that. The knocking stops when Dylan asks who it is. The silence is sudden, even the box has stopped playing. The noise that comes through the door is almost hard to describe. Imagine the almost synthetic screech of insects multiplied by fifteen or twenty. It invades the senses for a few moments before it dies away. When the other words are said, the knocking resumes,escalating into pounding. The sound of the wood giving way is also heard.

"Shit shit shit." Something makes it through the wood near where Love is slumped. There are no fingers, just the wooden limb of a positioning dummy from the Season's room. The limb is yanked back out and then the other creatures are scrabbling at the opening, trying to make it wider. This has Mae moving, Dylan found a hockey stick.. there has to be something else in here to fight with. "Love get away from the door!" She cries out, eyes wide. Last thing we need is for the creatures to go The Gate on them and try to drag Love outside and into a hole in the fucking ground.

It takes a moment for Dylan to pose the question to Love, debating internally if he reaaaallly wants to know the answer or not. "How do those stories end?" And then that sound comes, and it all causes Dylan to grimace in pain. Like so many nails on a chalkboard! Once the knocking resumes, his head is bobbing up and down in encouragement for Love to do as Mae suggests, and just get away from the damn door. He's already heading over there, prepared to drag her by her feet if need be, if she can't find the strength to get up.

As for other things? Well, there is, and when Mae goes to look, she'll find the bright pink riding crop under the bed. It really does match those handcuffs that somehow appeared on the door of the fridge. There is also a lamp, for those so inclined to use weapons that will make a spectacular noise and crashing sound. "Never heard music before!" He promises, that /this/ is the first night for it all. Probably. Who knows what all they've already slept through.

Right about now, Love wishes she had some Nyquil. She shrieks when the door's breached, in classic horror movie style, throwing herself back from the door only once Mae's yelled for her to do so! She tips over with a hard thump to the floor, and skitters backwards as fast as a person with the energy of a wet blanket can go: not very fast, not very far, possibly glancing off Dylan's legs as she goes.

She slumps back against the foot of the bed. "I mean for the kids, most of the kids, usually minor wounding and good guys triumph..." She coughs. "Oh, god. I mean realistically, everybody dies or at least loses a limb. The Goblin King is kind of a dick." Perfect thing to say in the presence of a hoard of goblins, Love. Good one.

Love totally doesn't know how the pink handcuffs ended up on the fridge. Nooope.

Mae finds the riding crop. She has a lot of questions as she pulls it out, holding it up for all to see. "Dylan." Is all she says, aiming a look at him like really? And then Love thumps back away from the door, landing hard on the floor. She moves to help the woman get to her feet, and stares at the door, waiting to see what will happen next.

Nothing prepares her for the eyes that stare through the crack in the door. Red, bright red. More of the door splinters under the hail of fists, and one of the masks tumbles through, its beads swinging precariously like they're about to fall off to the ground. Not enough glue gun. One of the position dummies follows next, its blank face showing nothing at all. In the wall, the music box is still trying to move, its legs trying to extend so it can get free of the wall. The music plays very slowly now, like it's dying, the blood slowing to a juicy drip every so often.

Raggedy Ann pushes through some of the splintered door, and instead of pausing to look around, it just charges near the trio, arms open wide.

"Holy fuck fuck fuck!" This is the stuff of nightmares! Mae makes a leap for the bed, trying to get OFF of the floor and away from these creepy things. More masks are pushing their way through, their faces mottled, grotesque and not at all like they were painted to be. The features, beads and other pretty things attached to some of them look real strange right about now.

Dylan just turns to look at Mae, staring at her and the riding crop. It's an exasperated look cast her way, his mouth slackening, and he's either far too concerned about the horde of masks and dolls about to barge in to interpret her correctly, or he's enjoying being purposefully obtuse. "Mae. Not now. Spank you later." As if that is what she was suggesting!

A more energetic person would surely charge into the fray to meet their doll of doom head on, screaming something that'd easily get you in as an extra in Braveheart. Not Dylan. He just lets out a tired sigh, waiting for the doll to charge, and then he swings away with the hockey puck. It's that sapping flu that keeps it from being a good, full swing, but still it smacks into the doll to send her teetering off course and to smack right into the headboard. "Don't move!" It's /almost/ menacing, the way he wags the stick at the mask, before sticking a thumb out towards Love. "She has a heat gun, and she'll melt your face... uhm.. eyes? Glue. She'll melt your glue off!" Almost, Dylan. Almost a good threat.

Love just watches all of this, her eyes wide. Holy crap. "BODY AUTONOMY!" Is what she yells at the oncoming doll in an attempt to ward off unwanted touching. Yeah, it never works with handy dudes either.

Her mouth closes when Dylan gives it some stick. She side-eyes Mae with the riding crop, and does her best to keep the cackle inside. Yelling weird shit and cackling might tip their hand after all. She reaches back, a hand under the bed, looking for something to brandish. She's not above bludgeoning a glue-gunned-gobbo to death with a two foot edible dildo.

Mae on the other hand is cornered by one of the goblin masks, she only has a riding crop but it's better than using her hands. She swings out at the mask, knocking beads everywhere, feathers flying through the air. The mask doesn't crack, but it teeters and falls down on the ground, small legs kicking in the air.

That's about when the music box gets two legs out and unwedges itself from the wall, falling to the ground with a splat.

"Uhhmmmm..." Dylan begins to warn out loud as Love begins to grapple beneath that bed looking for something, anything. And she does, though everyone might wish otherwise soon enough. It isn't edible, at least, but it is a dildo. It's one of those weird, custom ones that is shaped like a tentacle from some lovecraftian horror beast. "I can explain!"

He must be a touch too distracted, shouting out, "Art project!" even as he takes a swing at the music box, having had enough of that damnable thing. It just barely misses with a whiff, and Dylan goes twirling around, managing to stay upright only because he slumps against a wall rather than onto the floor.

Love shrieks and flails, grabs the doll by the throat and does her level best to rip its head off. RIP someone's childhood toy. What, you can probably sew that back on.

Stitches pop, but the head doesn't separate from the body. Must be a vintage doll — excellent craftsmanship! She probably looks crazy trying to choke out/tear the head off of a doll yelling, but the other two are busy in their own combats, so potentially it goes unnoticed!

She only knocks the tentacle-toy out from under the bed. She may be engaged in mortal kombat with a doll, but she still yells, "Dylan!" He will be explaining that later. Art project. Sure. She's used that excuse before too.

Dylan will be explaining a lot of things later. Oh my god.

Raggedy Ann tries to keep hold of Love, really she does. Love tastes really good. Somewhere in that struggle, the doll goes flying and thuds hard against the wall. It leaves a splatter of blood, and the doll sinks down to the ground, her face broken and leaking spaghetti-o's mixed with meat. Or gore? Hard to say.

Mae has lost it at this point, and she makes an attempt to kick the shit out of one of the positional dolls that is trying to help the music box to its feet. She misses and the thing gets hold of her ankle as the box skitters toward the door. "Get that fucking box!" Mae screams, and she would go after it, but the doll makes her twist her ankle and she goes down hard, hitting her head. She's not moving. About three inches to her right is the tentacle dildo. Great.

The little gremlin masks start to charge the remaining pair, one of them attempting to grab up the dildo to use it as a weapon. Charge!

"What!" Comes his shocked retort to Love's shouting of his name, looking everywhere except at that dildo that has now been taken up in arms against them. Nope. He's not even going to recognize that! And he equally decides that being here? Is only going to end up with him having to explain even more things of those gremlins start dragging who knows what out from under his bed.

So off he goes, scampering as best he can after the music box. It's heroic, really, the way he launches himself to fall upon it like they always do in the tv shows. Except in his flu addled state, he falls short. He skids across the carpet with an, "OWWWW", hands reaching out and flailing as he tries one last time to make a grab for the damndable thing.

Mae stirs, lifting her face to gaze around. There is going to be a bruise there tomorrow likely. She pushes up on one arm, just in time to see Dylan take a spill to the ground. She pushes slowly to her feet, the dummy at her ankle trying to keep her from moving. She drags it with her as she makes her way toward Dylan, trying to get him back to his feet. The music box, meanwhile, has skittered down the hallway slowly, turning the corner to make its way into the kitchen. A few thuds can be heard out there, but barely. The sound of Love beating the shit out of something underneath the bed is definitely louder.

Dylan casts a rather dubious look towards the underneath of the bed, and then he looks to Mae. "What happens there," He points to the place Love disappeared to, and who knows whatever it is she's finding to pummel things with. "Stays there." He hopes, at least, that she won't emerge tangled in a sex swing and a hula girl outfit, but who knows, now!

"Music box!" That's the far more important thing at the moment, and once back up on his feet, he grabs Mae's hand with one of his own, his other wielding the hockey stick. "Maybe it's cooking?" He sounds hopeful as he leads them to creeeeep down the hallway and to peer into the kitchen, ignoring the little ankle chaser for now, at least, that clings to Mae.

The positioning doll doesn't have a face, teeth or even hands. So all that it seems to be able to do is cling. It makes a racket as they try to creep down the hall, but there isn't any way to shake the damn thing off. Mae follows Dylan, she agrees that the box is what started all of this, and it's probably a good idea to smash it before anything else comes to life.

She glances back toward the bedroom, the bed. Hopefully whatever is going on under there, Love is getting the upper hand quickly.

As the pair rounds into the kitchen, a spidery leg disappears into a large cooking pot, the lid clattering down after it loudly.

"SHHHH," Comes Dylan's a touch too loud bit of advice to Mae as he just catches sight of that tumbling pan. Not that they are overly quiet anyway, what with that positional doll clacking and clanking along side of them as Mae is forced to drag it.

Forward Dylan creeps, until finally his hand jets out, seeking to push that lid down tight against the pan that it sets upon to keep the thing trapped inside of it. It takes a couple of seconds, and he looks from it to Mae and then back again. Fingers curl around the handle of the pot, and up he lifts the whole thing before rattling it violently around back and fourth to see if anything is inside of it.

Mae just rolls her eyes up at Dylan when he tells her to SHHHH. There is no shushing here. The Raggedy Ann doll in the bedroom slowly creeps to her feet, making her way down the hall behind the pair.

When Dylan picks up the pan, there is a definite skittering inside of it. When he shakes it, that screeching insect noise sounds again. Then it suddenly goes quiet. "Throw it in the fucking oven!" Mae cries out, turning the temperature up to 400. "Quick!" The doorway leading outside is shimmering brightly, almost like the shimmer that shows on a person when they have glimmer.

She opens the oven door, her eyes on Dylan, but the inside of the oven looks more like an inferno than an appliance. Oh shit.

Dylan just stands there for a moment, and then? He tosses the whole pan inside, leaving it to Mae to close shut that infernal hell hole that currently resides in his kitchen. He does double check the knob, as if half expecting a setting on it that he hadn't ever noticed before, and that's when he catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye.

"Uhhhhhhh," Comes the uncertainty from Dylan, a creeping fear as he slooowly slides closer towards the woman, giving a tug on her hand. And another. A third, all to draw her attention towards that door to the outside."That normal?" Right. Like any of this has been normal so far, and a big gulp comes from the man, having missed the creepy doll sneaking down the hallway and back towards them.

"Is what.. oh.." Mae doesn't see the doll coming as she gazes at the glimmering door. "Normal?" She asks, turning to smirk at Dylan when the doll is suddenly there. She kicks out at the doll, and it disengages, flying back down the hall where it lies still. "Love!!" She screams out, looking as if she might want to run down the hallway toward the bedroom again. "That door will get us out of here!" She calls out, decision made. She's gonna go drag the gray haired woman out from under Dylan's toy chest so she can get out with them. Maybe. Possibly. Oh shit.

"I'll help!" Of course, out of the two of them? Mae has fared far better, so it's probably more like, 'I'll go so you can keep an eye on me too', but whatever! He tugs on her arm, taking them both back down the hallway. "Hate that doll," He mutters. "My stuff is a death trap." That poor door to his bedroom, it's going to need replaced after the dolls and masks barged on into it. Down to the floor he goes, reaching underneath to try and find an arm, or leg, or whatever of Love's to hold onto and drag her out from underneath, hopefully still in one piece!

Mae and Dylan make it into the bedroom, but when they both reach under the bed, everything is gone. No masks. No Love. No sex swing. No hula girl outfit. It's empty, completely. Mae pops up from beneath the bed, gazing across it at Dylan. What is left of the animated creatures are curling up on themselves, turning into ash and ember. "We have to get out of here." She grabs hold of his hand this time and she starts to drag him back out of the bedroom, down the hallway, toward the front door. "C'mon!" She urges, and she's right to hurry. It's getting very hot in the house now. Like the oven is consuming everything. What fucking setting was that on?

There is a look of sheer panic from the man when he just stares under the bed and sees nothing, especially no Love. But then he is being tugged along, and his eyes just blink, peering back over his shoulder at the place as he's tugged along. At least this time? He has underwear on! "What is it with you and kitchens," He muses as that heat begins to kick up, and that is enough to encourage him along towards the glowing front door. He's half hobbling, half skipping, all to better get along as quickly as his lethargic self can, leaving it to Mae to get that doorway open so they can get on through. "Whats going to happen..." To his house. And their masks. And his art!

Mae slams into the door and it opens, the light behind it bright and overwhelming.

They're back in the bedroom, and the forward momentum takes Mae over the edge of the bed, landing her hard on the floor, knocking the wind out of her. She wheezes softly, sprawled out at the foot of the bed. "Ow." She goes very quiet for a moment and then all of the sudden. SNEEZE

On through the door Dylan goes, and he manages to stop just shy of the bed, teetering one way, and then back, and then forward again, before finally he just lands with a sluff upon the bed. He /should/ look to see if there are any evil masks, or an inferno of an oven, but he's just too damned tired to lift his head up right now. "Mae? You ok?"

A beat of a pause, and and then the, "Uhhmmm. Don't look under the bed."

"Dylan.." Oh dear. Someone is in trouble.

"Dylan do you really have a tentacle under your bed?" Mae isn't looking under there now, she's trying to get up so she can slump against the bed. She looks more tired than she did when the whole mess started. She gets to her feet, wobbly and wincing, before she stumbles over to the bed and curls up on it again. "We're going to talk about that later."

Out a hand comes to rest upon Mae's stomach, a touch of reassurance without getting her all hot if she's still feeling like she's burning up from The Plague. A gentle squeeze comes, and then finally he answers. "Probably." He can't be sure it's there after all of that, but it's enough of an answer. He'd complain and try to duck out of that future talk, but that's just far too much effort as he slowly worms his way towards his side of the bed to make room for her. "Was Love..." He lets the thought dangle out there with a touch of concern, glancing over towards her to see if she gets the jist of it. Was she just imagined as well? "Text her?"

Mae curls up next to Dylan, reaching out for her phone. "Mmm okay." She taps on the screen and then sets the phone back on the nightstand. She turns to face the man in the bed with her, not getting too close because she's overly warm, waiting for the phone to vibrate with a return text.

It doesn't.