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<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"><span style="font-family: 'Lobster Two'"><span style="font-size: 26px">Emmy</span></span></span><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Lobster Two'"><span style="font-size: 26px">Mid June 2022<br/>
Noon<br/>
(direct) -&gt; Terry, Alissa, Tristan<br/>
(indirect) -- Iris, Addy, Chris, Idris</span></span><br/>
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<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family: 'Tahoma'">Emmy smacked her lips and rolled her eyes at Terry's response. Couldn't the older stickler for the mundane be a <i>little </i>entertaining and fun? <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Oh, I guess I should've murdered someone before you got here then..." </span>Emmy says walking over to Terry and pouring her a small glass of the whiskey, looking at the title &amp; contents of the bottle. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Uh Redemption Rye High Bourbon?"</span> Emmy then proceeds to pour the rest of what was in her own glass into Terry's, now that her theatrics were countered with un-fun aunt vibes.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "Well <i>Lieutenant</i>... I have no idea what it's up to. It's been a couple of days since it's been on and it's literally functioning as if it never missed a day. I did the premliminary readings like Mother used to do and the metrics are the same. It's weird."</span> Emmy didn't even bother to acknowledge the comment regarding nightmares. She just thought it was her being her, worn down from God knows how many cases worked. If Emmy had been more cognizant of the reasoning behind her nightmares, she'd definitely be more empathetic towards her sibling. <br/>
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Emmy also had noticed Iris tread through the door equipped with self made food and drink. It reminded the girl that she probably should go grocery shopping, seeing as how there'd likely be nine mouths to feed now. It was much easier maintaining a budget to feed just two over the span of the growing years. Iris smiled at Terry but didn't even really care to acknowledge her, which was understandable. Emmy wasn't going to push or force her sister to do anything she most probably didn't want to do anyways. She looked to the foyer to see if Addy and Chris had come in yet, and just as she was going to pique her curiosity Terry had asked her if she did anything to wake The Matrix up. Emmy shook her head.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "Not particularly, no. I mean I read this <i>Restricted </i>dossier that I found ... which by the way has some cryptic shit-- stuff in it. It was like literal moments after I read it, The Blockhouse shook and my heart sank because I didn't know what the hell was going on and then I hit the hallways and-- <b>boom</b>. There it was, back on. I felt it's pulse shoot through The Blockhouse like... like <i>before</i>." </span><br/>
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Emmy took a brief moment to gather herself, shedding the quick spark of looming feelings and focusing on the task at hand.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)"> "But listen, this dossier I found... it's so--"</span> Emmy's words seize up as if her throat itself simply ceased to exist. She found herself unable to speak for a moment as if she was choking on something, however her breathing and general nerves seemed just fine. Her eyes shut really tight as she grunts almost in a battle of resistance before the realization hit her. <i>FUCK</i>. Was all she could think as her eyes open once more and her entire mood, attitude, and demeanor changed. Her posture became looser, less confident and more whimsical. Emmy clears her throat involuntarily and starts heading abruptly down to the Blockhouse. But her walk wasn't her own, nor was her body language. In fact, it seemed completely polar from Emmy, yet it felt familiar all the same. <br/>
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It felt like <i><b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(160, 115, 221)">Alissa's</span></b></i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(160, 115, 221)">.</span> <br/>
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Emmy walked back down into The Blockhouse, completely ignoring anyone or anything outside of their own senses. She traversed the segues until she heard the voices of Idris and Tristan talking. She made her way back into the control room once more, albeit with a foreign feeling of lucid dreaming almost. But she only had one focus, and that was <i>Tristan</i>. She almost didn't register Idris there as the two interacted.<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(160, 115, 221)"> "Hello <i>bruder</i>, I need help with my bags outside. These heels are rather uncomfortable to trek from the gate. Would you?"</span> And almost instantaneously, a surge of translucent energy emits from Emmy's eyes as she breaks free and gasps. A deep inhale and a pouting breath outward confirmed what most had probably witnessed. She was <i>soulwalked </i>by Alissa as Emmy called it, who was clearly here as well. A frustrated Emmy glared daggers into the ground. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"Tristan... you better go get those damn bags.... because if I greet her, I promise it's not going to be with a hug..."</span> Emmy says as she stomps her way back up the pathway to the manor, slightly irate at the events that just transpired. She walks past the music room with the others, shouting a <b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"don't even!"</span></b> as she didn't want to hear it. <br/>
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She stomps upstairs, working on her breathing as she found herself at the top of the stair case overlooking the foyer. This was definitely a bad idea. She felt the rage climbing... rising inside of her. She found herself instinctively roaming to Mother's room as she closed the door behind her. She could feel her blood running ice cold and lava hot simultaneously. She clenched her fists tightly as she could feel her cells vibrating with energy. She kept her eyes closed. Inhale. Exhale. Rinse. Repeat. In the darkness, she started to see <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2F64.media.tumblr.com%2F2e9e9c678c196c2787ca6c7351bef5b0%2Ftumblr_inline_pdikoohHzW1rqyqrl_1280.gif&amp;hash=9c23fe3784b0e01229403b9042547ba3" href="https://64.media.tumblr.com/2e9e9c678c196c2787ca6c7351bef5b0/tumblr_inline_pdikoohHzW1rqyqrl_1280.gif" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Mother's </a>face. Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open from the sight. Rage battling for dominion with woe. She wanted to punch something... <i>someone </i>would be better but she knew that wouldn't be the best message right now. Still, it would be lovely. She wanted to scream, but she knew her siblings already probably thought a nutcase of her. She felt trapped, she felt for the first time something she hadn't felt since everyone left: <i>suppression</i>. To not be her true self in any capacity was jading. <br/>
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So instead, she takes another inhale followed by another exhale. She picks up a desk photo of Mother in a lab coat with some colleagues of hers at a United Nations science panel. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"I'm trying. I really really am. This whole baby gem bullshit is fucking overrated."</span> Emmy then sets the picture down and makes her way back downstairs, walking past the music room once more. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(163, 143, 132)">"I'll be in Segue 2 when you guys are ready. Let everyone else know."</span> Instead of the expected expressionable and charged inflection of the young girl, her voice instead was candid and dry. She headed straight for the Operations Room, which is where she left the unknown dossier last before everyone had arrived. Business it is then. She sat in the seat Mother once sat, with no one to fill its place for years. Emmy remembered SHE was the one that remained after everyone else left. SHE takes care of the manor and The Blockhouse alike. She didn't need to do or be anything other than what she already had been already. It was enough. Otherwise Mother's legacy would've died with her that night. </span></span><br/>
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