[Phone]

[Look. Margot is really bad with existential crises. They're all still here and that's all that matters to her.

She places this phone call not long after getting to stew on the one Mrs. Johnson put out. There is a layer of barely contained anger and annoyance hidden in the neat, clipped tone she's trying to keep.]

So what if we're copies of ourselves? Take comfort in the fact that your original self -- your real self -- is safely at home, doing what you've been doing all along.

And if this illusion is to be our reality now, if there really is no way back for us, then there's no fucking way I'm going to continue to be a plaything -- an experiment -- for the time we have left here. This is home, this is ours, and fuck Zemekis and fuck this Mrs. Johnson who thinks she can toy with us now.

So snap the fuck out of it and don't make everything you've gone through already be in vain. Fight. Keep fighting and never give up.

[This is all, of course, easier said than done, but Margot feels better now that she's voiced her thoughts. She's at home. She really is. The reality back there may be pretty bad too, but she's still there and nothing can change that.

The torment, the dying... Knowing that softens the blow.]

[Action]

[And since that message was so freaking ominous, Margot will be out to check up on her people and can be found all around the town. If she knows you, expect her at your door.]

((ooc: Either voice/action can be set before or during the event! Whichever you would prefer, I do not mind either way as Margot will not be a murder machine during it. Other murder machines welcome for hideous shenanigans. <3))

[The only thing Margot has left is the eyepatch and the scars beneath it. Her magic is gone, the duster, the necklace... Everything.

Margot has always been a strong person with everything she’s been through and can tell that something is wrong. None of this is right. There are conflicting memories battling for her attention in her head, things that don’t add up, a feeling of being displaced.

There is a part of her that needs affirmation and she turns to the phone lines, not sure who or what to trust in this situation. From an earlier conversation, though, she knows that she’s not alone in this feeling and maybe someone else out there can help.

She sounds like she’s in a lot of pain as she speaks through gritted teeth, but she wants answers and she wants them now.]

My name is Margot Gumshoe -- no. No, that’s not right. Sullivan. I-I never married, but I am here. Here in Mayfield, but not at -- at home. This isn’t home.

I have a sister, but she’s dead. She died near five months ago, but I saw her just yesterday at the grocery store. How is that... how is that possible?

[The headache is so severe here she feels like she’s going to vomit and has to stop for a few moments. Mayfield is wonderful, you love it here, you don’t want to leave, you can’t leave, you’re all trapped, TRAPPED.]

I’m fighting in a war, but it’s been over for a few years now, hasn’t it? The World War? But that’s not -- they're not the same ones.

[There’s a frustrated noise.]

This headache won’t go away... Is this what going crazy feels like? Like you’re being torn in two?






I don’t know what’s real anymore.

[A] Action: 1449 Mitchell Road]

[It's early in the morning on the 6th when Margot wakes up. It's a relief at first and, physically, she feels fine after what she went through in the portal.

It doesn't take long for things to go south when, out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of something. Nadia. Nadia with no face, like the drones on the blimp, covered in blood. She lets out a yell, at once wanting to run away and forward to help, but in a blink, the apparition is gone as quickly as it came.

Things don't improve. Moving through the house, she sees more of the drones -- twisted and disfigured by fire; if she bumps into housemates, they don't have faces to her and the Nadia thing is always there, lurking just at the corner of her vision.

She's sure she's gone mad, but remembers the revival machine -- it's not working correctly. That's all this is, right? A side effect?

For a good chunk of the morning and afternoon, she's going to lock herself in the bathroom (sorry housemates), running the phone cord under the door.]

[B] Phone]

[Margot does not sound good when she talks into the phone, voice strained.]

Whoever was on the flying ship, did you make it out okay? And did anyone find anything? Things went bad pretty fast, so...

[There's a long pause before Margot clears her throat and continues.]

How long do the side effects of being revived wear off, if they do? Out of curiosity.

[A] Action: Dairy]

[Margot has definitely been tipped off that something is up during the early hours of the morning when the tv had gone on the fritz, waking her up from a booze induced coma on the couch.

It’s only amplified when, later, she tries to go out the backdoor to have a pre-breakfast cigarette and manages to pass through the door. She plays with this for a moment (in-out-in-out) before it becomes solid again, ramming her face rather painfully into the wood and feeling like a fool.

It gives her an idea, though.

For most of the morning, she listens in to the phone network, confirming that other strange things are happening (and, really, all she has to do is look outside at the drones to know). Before noon, after she’s taken a trip to the floor through one of the kitchen chairs, she works up the nerve to head out and towards the dairy, willing to try something.

It’s Dist’s words that urge her on -- things are falling apart. Time to act. She feels good about this, pumped. She can do it.

The dairy door is in sight, she keeps striding purposefully forward, almost there and...

BAM!

She bounces unceremoniously off the door and lands flat on her ass, rubbing her forehead.

Okay. It only worked part of the time with the door at home and then randomly with the chair, maybe it just needs a bit? She gives it a few more minutes and then tries again, but this time more cautiously.

Same thing. Solid as a rock.

She can be found at this for the next several hours with absolutely no success whatsoever. Gold stars for trying?]

[B] Phone]

Has anyone else tried going through the walls of the dairy or city hall or the post office? It seems like things are -- are flickering. Like something is wrong with the illusion?

I tried myself, but had no luck. Maybe someone else will get it.

[And yes, someone does sound bitter about this.]

( [A] Action; locked to 1449 Mitchell Road] )

[B] Phone; open to all]

[Her voice is cheerful, though there’s a strained thread in it that she’s fighting to hide. Be optimistic. This is like talking with the soldiers, trying to find something good in a horrible situation.]

Good morning, Mayfield~ I bet you missed this voice, didn’t you? I sure missed all of yours.

Margot Sullivan, reporting back for duty.

Can't say I'm pleased about it, but... here all the same.