>>273
All these tea parties and amnesia have gotten you quite exhausted. You happily curl up in a quiet corner of the room, Theodore wrapped in your warm embrace, and invite your dear sister (but not father; think of poor little Theodore) to join you. Jack lies stiffly beside you, not quite cold enough to overcome her awkward detachment. You roll over, cat and all, reach out and draw Jack closer to you. As she does not resist, you pull yourself closer and nuzzle your head into the crook of her neck, and, finally, she reciprocates and pulls closer to you.
The storm outside continues unabated into the looming eventide. You, Jack and Theodore, meanwhile, form one oblivious, snoozing mass of warmth and comfort.
>>274
You are now playing as Aaron Aaronovitch Aaronov.
You're quite certain you've been nothing but an exemplary gentleman and scholar, but to remain the noble, stoic figure that your dear daughters require, you must forgo your own rest to ensure their safety. You stand by the doorway, like a soldier standing to attention, unwilling to let even a shadow pass in without your notice.
Darkness falls. It is a thick, pervasive sort of darkness, banished at irregular intervals by flashes of lightning, but somehow all the darker for it. The wind moans and wails, as though screaming in defiance of the ageostrophy that birthed it. Raindrops whip by like bullets. This ungodly sight is more than unsettling enough already, even before you catch sight of it.
You first see it as a very faint reddish light in the distance, which seems to split into two, then three, meandering through the air like hitodama. A flash of light at that moment reveals, between them, a vaguely humanoid figure - but of absurd proportions; the forest canopy, itself many metres tall, barely reaches its knees. As it is lit from behind you see it only as a silhouette. Its outline seems fuzzy, as though it is not quite sure where it ends and the rest of the universe begins. Somehow you can tell it is staring straight at you.
You feel a tap on your shoulder and scream in surprise, turning suddenly to defend yourself and almost striking Jack in the process. She says that she has to return to her tribe, and that christmas must go on. She has an odd glint in her eye.
>>275
Jack's social status as a high priestess is clearly of immense value to her, though you have to confess that you care more about her being your daughter than any religious position she may occupy. You are proud to have found shelter for your two young charges, though the concrete is not particularly aesthetically pleasing. You prefer the warm earthy tones that only an adobe abode can provide. You vow on the name of your father, who may or may be not dead, but is, at the very least, absent, that you will someday procure this.
But still this does not solve your present dilemma. Do you allow your dear daughter to risk her life crossing the unquestionably dangerous forest, probably in order to commit an act of ritualistic murder - especially knowing that thing, whatever it was, is out there? It clearly means a lot to her, but is it really okay to allow her out, without at least escorting her yourself?
>>276
"Yeah, sure. Go ahead." you say. Jack nods firmly, passes the threshold and is immediately swallowed into the omnipresent darkness.