[ A few steps one way. Another few steps another way. Not quite pacing, but moving as she listens. The Dark Presence can change its form and shape. How it is seen. Which means it has a true face of a monster deep beneath all the allure.
Elizabeth knows a few things about monsters and the faces they wear. ]
How many people actually know what it is that would underestimate it?
[ Elizabeth comes to a stop then and her arms fold. Water glistens on the blue velvet jacket she wears. Blue eyes like the sky settle on the writer.
It's interesting to simply observe Alan Wake. He is someone who has traversed a door and been unable to open it again. Yet, there are still ties to that door that would take him home. Some of those ties are more obvious than others. He could use them to go back to his world... but he doesn't. Or, perhaps, it is more accurate to say he won't? ]
You can call me Elizabeth. [ Her arms remain folded as she turns to look at him properly. ] I don't need to talk to anyone to know things, Mr. Wake. I'm not afforded such a simple luxury.
[ There are so many ways she can phrase what can be said to answer his questions. None seem as satisfying as the flair of drama she can build. More of her father is in her than she would like to admit to sometimes.
A hand raises and gestures to his person. ] Look up, Mr. Wake.
[ The Writer's Room is dim as always. A single light on the desk casting a light into a muted room. Chalkboards to one side, a pair of windows behind the writer, and an ever watchful owl. Dust settles everywhere.
However, one thing has changed. A variable in a set of constants.
Elizabeth stands in front of the opposite side of the desk. Her arms crossed until Alan addresses her. Then, they lower to gesture to the room around them. ]
The attic room. This is actually where you are... and the New York City is a construct? Something you created to navigate the outside world. [ Despite the tone of fact checking, Elizabeth sounds impressed. The frayed bob at her cheeks moves as she turns her head to look over the room again. A radio, a television. ] You've learned how to shape this world to what you need to explore and learn it further.
[ A hand raises to the ceiling. ] If you can change the surroundings... then why haven't you given more places for the light to come in? I doubt you can create things that don't already exist somewhere. But, can't you at least give the opportunity for the Dark Presence's antithesis to exist here?
— initiation 0: songbird (🐦).
[ A few steps one way. Another few steps another way. Not quite pacing, but moving as she listens. The Dark Presence can change its form and shape. How it is seen. Which means it has a true face of a monster deep beneath all the allure.
Elizabeth knows a few things about monsters and the faces they wear. ]
How many people actually know what it is that would underestimate it?
[ Elizabeth comes to a stop then and her arms fold. Water glistens on the blue velvet jacket she wears. Blue eyes like the sky settle on the writer.
It's interesting to simply observe Alan Wake. He is someone who has traversed a door and been unable to open it again. Yet, there are still ties to that door that would take him home. Some of those ties are more obvious than others. He could use them to go back to his world... but he doesn't. Or, perhaps, it is more accurate to say he won't? ]
You can call me Elizabeth. [ Her arms remain folded as she turns to look at him properly. ] I don't need to talk to anyone to know things, Mr. Wake. I'm not afforded such a simple luxury.
[ There are so many ways she can phrase what can be said to answer his questions. None seem as satisfying as the flair of drama she can build. More of her father is in her than she would like to admit to sometimes.
A hand raises and gestures to his person. ] Look up, Mr. Wake.
[ The Writer's Room is dim as always. A single light on the desk casting a light into a muted room. Chalkboards to one side, a pair of windows behind the writer, and an ever watchful owl. Dust settles everywhere.
However, one thing has changed. A variable in a set of constants.
Elizabeth stands in front of the opposite side of the desk. Her arms crossed until Alan addresses her. Then, they lower to gesture to the room around them. ]
The attic room. This is actually where you are... and the New York City is a construct? Something you created to navigate the outside world. [ Despite the tone of fact checking, Elizabeth sounds impressed. The frayed bob at her cheeks moves as she turns her head to look over the room again. A radio, a television. ] You've learned how to shape this world to what you need to explore and learn it further.
[ A hand raises to the ceiling. ] If you can change the surroundings... then why haven't you given more places for the light to come in? I doubt you can create things that don't already exist somewhere. But, can't you at least give the opportunity for the Dark Presence's antithesis to exist here?