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[1]
[As luck would have it, finding the reclusive Dolores Norman turns out to be a far more mundane task than some might have thought. No surprise ambushes, no sign of any battles the previous search team wound up in... the rainforest seems completely undisturbed. And after several hours of searching, the Sun is setting but an unmistakeable sight of civilization is found: a large canopy tree-house spread across several trees. With that in mind, the transport shuttle lands as close as possible it can from it... though there's still going to be some hiking required from everyone involved. But when you finally reach the foot of one of the trees, there's a little old lady standing there with a tray of cookies and looking very out-of-place there in the jungle.]
Oh well hello there. I was wondering when you would finally find me. If you would like some lemonade or tea, you'll have to wait. They're up in the kitchen.
[Everyone: meet Dolores Norman.]
[2]
[Climbing up into the treehouse, Dolores's handiwork is everywhere. She's an artist by trade, and countless portraits strewn about her home, depicting... bizarre things. Distorted figures. A completely blank canvas with random places warped from exposure to water. Fractal hands where each finger only goes on to become a smaller hand. There are countless pictures of men and women with a third eye on their forehead, each one weeping blood. But most frequent are images of cranial invasion and escape. Things of any shape, color, or size crawling into or out of orifices in the heads of people. In some pictures, the people are in the throes of agony... in others they seem to not notice or even happy at their predicament. Others still have a mish-mash of the two reactions.
[Dolores Norman seems even more out of place surrounded by the macabre art, but she just continues to play welcoming host for you all.]
Now then... are you here to browse? I'll have you know I'm not used to potential buyers making house calls.
[As luck would have it, finding the reclusive Dolores Norman turns out to be a far more mundane task than some might have thought. No surprise ambushes, no sign of any battles the previous search team wound up in... the rainforest seems completely undisturbed. And after several hours of searching, the Sun is setting but an unmistakeable sight of civilization is found: a large canopy tree-house spread across several trees. With that in mind, the transport shuttle lands as close as possible it can from it... though there's still going to be some hiking required from everyone involved. But when you finally reach the foot of one of the trees, there's a little old lady standing there with a tray of cookies and looking very out-of-place there in the jungle.]
Oh well hello there. I was wondering when you would finally find me. If you would like some lemonade or tea, you'll have to wait. They're up in the kitchen.
[Everyone: meet Dolores Norman.]
[2]
[Climbing up into the treehouse, Dolores's handiwork is everywhere. She's an artist by trade, and countless portraits strewn about her home, depicting... bizarre things. Distorted figures. A completely blank canvas with random places warped from exposure to water. Fractal hands where each finger only goes on to become a smaller hand. There are countless pictures of men and women with a third eye on their forehead, each one weeping blood. But most frequent are images of cranial invasion and escape. Things of any shape, color, or size crawling into or out of orifices in the heads of people. In some pictures, the people are in the throes of agony... in others they seem to not notice or even happy at their predicament. Others still have a mish-mash of the two reactions.
[Dolores Norman seems even more out of place surrounded by the macabre art, but she just continues to play welcoming host for you all.]
Now then... are you here to browse? I'll have you know I'm not used to potential buyers making house calls.
Tags:
From:
2
Umm...no...It's a military thing...
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no subject
Biscuit, dear?
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...There's a man...we heard you could help find him, so...
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[She's not taking no for an answer, and she keeps holding out the snack for you to take.]
Besides, it's the least I can do. If you came here to ask about little Freddy... I'm afraid I haven't heard from him in over ten years.
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...Are you sure?
It's very important...
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[She nods, offering Eva another biscuit.]
How's little Eddy doing? Still working his way up the rungs in the CIA?
[Wait. Eddy? As in Edward Mcdowell? The guy who sent you down here in the first place? But Dolores has something else in mind as her eyes catch the back of Eva's neck.]
Oh my... I'm sorry my child! I never noticed, but... may I?
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No, go ahead...Do you...Know something about me?
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My child, my child...
I... am not the person to ask for the answers you seek. Find Eddy and he'll tell you all you need to know. But...
[Her breath just a whisper now, she looks Eva right in the eye.]
... There is one thing I could can give you.
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[And then there's a blur of movement from her right hand and the sense of a something being smeared on your forehead.]
-Moment!
[Holy cow granny's fast with a paintbrush.]
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...What did you do?
[Eva panics, and runs to find the nearest mirror.]
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My best yet! Do you like?
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Miss Norman...is there something...you're not telling me?
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Tea or lemonade?
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Alright then my child. I hope you like it. If not there's always sugar or lemon.