009; action; open to all

[protectmemaria]

[Frollo appears only as a black streak as he makes his way across the quad, robes billowing in his wake and his hands clapped firmly over his ears. He appears to be greatly distressed and he mutters to himself as he walks, paying no regard to anyone who might be around him, straight down to the chapel. He flings the doors open and slams them shut

Comments

[croissantshaped]

[To think that barely a week ago, Quasi was lamenting the Mist's disappearance. He knew he was being selfish at the time, but now... now, he's horrified. Once again, the laughter of the mob rings in his ears, and it's a struggle to remember that anyone in the world thinks of him as a person rather than a monster.

The chapel is no Notre Dame, but it's the closest thing the Academy has to offer. It's got a little belfry, with a single bell inside. Quasi's not ringing it, not yet Just being in the tiny tower, having the option of the comforting motion... that's enough, for now.

Then someone else enters the chapel. Quasi recognizes his master's voice, but the tone of the frantic muttering is new. Quasi sneaks down into the sanctuary, not quite willing to disturb his master until he has a better idea of what's going on.]

[protectmemaria]

[Frollo doesn't hear Quasimodo's approach -- deformed though the boy may be, there is no denying his agility. He continues as he has been, only a few words escaping his lips, suggesting that the inner monologue may be too terrible to speak.]

Should have burned her when I had the chance... I had her within my grasp, and now...

[croissantshaped]

[Quasi has a feeling he will regret this, but he can't bear to see his master in such distress. He swallows his fears and takes a step towards the altar.]

M-Master?

[protectmemaria]

[Frollo's only display of surprise was a sharp intake of breath and his rapid turn towards Quasimodo, but when he noticed the boy, he relaxed just the slightest bit.]

What is it, Quasimodo?

[fearthefool]

How do you say 'know thine enemy' in Latin?

[protectmemaria]

You. [Frollo rounds on Clopin with a speed that suggests he might have been expecting the gypsy to turn up. He is on his feet at once, hands clenched in anger.]

What has she done? Where has she gone?

[fearthefool]

Who, she? They're all gone. Not even Paris stands.

There's no one.

[protectmemaria]

This is her doing, that gypsy witch of yours... Esmeralda! Where is she?!

[innocentandwild]

[The girl had seen the chapel and been reminded of King Haggard's palace.

Somehow, it made sense to see the man who reminded her of King Haggard enter.

She followed, holding the man's cloak around herself. She stopped briefly at the force with which the doors were closed, but her hesitation lasted only a moment before she pulled one open just enough to slip inside.

Her wide eyes tried to take in everything there at once, but they came to rest on the man. Slowly, she walked down the aisle toward him. Her voice was calm, distant, but not cold or warm.]

What troubles you, sir?

[protectmemaria]

[Frollo startled badly and turned, but breathed a sigh of relief to see it was only Amalthea. His shoulders relax and he swallows, pausing to compose himself.]

This Mist... surely you feel what it does to people?

[innocentandwild]

[The young woman slowly shook her head, watching him with those large eyes. For now, it was all too true.]

I feel nothing.

Perhaps a stronger chill, but that is all.

[protectmemaria]

But... that is not possible. The entire Academy is in a tizzy, how can you be unaffected? [He speaks in a tone that borders on the accusatory. If she is not a victim, then can she be the cause? This calm, polite newcomer?]

[obviousroyal]

[Perhaps it wasn't wise to seek out spiritual help, but with the current horrors of the Mist, Jasmine that that perhaps the chapel would somehow allow her to pray to Allah... after all, the school didn't have any temples of mosques, and the chapel was the only place of worship. If it didn't work, so be it. But she had to try. She was at wit's end, the nightmares and true memories blending together into one terrifying vision... she needed guidance, but those she trusted enough to give her any were nowhere to be found.

Simply put, she now found herself there, looking frail and worse for wear. But something caught her eye, breifly stunning her. Was that the Minister?

Something definitely wasn't right. He seemed always cold, calculating, in control; nothing like the haphazard, mad mess he appeared to be now.

Walking up to him slowly, she stopped a few feet away.]

Minister Frollo?

[protectmemaria]

[Frollo turned at once, caught off guard. But-- ah. Jasmine. He recalls her from his Justice class. He swallows and straightens up a bit, but he doesn't rise from his knees. Shouldn't she know not to interrupt a man when he is praying?]

Yes, can I help you?

[obviousroyal]

I-I am very sorry, Minister. But... you looked very... [How to put it lightly?] dismayed and furious.

[Jasmine couldn't kid herself; in the back of her mind, she thought of the possibility that the Mist had adversely affected him.]

[protectmemaria]

I see. And you thought, were that the case, this might be an appropriate time to disturb me?