A Grand Foyer

You tug at the collar of your clothes, unused to such a restricting garment, then touch a sword belt in the wardrobe. It swiftly slithers its way around your waist and a moment later, you slide the rapier and sheath in place. Sword secured, you struggle to find a place for the derringer. There are no pockets to be found in the dress. The sleeves are too baggy around the wrists, and to tight around the forearm to hide there. You next check under skirt, but after hefting up layer upon layer of billowing cloth, you find the more rigid crinoline to almost entirely bar you access to your legs, making hiding the pistol there impractical. You glance up and find the doll woman gazing at you curiously with those wide eyes. "W-well! Show me the way out!" You stammer.

She nods placidly, as if completely unphased by your odd behavior. First, she places the sleek bonnet upon your head, allows the ribbons to hang down your back, then makes her way to the door. With a little embarrassment, and a lot of exasperation, you just slip the pistol down your corset and between your breasts. You hurry to grab the spell book, but almost immediately trip in your heels. With a huff, you begin taking more careful mincing step before finding your balance perched on your toes.

Book in hand, you follow the blond as she turns the opposite way out of the door that your past self had walked. She guides you down a labyrinth of halls, only distinguishable by the color and pattern of the crushed velvet wallpaper. You find yourself somewhat overwhelmed with all the new senses assailing your body. Despite the tight corset, your breast still jiggle within the cups, and your now long hair tickles the back of your neck. The large pillows of fabric swishing and swaying around your body makes you feel like some apparition drifting down the hall rather than walking. You hug the journal to your chest, and refocus your mind on your escape.

Your path ultimately leads you to a grand foyer bathed in blood red carpet, and lit by large bowls of fire at the base of two grand staircases that curve up along opposite ends of the room to meet in the middle. Between the staircases is a massive stone door and frame. The imposing structure stands 20 feet tall, and nearly rises as high as the balcony you've come out on. Curiously this structure is free standing, rather than connecting the foyer to another room, yet the sight of it sends a shudder down your spine. You look away, and trot swiftly down the stairs, bustle and skirt bouncing with each step.

"There is the exit, and I don't see mistress. You may make it." The woman gestures to the double doors opposite the stone structure. "I'm sorry that we have no time to gather supplies, but it's fortunate that we've made it this far at ..."

At the bottom of the stairs, she stops speaking, and succinctly turns and walks away from the exit.

"Did you really think I would not be watching through my dolls eyes?" A sultry voice fills the room... The same voice that invited you down to the ritual... The same voice that chanted the words that tore the soul of the previous owner from your body. The voice of the demoness. And there, you see her, stepping out from behind the stone door. The blond woman comes to stand at her side. "Arvilla, you were my favorite, and most brilliant pupil, why would you flee now, at the brink of your ascension?" She slinks forward, and the blond woman shadows her step. She sighs, and turns to the other woman. "And you." She slaps the woman harshly, though the blond woman preserves a perfect stoicism even as her cheek turns red. "A recalcitrant doll from the beginning. A broken toy." She sneers, and raises her hand to strike again.

Your mouth is dry, and cotton. Your tongue sticks in your throat, but as she prepares to strike again, you find your voice. "Enough! Leave her alone. I was the one who decided to leave. She was following my command."

The demoness remains silent for a fleeting moment, her eyes dart between you and the blond woman, then a smile grows on her face. "Is that what this is all about?" She begins to laughs, gently at first, but more violently with each breath. Within moments the room echoes with a laughter like terrible beautiful bells. "Oh Arvilla, you have affections for this toy? You hid it so well." She wiggles her finger as if scolding a naughty child. "All you had to do was ask, and I'd have given her to you. Did you honestly think you could escape with her, even with your skill?" She puts her hands on her hips, and stretches the other out as if asking for your hand. "Now stop this nonsense, come here, complete the ritual, and all will be forgiven."