The Tapestry and the Traveler (scenario)

Nils flinched slightly as he reached for the golden tapestry; the beauty and hope it seemed to contain threatened to overwhelm his senses, much as a man emerging into daylight covers his eyes after an eternity underground despite desperately craving the sun’s warmth and light. Just as his fingertips came within millimetres of its odd warmth, a flash of monochrome enveloped the room, freezing Nils in place and draining colour from everything in the area more completely than even the bleakness of the Shadowfell and questionable décor choices of the Palace had managed – only the tapestry maintained its golden hue, and even still it seemed terribly dimmed, like a poorly taken photograph. Not even the dust moved in the air, as it too was held perfectly still in this slice of time.

With a faint shimmering in the air, the feel of something electric sparkled through the room, and the fox-faced mask melted into reality on Nils before sliding to the floor with a hollow thock, bouncing once on the stones before rattling to a short-lived stillness. A slip of charcoal grey fabric snaked out from behind the mask before billowing into yards upon yards of such cloth, lifting the mask off the ground and forming a humanoid figure who wore the fabric draped around themselves like a cloak. The grey clothing obscured all but slender white-grey feet and hands that seemed to shine with an opalescent light through the gloom.

“… It hasn’t really changed…” the figure said, touching the mask they now wore with a slender finger, thoughtfully, as they looked around the cathedral. “Not since the last time I was here.”

The features melted away from the mask when the wearer touched it, leaving behind the blank white un-carved shell (through which, strangely, no eyes could be seen) as they took a few light steps around the room, twirling to take it all in. “Fascinating isn’t it, Mr. Freeman? Ah, apologies… you had a job to do for me – let us see…” as their voice echoed around the deadened room, they leaned close to the tapestry and stared intently for a moment before seeming to be satisfied. “You went through all this trouble to bring me here so it would be a shame not to send you back with a present… and souvenirs, everyone loves souvenirs to remind them of where they've been. You may have your choice of six from the lucky seven, since, well, nobody has ever said that I’m not generous with my gifts. I'll also unlock the path home for you... ah… the things we do…” swivelling in place, they turned to regard the frozen Changeling, their posture conveying curiosity and scrutiny as they crossed their arms over their chest, “…for our children.”

As the final syllable faded, the monochrome light vanished with the cloaked stranger, and time resumed its steady march.