The laughter sent fresh chills racing down her spine, like wind on a bitter winter's day - or perhaps, though it was a less pleasant comparison, a jar of angry biting ants being dumped down the back of her shirt, but chilly winds are a far more universal experience, and so would be the safer comparison - and yet, in spite of the fact she was put on edge, Mia acted. Unwilling to entertain the possibility that she might about to find herself in an even more undesirable situation than her present circumstances, she clutched the two crests an unobtrusively as she could - under the gaze of the grand portrait of Mother Miranda, everything felt a little like she was being judged, and judged harshly enough to set her shying down a little without even fully being aware of it - she turned and strode out of the church as quickly as she could.
"Death will come to them all!" the voice of the old woman cackled, travelling on the wind in a way that made it difficult to completely place where the was, "Yes! Death comes! It comes!"
With one final manic burst of laughter, it seemed that the elderly figure was entirely swallowed up by the shadows that filled the Village in a way that did not feel entirely natural, as if she was not truly a person at all, but rather an extension of the sheer strangeness of the area. That said, there had been very little that she had seen there that gave the impression of natural proceedings, which, for reasons she could not - did not want to - begin to understand, felt almost familiar to her. In the sort of familiarity that one might have in a scenario that they had walked through before in a dream.
Or perhaps a nightmare.
Goodness only knew that she had been having more than her fair share of nightmares over the course of the last three years.
Or perhaps they were as she deserved.
She didn't know which she found more unsettling, or even merely upsetting as a prospect.
Mia's own laughter filled the air before she realised what was happening, the anxious sound joining the lingering ghost of the elder's own laughter in a way that could not have been anything less than a chorus. If she could not laugh, supposed she, then she would surely fall apart in tears, and that would do nothing to help. The moment to cry was to come, but it was not there yet, and so she simply swallowed back her emotions before they got too much to ignore.
Taking a deep, shaking breath, Mia forced herself to a perceivable state of stability and, while there was not a soul around who would be perceiving her, she almost succeeded in tricking herself into believing that she could handle things, that things weren't nearly as out of her control as it felt like it was, and she could almost thank herself for being as good at lying as she was. The key word here was, of course, 'almost' as there were far too many guilty implications for her to be at all comfortable admitting this even just to herself.
Now, the poor woman had spent far too long ruminating on things and not enough time acting on her rumination and so, distributing the weight of the crests a little, she turned her gaze up to the form of the castle that loomed over the village like a silent protector, or perhaps a carrion bird waiting for its prey to finally lay itself down at its feet to die. She could only hope, as she made her way up to the great big gate that lead to the castle that it was the far more preferable former, and yet it felt a great deal more likely to be the latter, knowing her poor luck.
The gate itself was an elaborate thing indeed, depicting a woman in the clutched of a demon, in the process of being spirited away, though even after she returned the crests to their place she wasn't entirely sure if the depicted woman - or maiden, to use the term of the carving - was truly as alarmed as she seemed or if she had dictated her own terms.
Mia could have pondered over this little, largely inconsequential detail for a good while as if offered her a distraction from the infinitely more pressing matters, but she was not given this cheap luxury as the gate began to swing open a little without her aiding it, and so she simply shook her head and pushed through despite all misgivings.
The gate had opened up to a little bridge, one of which seemed a great deal better maintained than, well, anything she had seen in the village itself, which did take away an excuse she could have made in regards to turning back. Not that she had anywhere to turn back to anyway and so, the decision had been made long before she had made her way to even the doomed village itself. Biting back any residual discomforts that had been so thoroughly determined to cling to her, she jogged an awkward little half-jog across the bridge. It felt, for reasons that she could not fully explain, far too exposed on the bridge, like anyone and anything could be watching her from any little corner. She did not like that, not one little bit, but she was left with the equally unpleasant end of the journal.
The tunnel seemed to stretch on forever, or at least had the very distinct impression there off. Mia had quite enough of tunnels and corridors that lead to goodness only knew where, for they never seemed to take her anywhere good.
This was an unkind - but in her experience, not entirely unfounded - view of the architecture, however, as the passageway was nothing more nefarious than a servants' passage. One of which was still in use, she happened to note as she travelled it, for the torches still burned on the walls, flickering as she passed them in a way that set the shadows dancing about her as if the spirits of the damned were warning her against her approach. Now, she concluded this was an utterly insane idea, and so to not have cause to deem herself a madwoman, and so actively refused to think of it even a moment more than necessary.
In all her ponderings of the possible madness that, if one were to be honest, she had been through enough to justify falling into, it took her a moment to realise she had reached a little wine cellar. It was a rather impressive, well stocked room. If she were to count the barrels on her hands she would run out of fingers long before she even made it through a portion of the wine barrels, which, she would have had to admit was rather impressive.
Mia's aim to leave the room was quickly thwarted, as it seemed the door that lead further into the castle was well and truly locked, and she could not justify the time it would take to try and force it open, let alone the noise it would cause.
In the short time it took her to notice a locking mechanism to, presumably, unlock the door, the found of its twin mechanism for the other of the of the two doors sounded. With a flash of panic, she leaped behind a discarded stack of empty crates. There was only just the amount of space for her to wiggle into, and not only did it feel horribly familiar, it also did nothing to ease the claustrophobia that had wormed into her mind and infected both her waking and sleeping hours like a - mould - disease. She did not know what she was hiding from, but she trusted the instinct that told her she needed to hide, and so she muffled her breathing behind her hand and did her absolute best to simply not exist.
The air took on a strange hum, and odder still was the way the little hairs on her arms stood up, as if under the threat of a lightning strike. This impression only served to solidify the idea that what she was doing was quite correct.
"A little rat scurrying about the barrels?" a voice from the other side of the crated declared, the laughter in this suggesting a smugness that, while her view obscured, she could imagine to a relative degree of accuracy, "Shame to see it run right into a trap, wouldn't it?"
Mia could not, for the life of her, determine whether the man knew she was there and was toying with her or if the odd theatrics were genuine. Either way, she refused to make a peep, having concluded that yes, it would be a shame to have her run right into a trap. Fortunately her patience was not going to be too quickly tested as after just long enough to give the impression that the man was trying to wait her out, her own patience lasting longer than his own, for after what felt oddly long, she was left alone once again.
She did not immediately leave her little hiding hole, just on the off chance she had been lured into a false sense of security, but the felt as it ought to and so, she cautiously wiggled her way out. After the first proper breath she had managed to achieve, and not just as a result of the uncomfortably small space she had squeezed herself into, she wasted no time going to unlock the door. If there was the risk of others with unknowable intentions for her making their way into the cellar, she did not want to risk lingering for even a heartbeat longer than she needed to be.
Of course, she was not so terribly reckless as to run out without checking for any immediate threat. There was none, fortunately, and so she set out into the vineyard beyond the wine cellar. The justification of the sheer number of barrels was apparent, as the vineyard stretched on an almost impractically long distance.
The width of the area was a far more pleasant thing to ponder than the scarecrows that seemed a little too organic and a great deal too human for any sort of comfort.
It seems she was not the only person occupying the vineyard as, for it stood out amongst the snow-stunted plants, there was as a large wagon pulled off to one side. She approached with a deserving amount of suspicion, however the large man who, evidently upon catching sight of her approach, had set about opening the doors to her did not make any move beyond this. An unassuming disposition did not necessarily mean there was no danger, but as she made her way closer and closer she found herself feeling oddly calm, at least in comparison to even a matter of moments ago.
"Mrs. Winters!" the man declared when she was close enough for him to not need to shout, "What a pleasant surprise to see you here so soon, I had wondered if I would have the time to set up before you showed yourself."
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked in response, a little suspicious of a stranger speaking her name with such certainty.
"Anyone who has any degree of good sense has heard of the likes of you. What a great many faces you wear, madam, I had wondered which you might be wearing as you search for your daughter!" There was a strange implication behind the man's words, and yet he chuckled them off as if they were nothing.
"Who are you?" pressed she, evidently the man had either misinterpreted or brushed aside her previous line of question.
"I am but a humble merchant." said he with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Who are you?" she repeated.
"You may call me The Duke, and do forgive my poor manners. In your line of work, I believe anonymity was key, was it not? I had wanted to ensure your comfort."
This caused Mia to prickle uncomfortably but she was not given the opportunity to question how it was the man knew enough about her to even hint at things she had fought so hard to keep a secret. This was, she assumed, completely intentional on the man, The Duke's end.
"But now, to business. Anything you require on your journey, I can provide, for a price of course."
"Can I trust you?" Mia asked.
"Trust, Mrs. Winters?" The Duke asked, smoothening his blanket with all the nonchalance in the world, "That seems a tricky concept isn't it? I can offer you the services you might require, but the matter of trust is not something I trade in, and so can only offer back what is given to me in turn, so I must turn the question back to you. Can I trust you?"
"What?" asked she, so genuinely taken aback by this that she quite literally took a step back.
"It is just a joke, my apologies if you found it in poor taste," said he, however it did not seem as if it really was a joke, "Now, the castle certainly arouses suspicion, it might be in your best interest to take a look around."
"Is Rose there?" Mia asked, her voice utterly filled with a desperation that caused it to crackle just a little from the intensity behind it.
"If there was anywhere one might wish to hide away a child, I would think behind the reinforced walls of a castle might just do the trick, no?"
This was all Mia needed, finally having something to point her even remotely in what could possibly be the right way. There was a great deal of uncertainties behind it still, but she offered her thanks and made pressed onwards.
Onwards and upwards to the gaping maw of the castle, and she just had to hope that it would not so completely swallow her up.