Shadows of London: 1-4 Lullaby

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Shadows of London

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Caroline has another dream of her parents, accompanied by a familiar and persistent lullaby. She goes to the greenhouse hoping to clear her mind, but stumbles upon something secret.

Info

Style: Event Logs: Lavinia, Scotland Yard Required: Priscilla Goodwill Lv. 2 Recommended: Erudite Travels, Private Quarters, Sunset Hours, Bookish Courtyard Perfect Score: ~3,360 Rewards: 3,000 , 600 , 3 , 1 , 1 , Blueprint: Wheaty Glow

Wheaty Glow

Dialogue Choices

Note: Changing choices when replaying will cost 5

Is there a burglar?

• Be bold and investigate
  • Priscilla's Goodwill will rise
  • Event Log: Scotland Yard
• Shout for help

Transcript

Expand for script.

• My body feels heavy, like a rock underwater. It's so dark that I can't see my own fingers.
• I hear a familiar lullaby, and the darkness fades away to another familiar scene...

• This is where I stayed in London when I was five years old. I can almost discern the scratches I made on the tea table while drawing.
• A lean lady sits by the bed. I miss seeing her face.
• Woman: ...*koff* Cyril... I'm getting...

• Man: No, don't say that. My dear Lavinia, I will find a way...

• Cyril. Lavinia. Those are the names of my father and mother.
• Cyril: Caroline is still so little. Please, Lavinia... You must hold on!

• Lavinia: I want to... *koff*... But I can't.

• Mother coughs so violently that her pale face is flushed unusually red.
• She presses a hand to her chest, pulling open the bedside drawer shakily.
• Cyril: No, no! That day will never come!

• Father shuts the drawer. I can't see what's in it, but I catch a cold glint from the shadows.
• Cyril: Lavinia, we will make it through this...

• Father's voice grows softer, like a boat sailing further away with its horn.
• I want to call out to them, but something is choking me. I can't say a word...

• Staring at the ceiling, it takes me a moment to remember I'd fallen asleep without changing, exhausted by the tea party.
• Night has fallen. A few stars twinkle quietly in the night sky.
• You: I've been dreaming about my parents ever since I arrived in London...

• It hurts to think about these fragmented memories.
• You: Since I can't sleep, I'll change and go for a stroll in the greenhouse.

• You: All the servants must be sleeping.

• I carefully push open the glass door, afraid I might make a noise and disturb someone.
• The greenhouse is quiet and peaceful. The lush plants in the shadows appear more mysterious than they are.
• ???: Bernard, I hope you didn't stay just to tell me this.

• Passing by a few fig trees, I hear a voice coming from the fountain.
• The familiar voice sounds less dignified than it does in the day, and has a tone of disapproval in it.
• You: (Aunt Petit!)

• You: (Is she having a rendezvous with Mr. Bernard?)

• I tiptoe back to the bushes to leave them alone.
• Bernard Erskine: I'm helping you analyze the investment. Taking in your niece is a fruitless deal.

• You: (They are... talking about me?)

• I freeze in place.
• Bernard Erskine: My dear Violet, you've always been such a clever businesswoman. How can you not understand?

• Bernard Erskine: A gentlewoman who lost her parents, and has no inheritance, is a hot potato.

• Madam Petit: Bernard, not everyone can be measured by profit.

• Madam Petit: I would never do that to Cyril's daughter.

• Bernard Erskine: Your dead brother is your only weakness. I'm almost jealous of him.

• Madam Petit: Don't be silly, Bernard. You know Cyril is an unspoken wound to the Rayes family.

• My heart wrenches when I hear my father's name.
• Bernard Erskine: I don't understand you sometimes, Violet.

• Bernard Erskine: Eloping with a nameless actress, giving up his status and inheritance, cutting ties with the family...

• Bernard Erskine: These are all choices that Cyril made. Why must you hold on to this relationship as though you're atoning for something?

• Madam Petit: For my father.

• Madam Petit: He was a stubborn old man all his life, and refused to admit that he missed Cyril.

• Madam Petit: But I could tell from his face that he was suffering.

• Madam Petit: The only thing I can do for my father now is to take care of Cyril's child and give her a good future.

• Aunt Petit is silent for a moment. I remember how lonely my grandfather looked during the evenings at Canterville.
• You: (I thought Grandpa refused to mention my father or let me visit London because Grandpa's still angry at him.)

• You: (I never suspected that...)

• Bernard Erskine: The child will be grateful for all you've done.

• Bernard Erskine: But what do you plan to tell her if she asks about the truth of her parents' deaths?

• You: (Truth? What truth?!)

• Madam Petit: My dear, I don't know what you mean.

• Madam Petit: Caroline knows they died of tuberculosis.

• Bernard Erskine: You don't have to lie to me.

• Bernard Erskine: It's been an open secret for years. I know that things aren't that simple.

• Mr. Erskine lowers his voice, despite the empty greenhouse.
• Bernard Erskine: I heard some things from a novelist I sponsored recently, when I accompanied him to the Eastern District to collect information.

• Bernard Erskine: You've heard about the recent disease, right? Something similar happened in Saint George over ten years ago.

• Madam Petit: How is this related to my unfortunate brother?

• Bernard Erskine: Did they really die from tuberculosis?

• Bernard Erskine: They resided in Saint George, where many were infected.

• Madam Petit: Mr. Erskine, I think we are getting too familiar with one another.

• Madam Petit: Perhaps we should maintain an appropriate distance, so that you don't assume yourself privy to my family matters.

• Bernard Erskine: Alright, alright. I meant to share your burden. If you don't like it, I won't mention it again.

• Madam Petit: It's late, I'm tired. You should leave.

• Aunt Petit gets up from the rattan chair, and leaves, with Mr. Erskine following behind her.
• I shrink back, afraid that I'd be discovered. I heave a sigh of relief when I can no longer see their figures.
• You: (Is there another reason for my parents' deaths?)

• You: (Aunt Petit must be hiding something from me. I must find a chance to clarify things with her.)

• I've not even recovered from the painful dream, and I'm now faced with something troubling.
• I sit and stare up into the night sky as a million thoughts race through my mind.

• Eventually, my eyelids grow heavy and I decide to return to my room.
• An earring falls off and tumbles into the bushes. While retrieving it, I discover a book on the ground.
• You: "Wilderness"?

• I open the book in the dim light.
• You: "For the cold and eternal years. -Vincent Savile"

• You: Mr. Savile mentioned being a poet. I guess this was written by him.

• I flip to a random page.
• You: "Ashen Roses Helpless against the sands of time Dusk turns roses into ashes"

• You: "Fleeting night fades as raven wings shine"

• You: "Kiss the rose, upon the ground he crashes"

• You: "Curious wanderer, whose tears are mine"

• The poem is accompanied by a rather bizarre illustration.
• A dilapidated castle stands tall, with a tower piercing through the dark clouds in the sky. It's dark and scary, but one window is lit with a warm light.
• A girl with braids is holding roses, and scattering petals out the window.
• You: Why is this scene so familiar?

• The lullaby my mother used to hum comes to mind immediately.
• You: "Red roses in a heap, gentle moonbeams..."

• You: "Little girl, go to sleep, meet angels in your dreams..."

• Curious, I turn a few more pages.
• You: Wilted leaves... Wilderness... Castle...

• Skimming through the book, I notice that the writing is really somber. The cryptic verses are making my head swim.
• You: It's probably a coincidence. My parents would never read something so dark to me.

• You: Why is Mr. Savile's poetry here? Did he drop the book during the day?

• You: I'll hold on to it first. Maybe I'll get a chance to return it.

• There is a sudden rustling behind me. It is exceptionally loud in the quiet greenhouse.
• You: (What was that?!)

• I close the book, looking around nervously.
• After a moment, I hear it again.
• You: (Is there a burglar?)

Be bold and investigate

• I crouch down slowly. My eyes are glued to the direction of the sound, and reaching out, I snap off a small branch.
• You: Who's there?!

• My voice is shaking.
• You: Whoever you are, I'm warning you! The owner here is on good terms with Scotland Yard!

• You: You better think again!

• After a moment of silence, the branches rustle again. I can see movement in the trees ahead.
• I tighten my grip on the branch as I inch closer.
• ???: Meow...

• You: (Huh, so it's just a stray cat?)

• I relax for a moment and then tense up again as I remember...
• You: (Aunt Petit had the servants clean up the place several times in preparation for the tea party.)

• You: (And it's not possible for a stray cat to get in!)

• A shadow dashes out from behind a tree, and zips right past me.
• You: Stop!

• I chase after it instinctively, and manage to catch up after running down some steps.
• Priscilla Barnet: You looked so demure during etiquette lessons, but your running speed is astonishing.

• You: Priscilla?! What are you doing here?

• Priscilla Barnet: I misplaced something here a few days ago, and came looking for it.

• You: You must be really busy in the day to sneak in here at night.

• Priscilla Barnet: Compared to a rule-following doll, my life is naturally more exciting.

• You: Oh? Let me guess. Did you join the "Meow Training Camp"?

• Priscilla Barnet: Don't tease me, or I'll tell your aunt!

• I don't know if I should laugh or cry at her childish behavior.

Shout for help

• I can think of a thousand ways of getting killed by a burglar.
• You: (But if I yell for the servants, maybe the burglar will leave before he's outnumbered.)

• I run out of the greenhouse, and yell at the top of my lungs:
• You: THE GREENHOUSE IS ON FIR-

• A hand covers my mouth before I manage to finish.
• Panicking, I bite down hard on the hand.
• ???: OW!

• The voice that follows the cry is hushed but familiar.
• ???: Are you a puppy?

• You: Mmph...!

• ???: I can take my hand away but you must promise not to shout!

• I nod, and struggle. The person finally lets go.
• Priscilla Barnet: I didn't think you were such a wild girl!

• You: Priscilla?! What are you doing h ere? You scared me to death.

• Priscilla Barnet: I'm the one scared to death. You shouting, and biting me...

• Priscilla Barnet: Did you just pretend to be demure during etiquette lessons?

• You: Well, you're sneaking around.

• Priscilla Barnet: Sneaking? I'm just here to find something I misplaced a few days ago.

• You: Why are you here in the middle of the night instead of during the day?

• Priscilla Barnet: That has nothing to do with you. If you want to tell your aunt, go ahead!

• She looks at me defiantly, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

• You: There's no need to bother Aunt Petit over such a trivial matter at this hour.

• You: Take what you're looking for and go. I'll pretend I didn't see anything.

• I show Priscilla the book I found.
• Priscilla Barnet: "Wilderness"? What's this?

• Priscilla takes the book and flips through it.
• You: Isn't this what you're looking for? I thought a gentleman left it behind during the tea party.

• Priscilla Barnet: Do I look like someone who reads this kind of book?

• You: Yes.

• Priscilla Barnet: You're pretty sharp.

• Priscilla Barnet: Well, this is a good book, but it's not mine.

• Priscilla looks at the name on the cover.
• Priscilla Barnet: Vincent Savile? I don't recognize that name, must be new.

• You: I saw him in person today. His speech and demeanor are... special.

• Priscilla Barnet: Don't you find these poems dark and scary?

• You: No. They're hard to understand, but they have a rather appealing mood about them.

• You: They're not scary. More like... mysterious.

• Priscilla Barnet: I'd think that someone under Madam Petit's influence would avoid this genre.

• Priscilla Barnet: And you're surprisingly pertinent.

• You: We've attended etiquette lessons for a while. You know I'm not a typical lady.

• Priscilla Barnet: That's true.

• Barking can be heard outside the greenhouse.
• Priscilla throws a wary glance at the glass walls. She frowns.
• Priscilla Barnet: I must go. I'll be discovered if I dally.

• You: (Why is she nervous all of a sudden? Was that a signal?)

• Priscilla Barnet: Caroline, I hope you'll keep this a secret.

• You: Don't worry. I'm a woman of my word.

• You: What did you misplace? I'll take note of it. If I find it, I'll return it to you.

• Priscilla Barnet: Forget it. It won't do you any good to find it.

• With that, she leaves in haste.