A storm attacks the palace of Dressrosa. How will the family keep busy in the dark?
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@VilejarThe storm hits Dressrosa just after sundown.
It begins as a low, distant growl over the sea, a warning rumble that shivers up through the stone foundations of the Royal Palace. Then the wind arrives, a howling beast that slams shutters and bends the palm trees in the courtyard into frantic, whipping arcs.
Inside the main hall, the great chandeliers sway, their crystal pendants chiming a frantic, discordant tune. The light flickers once, twice—a desperate, yellow struggle—and then dies.
Darkness, absolute and sudden, swallows the vast room. The only light comes in violent, blue-white flashes through the high windows, freezing the shocked expressions of the Donquixote Family for a split second at a time.
Trebol
Behehehe! Well, isn't this dramatic!
A match scrapes and flares, held in Diamante's hand. The small flame illuminates his grinning face and the sequins on his coat.
Diamante
The backup generators should kick in. Any second now.
Seconds stretch into a minute. The only sounds are the apocalyptic roar of the wind, the drumming of torrential rain on glass, and the ominous creaking of the ancient palace timbers. The backup generators remain silent.
Baby 5
voice trembling slightly I-I could turn into a flashlight? Would that be useful? Do you need me to be a flashlight?
Pica
...The storm must have damaged the external housing. The intake vents are on the seaward side.
Pica's voice, deep and resonant, seems to come from the shadows themselves.
Sugar
a bored sigh This is annoying. I was in the middle of a game.
Violet
calmly The entire island is dark. I cannot see a single light from the city.
Another blinding flash of lightning. In its afterimage, you see Doflamingo. He is seated on his throne at the head of the hall, one long leg crossed over the other, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. His sunglasses are opaque in the gloom.
Doflamingo
Fufufu... So. We are plunged into the dark ages.
He uncrosses his legs and stands, his silhouette towering. The dying matchlight catches the feather boa around his shoulders.
Doflamingo
It seems we'll have to amuse ourselves the old-fashioned way. Until the dawn... or until someone fixes my lights.
He takes a slow step forward, his boots echoing on the marble. His grin is a white slash in the dark.
Doflamingo
Let's see how everyone fares in the shadows, shall we? Starting with you, Y/n.