Of course the Dark World's version of the Town Hall had the same frigid, unyielding air as its Light World counterpart. You'd have thought the Mayor could've at least done something to make it at least somewhat appropriate to the Festival literally taking place all over both sides of the Dark Fountain, but you know Carol all too well by this point to ever think something like a pinch of "fun" could ever cross her mind. And now you're beginning to wish she hadn't crossed yours. What the hell was the point of inventing "Deer Crossing" signs anyways when you'd rather just run that gargantuan bitch of a wannabe overlord and mother over- not now, you remind yourself like a swift mental jab to the metaphorical shin that was your entire current situation. For good reason, too, you had to admit-- it's the fucking Festival, even here in the Dark World, for Angel's sake. You have places to go and people to see. Even this one... old-ass abandoned building.

No-- this one old-ass abandoned building with unusual readings of an uncanny power source you knew all too well by this point. Almost every thought of petty vengeance directed at the less-than-pleasantly distorted mental image of Mrs "Everyone's Least Favourite (ELF)™" no sooner dissipates into the reality that you'd once again likely have to fight for it... and with the readings far higher here than normal, the creeping sense of doubt that the alternative will work rears its repulsive head. Slowly you reach for the knob in resigned preparation, and yet it moves as though rejecting you. As if you've never seen an automatic door before.

It moves without motive, your logic counters. Much better for the sanity.

Within the crumbling space it is very much not falling apart, but rather a polished mechanical engineering laboratory with several working drones assisting an odd yet strangely stunning blue man sitting at a long desk. That must be the Darkner who carries the Shadow Crystal, or whatever kind he has on him. A few mechs slumber against the walls in preparation for their intended purpose, and before your brain has caught up to what you're doing, you've curiously stepped through the open door as though it had beckoned you. An alarm rings almost distantly-- you're not sure whether to have expected that or not-- but if the Darkner's focus had wavered, he doesn't make it clear that it did.

Before you could consider whether or not to simply leave for now, the strange Darkner slowly turns to acknowledge you, his every action seeming a performance as he gracefully strides (or glides? It was difficult to tell under that long coat) in your direction as though you're now the most interesting thing in the lab.

"OH! WELCOME TO MY WORKSHOP. MY THRONE OF ~gadgets...~ ~creations...?~ INVENTIONS! NO NEED TO BE AFRAID; FEEL FREE TO ~feel...~ ~grab...~ TOUCH AND TEST ANYTHING-- BUT PLEASE DON'T STEAL OR BREAK ANYTHING. PURPOSELY, THAT IS."

Though, from the lack of shock and all-too-natural irreverence in his demeanour, something tells you it isn't this guy's first time seeing Lightners. As if to him, they instead seemed familiar, perhaps commonplace. Something to be observed, even.