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Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- dc: harley quinn,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- detroit: become human: connor,
- dragon age: anders,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: carter ghazikhanian,
- marvel: jennifer walters,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- my hero academia: takami keigo,
- oc: elenore evans,
- oc: saxsice king,
- penny dreadful: victor frankenstein,
- south park: kyle broflovski,
- uncharted: elena fisher,
- uncharted: nathan drake,
- uncharted: rafe adler,
- uncharted: samuel drake
Destination: Carcosa
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.
There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.
You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.
Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.
The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?
If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.
The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea. There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.
Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.
The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.
Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.
All of the attendees are wearing masks.You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.
Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.
Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.
No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.
Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.
Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.
The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.
The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.
There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?
Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?
Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.
Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.
You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.
There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.
You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.
It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.
THE MASQUERADE
The face is.... false. The face is the mask, she realises, and her dark mouth parts, revealing the tips of sharp fangs housed there. She takes a moment before she replies.
"I am not familiar with the term faux pas." It is said calmly, some attempt to regain her composure. Of course, Maleficent is very much concealed with her own attire, so the nuances of her expressions may be tempered: her face is largely covered in her own mask, a lacy thing with a grand amount of black raven feathers puffed outwards on one side. Her hair is also concealed under a leathery headpiece that winds up the pair of sharp horns that curve from her head. Her dress and gloves, at least, matches the attire of the evening, but the large pair of feathered wings attached to her back are hardly a norm.
The dark fey stares into the holes of the mask, to the blue hues of the girl beneath it. She tilts her head, ever so slightly. "What does it mean?" Faux pas. She is not actually curious of the term itself; she is more curious of the young woman speaking it.
no subject
She almost comments on the stunning mask of the other, stopped by the fact that none of these masks seem to be of anyone’s choosing. What seems elegant to her might feel very different for the woman wearing it. Then there’s the rest of the woman’s attire, which is striking, to say the least. Since things are not off to the greatest start, now does not seem like a good time to be staring at or remarking on wings or headpieces or anything else.
“Oh, it’s an improper act or remark, or one that could be considered socially awkward,” the android chirps. “Not that I’m suggesting anyone here would actually be socially improper. It was just a silly thing to say, I suppose.”
There’s a slight shrug from her. She really isn’t much good at these things on her own. Her gaze drifts for a moment, looking for a man who isn’t there, before coming back to the golden eyes of the other.
no subject
...Yet it seems that whatever Power led them here and chose their attire had... a purpose for it. A reason for what ended up wound across their faces. For what reason would this young woman have such a mask attached to her own? Maleficent finds herself further unsettled, the discomfort lifting her shoulders back a bit, holding herself very tall and very straight. A sort of defensive-mechanism perhaps, a way to keep herself quite composed, listening attentively to the girl as she speaks.
"Socially awkward," she repeats, almost thoughtfully. Not for the first time this evening, she is reminded of the very.... awkward dinner she and Aurora attended with Phillip's parents. It wasn't too terribly long ago. Maleficent had felt quite out of place, unknowing how to interact with humans, what to say, how to behave. Ultimately she had not made.... the best impression.
"I suppose my appearance may be considered improper by default," she says with the faint hint of amusement tugging at her bloodred mouth — and gives her wings a soft shifting as though for emphasis. She's quite aware of how she looks, compared to all of the others here. Mostly humans, though there are a few Others sprinkled in amongst them. None which stand out so much as her, as much as she can tell. "A faux pas amongst humans?"
It's not entirely the correct use of the term, but she thinks she understands.
no subject
Where the woman straightens herself, Chloe lightly clasps both hands together and lets them rest at her stomach. Poised as she is, the stance also makes her shrink that little bit in on herself. It’s a small gesture with a message she has tried to convey many times before; that she’s not something to be wary of.
Though she herself is wary of how she may come across. Sometimes bright smiles and the mirroring of human expression can be charming enough to lessen the sense of her otherness. Without those tools at her disposal, Chloe feels quite disarmed. Even if there are times that all her efforts only deepen the uncanny valley.
Silent a moment, she studies the woman again. With her being evidently being not exactly human, there’s probably not as much reason for Chloe to be so concerned about what she is. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Being unsettled by a synthetic humanoid might not just be limited to humans. Any being of flesh and blood could easily find her… awful. Just an imitation. A mockery.
Before she goes too long without speaking, she voices her opinion, risky as it may be. “I hope I’m not speaking out of turn but… I don’t think it’s improper at all. I think your appearance is rather lovely, actually.” True, it’s in a dark sort of way, but the descriptor doesn’t have to be tied to the light. “People can be… Well, they can be rather close-minded, can’t they?”
no subject
This whole business sits unwell within her: being coaxed here, dressed in something strange, forced to bear a mask of some reflection within one's self. It is far too personal, and she doesn't care for the autonomy it has scooped out from her, the control it has taken away. And she is not the only one.
The girl's stance does register as slightly odd to the fey, though her experience with humankind is limited, at best. She knows soldiers and kings: knows what they look and sound like. Knows their brutality; their movements are loud and abrasive. And then there is Aurora, who is the complete opposite: as soft as a lamb, but who is very uninhibited, a creature with a free spirit. She moves with the wind, dances when she likes, sings and laughs and hops about.
This young woman is neither of those things, but rather very poised, very polite, seeming very aware of her own body. There's a stiffness to it, as though she is perhaps uncomfortable. Which would be quite understandable, given what Maleficent is, what she's in fact openly stated just now in regards to her own appearance: she is a frightening thing.
And yet....
'I think your appearance is rather lovely, actually.'
Once again, Maleficent is caught off-guard, blinking once, head tilting just slightly to the side. How..... curious. She studies the girl, eyes holding the blue pair underneath that mask, before she will remark, a bit more softly. She thinks not of any hurt regarding how she may be perceived, but more... how her appearance has impacted Aurora. There are those who see the girl as wrong, strange, due to her closeness with the Mistress of Evil.
"Indeed. Though I do not expect much more from them." Them, as though they're a category different from herself. Maleficent gazes out at the crowds of chattering, dancing people, before returning her eyes to her new companion.
"Have you attended many events such as these? I am not experienced."
no subject
Her posture eases a little while not becoming too relaxed. The woman’s demeanour inspires respect and so it wouldn’t do to be too casual. Chloe’s locking in on herself is completely to do with her and her own perceptions of how she should be; her new companion doesn’t frighten or trouble her. Even though she seems to regard looking upon her as a reason for those feelings, as far as Chloe’s concerned there’s nothing the woman has done that should make her feel those things at all. And she is one of the last to be judging anyone on what they may be rather than who.
"I hope I haven’t offended you?" It’s practically an automatic response. Another apology. It’s a common trait with her that only seems to have been brought more to the fore with the hideous mask smothered over her face. So much is lost in not being able to see another’s features.
"I think... That it can be hard for people to see outside of themselves. As a collective. When I say close-minded what I mean is more that it can be hard for it not to be if your experiences have been quite closed." There’s a small shake of her head, aware she’s rambling and probably not making much sense. People are generally used to people. It isn’t their fault to be threatened by the other, not really.
"Oh, I have, actually. Not that you could probably tell by my sparkling conversation." Her tone is brighter, aware of her own awkwardness and content to make light of it. She should be much better in these sorts of situations. Even if this particular situation is hardly usual. And it’s been some time since she was out being the belle of the ball. Though those ingrained social skills should be far more present than they seem to be.
Speaking of, she hasn’t gotten around to introductions. "I’m Chloe, by the way. I’m happy to keep you company, if you’d like?"
no subject
This... she isn't sure, either. It's all very strange, very new for her. The only true experience she has with pleasing someone is Aurora, who is so very easy to please. Perhaps other human girls are the same. ...Assuming this girl is, in fact, human. Maleficent can not assume anything just yet.
But then the girl says she hopes she hasn't offended her, and Maleficent blinks, once again a bit taken aback. The young woman is very apologetic: perhaps she's simply extremely polite, but this too is something Maleficent isn't used to. "No," she says, after a moment. "There is no offense. Your words are... quite wise for someone so young."
Is she... giving the girl a compliment? She wouldn't claim as such, surely; it's simply a truth, as blunt as any Maleficent would give, even if something softer-edged this time. ...She has no idea how to hold a conversation.
But at least she understands introductions, though giving her own name is always a chance that she may be recognised: where she is from, her name has spread widely throughout the lands (like a curse). People are even afraid to speak it aloud, as though they may summon her. "I am Maleficent. I suppose it would be beneficial to keep the company of someone accustomed to this sort of thing." Her way of agreeing to stick with the young woman, and she gives a soft nod, eyes glittering through the holes of her own mask.
"....The name Chloe is associated with the earth," she adds after a moment. "It means growth, life. To bloom."
Is this... conversation??
no subject
The name may not hold the same connotations for her but Chloe certainly knows the meaning of the word. How curious for it to be a name. Though she may be considering it too narrowly; perhaps in another tongue or another place it doesn't hold the same meaning. Either way, it doesn't matter much as Chloe isn't going to draw attention to it. "It's lovely to meet you, Maleficent." And there's nothing about the blonde to suggest otherwise.
There's a nod as the other woman speaks about her name, dozens of new connotations flooding her system. "Yes. It was very carefully chosen." A nymph of the spring who would glow with promise forever. A bloom whose smile would never fade. "A flower that will never wither."
It takes her a moment to process that the words have been said aloud. There's a beat or two of silence before she readjusts. Redirects.
"Now, on the matter of becoming accustomed to this sort of thing... There's getting a drink, there's mingling and dancing..." All of which are obvious, considering others around them are doing precisely those things, and so they're listed as options Chloe is happy to partake in should the mood strike her companion. "And there's also keeping out of the main fray in favour of getting to know a new acquaintance better." It's that option that sounds more favoured by the android, for both Maleficent's sake and her own.
no subject
Once again, she has to draw comparison to Aurora, the only one she knows to draw comparison to. As frightful as the girl's openness could be, it was something Maleficent simultaneously found precious.
'It's lovely to meet you, Maleficent.' This, too, is a novelty for her, to be greeted so kindly by a stranger, and ordinarily she might laugh — perhaps with a mean-spirited edge, something just sharp there beneath the surface. A warning, as though to say there is nothing lovely about meeting me. But she does not, here, now. She is not known here; whether hidden behind a mask or not. The girl does not fear her, and Maleficent finds that she'd perhaps like to keep it that way.
An intentional name, one meant specifically for her. Maleficent is very used to such things, from all manner of creatures. For her own kind, surely, but also for humans. Human names are... important. Often associated with the greatness they wish for their children to achieve, like power inherited. She finds a name like "Chloe" much more charming — a name associated with growth and spring, not power and greatness. But she says no more on it, not now, instead listening to her companion list some of the options for human events.
"Considering I am not one for dancing... keeping out of the main fray is the most appealing option," she says with something that could almost be seen as humour, the edges of her mouth shifting back a bit, exposing the tip of fangs. It might be wise to learn more of her fellow Travelers, after all, and Maleficent looks to her gaze, no matter how unsettling the girl's visage currently may be.
"Is your world very like this one? This... era? Someone here referred to it as the Jazz Age." A strange title, but much about this place is strange for her. "It is entirely unfamiliar for me. My home is.... I supposed it would be considered quite olden in comparison to this."
no subject
But her creator is far wiser than she is and those cautions have been only to prevent her being hurt.
What does hurt for a moment is the remark about being true to oneself. If only that was the case. She's created so much fabrication for so many years. Whatever she is now, it isn't the intended 'Chloe'. Just a mangled design desperately trying to keep up the act of having never changed.
She was never supposed to change.
For those thoughts alone, she's glad no more is mentioned of her name nor its origins. Maleficent seems to take something positive from it and so Chloe contents herself with that. Skating over the surface is far more preferable to drowning in the depths.
Depths she was never supposed to know.
She's soon pleasantly distracted by what looks like a hint of a smile from the other woman. Though part of that is, admittedly, spying the fangs. There's a look of interest, but it doesn't last long enough for it to be outright staring. It only adds to the intrigue of Maleficent, who seems so self-possessed and dignified.
"This era would be from my world's past, yes. In that sense, it's unfamiliar to me, too." She gives Maleficent a little smile, hoping that it might help the woman feel so out of step. "What is your home like, if you don't mind me asking? There might be some elements that are akin to mine and its history." She pauses for a moment before following up with an offer. "And if there's anything I can do to help with any understanding, I'd be very happy to. Which I hope doesn't sound patronising."
no subject
"My home is...." Maleficent pauses (not meant for dramatic effect, though her manner of speaking often seems to tilt that way; she's simply thinking on how to describe it, and after a moment, a single word comes to mind—) "....beautiful. It is called the Moorlands, and all manner of fae live there. There are no... structures, no human interference. Nothing like this." She lifts a slender hand, sweeps it slowly in front of herself in gesture to everything before them. The noise, the loudness, the thrum of activity. So different from the peace of nature.
"Though there are humans nearby. They live in castles; they have kings, and queens." She thinks that will serve as some staple of an era for the young woman to perhaps understand what sort of time she comes from.
Chloe's offer is one she won't ignore; after a moment, Maleficent considers it. Admittedly there is much to learn from someone of another time, and she is curious, allowing herself to dip into the subject of humans despite her usual dislike of such a thing. But it might be... helpful, to learn more of them. For Aurora's sake — if she will ever return to her daughter again. She must. She must.
"What are the humans from your time like? Are they so... free-spirited as these?" Once again, her sharp eye catches a young woman dancing nearby: not with a male partner, but on her own. She smiles brightly as she dances, happy, spirited.
no subject
"It sounds very beautiful. I can only imagine what such a natural space must be like." Which is an invitation to regaled with every little detail, should Maleficent feel like elaborating. Aside from largely manmade greenery and preserved spaces, the natural world where she's from is in a state of continual decline. Indeed, the earth's environment has been declared beyond repair.
"Is there much interaction between the fae and the humans?" Putting the sort of time described into her own context, she can suppose that those humans might be a superstitious sort. Given what Maleficent has said so far about them, she can infer that the relations between the two may not be on particularly good grounds. Or perhaps Maleficent herself has suffered a bad experience at human hands. Those notions aren't so dissimilar to the difficulties the androids have faced.
Considering the question, Chloe frowns. "Yes... And no..." she hesitantly answers. "It's... There's a lot of advances to make life easier. Lots of things to make, say, household tasks quicker or so someone doesn't have to do them themselves..."
As it doesn't seem like Maleficent would have much frame of reference for technology, it makes Chloe somewhat more inclined to explain. It feels safer, somehow. "For example... there are synthetic beings who were created to help humans. They're called androids. With their creation, humans have been able to have more free-spirited times... But there have also been people who have lost their jobs..."
Finishing up there, she gives a little self-conscious shrug. "I'm sorry, you didn't ask for quite so much detail."