"So you know my name already? That's good. I would've been disappointed if 'Bella didn't beat you over the head with it!"
"No word of 'Lord Marquis' I take it?" A man called from a ways back. He had scruffy black hair, familiar purple eyes, and an outfit just like Alexander's.
"We're old news, Mark. They don't talk about fossils like us anymore," A purple-eyed woman called, wearing the same silver and gold outfit.
If things had progressed like this, it would've been easier to understand what was actually happening here. I would've said that this was simply an illusion–an elaborate one–made by Isobel that started the moment she did whatever she did when she grabbed my head just now.
