capeandcowllogs | but when I took down my defenses

WHO: 8-year-old zombie MIRROR MASTER and YOU
WHERE: In ur reflections!!
WHEN: Wednesday (morning, at midnight) through Saturday
WARNINGS: Doubtful, but will edit as necessary
SUMMARY: You know how Evan has no tact and bounces around reflections with no respect to privacy or boundaries? Well at least as a child he's more polite about it. And maybe not as obnoxious to talk to.
FORMAT: Whatever!

He barely slept, anymore. He hadn't felt much need to since "the accident" just like he hadn't felt the need to eat much, but sometimes boredom won out over necessity and he settled in for a nap anyway. It did get boring, staying only in the mirror even if he could still look out it the same as always, or send clones out -- the clones had seemed off, sure, but they functioned. Too bad they couldn't drink beer for him.

But then he woke up, and everything was different.

He didn't know where he was. He definitely wasn't in Miss McCulloch's orphanage, or even Scotland, but rather some kind of abstract dark corridor with millions of windows dotting the endless abyss around him. He was cold, his skin slimy and pale like marble. He stood, slowly, and began skulking down the corridor, looking through the windows for someone that might help him. He was breathing hard, but not panicking, not crying. He just shivered, and knocked on the glass now and then, warily, when he thought he saw someone. (Sometimes he didn't even knock. He just looked out, in confusion or envy or curiosity.)

"Hullo?"

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[ Pouting, Evan tries something else. The reflection reverts back, nothing else seeming to have changed.]

Whatever. I give up on this thing.

[ He narrows his eyes. ]

Maybe you aren't capable of figuring it out. What a shame, too. It would be your ticket to escape.

[ And then he puffs a little on his cigarette, waving a hand. ] No matter.

You're no help at all, mister.

[ Evan glares at him and tries the gun one more time; the surface of the mirror ripples again, and Evan tries to touch it. His hand makes it out, the skin immediately beginning to peel and flake off in slimy pieces. ]

Oy.

[ Oswald narrows his eyes, watching. That's really disgusting, and his bathroom is going to need a proper scouring after the skin starts coming off, but that-- ]

Would you look at that, it's your ticket out of there.

[ Evan yanked back his hand, shaking his head fiercely. ]

No, it isnae -- it's another trick, look what it did to me hand.

[ He holds it close. ]

[ Oswald looked down at the filthy, sick bits in his bathroom. Disgusting. Although it was another lost piece of the puzzle to Evan's condition, he needed to put together how it fit with the rest. ]

Yes, yes, I do see. It's in my bathroom, Evan. How disgusting.