Evan (8 years old) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mirrorbastard) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2012-10-02 11:01 pm
mirrorbastard) wrote in capeandcowllogs2012-10-02 11:01 pm
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?"
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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Sure, ya only hurt people that earned it, aye?
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[ She pauses, opening her mouth in an "O" shape and puffing out a few idle rings of smoke before mildly changing the subject: ]
It's too fucking bad you're stuck in there. I'd show you around my spaceship and shit if you weren't.
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If ya got enough mirrors around I could follow ya, reflection to reflection-like. Nae exactly the same, but I can get around.
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The view is pretty fantastic. Sometimes she forgets to stop and really look at it. ]
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Wow.
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Yeah. Pretty fucking great, huh?
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Sure, when I was a kid. My dad, Apollo? He used to take me out into space all the time. He used to call it "chasing the sun." [ A light beat. ] You can come and hang out here, if you want. As long as you're eight fucking years old and you have nothing better to do.
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