Where your eyes don't go a part of you is hovering

[seeksherownsalvation]

WHO: Everyone who's signed up for the Shadow Märchen plot and the people who get involved with them.
WHERE: All over the City.
WHEN: February 1st through February 9th. Specify the dates when you tag in.
WARNINGS: Probably a lot, since this is a festival of dark sides.
SUMMARY: The City plays host to a twisted theater of the mind as numerous imPorts become darkened, monstrous versions of themselves.
FORMAT: To be chosen by the thread-starters.

The start of a new month shouldn't mean anything special for the City--but this time, it does. Even if it's only because of an accident.

The pull of despair within each victim might come from nowhere, or it might seem like the most natural extension in the world of their current circumstances. However it manifests, the results come quickly: one living shadow all too eager to broadcast its nature far and wide, attached to a monstrous witch that warps the world around it in order to feel at home.

Where once there was an ordinary building, there now might lurk the entrance to a distorted dimension controlled by one of those witches. Where once there was a friend, there's probably now a monster. Can't find the friend that's become this monster? Don't worry too much about missing the chance--the familiars of their witch roam the streets looking for those who can be dragged into the labyrinth.

But take heart: what's within is still the same familiar person...in its own way.

Comments

[viced]

Intimacy, no matter who or where it came from, was a long-forgotten, long ignored thing for Mitchell Hundred. No matter that this was a reflection of himself, it was still far too old and alien for him to feel comfortable with it anymore. Edward's touch forced the figure back, several steps, attempting to force an invisible wall of separation between the two of them.

If this were actually Mitch, there would be outrage, or incredulity, the mask, though, it stared straight at him, or seemingly so, with the blank mask giving nothing away. The mask might now, but the figure, the frame did. The tense in motion, the way it moved was sharp and tight.

"I thought it were obvious. My name is Mitchell Hundred. You know that, don't you? You're my fucking deputy mayor."

[enigmaestro]

"You're not quite Mitchell," he said, his skepticism like a venom on his tongue. "You might call yourself that, but the two are not equitable."

Was this an addition to the sum of parts? Eddie knew Mitchell to be a fractured man; Mitchell has a past. Mitchell had secrets. But how deep did a fissure dive within the psyche of Mayor Mitchell Hundred? Edward chewed on his lower lip, considering the variables of recent events. He knew something was going on, that's why he wanted to leave City Hall. But it seemed that something had come to him.

After it came to Mitchell.

"I am not yours."

He lurched forward, fingers reached to yank away that mask.

[viced]

It was easy enough. Mitchell had never-- Well, even the fractures of his psyche, they weren't going to be masters of physical combat. It didn't matter that to him, he thought the creatures that likely carried his name could be. He didn't have the training or the capability to make himself, fractures of himself that wore the faces of people he could have been, any more astute than he was.

Which meant the helmet came right off with Edward's hand. He was far better at the physical confrontation thing than Mitchell, which should have said something.

The face it showed was Mitchell, at least in part. The circuitry that lined his face was only a part of the mess that came through the side, left-over gore and flesh intermingled with something that looked like muscle if it were a neon green. Missing an ear, the entire side looked like it'd been blown to pieces, and only the circuitry remained in place. Even the features that were left seemed slightly out of place, a picture of what he'd look like if he'd never gone under the knife to repair his face.

"Motherfucker!" It stepped back again, arm swiping up not to retaliate, but to hold over the mess left.