hadriel_logs | Event log: Mirror, mirror

Entry tags:

Event log: Mirror, mirror

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: Hope gives everyone mirrors with visions of their most hopeful future inside.
Where: Throughout the city.
When: March 14th-18th
Warnings: None so far!

On March 14th, all characters will stumble across mirrors at some point on their daily journey. Maybe your mirror is right under your pillow, maybe it's on your bedside table, or in the sink in your bathroom. It could be in a random store that you're scavenging, or somewhere along the path that you're taking to go to a friend's place. Wherever it is, it's positioned perfectly for you to find it- though you might want to be quick so someone else doesn't nab it first.

Each mirror is predetermined to hold one person's future and will be placed somewhere that they can find it on that day. Upon looking in their own mirrors, each character will see a version of their future that will fill them with hope. This vision has to be possible- or they have to think it's possible- even if it's unlikely. Picking up someone else's mirror will not change the image inside; you'll instead see that person's vision for their future.

In addition, during the first four days, until March 18th, characters will want to look into any mirror they can find, not just their own. So be a little careful if you want to guard your innermost hopes- someone might be trying to peek.

► This log covers March 14th-March 18th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► Please report any character deaths right here!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

march 14th; semi-open

[ Pell has never in his life been alone. Not truly, and never for a night. Not like here. He's only just arrived in Hadriel... he's gotten the explanations, such as they are, and found more clothes and food and a place to stay. Overall the place is more hospitable than it seemed, but he's still on his guard and he's alone. Now he lies in a bed in one of the open apartments, trying once again to get some sleep. It's fruitless. He tosses around and whenever he begins to drift off he finds himself reaching over for someone not there, only to be awake and distressed once more. The emptiness of the apartment presses in on him and makes it hard to breathe.

When he rolls over this time, a glint on the nightstand catches his attention. It's a small mirror that he knows wasn't there before, and as he picks it up and looks at it... well. It shows him what at first he mistakes for a memory. Cal. Of course it shows Cal, but he sees himself as well, in a place that looks like Saltrock but more developed, more like a full and thriving city than the beginnings of a town that he left behind. They're on a bustling street and Pell is holding the hand of a small child that bears a stunning resemblance to him except his long hair is the color of golden wheat.

It's a trick, is his first thought. An impossibility. A cruel joke being played by this place that he's been told so loves to torment them. He nearly throws it across the room but thinks better of it, placing the little mirror back down carefully and turning away. Now, finally, he lets himself cry.

Anyone in a nearby apartment might hear it, might knock, might find the door open. ]

march 14-18; open

[ As he explores the city the mirror is in his hand as much as it is at his side, in the bag he found scavenging. He can't stop looking at it. Painful as the images are, there's a part of him that still hopes for it, still wants it to happen. Somehow. It can't, he tells himself, and yet he looks. Constantly. He stops in the street to pull out the mirror and look, then stuffs it back into his bag with tears in his eyes. Someone's not getting over this easily.

It's never far from him but it's out of his hand sometimes, like when he's in a store putting things in his bag (so as not to crush the glass) or when he's sitting by the water or on the steps of a building and puts it down beside him instead of away. In these moments someone else could pick it up out of curiosity and he wouldn't stop them. There's no reason to hide the thing. But it's more likely you'll catch him looking than catch it on its own. ]

❰ jess, however, isn't in a nearby apartment. she was sorely considering it, on account of finding somewhere private to sleep for a night where she didn't have to worry about her friends, what they were whispering about her, how they were looking at her. like they didn't go through exactly the same shit she did - but they didn't, did they? so that makes her the odd girl out, the walking pity-party she doesn't even need to throw.

she hates it.

it's the only thing that has her out and around right now, as much as she hates that too. she can't remember hating things like this before. maybe it's just that she's so stupidly scared. the trip over here had her practically jumping out of her skin at basically any foreign sound - that's actually why she ducked into this apartment spire to begin with, because in here she feels less exposed, albeit more cornered. cornered is way better than exposed. it's so weird to have to prioritize survival-based fears like this. it's so weird to have survival-based fears at all.

she's halfway between a fuck-it decision to just invade the next empty apartment and the pervading sense that this was a stupid idea in the first place when she hear the first sob. 'oh god, who invited the crybaby,' is her first thought - but it's less than a split-second before that thought sours like milk and she tries to swallow it like it was never there. what a shitty thing to think about someone. that's probably what people thought about her, the day she showed up.

it doesn't occur to her to knock. instead she just... turns the knob, peeks inside. and jess slides inside, closing it behind her, to softly call: ❱ Hey, is anyone here? ❰ of course someone's here, don't be fucking stupid. ❱ I just. Heard you from the hall. If you want to talk to someone... ❰ she's okay at that. sometimes. god, she sucks at this - but at least she's trying.

he might recognize her, when he shows himself. she's less dirty (though the jacket's still a grungy mess), and she's wearing pants that are clearly ashley's (as far as she's concerned) because they do absolutely nothing for her ass, but the braids are the same and the healing wounds on her face are unmistakable. ❱

[ Someone's here.

Pell's crying sniffles to a halt when he hears the door -- idiot, why didn't you lock it? -- then someone call out. He pushes himself up to sitting and scrubs at his face. It's not like no one's ever seen him cry before but this is probably a stranger, and first impressions matter even here. For some reason, as if it needs to be protected, he tucks the mirror under the pillow before he gets up to see who came in.

When he peers out of the bedroom he looks a bit different as well, with his waist-length hair loose from its braid and scavenged clothes that don't quite fit right. But he recognizes her instantly and the wary expression on his face turns to surprise. ]

--Jess? [ Another quick wipe at his eyes. ] I'm alright, it was just... What are you doing here?

❰ shit. ❱ I mean... ❰ she's trying to play it casual, in her tone and the way she glances off to the side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other - but she really doesn't have a ton of excuse to be here. sucks that it's the first question out of his mouth. ❱ I was looking around, is all. Apartments, stuff like that. ❰ as for what she's doing here here... ❱ The walls are pretty thin.

❰ she glances his way again now, an instant to assess whether or not he's upset at the invasion. ❱

[ They can both play it casual; Pell manages a smile for her. ]

There are a lot of open apartments in this building, if you were looking for one. In various states of disrepair.

[ He's not upset at the invasion. He looks almost relieved, actually, that someone showed up to snap him out of the state he was in. ]

I can help you look for one if you want. And it's been a few days now, I can check your wounds, see how they're healing. You can sit?

[ The couch in the apartment is decent; part of his criteria when looking for an open apartment was that none of the furniture or bedding looked like it had been used by rodents. So although it's worn, it's also clean. He motions her over to it, twisting his hair together and over his shoulder as he walks. His eyes are still red from crying but his shoulders are straighter now that he has something to do. ]

(Newt feels like an oddity in this mirror predicament. His mirror doesn't work its way into him like a knife. Instead, he tugs it out of his hoodie pocket every now and then to take a peek that's often accompanied with an affectionate grin. That doesn't mean he's stupid to those around him and the things they might be seeing. He's never been so heartless.

It's one day while he's working on his garden that he notices someone sitting out by the lake which wasn't all that far from the garden for the sake of irrigation. He drives his shovel into the land and wipes his hands off, frowning a little bit. The guy's been out there for a while now, Newt thinks, and wanders off to where he keeps a stash of water bottles for the day and grabs two. He wanders over to the stranger. His steps aren't very quiet. His limp makes him a bit more obvious and he intentionally lets his feet drag a bit so as to not scare the guy. Eventually he makes it over and leans down, offering the person a bottle. Now that he's up close, Newt's actually not entirely sure if who he's looking at is a boy or a girl. Not that it really matters to him either way.)

Hey, mate. You've been out here a while. Thought maybe you could use a drink.

(His eyes briefly jump over to the person's mirror and yeah, okay. He feels a bit off ignoring anyone sitting alone lately with this whole mirror business.)

[ Pell noticed the garden when he was looking for a spot, but was only peripherally aware of when someone came to tend it. He didn't really look over, didn't watch the work, just sat where he was with his mirror in his lap, staring out at the water and into the glass in alternating stretches. He has nothing else to do just now, nowhere else to go -- he's explored the whole city already, the apartment he found is stocked with scavenged food, and he found spare clothes. He has no friends to spend time with. So this is as good a thing to do as any other, sit by the lake and pretend he's somewhere other than here, getting lost in his hopeful future from time to time.

He's surprised, when out of the corner of his eye he notices someone is approaching. It's the boy who was tending the garden, and he's holding two water bottles. He's more surprised when said gardener leans down and offers one of them to him. How long has he been out here? He's lost track of time. ]

....thank you. I could, actually.

[ He lets go of the mirror and takes the offered bottle, and a long drink from it. He recognizes the gardener now that he's up close -- he's the boy from Peter's mirror. Newt. ]

Is your garden doing well?

(Newt's the kind of person from the kind of place where making friends really was as easy as just casually inviting yourself into someone's life. There weren't many other options as far as he was concerned and he didn't know another way. He had pretty much no problem with this casual approach and his comfort at it is as plain as day on his face, how he's not trying too hard to be friendly. He just kind of is.)

You're welcome.

(Newt's smile is a partial thing but genuine enough. He doesn't sit down just quite yet. Instead, he straightens up and cracks open his own bottle. At the question, Newt looks back over at the garden and just kind of sighs.)

It's doing as well as it can, I think. It's been a lot of work.

(But he doesn't seem irritated by the fact. His eyes sweep back down to the other boy and he quirks a brow.)

I don't think I know who you are. Haven't seen you about before.

(This time he does squat down, just next to Pell and he holds his hand out. It's a little dirty from gardening but Newt's worked long enough that he doesn't think about it.)

Name's Newt.

[ Friendly is good. Friendly has been in short supply here. His smile back is shy in coming and a quiet thing when it does, but also genuine. He's been desperate for people the past few days especially, since the mirrors showed up, that someone speaking to him unbidden isn't a thing he's going to let pass. ]

I only just arrived. My name's Pell.

[ He doesn't care about the dirt, taking Newt's offered hand and shaking. ]

If you need help with it, I'd be happy to. I've been a farmer most of my life... mostly in a desert. Can't be much worse here, when you've good water.

[ There's also the skills he learned in Orien's garden, how to coax things to grow when they don't like the soil, when the water is too hard and the weather too dry to rely on rain. Herbal remedies and medicines, though Pell doubts there's seeds for those kinds of plants here. He's curious how the garden even got started, what's in it, how long Newt's been working on it. ]

Where did you get the seeds?

(Newt can wrangle shy kids. It's not at all off-putting to him nor does he tackle it like a challenge. Instead, he just grins widely and shakes Pell's hand back nice and steady.)

Good to meet you, Pell.

(Funny thing is Newt sounds like he's entirely sincere about that regardless of the fact that they had just met. Literally.

His eyebrows knock right on up when Pell mentions having gardening experience. He hooks his chin over his shoulder to give his garden a look and lets out a puff of air from between his lips.)

Well shuck, that'd be bloody amazing of you. Farmers are the exact kinda people we need round here.

(He had help from Peter but Peter was no farmer. There were a few others but not nearly enough. Newt didn't know how to be selfish was half the problem. The garden had been designed to feed a lot of people- not just his own house. Newt looks back at Pell after a moment and shrugs.)

I've worked on an irrigation system for the plants. It's why I set up by the lake. Make it easier.

(He could only wish for seeds like those. For right now, their city could barely scrape up food that didn't make people kill each other. Medicine was a miracle at this point.)

There was a girl here some time ago who wished for them from Hope. I might wish for some more though- he said he'd probably give me some if I did when I first tried to talk to him about this whole thing. Pretty basic stuff growing- but it's hardy stuff.

What kinda stuff did you grow on your farm?

And to think I've always tried to keep it quiet.

[ Something about Newt's manner puts him at ease, and his smile becomes more relaxed at the thought that he might be useful for something that doesn't involve people getting hurt. That he might have something to do. Pell tucks his mirror into his bag and makes to get up, to go take a better look at the garden. ]

The farm I grew up on was a cable crop, and we kept cows as well. The place I last worked, though, they grew everything from wheat and corn to spinach and tomatoes. It was part of a chain of farms meant to sustain a city.

[ He remembers the Varr farmlands, with their fertile soil and abundant crops. Being in Hadriel, he misses fresh food. A lot, actually, enough for him to volunteer to help the hunting party. The strange boxed things he's scavenged are... well. Strange. Edible enough, but he doesn't like it. ]

What are you trying to grow? Some things need more water than others.

What, being a farmer? Now why keep something so useful like that under wraps?

(Newt sounds truly perplexed by the notion. But then again, he's got no concept of social hierarchy and the different stereotypes and ideas that might come with it. Being useful, in his opinion, is the best thing anyone can be. Contribute to society. The group. And just like that, you're good in his books.

Newt's mouth quirks a bit and he looks mildly confused but it passes quickly enough. He doesn't always know what people are talking about and it's frustrating but mostly, he deals. Besides, he's got no problem asking questions.)

What's a cable crop?

(He nods though afterwards. He could appreciate something like that.)

Nothing too much for right now, sadly. There's potatoes, squash, broccoli, and lettuce. I'm hoping to get some more.

Because in my world they still look down on peasants.

[ Pell doesn't like being looked down on for any reason, but especially for being peasant stock. It's not like it matters for much of anything, what should matter is what he can do... and in Hadriel his skills could be really useful. Farming and healing in particular. He slips the strap of his bag over his head and moves over to the garden, kneeling down and examining the seedlings. ]

It's a starchy root vegetable, sort of like potatoes except it flowers. I never cared for it much but that's probably just because we had it all the time -- it's nutritious.

[ He glances up at Newt curiously. ]

The broccoli's not very happy, but looking at the potatoes I don't think it's the soil. It might just need more light. What else were you going to ask for... and what do the gods want in exchange?

(This is an extraordinarily curious thing to Newt. Newt who didn't understand why people hated people like Peter, gypsies. And now, he didn't understand what there was to hate about "peasants".)

But without farmers, there wouldn't be any food. How in the bloody hell does hating them make sense?

(Newt asks this with a look of authentic confusion, like he really can't wrap his brain around it and he can't. He was a bit like walking, living proof that prejudices were conditioned traits. He couldn't even begin to comprehend hating someone for things like race, gender, social status, sexuality, or anything else. It just wasn't...logical.)

Ohh.

(He does at least sound interested in the cable crop. He frowns down at Pell and squats down next to him. He'd worked the garden back at the Glade but that was also land meant for human food. Hope had said crops might not take exceptionally well.)

Not sure yet. There's a lot I'm asking for soon but I want to pace myself in case they see me as greedy. They only ever want the emotion that they want to inspire. So things like hope or fear.

It doesn't make any sense.

[ He shrugs; it's just how things are. People with the money to buy from others look down on those they buy from... when it should be even. But Pell's personal opinions on society aren't shared by anyone he's ever met before. ]

Hmm. If it's Hope I might not be much help, but I could ask Fear for seeds if you need more sooner. I've been told they can't give me what I'd really want so I might as well help out.

[ Johanna would be lying if she said that it wasn't tempting to look in her mirror, to see that vision of herself safe, comfortable, alone, and even happy. But she knows ordinary mirrors don't show wishes, and it didn't take her long to piece together that this was some more bullshit cooked up by the gods. None of it is real, no matter how much she wants it to be.

Johanna's mirror is in her back pocket, the handle poking out for all to see. She doesn't really care if anyone sees it -- nothing in it is so embarrassing that it can't be explained away with a few glares and prickly words. When she comes across the person crying at their mirror, even if it's just a little, Johanna snorts. ]

Get over it. Thing's a lie.

[ It's good advice, if delivered a little rudely. Johanna resists the urge to see what he's crying about. That's only going to feed into the god's plot more. Looking away isn't easily done, though. ]

[ Pell blinks the wetness in his eyes away quickly, lowering his mirror and tucking it back into his bag.

The girl's probably right -- the mirrors can't possibly be showing their actual futures. Just what they want to see. He should get over it. But he doesn't really want to, he just wants to keep looking at it. It's a dangerous thing, seeing what you want. Hard to tear yourself away from. ]

Perhaps it is. But a beautiful one.

[ He catches the glint of her mirror's handle poking out of her back pocket. ]

You haven't destroyed yours, then?

[ Johanna shrugs. Beauty fades. She's a good example of that. And when it does, she knows, you'd better have something left keeping you from turning into a bitter, hollow shell. ]

Makes it that much more false.

[ Johanna takes the mirror out of her pocket and glances at it. Yup, still the same. Still her future too. She grins, dangerous and toothy.

(It's a beautiful one, but Johanna tries to ignore that.) ]

Nope, not yet. You think I should? [ She tosses him the mirror. In its reflection is Johanna, sitting in a high, solitary treehouse with leaves and golden light flickering in. The entire scene is warm and peaceful, and Johanna, with her hair growing back and all, is calmly working on a wood carving. ]

[ He shrugs back, then reaches out to catch the mirror she's tossing him. It is beautiful, the scene and the sentiment behind it. She looks healthy and peaceful and the woods are beautiful... he's never been in a forest so lush in his world, or up in a tree so high. Pell can't help but smile at the scene, false as its owner claims it to be. ]

I couldn't tell you. But most people I've met who think poorly of them have destroyed theirs. You must be keeping it for a reason.

[ The question is silent, and lingers in the air between them as he offers the mirror back. Why is she keeping it? ]

[ Pell's smile is sweet and sentimental and utterly gross, and Johanna begins to wish that she didn't show him her mirror in the first place. Then she wouldn't have to put up with this shit. She extends a hand, motioning give it back. ]

Because I don't care, one way or the other.

[ Because it's nice. ]

Destroying it just feeds some other god, and I'm not about to play anyone's fucking game. Done enough of that already.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Event log: Mirror, mirror

Pell - OTA

hope this is okay! march 14th, prompt #1

it's great! <3

good shit

no subject

March 17th or something

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

march 15, prompt 2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject