Event log: Mirror, mirror

[hadrielmods]

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!

Comments

Maketh Tua - open and closed

[mismanagement]

March 14th - Open

[It's rare for Maketh to have trouble sleeping. Many things have plagued her in the past, but insomnia is a new one. But here she is, sitting outside the Spire past two in the morning, staring down at her mirror. Images play over the glass.

Maketh leans back against the wall. She's wearing her 'uniform', but her hair is down and her coat only buttoned halfway.

If this is Hadriel's newest monstrosity, then she shouldn't feel so...

Well. Whatever she feels about it.]

March 16th - closed to Cullen

[Eventually it becomes clear that staring at the mirror and fussing over what it may or may not mean isn't actually doing much. So Maketh wraps the damn thing up in a scarf, tucks it into her coat, and goes out to the armory. It's been too long since she's practiced with a real sword, and the one currently hanging from her belt isn't the kind she trained with at the Academy.

The armory must have some practice blades, Maketh thinks, or at least something she can punch without breaking her fingers.

She doesn't find any dulled blades - a shame - but there is a practice dummy tucked away in the corner. Maketh dusts it off, wraps her fists, and folds her coat and outer shirt up neatly.

Might as well work up a sweat.]

[cashlin]

[Funny that sleeping in the dark had almost become something of a treat for her. An entire lifetime of planet hopping have, in theory, made Lilith more resistant to time changes than most, but Pandora's 90-hour days are enough to make an adjustment difficult for anyone. It's only now that her sleep schedule's begun to settle into something resembling normalcy.

It's too bad these stupid mirrors have spoiled that.

Lilith tosses and turns in bed, willing the nagging feeling in her head away-- a distant longing, a homesickness-- until she throws her covers off and gives up. Screw it. A walk through the cool, empty air in the dead of night will do her some good, and if it doesn't, she can accidentally wander into the caves and accidentally fight a bunch of cave monsters until she's worn out enough to pass out.

She finds Maketh first, of course. She nearly doesn't recognize her. For lack of a better word, she's never seen the woman so... undone. Silently, Lilith wars with two impulses-- the urge to run, to pretend she'd never seen her without her crisp edges; the temptation to hide and to keep staring, since she'll likely never see this side of her again-- then banishes them both in favor of actually speaking to her.]

[She sidles close to the wall and taps her knuckle to it twice. In case Maketh's too lost in her reverie to look up.]

You got a present from the gods too, I'm guessing.

[closerift]

march 14th - the middle of town

[ She almost steps on it. The Inquisitor stops short, noticing a glint down near her feet, and hesitates, frowning suspiciously at the object. She crouches down, peering at it, thinking of curses and whatever else Hadriel and its blighted gods might have in store for them. Cecily slips on her gloves, never taking her eyes from the mirror, and is just about to prod at it with one of her daggers when it begins reflecting something other than her own, wary expression. Her eyes widen in surprise and alarm as the scene unfolds.

The scene is of Skyhold, the bustling center of operations for the Inquisition. It's a stone behemoth set in the mountains, which outline the fortress clearly all around. Symbols and heraldry of the Inquisition flutter in the chilly breeze and people move busily across the grounds, bartering with shopkeepers, attending to horses, conversing happily under archways and in the grass. All of them look to be at ease, laughing and drinking, greeting each other warmly. There are no injured soldiers being attended to and, in fact, the soldiers are all training dutifully in the background, their drills being attended to by one of Hadriel's other residents, Cullen Rutherford. In fact, several of the cavernous city's inhabitants are there, including Sera and Thom Rainier, chatting off to one side, and Dorian Pavus, who has settled under a distant tree, book in hand.

Cecily, herself, is also present. The Inquisitor enters the scene looking much more happy than she ever has in Hadriel, at least, thus far, smiling brightly and immediately entering into conversations with various Inquisition members. Two women exit the fortress' interior and descend its stone steps; they snatch up Cecily by both her arms and pull her away, each speaking animatedly in turn (though, the redhead seems more reserved, but no less happy). The three women laugh, their words indistinguishable, as the one dressed in gold begins reading the contents of a letter (apparently one that they aren't taking seriously).

There isn't a single event in the vision, but the feeling is unquestionably a happy one. Cecily doesn't fail to notice (though later onlookers may) that there is no mark on her left palm, no indication that the anchor is there at all. Even more subtle is a thin band of gold on the ring finger of her left hand, though it isn't brought to light in any way. ]

Andraste's ashes- [ She exclaims, snapping her hand back, the trance broken. Her heart is pounding wildly, and though she isn't really watching the scene anymore, she's staring hard at the mirror where it lies, innocent, on the ground. Then, suddenly, the Inquisitor rises to her feet and hurries away, though she glances over her shoulder at the object as she leaves.

Better to get a second opinion before destroying a magical object of unknown properties, right? ]



( ooc; feel free to encounter a) cecily looking at the mirror or b) the mirror alone (with a preference of whether or not you'd like for her to return and find your character with the mirror )

[unitas]

I think it's from Hope. [ Sharon says aloud, voice coiled tightly, quickly announcing her presence to Cecily so as not to catch the other woman off-guard. She'd found her own mirror early in the morning, after making breakfast. It had just been on the sink, put in a place she'd no doubt find it. The images inside it were beautiful, and warm, and she knew it was the one of the only things she ever really hoped for.

Now, her mirror is tucked into her creme vest, it's telltale golden handle peeking out from the unzipped pocket. ]

[smited]

THIS MIRROR IS CLEARLY EVIL ( march 14-18 )

[ it's not until the end of the day that cullen finds his mirror in chez thedas. and after he takes a long, long look at it, he gives it to the dog. yes, the dog. he also tells the dog to take it somewhere far away from the house. the dog, being a very intelligent animal, takes it in his mouth and runs with it through the city before leaving it somewhere.

wherever you may run into the mirror, it shows the same thing: skyhold. it's walls are as filled with people as they ever are, though those from thedas may realize that very few of the inquisitor's companions are within the walls. there are letters from them in cullen's office (which is much cleaner than it's ever been, though he still has a hole in his roof) but the actual people are clearly off on their own adventures.

cullen himself looks--well. less tired. there's no bags or dark circles beneath his eyes as he trains his troops, pup and another, younger mabari at his side. cecily--who hadriel residents may recognize--stops by to visit him, looking happy and healthy, with no green mark on her left palm. they're smiling more than they have in a while, clearly besotted with each other and--if the ring on cecily's finger is any indication--happily married.

when training is over, mirror!cullen walks with his second, a man with tattoos on his face, to the tavern in skyhold. they're clearly razzing on each other the entire way, and that only gets worse when they meet up with cecily and her other two advisers. there's wine, and good food, and a number of people that stop by and say hello. josephine and leliana seem to be teasing cullen mercilessly whenever he leaves himself open, but it's easy to tell that his annoyance is mixed with fondness. he drapes an arm over the back of his wife's chair and looks for all the world like he's content. it's a good, if foreign, look on him. ]

CONTEMPLATING MURDER ( march 15 )

[ it's not overly difficult to guess who is responsible for the mirrors. fear's right out. and while seeing it does make cullen angry as hell, he's doesn't really think this is rage's style. process of elimination leads him to hope.

when he takes pup out for his morning walk, cullen stops by hope's temple. he stands outside it, scowling, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. while the mirrors are not as--damaging as the last major thing to have happened, cullen has reached the end of his metaphorical rope. he's sick and tired of his emotions being played with and used as fuel for these gods, or beings, or whatever they are. but he's fairly certain an act of vandalism or attempting to commit arson wouldn't actually do anything.

he ends up standing in front of the temple, brooding, dog at his side, for a somewhat ridiculous amount of time before he says, ] Blight take all of this. [ and scrubs a hand over his face. he turns to the dog. ] I'm heading to the armory. You can come with or go home, up to you, pup.

[ why, yes. he is talking to the dog like the dog can understand something that complex. spoilers: the dog actually can. ]

You wanted shenanigans, you're getting em! March 15.

[bloodbrine]

[ At first, it's Cullen's dog that garners most of the Admiral's attention. Certainly, adventurers and pirates alike have seen fit to tame wolves and other savage creatures for their own use, but to see one not actively trying to kill anyone? Well. It's a bit of a shock.
Seven hells... it's the size of a young bear. No wonder the Reavers in Sastasha were so enamored with their war hounds.

But before she can return to minding her own business (whether that be a simple stroll or hunting for more mirrors), he has to go and utter the magic word - ]

Armory? Pray, did I hear you correctly?

[ And that would be her cue to approach, if somewhat warily, from behind; leaving ample space so as not to alarm man or dog. ]

You'll forgive me my rudeness. I have a requisition that needs be filled immediately.

Gansey | OPEN!

[quaerit]

THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

[ Gansey finds his mirror in the middle of his journal. He's on his way out of the house when he picks it up, notices how much heavier it's gotten overnight, and shakes it out into his hand. His first thought is that it must be Blue's - he knows she has a little hand mirror - and he goes to the foot of the stairs to call for her. The moment he does, though, he finds himself distracted by the mirror itself. He can't really explain what makes him look at it. Despite giving the general appearance that he spends a lot of time in front of mirrors fixing his hair, Gansey isn't that interested. He thinks that there wouldn't be harm in looking; he can call Blue afterwards. So he opens it, and as soon as he does, all thought of going scavenging goes out of his head.

He sits on the sofa instead, and holds the mirror out in front of him. The last time he'd seen anything like a vision, it had involved seeing Glendower, the King he's seeking. This time it involved Monmouth Manufacturing, the old warehouse repurposed as his apartment back home. He's sitting in his living room, on the floor, and in front of him a scale drawing of Glendower's tomb. He knows that's what it is because it's how he's always imagined it; but this one is sketched out as if he's certain - or, more likely, as if he's seen it already, and has drawn it from memory. His friends are clustered around him, all doing their own thing. Adam has a book on his lap, and Ronan is doing something with a puzzle box. Noah sits opposite Gansey, and Blue sits beside him.

What they all have in common is the looks on their faces. Ronan is smiling - not a dangerous smile, but a cheerful one, the kind Gansey remembers from before his father died. Adam looks less joyful, but more peaceful, and he's right in the middle of their circle. Noah is solid and full of color, a living and breathing boy who's wearing earphones and listening to music. And Blue's dark head is leaning on Gansey's shoulder, and one of her hands is threaded through his. Every one of them is dressed down, as if they're not just visiting Monmouth, but living in it.

He looks at it for a long time. Then he makes himself go to make coffee, or lunch, or dinner, but he still comes back to look at it again. Noah, alive. Adam and Ronan happy. Blue holding his hand. And all of them living with Gansey, after their quest has ended. Looking at it causes a tightness in his chest. It's a scene he has always, in his heart of hearts, wanted to see, but it had seemed far-fetched enough to be impossible.

Even later, and in the days that follow, when Gansey does make it outside, he carries the mirror with him. He keeps stopping in front of storefronts to look at it, and the image never stops compelling him. Rarely has any image ever given him so much hope, and yet it's also heartbreaking. It calls into stark contrast all the things that aren't true about his life, and all the things he'd make better if he could. He'd love to really see these looks on his friends' faces. His hope is that he someday will.

His fear is that it's impossible, nothing more than faces in a mirror.

He can be found either at home or around the town; no matter where he is, he'll keep stopping to see the image again, unable to put it completely from his mind. ]

SEEING A HEART'S DESIRE

[ Despite keeping the mirror close, Gansey can't have it with him all the time. Sometimes he's showering, and leaves it on the arm of the couch. Sometimes it's on a kitchen counter.

Sometimes he's out scavenging, and he leaves it on top of one pile of detritus while he searches through another. Sometimes he's sitting at the shore of the lake, the mirror balanced on a rock beside him and his journal on his lap while he writes.

Finally, he leaves it sitting on top of a pile of books in the library, while he searches through the stalls for something in a language he can read. He'll always come back to it eventually, too drawn in by the image it's hiding to truly abandon it. But for brief moments he'll leave it alone and then, maybe, someone else might see what's inside. ]

[fuwatokurage]

[Clear needed a distraction from his own mirror. His normal wandering around and aimless exploring wasn't helping him in the least. Anything that happened to have a reflection caught his eye and he had the impulse to look at it (even if it held nothing for him).

He was beginning to run out of options of decent places to wander around to keep him from any kind of reflective surface until he came across the library.

Libraries have books with pages and words and stories! Certainly that was enough to keep him distracted for as long as he needed!

That is, until he caught the glint of the shiny reflective surface of Gansey's mirror and like a magpie, he went straight for it to peer into the glass.]

Noah-san and Adam-senpai...?

arya stark | open

[whichend]

one.
[ Arya finds the mirror when she goes to the woods for her daily fighting practice. She'll practice for hours each day with swords, daggers, and sometimes even hand-to-hand or with one of the more unusual weapons from Rage's armory. Arya tends to practice deep in the woods, and it's not unusual for her to be gone for hours at a time. This is something she enjoys doing. It's more than just a survival skill: it's a way to let off steam.

Arya barely breaks the line of trees when the light from a mirror on the ground catches the metal on her sword. Curious, she picks up the mirror. And once she looks inside it, any thought of practice has completely vanished from her mind.

That's not Arya's reflection in the mirror. Instead, it's her brothers and sister, playing in the snow outside Winterfell. She, Sansa, Bran, Rickon, and Jon are all safe and happy and healthy, and Arya swears she can hear their laughter. Mirror-Arya and Jon are making snowballs together, grinning conspiratorially.

Arya touches the surface of the mirror, as if she could ruffle Jon's hair through the glass. She can't. It's just an image. But it isn't, it's moving, it must be real. Her family is there.

Arya hasn't seen them in almost three years. Arya sits down, not taking her eyes off the mirror, off of the people she misses so much. And before long, she's crying. All Arya wanted was to see them, one last time, and now that they're there, Arya can't take her eyes off them.

Arya stays rooted to the spot, gazing at the mirror for hours. For a day. For days. ]

two.
[ Arya doesn't want to do this. She wants to look at her mirror, to pretend that her family is there, to drink them in before they disappear. But Arya also has to do basic human things like find food and water. Arya's mirror is by her side as she fills up a bottle of water from the lake. (Running water still strikes her as a little shady.) But when someone takes her mirror, Arya's gaze snaps towards them, and she speaks, hostile and menacing. ]

Give. That. Back.

2

[quaerit]

[ He hadn't intended to invade. That hadn't even been in his mind; he'd just seen the mirror, and automatically he'd lifted it. It's only after he sees that the people in it are not his friends, that he remembers his own mirror is in his pocket, and that this one couldn't possibly be his anyway.

He stares, not really comprehending. And then his eyes snap up to Arya, and guilt replaces confusion on his face. Immediately, he holds it out to her. ]

I'm sorry. I thought --

I don't know what I thought. Here, take it. That was foolish of me.

Pell - OTA

[pellameno]

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. ]

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

[untowards]

❰ 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. ❱

kate galloway. open.

[dedikated]

[ She needs weapons. Four days in this place, trying to explore until she can get the fuck out, has depleted her of everything but her rope more times than she can count. And really? Kate wants bombs. She hasn't wanted them for a long time, but the more she finds herself facing down a wider variety of monsters than she imagined possible, the more she wishes for smoke and venom bombs that would allow her to incapacitate and dodge the creatures that seemed to exist to bar her from further exploration.

But the armory doesn't carry anything along those lines, nothing but more blades and sharp objects.

Her hair, done up in plaits, falls over her shoulder as she picks up a spear, turning it over in her hands with furrowed brows. (Too heavy, far too heavy. It's something Carl would have wielded with ease and familiarity, but in her hands it moves slow and awkward, making her look like a novice.) She's just about to put it back when something, on the floor of the cabinet holding all these spears, gleams and catches her eye. It shines, beckoning and strange and every logical, spent-too-many-years-of-her-life-dealing-with-supernatural-crap part of her body screams that she should leave it alone.

But the compulsion to look screams louder.

It shows something that hasn't happened. That may - most likely will - never happen. Something that leaves Kate's lip twisting in confusion as a conversation sounds out of the mirror like it was a television device. Her own voice and the lightly Scottish lilt of her redheaded friend, Faith, as the latter talks and talks about all the changes going on.

Kate stands there, blocking all access to the cabinet in front of her, unsure whether to drop the mirror and never look again, or pocket it. ]

[imobouzu]

[ Jinbee was going to look for a whetstone but he stops in his intentions when he sees the girl. She's not moving at all and it makes Jinbee a little worried. ]

Miss, is something wrong?

[fuwatokurage]

["Your heart was made of Glass"]

[Clear didn't sleep even though he could, but he didn't want to. He couldn't dream so there was no point in sleeping and wasting time when he could be staring up at the ceiling of the cave and wishing for the stars to appear.

Amidst the time of his gazing upwards and humming to himself, his already full pockets seemed heavier. He knew that he liked to collect anything shiny that he found and stuff them into his pockets, but he didn't think he had collected so much. He normally emptied out his findings in his apartment at the end of each day.

He reached into his pockets and pulled out a shiny pocket mirror. He really liked shiny things, but he never remembered picking this up.

The robot's heart began to pound as he looked into the pocket mirror, but instead of seeing his reflection, he began to see something even better.

His beloved Aoba is standing in the kitchen of his grandmother's house. He was staring up at him expectantly before a pale hand places a piece of sugary fried dough into his mouth to which he smiles. The view shifts to see a fluffy deep blue pomeranian in sleep mode. The same pale hand that fed the blue haired man reaches out to fluff up the dog's fur. The view quickly turns around to see an elderly woman pointing irately to the smoking doughnuts. The blue haired boy pulls them off of the stove quickly before shaking his head. He goes over to the "camera" and bops it on the head before pulling it down and giving it a kiss.

Clear could be found sitting in any random place just staring at the mirror. On a roof, in an alleyway, anywhere. His eyes will be trained on that thing like it's got him under a spell.]


["We'll look together"]

[Clear could feel his fragile heart begin to crack from the longing of his "master". Seeing the image in the mirror over and over didn't make it feel better, but made it hurt worse. But if putting the mirror down meant not seeing that face he loved so much, the pain was worth it. The pain reminded him that he had a heart that loved Aoba.

But he put it down. He was fighting the urge to look into it. He was sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest, staring over his knees at the mirror. His face didn't have his normally cheerful expression, it looked pained. His fingers twitched as they yearned to grasp at the mirror.

Someone could definitely come by and swipe it from him.]

glass

[unknowable]

[Adam has seen his own mirror, so he knows the sort of things they hold. He approaches Clear, not quite wanting to interrupt him, but - well, he's been there for awhile, and Adam doesn't think he's looked away from the mirror even once. He might need an interruption, to break it's strange spell.

Adam isn't sure what to say, though. He doesn't quite want to mention the mirrors, as his own is personal in a way he's not ready to talk about. So he's neutral instead.]

Clear?

hawke | ota

[fictionalised]

[ The mirror doesn't have to be specially placed for Hawke to find it. He's a straight-up looter and hoarder. If there's something just lying out in the middle of the street, then hell yeah, he's going to steal it. He actually picks it up for the sole purpose of checking himself out; he winks at his own reflection before frowning. It isn't his own reflection, not exactly, and that's the most disappointing thing he's seen all day.

It isn't entirely disappointing, though. Hawke is present, although surprisingly not at the forefront rolling in a pile of money. He's actually only on the outskirts, sitting with this slobbery creature and a dwarf with majestic chest hair. The star of the show is Bethany, his sister (which is easy enough to guess by the family resemblance). They're outside the Circle walls, and she isn't wearing her Circle robes, either; she's smiling and freely, publicly practicing her magic. Suck it, templars!!!

In the background, a woman grins victoriously as she wins at cards yet again and forces the others to fork over their money. All in all, it's unexpectedly focused on others. See, he isn't a total selfish narcissist, raise your hand if you just lost a bet. Unlike some of you drama queens, he holds onto it, because it's cool and he likes looking at himself.

And others. He can be found shamelessly snatching mirrors from wherever they sit — although not directly out of people's hands, even he has standards — hoping to find something embarrassing. If it is in your hands, or you happen to yank it away before he sees anything good, he waves his own mirror around and says, ] I'll show you mine if you show me yours.

[ It's a fair deal. Sort of. A guy's gotta get blackmail material somewhere, this just happens to be a legit way to get it. ]

( alternatively follow your dreams and choose your own adventure and i'll follow your lead!! or hit me up at regnant if you want me to write up a starter! )

[closerift]

Absolutely not, it's [ embarrassing ] dangerous, in all likelihood.

[ Is she being a stick in the mud about the mirrors? Maybe. But, she feels very justified about it, considering what happened the last month. What if looking for too long into the mirror brings on another possession, or something just as bad?

In any case, the Inquisitor wrinkles her nose up at Hawke, clutching her own mirror with a guarded reservation. ]

But I bet that I could guess at least one figure in yours. [ Cecily nods toward the mirror that Hawke himself holds, lip quirking upward in a little grin. ]

Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn | OPEN

[bloodbrine]

[ The mirror was propped up on the steps outside one of the ruined towers Merlwyb had chosen to explore that day. Normally it would've been something to ignore - a relic from an age and a nation long dead - but a flash of colour so gaudy as to be glaringly out of place drew her to pick it up and dust off the reflective surface. Aside from the initial glance, she'd pocketed it for safekeeping.

Now that she'd safely returned to town, and parked herself reasonably out of the way of the main thoroughfare to not inconvenience other pedestrians(YOU'RE SWIVING WELCOME, KAZ), she retrieved the mirror and truly gazed into it for the first time.

Limsa Lominsa has grown; with the spires of white stone inlaid with steel, it's a commanding sight even without the bravely flying Maelstrom flags waving in the wind coming off the sea. Identical, if smaller, pennants stream from the topsails of motley ships docked in the cove below, along with the identifying flags of individual pirate crews.
Kraken's Arms. Sanguine Sirens. Bloody Executioners. Perhaps a handful more that she can't readily identify. Free pirates all, and nary a ship missing a Maelstrom flag.

The view pans over the Aetheryte plaza swarming with sailors, merchants, and adventurers all going about their day as usual, dickering over goods at merchant stalls or having a companionable chat on the way to the Drowned Wench. A few more towers have sprung up - each one housing a new crew loyal to Limsa.

"A sight to swell the breast is it not, Marshal?"

The voice is hers - stuffed to the gills with pride and satisfaction in the manner of a parent speaking of his or her favoured child - although she isn't brought into view by the mirror. Instead, it turns aside, tilted slightly, as she might tilt her head. Merlwyb's viewpoint, clearly.
A Roegadyn man comes into focus instead, meeting the mirror with a certain softness in his eyes. Slafyrsyn's voice has the same ring of contentment that hers had.

"Aye. That it is, Admiral."

A united Limsa Lominsa, respected by all and indebted to none. A dream so close Merlwyb can practically feel the sunlight on her fingertips as she gently touches the surface of the mirror.
After a few minutes more soaking in the glory of a dream come to fruition, she sets the mirror on the ground at her side and doesn't look again. ]



( Feel free to peek at the mirror if you like, Merlwyb won't mind. c: She won't actively pursue the mirrors of others but will glance at one if given permission. )

[synthedick]

[Though Nick hasn't found his own mirror yet, he's been watching the others who have.

He didn't give the first person he passed with one much thought: he was on his usual route around the city, and someone looking into a mirror didn't strike him as terribly odd, given people seem to arrive with, at the very least, a few possessions. Someone having a mirror on them isn't out of the question. The second one he spotted got him curious, and by the time he comes across the third one he's seen -- one being held by a tall woman with white hair -- he can't help but wonder what's going on.

He steps back around the corner of a wall and watches from a distance. It's too strange to be a simple coincidence. Knowing Hadriel, it probably has to do with the gods, he reasons... and when the gods are involved, trouble can't be far behind.

Though he has to admit that from where he's standing, the woman doesn't look too perturbed by whatever she's seeing in that mirror. A 'gift' from Hope rather than Fear or Rage? Or maybe it was that new god, whichever one had been chosen to return. Either way, at least she's not turning into a monster or being buried alive.

Yet.

Nick wants answers, and he's not getting any as he watches the lady set her mirror down. Straightening his hat, he heads over to her for some polite investigation.]

You're the third person I've seen today with one of those mirrors.

adam parrish | open

[unknowable]

[For some time now, Adam has spent a portion of his time at the clinic, rolling bandages or cleaning or performing basic first aid. Helping out where he can, learning what he can, because who knows how long they'll have anything like a doctor around? He needs to be able to patch his friends up, if nothing else. But this time, the clinic is where he comes across his mirror. He's curious, and wary at first, but that fades quickly in the face of his curiosity. He picks it up and looks in it.

Adam's mirror shows himself, quietly content - not overjoyed, not bursting with happiness, just comfortable, comfortable with himself and his surroundings in a way he doesn't think he's ever been. The Adam in the mirror is older than the Adam in Hadriel by a few years at least, and there's no tension in the set of his shoulders, no worry lines creasing his brow. He doesn't look tired or stressed or cautious, only calmly happy, and that in and of itself makes him seem almost like a different person. It's the tiny things that Adam notices - the cut of his clothing, the fine fabric they're made from, the lack of callouses on his hands. All things that seem to say you got what you wanted, look, you'll never have to worry about where you came from again. Things he's wished for.

He's outside, under the trees on a bright sunny day, the wind blowing softly through the branches, shoes off and grass between his toes. It's probably Cabeswater, like maybe the forest is still part of him, maybe he's still got that power running through his veins. Maybe it's just part of Adam Parrish, now. But of course - of course - he isn't alone.

Gansey - older and vibrant and alive - is sitting nearby, gesturing as if he's in the midst of a story or an explanation, his face alight with happiness and enthusiasm. Blue is next to him, a smile on her face too, clearly torn between humoring Gansey and interjecting, and Noah is weaving a crown of flowers, his body weighty and real. Adam is watching Gansey with some amusement, leaning partially against Ronan, their fingers tangled together with casual intimacy, the ring on his finger a match to Ronan's, as if stability is something less than impossible. They're alive, they're all alive and well and they survived to become adults, somehow.

Chainsaw flutters down from the tree to the grass beside Ronan, pecking at his boots. He nudges her away, fiercely amused by something Gansey has just said, whether at him or with him. They're happy and they're alive and everything is right.

And of course, it hurts to look at. Adam strives for the future with all he has, but he's rarely stopped to truly imagine what it would look like, what happiness would mean to him. He doesn't know what to think of this, how to feel. It frightens him and fills him with a strange yearning, all at once, and he can't look for long.

But he keeps the mirror near him. It rests on a table at the clinic, sticking out of his backpack when he goes searching through the shops for edible things, on the kitchen counter at home. Adam never lets it go far, but he also rarely looks at it, so it would be easy enough to take a peek when he's around the corner, when his back is turned.]

[casperdisaster]

[Noah does not exactly mean to peek without Adam's consent, not really. Like, if he'd have known it was Adam's, he probably would have not! Or at least waited and asked first!

Instead he manages to arrive at the Clinic to help out right when Adam's not in the room, and of course, seeing another mirror sparks Noah's curiosity. Will it show him what he saw in his own? Something different? What the heck is he supposed to do, let it sit there and not look at it?

He places his own - because of course he's been carrying it with him too - on the counter to pick up the new one, Adam's, instead. He's amazed to see Adam's vision of the future - seeing himself in it, seeing them all so much older - and the rings!]

Oh!

[Which is probably about how long it is before Adam comes back.]

peter rumancek | open and closed

[werewolfing]

[closed to newt]

[peter wakes up earlier than usual, when the light is just beginning to filter into the room. newt is smushed up against his back, as per usual, and there's something small and thin in his hand. squinting as the light catches on the surface of the mirror, he raises it up to look at it.

peter sees himself in the mirror, but it's no reflection. he's sitting in a chair with a little brown-haired girl in his lap, bouncing her on his knee as she giggles. destiny is there with andreas, and so is his mother, and roman stands next to him holding the hand of a little blond girl with intense blue eyes. nadia. he can just see miranda there in the background, and some of his other family members milling about. another tall mop of blond hair hangs by the edge of the mirror--newt, looking a bit wary about the entire proceedings but slowly giving in to lynda's motherly smile.

he's still staring at it when newt wakes up.]

[open!]

[peter doesn't try to hide his mirror. he carries it in his pocket, taking it out to look at sometimes. he leaves it lying around the apartment, sitting on counters or shelves while he's scavenging for groceries, puts it down beside him when he has a cigarette outside fear's temple, because for all that the mirror fills him with the most bittersweet sort of hope for his own future, it also reminds him of all he has lost for now, and all he has to lose, all he could be losing right now if time in hemlock grove is passing without him. lord knows roman can't take care of himself, and he's only just beginning to figure out how to take care of nadia, who's in constant danger...it's not hard to give fear his usual dose in return for smokes, as much as he aches to forget about those things and just believe in a happy future.

once or twice, it might even drop out of his pocket. who knows? the thing seems to practically yearn for freedom, like it wants to be seen.]

[krangke]

(Newt's slow to wake up but eventually he does. It doesn't take him very long to realize that Peter is already awake and preoccupied with...Something.

Newt rubs a hand into his face and shoves himself up onto his elbows to get a better look, his eyes squinting in the soft, morning light.)

...Peter? What is that?

(It looks like what Newt recognizes as a mirror but....From what he can see, it's not showing Peter's face. Not....how it should, anyway.)

steve rogers - open

[prespangled]

[A mirror was pretty much the last thing that Steve was looking for. He's still exploring the city, trying to make himself useful by picking through the stores. He can already appreciate just how tedious it can be - an article of clothing here, a can of something there. No bandages yet, but there is a mirror.

Steve almost passes it by. Normally he might, because he doesn't need any reminders of what he looks like. He wouldn't say that he avoids them. His slight form is what it is, and Steve is neither vain nor jugdemental himself. But he doesn't spend his time gazing at himself in one either.

Maybe if he ever looks like that, maybe he would. It takes Steve a second to recognize a larger version of himself, one who obviously benefited from the serum. It still doesn't quite measure up to the actual future that's waiting for him, but the mirror still shows him a man who's at least average. Healthier. A soldier who's doing his part, and using his fists more than anything else. Bucky's there too, laughing at a joke that he can't hear. Brothers until the end.

He's been ignoring the tiredness in his legs for awhile, but now he finally sits down in the doorway of the store, watching the images on the other side of the glass over and over again.

But eventually, Steve will put it down somewhere. As appealing as it all is, it won't be of any help to someone who's sprained an ankle.]

[wipedclean]

[He's trying to do his own investigations of the city, but he frequently finds himself following Steve. Sometimes at his side, sometimes at a distance where Steve can't see him. He doesn't know what it is that draws him to keep an eye on the smaller man, except maybe a certainty that though he's clearly capable of looking after himself, he's also inclined to push himself too hard and too far.

Also he's curious. His head's still mostly just a fragmented mess, but there are scraps of memories there that involve Steve, and he knows he was important to him.

Is. Is important to him, because he's said so, and he's right there.

Regardless, he's following at a bit of a distance until Steve sits and watches... a mirror, of all things. For a while. And the soldier can't help but come close and look over his shoulder, his brow furrowing when he sees what Steve's seeing.]

That's not right. You were bigger than that.

Ronan Lynch | Open

[greywaren]

[March 14th | Fear's Temple | Open]

[Ronan finds his mirror at the bottom of the steps of Fear's temple.

It's a place he sort of frequents, though he hasn't been here much recently. Still, every now and again, he likes to peel off from his friends and allies to spend some time alone. It's easier to get into trouble when he's alone, easier to find other people who are itching for a good argument and not be held back from them. Fear's temple has always been an obvious choice because it tends to be avoided by most of the goody types and Ronan is somehow comforted by the itch of paranoia it leaves him in the back of his mind.

The fact that he finds his mirror here- an ornate silver thing, with a handle and oval-shaped class- only leads him to be more suspicious of it when he looks in and finds that his reflection isn't looking back at it at all.

Instead, he's greeted with an image of himself, several years older and broader in the shoulders. He's wearing flannel instead of leather and is sitting on his knees in an open field with a fucking baby goat in his hands. There are barns, dotted across the land behind him, and Ronan is scritching along the goat's neck, making sure that it's happy and healthy.

Behind him, Adam leans in and props a head on his shoulder- equally older, in dirt-stained jeans and working boots- and asks him something. In turn, Ronan laughs and shoves him, while Gansey and Blue approach from the edge, carrying a goddamn picnic basket, of all things. Noah is there too in vivid color, chasing after another goat alongside Ronan's curly haired younger brother.

It's serene, peaceful. Everyone is awake, everyone is alive.

Ronan flips the mirror over in his hands to check the back of it, his brows furrowing as he tries to figure out where it came from, but there's no marking on it or anything, so eventually he just tosses it aside on the steps and resumes his earlier plan of getting drunk here.

Weird.]

[March 15th | Back to the temple... | Open]

[As he gradually starts to see more people with mirrors, Ronan comes to the realization that he's not the only one who saw something in them. He'd initially assumed that the mirrors just showed something different to whoever was looking in it- or maybe it was just a trick, put onto him by his proximity to the temple.

Whatever it was, he'd left the item there when he went home, wanting nothing to do with it- and of course, he regrets it deeply when he realizes that it wasn't a trick and each mirror will only show one person's visions to anyone who looks in. Meaning his is back there, meaning someone else could have gotten their hands on it.

So, it's with a heavy sense of dread that he starts to make his way back to the temple a full day later, in the slim chance that the thing will be where he left it and he'll be able to just take it without anyone else noticing.]

[March 16th | Around | Open]

[His mirror is now sporting a hairline crack near the top of it, but Ronan doesn't mind. He keeps it with him now- leaving it on the ground once was a mistake, and one that he's not going to repeat. Still, he's not exactly vigilant about it, and there are definitely times when he's scavenging or drinking that he leaves it on a nearby shelf or pile- or when he's home, sometimes it finds its way out of his room and facedown next to whatever his latest destructive project is.

What's more, he finds that he's curious about other people's mirrors- if they all really got sappy shit, or if the mirrors are as varied as the so-called gods who he assumes gave them to them.

Which is why sometimes, he'll just look if one is left unattended, or rudely ask someone with a mirror what they see in it. He's not great at social graces, so. Prepare for that.]

March 15th

[werewolfing]

[if there's one thing peter's not expecting to find on the steps of fear's temple, it's a mirror. certainly not an ornate, silver one like this. he gives it a wide berth when he sits on the steps to light up.

he doesn't even mean to pick it up, exactly, but an unusual sort of curiosity grips him and halfway through his cigarette, he gets up to look at the thing.

it's the last thing he could possibly expect, seeing ronan and adam and some people he doesn't recognize in such an idyllic landscape. but there's some sort of essential truth to it, something buried deep down and private. something he probably wasn't meant to see.

he puts the mirror down just as he sees a figure approaching in the distance, hazy through his cigarette smoke.]

ciri | ota

[ichaer]

✖ Midaëte (march 14 - 16)

[ it's during her morning practice that ciri almost steps on the hand mirror. it's become routine for her to visit the park, spend time mediating and then get to work with her swords.

she moves gracefully through each step. its a style that seems rather dance-like and acrobatic in nature, no parries or ripostes. she simply follows steps, moves ecasiving and pirouettes. for anyone with a keen eye, they might notice the flashes of green-white light that seems to coat both her and the sword. it suddenly comes to a halt as something catches the light, shining on the ground under her feet and ciri has to turn awkwardly to avoid stepping on it.

curiously, she bends down and picks it up. her brows furrow, turning the mirror over in her hand and taking in the details. she turns it over again, expecting to find her reflection but finds something completely different greeting her.

it's kaer morhen. though, it is different than the old keep she remembers living at. it has been rebuilt in this vision she sees, it is a grand and beautiful sight to rival the mountains around it. movement within the vision gets her attention away from the keep, surprised to see herself running through the courtyard with a smile. following behind is geralt, a snowball in hand and a grin on his face. he throws it with perfect precision but she moves, dodging his throw and returning the throw with one of her. he is less awkward on his feet, decades of practice have him sidestepping the throw and her snowball explodes into powder on nearby steps.

not far from them, yennefer sits with softened features and a warm smile. she looks the part of an exasperated mother but ciri cannot help smiling at the sight and watches as her self in the vision raises her arms, calling out. yenn answers with a wave of her hand, words she cannot hear that causes a bigger smile to bloom on geralt's face and ciri to grin as if she were a child again. she can even see eskel and lambert nearby, cutting up and laughing. geralt reaches down, building another snowball in his hands and tossing it at her back as she is distracted by something lambert has said. it comes close to hitting her but she spots it at the last minute and vanishes in a flash of greenish-white light, re-appearing at geralt's back to dump a handful of snow atop his head.

in their distraction, they do not think of where the snowball that missed her landed until the wind picks up and kicks up flurries. immediately, their eyes go to yennefer at the snow stuck to her black and white outfit. the pendant around her neck glows and she raises her hands slightly, the snow picking up as both geralt and ciri make a run for it. still, they're both laughing even as the sorceress gets back at them with magic.

she snaps back into focus then, blinking and looking around at the park. how long had she been watching this thing? that alone is enough to get her to set it back on the ground and step back, raising her sword. she will not be tricked by these gods, she will not let them weaken her with visions of her family and friends. yet, she cannot bring her sword down on it. ]

Damn it all. [ she curses, lowering her sword arm and bending down to pick the mirror back up. she couldn't do it. she couldn't destroy the one thing that allowed her to see adopted parents both happy and smiling with her. ]

✖ Midinvaerne (march 16 - 18)

[ it is tiring to keep it close all the time. ciri doesn't want to look at it but she does, more and more. time passes by without her noticing as she watches the visions play out, reminding her of powers long lost but these were so much happier. there was no death, no heartache. it was her, happy with geralt and yenn.

still, she hates it. this was nothing but another plot by the so called gods of this cave. although she does not know what they play at, ciri is vigilant and tries not to let the mirror draw her attention away from this mission.

after a few days, it becomes to much and she allows herself to be careless with it. when she practices, she leaves it out in the open to hopefully be stepped on and broken. when she looks through stores, she leaves it out so someone else might take it and rid her of it. after all, she finds it hard to destroy it herself and hates herself for that. ciri knew that she had to be strong here, she couldn't fall into the traps of these gods or else she would never see geralt and yennefer again. it's what finally gets her to simply take the mirror, pull her arm back and throw the damning thing as far as she could muster.

she is sorry to anyone passing by that might have a mirror unceremoniously land near them or sail by them with the force of an angry woman with a damn good throw. ]

[quaerit]

[ Gansey is innocent enough that he does not expect random projectiles to sail through the the air and crack on his head. He is used to a far more civilized world where these things just don't happen. But, being that his world is some distance away from here, he finds himself subject to that very fate now. The mirror crashes into his temple, and he instinctively catches it even while the blow makes him stagger. ]

Hey!

[ With one hand holding his head and the other holding the mirror, he looks around for the culprit. This isn't very successful, considering that he's still blinking stars out of his eyes. ]

Who threw that?! I'll find you one way or the other.

[ He tips the mirror up to look at, and finds that it's full of magic - literally, given that it catalogues what appears to be two magicians using their power very differently. ]

Magical snowball fight. You don't see many of those. Someone confess right now, or I'm putting it on the Network!

Koda - OTA

[hungryasacaveman]

[He finds the mirror balanced, carefully but precariously, next to the wall of the apartment building that he's claimed for "writing" his story on. When he puts his bowl of paint down to pick the mirror up, the first thing he feels is confusion.

This is... not how a mirror works. He might be bad at glass but he knows how to use a mirror (though that, admittedly, took a while to get the hang of). He should be seeing his own face staring back at him, not the front of his friend's baseball cap, sitting backwards as usual on Chase's head. The mirror shows... him. Him and his family: the other eight Rangers they've managed to track down so far, as well as Keeper, all relaxing and laughing around a table at the Dino Bite Cafe. They're all so busy and crowded, the mirror has trouble fitting them all in; it's focusing mostly on the version of himself inside it, who he can see is holding a brightly coloured book open in front of him.

And although the confusion is his greatest emotion while looking at this mirror, there's a strong pang of nostalgia as well. He's been here for a few days now; he really misses his family.

He carefully puts the mirror down, picks up his paint and, giving the mirror another yearning look, and starts painting. At least he has a subject to paint, now.]

[synthedick]

[Continuing on his patrol of the streets, Nick comes upon a young man giving one of the apartments a touch-up. This guy has a mirror, too -- that makes four Nick has come across today, making it all the more obvious this isn't just a coincidence. The gods are up to something, but what?

He watches the kid paint for another minute before heading over to him, calling out as he approaches. Wouldn't want to startle him and ruin his work.]

I don't know if the gods approve of graffiti, but I think this place could use a little more color.

Emily | one open to UD house, one OTA

[unfollowing]

March 14

[It's on her bedside table when she wakes up that morning, glass side down, a small thing straight out of her childhood. Emily reaches for it without even sitting up, treating it as if it's made of gold and diamonds. For the first few seconds, she doesn't believe what she sees.

But then, hasn't this been her dream for as long as she's known Jessica? Boys can come and go, but she and Jess were supposed to be forever friends. They were supposed to take over the world together, an unstoppable force, leaders and stars, respected and even feared.

Then last year had happened. Everything had fallen apart.

Emily has only been here a month, but she's pretty sure she knows what this is supposed to be. And you know what? This sucks. This sucks, because this is probably never going to happen now. Her chest grows tight, and tears sting at the back of her eyes. Fuck you, gods of Hadriel. Fuck you.

Even so, she keeps it. She takes it with her to the bathroom as she showers and brushes her teeth, and to the kitchen as she makes coffee and breakfast. It's always close to her on the counter or the table, except for when she does her dishes, when she leaves it on the table.

((UD house can feel free to bother her at any point, or to peek at the mirror when she's not looking anf the tap running drowns out the sound of your nosy behavior. ;3))]

March 15-18

[She keeps it in the pocket of her light jacket when she wears it, the handle sticking out, or in her hand when she's not wearing the jacket. Emily is still spending as much time as she can outside of the house, restless and anxious for reasons she's not even sure of anymore.

If you're feeling particularly bold, you can try to grab the mirror right from her pocket. Otherwise, or on no-jacket days, she will set it aside as she looks at things in the shop, and mutters something to the effect of,] Hope has such shitty taste.

[Or you could just shittalk with her, too. Whatever works.]

[pellameno]

[ Pell is in the same shop, coming around the other side of the shelves. He hears the girl here mutter and spots the mirror... and finds himself desperately battling the now-familiar urge to grab it and look. No. It's not his. But the images on it are flickering and catching his eye and-- no. He busies himself surveying the items on this shelf instead, then glances over at the girl curiously. ]

Hope?

Kamina, open

[themightykamina]

March 14th, outskirts, ota

[Kamina isn't really the mirror type. You could probably tell that, just looking at his constant state of bright blue bedhead; honestly, what he looks like just doesn't matter all that much to him.

So he isn't sure why the glimpse of his own reflection in a pool of water makes him stop and look again, pausing in his patrol circuit of the cave walls. But he does stop, and he does look, red eyes peering downward. A drop hits the surface, and his reflection ripples, and when it clears, it isn't his reflection anymore. Instead, it's another man, a little older than Kamina, his hair a darker blue. There isn't much resemblance between the two of them, but then the not-reflection grins, and they could be brothers.

Kamina is frozen, unmoving as the other blue-haired man turns away, seemingly called by someone else, a someone else who soon comes into view, slinging an arm over the man's shoulders and clearly saying something funny and inappropriate, judging by the horrified look on the man's face as he laughs. Her hair catches sunlight, long red ponytail glowing like fire as it cascades over the rifle on her back. Children run by them, underfoot, lost in a game of tag, and after a moment the view shifts to show Kamina, older and scarred but no less muscular or shirtless, waving at both of them as he approaches.

The three of them walk together towards a hilltop, sitting to watch the suns set over a thriving city filled with human life. All that's visible now are their backs; Kamina in the middle, fingers intertwined with the woman's, her head on his shoulder, and on his other side the man, reaching over to punch his shoulder. Just three silhouettes, a city, and a sunset.

After a long moment, Kamina leans over to pick up the mirror holding this scene, water dripping from it as he cradles it in his arms. There's no question what this is. His voice is quiet, different as he murmurs to it.]

Bro--Simon. Yoko. I'll find this future for you, I promise. Even if I'm not there to see it.

around town, 14-18, ota
[The mirror usually stays nearby, but Kamina is prone to setting it down and wandering off for a multitude of reasons. Maybe you find it on a shelf at one of the little shops, or on a table-sized piece of rubble. Maybe it's just discarded right outside a cave entrance. Feel free to come across it, and him, anywhere around town.]

march 14.

[bekommen]

[Nick's just passing by, honestly - it's not like she'd go out of her way to talk to Kamina, right? Can't stand the guy, and he's a huge idiot besides. Still, she sees the familiar blue hair and can't help stopping to investigate. If eyerolling could be done at a loud volume, that's what she'd be doing right now.]

You do know that doesn't make any sense at all, right?

kazuhira miller | ota

[vendetta]

ａｐａｒｔｍｅｎｔ １０１ [closed to big boss; 3/14]

[ Kaz hasn't left his apartment the entire day, not since he woke up to find a hand mirror at his bedside. At first he'd assumed it was some sort of gift from the gods, a trinket meant to boost morale. The gods clearly knew next to nothing about humans, it wasn't hard to imagine that they'd make another misstep by thinking he'd want to study his own reflection.

(He isn't particularly vain, at least not anymore. He strives to keep up appearances, but that's primarily because he doesn't want to be seen as weak, or for people to assume he can't take care of himself.)

What he sees in the mirror instead is Mother Base. Not the one out on the Seychelles, but back in the Caribbean. Kaz can tell the difference from the color of the water alone, but it's not just that. Big Boss is with him. Not Venom, but Big Boss himself. They're walking around the perimeter of one of the struts, taking a stroll and chatting. The Kaz in the mirror has advanced prosthetic limbs and walks without a cane, and more than that, he looks content, his face not twisted with anger.

Big Boss seems at ease too, smirking to himself as he teases Kaz about something inconsequential and then nudges him in the side with his elbow. They have their home back. They must have rebuilt it all over again, piece by piece, reclaiming what was theirs not for revenge but for themselves.

At first, Kaz wants nothing more than to break the mirror. This is a cruel joke, showing him something that can never be true. He can't quite bring himself to do that, though, not when he knows deep down that this is all he'd ever wanted. This is Hope's doing, it must be, and Kaz hates that his methods work so well.

Later in the day, a knock comes at the door while Kaz is in the middle of preparing some food. He abandons the stove, though not before turning the mirror face-down on the kitchen counter, then limps his way over to open the front door.

The Big Boss standing in front of him looks nothing like the one Kaz has been watching in the mirror, his expression much more severe. If they were closer, Kaz would have made some remark about how the smell of food cooking must have attracted him, but the words never move past his throat.

Kaz looks Snake over and then sighs, stepping back to allow him inside. ] At least you knocked this time.

ｓｔｏｒｅｆｒｏｎｔｓ [open to all; 3/15 - 3/18]

[ Miller doesn't feel right leaving the mirror in his apartment while he goes out. He doesn't want to risk someone else breaking in and finding it. It's something of an irrational worry given that no one has ever tried to get into his place before -- well, no one other than Big Boss, and he's already seen the mirror. Still, having felt the urge to look into other's mirrors, he can't predict what someone might do.

On top of that, it just feels right to have it close to him, and so the mirror's tucked away under his coat, out of easy reach as he carries out his usual supply run.

It's as he's leaning forward to place some supplies (not food, he's doing everything in his power to avoid what the gods give them after the wendigo incident) into his pack that the mirror slips out and clatters to the ground.

It skids a few feet away, more or less equidistant between him and someone else in the storefront. Kaz drops his pack and leans on his cane to stand straight again, then stares the other captive down behind his sunglasses. ]

Don't even think about it.

[ Unfortunately, if it comes down to a contest of speed, he probably won't win. ]

Storefronts

[foundafamily]

[Without his Alcatraz mission or his job at home, Firo's at a loss on how to fill his days. Poking around some of the stores is as interesting as anything else, so he wanders that way and eventually winds up at the same one this guy.

He jumps as the mirror clatters to the ground, eyes immediately fixing on it. Nosiness Curiosity is such a natural thing to him that he doesn't think anything odd about how badly he wants to look into that mirror. He wrenches his eyes away from the object when he hears the other man's voice.]

Don't even think about what?

[He asks, even as he takes one step closer to the thing. Surely it's only neighborly to pick the thing up for this guy...]

Noah Czerny | Open

[casperdisaster]

March 14

[Noah finds the mirror as he's looking for extra pillows and blankets now that they've got Blue there with them. Since being alive again, Noah's also become something of a hoarder for bedding, so either way they'll go to good use. He gives a little oooh as he picks up a particularly soft pillow that catches his eye, only to be distracted by what he finds under it.

A mirror, it looks entirely out of place. Charmed by its seemingly strange location, Noah of course picks it up to turn it over in his hands, hazarding a look into it.

What he sees gives him much more pause.

It isn't his reflection, it's Monmouth. Like all the others from Henrietta, he sees his friends in it. Gansey is working on his cardboard Henrietta with Blue giving him a helping hand, Adam sits at the desk behind, trying to study but constantly looking back at the two on the ground with exasperated fondness. Ronan lays back on Gansey's bed, tossing treats into the air for Chainsaw to catch. He calls Gansey and Blue 'nerds', and sometimes looks at Adam longer than is strictly platonic. It could be any other day, they aren't significantly aged at all. The only indicator of time is a newspaper strewn across the floor with a date - past the next Saint Mark's Day. Past when Gansey is supposed to die. Instead he's alive. They all are - alive and healthy and at least content. Safe and on the way to happy.

Noah's vision differs slightly from the others aside from location, though.

Noah is not in his own vision.

Instead there is the feeling of Noah - a sense that there's almost nothing left of him there, but somehow, the knowledge that before he is entirely gone for good he'll get to see his friends be safe and sound. That if there's something past his current existence, a heaven or hell or limbo or abject nothingness, he'll go there knowing his friends are okay.

It's all he wants, more than anything in the world. Even in his own most hopeful future he can't fathom a world where he's alive again, but existing long enough to see his friends survive the year, to be safe...

Noah isn't aware he's crying until a tear slides off his cheek and hits the surface of the mirror, smudging the image there. He draws in a sharp breath, hears the door to the shop open and quickly tries to scrub away the tears in his eyes before someone notices, though he doesn't try to hide the mirror at all.]

Hello? Sorry, I was - I was distracted -

(14th-18th)
[He keeps the mirror on him after finding it. It's his, it was meant for him. He makes no attempt to hide it, though, and will happily show it to any who ask about it.]

[quaerit]

[ Gansey had been passing Noah's doorway. He hadn't meant to stop, but something about his friend's posture makes him, and he looks startled. There are actual tears falling, and Gansey blinks in disbelief at that. He goes inside without a thought, concern written in his eyes. ]

Noah? What's the matter?

[ He goes closer, crossing the distance between them. That's when he notices the mirror, and the look in his eyes changes, because there's an identical one in his back pocket. ]

Are you all right?

dorian pavus | open

[sparkler]

[Dorian finds his mirror in the library, where he often goes, though the books still haven't started making sense to him. He's curious, of course, particularly since he feels drawn to the object. It could be a trap of some kind, but he won't know until he looks. And so he looks.

It's him, and it's Tevinter. More than Tevinter - it's his father's study, a place he used to imagine as his own when he was nothing but a child, when their relationship was still good and Dorian hadn't yet become discontent with the chains of his station, his blood. It's his father's study, but it's not - a decanter of wine on the desk, a delicate goblet of Orlesian make, tomes stacked on the floor that, while of particular interest to Dorian, would never have interested his father. And of course, there he is, sitting behind the desk.

A man enters the room - a servant, not a slave, it's clear from his posture and the clothes he wears - and delivers a small pile of letters, taking another small stack in return to be sent elsewhere. And Dorian catches sight of the seal on them, a magister's seal. He never craved his father's position, but he knows, he's always known, that having it would give him the ability to enact change that would be impossible otherwise. To fight for change in the Imperium, give his homeland a chance to become what it should have been. That's what that power would give him.

The Dorian at the desk opens a letter, reads, and laughs with easy pleasure. He takes out a sheet of fine paper and begins to pen a reply.

My dear Inquisitor,
No, I'm afraid there's no possible way I can attend your wedding. I will be unavoidably late, as you have not allowed me nearly enough time to commission proper wedding attire. I can't allow Madame de Fer to show me up. The others will, of course, be there? It has been too long since I've seen them - though be certain not to tell them that. I can't possibly let them think I miss them.

He takes a sip of his wine and continues writing. Dorian - the real Dorian - gazes at the mirror for a moment longer before setting it down, unsure quite what to think.

The mirror, though personal, is not so much so that Dorian would be unwilling to let others see it. If someone asks, he'll offer it - otherwise, it can be picked up on its own easily enough, while he is distracted among the books of the library.]

[smited]

[ damn the compulsion that comes along with these mirrors. cullen doesn't really want to look in them (oh, alright, there's a few he's curious about) but he finds himself peering at them anyway. though he never picks one up. too skittish around them for that.

dorian's is the first one that makes him smile. they're terrible things, these mirrors, or at least that's what cullen thinks. but this? this peek into a possible future? it's... not wholly terrible. the part of him that remembers this is probably giving hope a boost so he can resurrect another god is a little pissed by all of this, but there is part of him that doesn't mind this look.

when he tears himself away from the vision, cullen walks over to dorian and sits across from him. waits patiently until dorian notices him and then simply says, ] We eloped, actually.

Thom Rainier | Open

[theresolve]

[When Rainier enters into the little setup he has for his wood working for practice weapons, where he meets those he instructs, he notices something off. Something new is waiting for him, set gently upon the cleared space he uses as a workbench. Looking around and seeing no one, he wonders if perhaps Z or Adam left it, or perhaps that little girl with the sword.

If that is the case, he should hold onto it until they return for it. It looks terribly delicate and breakable in a place like this. Thinking nothing of it, Rainier picks the mirror up and happens to glance into it when the movement catches his eye on the reflection inside.

Rainier's mirror shows a simple future, all things considered, but the one he hopes for with all his heart.

It's a humble room in Weisshaupt Fortress. Across the desk are letters - Letters to and from the Inquisitor, Sera, even one from Solas. The point is even if their exact contents can't be deciphered by the mirror the message is still clear - correspondence is kept up on both ends, and all are safe and well enough to keep said correspondence.

The window is open, overlooking a training field. The weather is a truly lovely day that makes one grateful to be alive to see it, and in the field is Rainier - older by some years, gray in his beard and at his temples, standing taller now in the Gray Warden armor that he earned this time. He shouts orders at his troop - a hodgepodge of races and abilities like any group of wardens, but all have their hearts in the right place, their comradery unquestionable. As Rainier runs them through morning drills it's evident that his pride in his men and women under his command can almost outshine the sun, so bright is the smile on his face when he looks at them.

He takes a sharp breath and sets the mirror down abruptly - careful at the last moment so that it would not break or crack. Some trick by the gods. Something to lure them into a false sense of security. That's all it is, all it can be. No one can truly tell the future, least of all anyone in this place, the gods having been very clear about their limitations regarding knowledge of their home worlds.

Still...

Rainier treats his own mirror with a care too forced to be as casual as he's going for. He wants to dismiss it, to act like he doesn't care at all should anyone hold interest in it, but he's still always watching out of the corner of his eye to make sure no one drops it or anything.

It's fragile, alright? Fragile looking, anyway.]

[closerift]

[ She knows she'd come to ask him a question, but when she doesn't find Rainier himself and her eyes fall upon the mirror, he original intention is lost. Indeed, her mind is wiped almost entirely of anything that isn't the charmed mirror and the curiosity to know what it shows thrums loudly in her head. The Inquisitor glances around, still able to feel guilty for potentially invading the man's privacy, but the compulsion Hope has instilled in them drives her feet forward, a little at a time, until she finds the handle of the mirror in her hand, fingers curling around it.

The scene isn't surprising, not really, and she finds a warm sort of... reassurance, almost, in watching. Though the visions aren't truth, not exactly assurances of these particular futures, the sentiment is a good one. A position with the Wardens, training young recruits, safe and happy and fully himself. A little gray, too, she notices with a light chuckle. After he'd confessed to his past crimes, after the Inquisition had granted him freedom, he'd admitted to not knowing how to really begin living as Thom Rainier.

Clearly, he's grown into it. It loosens some of the tight knots of anxiety that she'd gathered after her transformation and death, and when she gingerly sets the mirror back down, she's actually smiling.

Until she sees the man himself nearby. Cecily starts, a deer in the headlights, and then looks fairly sheepish. ]

I- Mm. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been snooping. [ She admits, mildly flustered. ] It wasn't mine to look at.

Bianca | Open and closed

[wormintheglass]

[March 14 - closed to housemates]

[Bianca's first look in her mirror is a solid punch to the gut. It's been easy, in a place untouched by her past, to put all those feelings to one side, to live entirely in the moments Hadriel has offered her. She has not considered love, or hope, or regret. She has looked resolutely forward, and if she hasn't been happy, she's at least been busy enough for it not to be a problem.

But now the past has apparently crept up behind her and clubbed her over the head with her dearest unvoiced hopes. She doesn't cry, or scream, or run out to elicit sympathy or outrage, as she certainly would with something that mattered less. She has curled herself into the smallest possible ball around her mirror, and the only clue to her presence is the hyenas, whose distress involves rather more pacing and whining than Bianca's.]

[March 14 - onwards, OTA]

[She has to leave the house eventually - Bud and Lou need walking, and Bianca has to try and find some alcohol. Only a heroic level of drunkenness is going to get her through this.

Once she actually leaves, she finds herself unwilling to return or to stop walking. She explores the city, rummages through abandoned storefronts, visits temples. She cannot make herself leave the mirror behind, though she doesn't look into it - much.

Find her absolutely anywhere.]

Housemates

[foundafamily]

[Firo doesn't notice anything's amiss at first. His own mirror had received several long looks in the morning as he basked in an image of his family back home.

He hadn't been able to pull himself away from the mirror entirely, but he did manage to stop gazing long enough to move out of his room. It's then that he hears the hyenas and follows their noise to Bianca. Puzzled, he pauses a few feet away.]

What's goin' on, huh?

[In a way, the lack of carrying on is concerning. Firo doesn't tend to have much sympathy for those who wail and cry in adversity, but the stillness is unusual and thus merits investigation.]

Amos Kamiya | Closed and Open

[amos_moses]

March 14th: Closed to Maketh and Kamina Amos stares for a very long time at the mirror, fingers tracing the glass, his expression one of wistful longing. Oh, if it could happen....because he knows this is nothing true, or at least, nothing that's yet true.

Because shown in the glass is his wife, his daughter, and a second child in his own arms: a son. Last he visited them, his wife was not pregnant.... But oh, how he'd love to retire and join them, have another child, be more involved with his daughter.

They're his best-kept secret: he doesn't breathe a word about them. They're a vulnerability, a terrible weakness, and he doesn't want them to become targets for revenge or cruelty.

So his visits are so far between, and he's watched his daughter grow up in leaps and bounds: she's almost eleven now, and just as cheerfully friendly as he is. His wife...oh, how patient she is, to endure his distances...

Amos closes his eyes and for a moment presses the mirror to his chest. Oh, it's not fair, how much he wants it to one day be true...

Biting his lip, he moves to hide the mirror at the very bottom of his bed...beneath the mattress and his (frankly ridiculous) large pile of blankets. It's a secret he won't willingly share with anyone else, even now.

March 15th-18th: Open Amos is out wandering the streets, as he often does. Whistling and talking to the jabberjays, occasionally stopping to feed them treats or climb up an interesting-looking pile of rubble. He moves with his usual careless amble, oddly quiet despite his well-worn combat boots. If he spots you, he'll come say hello...stranger or not, because he's never met a stranger.

16th

[imobouzu]

Jinbee is, of course, happy to encounter a friend while he's out for a walk. But Jinbee always approaches people just as much when he's out--even when he's training. He's not right now, having just finished swinging around rocks on a stick for the time being. "Ooh, Amos-dono! It is good to see you!" As if they don't see each other plenty, since they live close by each other and are friends.

Ashley | OPEN

[cowardley]

▍▍▍▍UD House | March 14th

[ Ashley had taken a seat on a chair in the living room the night of the 13th, a thick book filled with foreign writing opened in her lap. She'd fallen asleep trying to decipher the text, highlighting familiar language patterns—she had no delusion that she could work out something so difficult and alien, but it helped work the brain in ways she hadn't been able to since her arrival to Hadriel.

The morning of the 14th finds Ashley still curled in the chair, book on the floor, and a golden hand mirror clutched to her chest like something precious. She blinks down at the new object, and wonders promptly if she's hallucinating. The glass of the mirror does not show off her reflection—not the dark circles beneath her eyes or the flatness of her red hair—but rather the whites and cool autumn colors of an outdoor wedding.

There are people, familiar friends and family members, filing into their seats. All her friends have clearly finished their journey to adulthood, each of them well-dressed and sitting close together, even Josh—everyone is there. Chris, however, stands elevated in front of an ornate floral altar, dressed sharply. He looks all nerves, and fidgets. Josh must have said something, or perhaps Matt, or Mike, because Chris grins sheepishly in their direction and attempts to still.

And then everyone stands. The focus shifts, and there she is, walking down the aisle, arm looped with her step-father's. The dress looks like it's made out of pages from books, and her hair is curled and pinned delicately beneath a veil...

Ashley flushes, and presses the glass of the mirror against her chest suddenly. ]

Holy shit. [ This can't be real. ]

▍▍▍▍Stores | March 14th

[ The mirror rarely ever leaves Ashley's side. She stops often as she wanders between stores, taking in the wedding—her wedding—and all the faces within. It's so perfect, and sweet that Ashley finds it hard to take her eyes off it for long. So, it isn't all that strange when she nearly smashes into someone. ]

Oh my gosh, I am so, so sorry!

▍▍▍▍Anywhere Else | March 14th-18th

[ On some occasions, Ashley puts the mirror down. In the UD house, it often ends up on the kitchen counter as she busies about, tidying up dishes, or putting what she can together for lunch or dinner. In the city, it's more likely to end up sat down in the store as she looks for something to fix up her upstairs bedroom.

Don't be afraid to take a look! Ash looks sweet enough, surely she won't be too upset! ]