entrancelogs | everyone smiles at me

Entry tags:

everyone smiles at me

Who: Toothless, Mirror!Toothless, and you.
Where: Anywhere!
When: Anytime during the Body Snatcher event.
Rating: PG for now, could be higher later. Mirror!Toothless is in charge and he likes to hurt people.
Summary: Mirror!Toothless remembers this place. There were plenty of unsuspecting people to chase, last time. He wonders if it'll be the same, this time.
The Story:

Toothless doesn't understand it.

It doesn't even matter which dragon you're referring to, though one never received the name Toothless or befriended a Viking boy. One prefers to play fetch and eat fish, and the other prefers to chase down Vikings and eat them. In fact, he's fairly well known for it.

But today there are two dragons at home, and one is much more feral. It matters in terms of pure strength — the Night Fury with a taste for Viking blood has been through more by himself, and he's grown self-sufficient on the other side of the mirrors. When he was on the other side. Now all he remembers is vines that pinned him down and hurt, and now he has a body that feels the same — and yet, somehow, different. He doesn't get it.

He prowls the mansion, looking for familiar and strange faces. But it doesn't matter which kind he finds, as he readily stalks either unless given a reason not to. Sometimes, though, for an hour or two at a time, Toothless takes back his own mind. It's exhausting to mentally fight such a creature, like backing a rabid dog into a corner, and it leaves him drooping and in search of the kitchens for food. Sometimes he just falls asleep wherever he is — in the corridors, in the garden, in the woods. A person could find him just about anywhere.

[ooc: If you want Mirror!Toothless to come after your character, PM me or get a hold of me on Plurk. Otherwise I'll just default to stalking.]

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Last time he had been on this side of the mirror, Angeal had found himself quite enjoying himself. However, last time he had not had his other in the back of his head, trying to reason with him about honor and duty, and other such things which he was only happy to remind the man of how he had failed them himself. Once he does manage to get the man quiet Angeal will take a look around again, familiarizing himself with what was on this side...

Just what he wanted to do with it, when he gained complete control of this body.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would. He was stronger, accepted the gift of the G Cells unlike his Real Thing does. The wing that hugs his back loosely shows as much, whereas the other would hide it. Some may call that cocky, but he has been called cocky and patronizing and all sorts of other things before and he doesn't really care.

So Mirror!Angeal walks down the hall as if he owns it, the wide berth of the Buster sword in hand to cut through the branches that were in the hall, clogging up the mansion. While they where nice enough to bring him here, the man is already tired of them.

With his attention so focused, he may be missing on other things.

The Night Fury is stealthy, for such a long creature. He's missing the element that best conceals him — the sky — but he still pads along quietly in the mansion, pleased to be somewhere he can get the drop on creatures. Everyone on the other side of the glass knows to avoid him. Here, there's a chance that someone won't be able to distinguish him from the comparatively cuddly dragon that is his Real Creature.

It's disgusting, really. It deserves to be chained within its own mind.

When he hears the steps coming, the black dragon sinks into a crouch, half hidden among the flora, and waits to see what will pass him.

The mirror passes the Night Fury without stopping, a healthy mix of not knowing it was there and his single mindedness in finding his other side's friends to bring the ones he knows to this side having much to do with it. Really, as a top SOLDIER he should know better, but who cared? He could handle anything thrown at him anyway, the surprise of it just made it more fun.

But, undeterred, Angeal makes his way down the hall at a brisk pace, making to check Genesis' room first, which was further down the hall. If he found no sign of Mirror or Man there, he would just start with one of the others.

Toothless watches the strange-looking Viking pass him, a frown almost visibly on his face. Wings? Wings on a Viking? What does it mean? He's now too intrigued to do anything but, like a giant black shadow, follow him at a distance, belly close to the ground. He wonders if the winged Viking can bleed, and if he's as sturdy as the wingless Vikings who can fly and stand up to Toothless.

There's only one way to find out. In his mind, at least.

Angeal may not be a Viking, but he was a SOLDIER- far superior to the grunts in the Army section of ShinRa, genetically engineered for such, in fact. It is that now that helps him fend off the branches, even with his other still attempting to take control from him. He brings the heavy sword down on a branch reaching for him, uncaring of the immaculately kept blade scratches.

This one isn't really his, anyway.

The fighting gets him to focus a little more, to be aware of his surroundings. He does not notice the shadow sliding between the tendrils of his current enemy, however, until Toothless is almost on top of him.

Tapping into his own memory and that of his Real, intertwined like these troublesome vines, Toothless charges Angeal. He doesn't mean to harm, not yet, but being charged by something forty feet long and built well is not a pleasant experience. His intent is to knock Angeal over from behind, like a bully caught in the body of a dragon.

That sword is something to keep in mind, however. Neither dragon is fond of them.

The dragon is nearly atop of him before Angeal reacts, a flap of his wing pushing him to the side, the dragon knocking him over still, but the hit less direct.

Well, that was embarrassing.

"Sneaky little guy, aren't you?" Angeal spits the words out as he rights himself, turning on Toothless immediately. His sword is still in his hand, the Buster hefted with ease as he smirks, looking over the dragon. "If you're looking for a snack, it isn't going to be found here."

His real side is still annoying him now, telling him to back down and to not give of such a hostile vibe, stand with a stance inviting a fight. They've both lived on the orchard for the entirety of their childhood, wild animals were nothing new to the man nor the mirror.

The mirror, however, has full intention of making the dragon pay for thinking of him as easy prey.

The Night Fury makes a couple of snorts that sound, almost eerily, like laughter, eyes narrowed as he looks the Viking over. So, he has a spirit. That's good. Vikings without any backbone are hardly any fun at all. (That's not true at all. He likes them when they cower, and when they fight back. But the fighting is really what the dragon lives for.)

He paces to the side, slinking low, ears back and wings folded tightly against his body. A creature ready for anything, in the confined corridors full of vines. Then he paces back the other direction, putting a spring in his step, waiting to see what Angeal will do.

"What? Are you worried, now that you can't sneak up on me?"

He's actually teasing the dragon, because honestly he is pretty amused. He knows that it is intelligent enough, had to be sentient to be in this place. He knocks aside a vine creeping too close to him before resting the dull edge of his weapon along the back of his shoulders, stepping forward with a cocky grin.

"I'd say you should be, but I have bigger fish to fry right now, so shoo."

A veiled threat, but mostly he is pretty sure his stupid Real Side would try to wrest control from him if he tried to kill it, and that would get them nowhere.

At that, the dragon's eyes narrow. This Night Fury has a considerable ego underneath his hide, untampered by an affection for Vikings. Having it pricked makes him growl low in his throat, green eyes narrowed to slits. Many Vikings have tested his patience, on the other side of the mirrors, and have discovered it wanting.

With speed that almost seems to be at odds with such a large creature, the dragon lunges forward. But not at Angeal — slightly to the side of him, right past. Though the gesture isn't without menace, as one of his back legs sticks out as he goes. If it isn't avoided, it could be an unpleasant kick to the side or stomach.

There are a great many things to be considered during the last couple of days, and Blake's finding himself entirely overgrown with ideas and thoughts and feelings involving the Mirrors. He's argued with Johnny every step of the way, and even then, the Mirror has managed to take control and deal some damage. It's more than enough for John to want to just get away.

He takes to the grounds, opting to leave the mansion behind. It's dark, and that's where he tends to be most comfortable, but Blake avoids the maze for obvious reasons (crocodile reasons, vine reasons, deadly reasons), and instead takes a path around the overgrown garden, weaving through the growing vines.

It's going to be great when this is all over. He's going to sleep. He's going to find his friends, make sure they're them, and then sleep for a week. But until then, he has to remain ever vigilant, even if he's expecting to be all by himself.

Struggling against the other dragon is hard; it's like nothing the Night Fury has ever done before. A physical fight he could manage, but an invisible fight... that's something different. Today, he's grown tired of the other dragon's activities. The stalking worries him. He doesn't want to watch the dragon hurt any of his Vikings, but he already has. Luckily, nothing too major.

But still, enough is enough, for today. Or tonight, rather, because it's dark by the time Toothless finds himself able to move his own feet. He lays in the grass, panting, and lets out a quiet whimper, ignoring how much that noise pleases the feral dragon in his mind.

He doesn't understand.

Why is it in there? Is it the one behind the glass? Or is the mansion corrupting his mind and making him insane?

But, wait. Are those footsteps he hears?

With another whimper, louder this time, Toothless staggers to his shaking feet. He knows that some of the other Vikings are 'unwell', too, and if they aren't friendly, he's a sitting duck on the ground. So he stands there warily, blinking, waiting for the Viking to break through the vines.

The sound of something in the night does little to settle John, but he reminds himself that not everything that goes bump is a monster, and not ever monster goes bump.

As he creeps on, he hacks carefully at some vines with a sharpened machete. Since Johnny has managed to cause so much trouble with that ax, Blake is doing what he can to distance himself from that image by taking on a new weapon. It's more than enough for his needs, and in a pinch, with some careful strikes, it's enough of a weapon that he can defend himself.

He pushes through the last grouping of vines and is surprised to find a dragon on the other side, shaking and not at all unfamiliar.

"Hey there," John ventures carefully. He remembers when Blaine was attacked by the dragon's Mirror, and he'd rather not have to live that himself as well. "It's me, Blake. Not gonna hurt you, okay?"

Please be the Real Toothless, please be the Real Toothless...

Toothless makes an exhausted noise in the back of his throat, and drops back to his stomach in relief. He's never met the other Blake — and this really is too confusing for him to fully comprehend — but he's too drained to worry about a deception. Right now, he just wants to get his breath back and try to enjoy having full control over himself again.

As much as he can, at least.

He rumbles gently in Blake's direction, eyes half-closed, trying to reassure him.

Blake's never been all that close to pets, and when he's actually had one to call his own, it was some family-tortured beast that had no interest in children. Nevertheless, he recognizes the half-lidded expression as one clearly free of aggressive. If he has to guess, he'd call it relief he's seeing on the dragon's face. Honestly, it ought to mirror his own, because John's about done with dealing in Mirrors.

"Hey, hey, hey," he says, voice quiet. "Some comp'ny'll do us both good, right?" John approaches the dragon and when he gets near enough, he rests his hand on him, a gentle and careful touch. He might not have had pets to call his own, but he knows how to treat a friend, and Toothless has always been that.

Resisting the urge to hug Toothless, Blake instead leans against him, hand drawing over twitching, exhausted muscles. "Glad you're safe. Maybe stick with me a while, that way if anything happens..." He's not sure he needs to bother elaborating, but it's as certain as the day is long that he'll step in the way of Mirror Toothless if someone else is being put at risk by the dragon's behavior. "Keep an eye on each other."

The Night Fury purrs, quietly. He's grateful for the touch, after all of the wrestling he's been doing today. It's nice to communicate with something that doesn't hate him, and Blake has a quiet manner to him that's always been good for the dragon's confidence. It's soothing, having him around.

When Blake leans into him and suggests staying together, he hesitates.

The other dragon would hurt him. Maybe kill him. He thinks about killing Vikings so easily, the minute he catches sight of them, and if he hurt Blake the way he'd hurt others the last time he came through...

Toothless' purring stops, and he whines uncertainly.

Funny enough, Blake was thinking on the same problems as the dragon. He couldn't imagine Johnny doing anything beneficial with a dragon at his disposal, and if Toothless didn't cooperate, the Mirror would probably take out his frustrations with violence.

No, Blake didn't want anything like that happening. Still, he wasn't quite ready to walk away, and for the time being, he had a lot of confidence (albeit tired confidence) in the both of them keeping it together.

Scratching at his friend's back, he smiled encouragingly. "Gonna be okay, don't worry. You're you, I'm me. Gonna be fine for a coupla minutes," he assured. "Just you an' me, keepin' an eye out."

That sounds logical enough. Toothless knows — from experience, now — that it will be a little while before the other dragon tries to take control. And he will. The Night Fury is too tired to argue for very long, these days. But for now, it's just he and Blake. And the grounds, which are pleasantly quiet.

So he nods, nudging his head gently against Blake's leg. He's glad to see his friend, very glad, and hates that whatever is going on is undermining the both of them like this.

Whether they realize it or not, Blake and Toothless are thinking similar thoughts. It's awfully disconcerting to know that your body's being controlled by another entity, more so that it's being used against friends. More than a few people have mentioned run-ins with Johnny, and few speak in a way that suggests it went well.

With the nudge, John feels it appropriate enough to lean on the dragon a little heavily than he might normally. If he were a more sentimental man, he might lay himself across Toothless' back and just listen to him breathe, but he's never quite been that kind of person.

"When we get through this, oughta do somethin' fun, you an' me. Winter's gonna be here soon. You like the snow? Think we went out in it together last year." And that's something to think in of itself, isn't it? They'll have shared this place for a year soon enough.

Slowly, the Night Fury nods. He enjoys the increased pressure from Blake leaning on him. It feels more like Berk, like Hiccup collapsing on him after another long day spent in the blacksmith's. The dragon rumbles, because it doesn't seem that long ago that he arrived.

And yet, it's been almost a year, hasn't it? A natural progression of seasons.

This place is starting to feel more like home than anywhere else.

If only there were a more appropriate way to communicate with a dragon. Blake himself finds Wonderland to be more of a home than he'd ever experienced in Gotham. The logical part of him says that he should know better — that he can't stay in Wonderland forever — but for all that he tries, Wonderland comes up in his mind well before Gotham when he considers where he'd really like to be.

The rumbling makes him rumble back in kind, a low, throaty imitation of the dragon's noise because that's what feels right. They don't quite need to talk, right? They've never needed that brand of communication, even if John employs it often.

Sometimes, though, it's the friends that are comfortable in silence that hold the best kind of bond.

Still, after a second, he grumbles, "I'm tired. How 'bout you?"

Toothless rumbles again — this time, it's almost a groan of agreement. This whole thing has exhausted the dragon to his known limits. He'd rather fly for days than deal with such a feeling of mental exhaustion. He can barely understand what that is, for starters. The Night Fury closes his eyes and lets out a loud, gusting sigh, yawning and displaying all of his short, white teeth.

"Maybe if we hang out here together, we can nap," he suggests, and it's only half-joke. Honestly, he can tell his friend's tired, and he's already stated his stance. Rest would do them both good, too, if only there were some kind of solid assurance Toothless won't break bad in the meantime and gobble Blake up, or (much more likely), that Johnny won't take over and do something arguably worse than chomping on someone.

Blake lets out a long breath and slides down next to the dragon, shoulder leaned up against the large creature. He yawns as well. "Bet we'd be safe here with each other."

Sleep is the doorway that the other dragon uses to wrestle control, when Toothless is groggy and not in full command of his own mind. But sleep is also necessary. It's a cruel sort of situation. Toothless stays still, though, providing a solid support for leaning, and nods just slightly.

At least if the Mirrors took over, he thinks, it wouldn't be the two of them harrowing out any abuse at each other.

Blake doesn't mind the risk, especially where exhaustion's involved. It's one thing to work through the pain, a whole other to render yourself useless (or close to). His fingers spread out and he gives Toothless an appeasing scratch, letting out an affirmative noise. "Mm hm, got your back, man," he manages, but he's actually quite comfortable against his dragon friend.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, he tries to tell a story to keep himself alert and awake. "Had a dream 'bout you an' me the other night. We were walkin' in the woods. Came across a river an' when you put your paw in, it froze. We—" He chuckles a little. "We went skatin', an' you kept scratchin' at the frozen fish under the ice. Woke up laughin', so I knew it was a good dream."

Toothless listens with interest, especially at the mention of fish. He misses when he only hungered for things with scales. The more the other dragon is in control, the more memories he has of tearing into muscle and bone while the Viking in question screamed. Memories of the other side of the mirrors. Or perhaps dreams — he can't really tell the difference.

He gives a soft little snort that might be laughter. Skating?

Choosing to interpret it as laughter, Blake sits up a bit and fixes the dragon with a look, even if Toothless probably can't see it. "Hey, don't laugh," he chides, but it's all in good fun, and it leads him right into actually relaxing down against the dragon's side, cheek pressed against that black surface.

"Wasn't like we were all that good at it," he says, eyes closing as he tries to remember the wisps of memories. "Both ended up slippin' an' slidin' 'round like fools, anyway." But it's a really great mental image, and Blake had to admit that he appreciates feeling comfortable enough to share it. Who knew dragons made such good friends!

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everyone smiles at me

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I'll take either Toothless or M!Toothless, and anything's good with me~

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