entrancelogs | 08 🎠

Entry tags:

08 🎠

Who: Elizabeth and OPEN
Where: Corridors, then Elizabeth's room, then the lake
When: Backdated to just after the event
Rating: PG, will edit if needed
Summary: Elizabeth struggles to adjust on returning to the Real side, especially after seeing the damage her Mirror has done
The Story:

a) Corridors
Elizabeth doesn't walk as tall as usual, but is almost drawn into herself, arms wrapped around her and shoulders hunched over as though she's trying to make herself as small as possible. She doesn't even realise she's doing it, it's just become automatic ever since she was flung over to the Mirror side. Sometimes, when the Mansion is quiet and the shadows flicker in the candlelight, she becomes convinced that she's still over there, a panic gripping her for a moment until she manages to calm herself. She jumps as she hears footsteps approaching from behind her, her face white as a sheet as she turns, expecting to find a twisted version of one of her friends standing there.

b) Elizabeth's Room
She had no idea what her own Mirror had been up to, but it had never occurred to her that she might come to her bedroom. Now that she sees it, she's not particularly surprised, but her face falls in dismay at the state of the place. Her mattress has had a knife ripped straight through it, and the springs are protruding through the top of it like guts. Her pillow similarly has been torn up, feathers scattered about the room which rise up and float around her as she steps past and disturbs them. Her books are ripped to pieces, pages lining the floor. Her records are out of their sleeves, and they've been drawn on in bright red lipstick, swirls and patterns and here and there a crudely drawn figure. Her record player is still working, though, a song playing out and filling the room as Elizabeth enters, then starting over when it finishes, as though her Mirror has obtained a record of this one song to punctuate whatever message she's trying to send.

c) The lake
She can't stay in the Mansion. She feels sick. The gardens provide her no comfort either, not after spending so many days hiding in the colourless version on the Mirror side. She follows her feet, and they take her to the one new place in the grounds, the one place she knows her Mirror can't have defiled with her presence. Sitting at the edge of the lake, Elizabeth dips her toes in the water and sits, mesmerised by the sun glinting on the water and trying to force her mind to quiet.

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[Crowley sees the look on her face as she turns and scrunches his nose up slightly, pursing his lips just a little.]

What? [He asks, looking down at himself - sharp suit, snakeskin shoes, nothing terribly out of place.] Is my face lopsided? I had to get a little creative with some of the mirrors.

[Not something he had enjoyed, but needs must, and the need had certainly been there. He'd ruined a good suit, and he wasn't happy about that.]

You look like you've seen a ghost.

[It takes her a couple of seconds to realise who's standing there, but when she does she lets out an awkward laugh in relief.]

I'm so sorry, Mr Crowley. I was worlds away.

Not literally, I hope. [Crowley says, eyebrows lifting slightly. He still remembers her demonstration of her unique 'abilities' and isn't yet sure just where such a thing might take her.

Yet, just as uniquely as her powers, there is a certain pleasure in seeing her that Crowley does not often find himself experiencing. He cocks his head, curious.]

Just where were you?

[She casts her eyes down to the ground, frowning as she replies.]

I'm sorry, it's just, since the Mirrors... [She trails off, momentarily lost in her own thoughts again.] It's just difficult sometimes, you know?

[The Mirrors. Crowley saw enough madness in the eyes of the one that looked like Aziraphale to have his fill of the Mirrors. His expression sours.

'Difficult' is a word for it.]

Something like that. I didn't have the pleasure of meeting yours.

[He says the word 'pleasure' like it tastes bitter.]

I'm glad of that. I haven't met her either, but she's a-- [She stops, unable to say a rude word even about her own Mirror.] --she's not a very nice person.

[She brightens somewhat as she remembers:] I met yours, though!

... Did you, now.

[He almost doesn't want to ask. What could a mirror of himself be like, over on that side where everything is far worse than it could ever be here? He will stop Aziraphale time and time again before the angel utters any word pertaining to there being some scrap or remaining spark of good inside the demon, but in his most private heart of hearts, Crowley can never deny what the truth is.

The truth that he is simply not a very good demon at all.

Crowley nearly doesn't ask. In fact, he nearly says that he would prefer not to know, but curiosity has always been one of his more enduring flaws.]

And what is he like?

He's lovely. [She feels a little more secure and confident remembering this part of her time on the other side of the Mirror. If only she could banish the rest of it from her memory.] Mr Gadreel took such good care of me, I'm not sure how I would have coped over there without him.

[Oh, he could have handled the idea that his Mirror was an angel. He could have handled the idea that his Mirror was kind, and pleasant. He could have handled the idea that he had protected Elizabeth with no ulterior motive at all.

What he can't quite handle is hearing that name come from Elizabeth's mouth.

He makes a noise - something like what - and with his pupils narrowed to slits grips her shoulder a little harder than he means to.]

Don't say that name.

[She's nervous as it is, having jumped at her own shadow ever since she'd come back from the Mirror side, and at Crowley's reaction she flinches, bracing herself for what might come.]

Wh-- why not? What's the matter?

[Immediately, his hand jumps back from her shoulder. He looks startled at himself, both for his sudden reaction... and how her flinching away from him makes him feel. Crowley pushes a hand through his hair.]

It's-- nothing. I-- [Ghk.] Sorry.

[Elizabeth relaxes a little as he realises he's upset her, but she still doesn't look too comfortable. She clasps her hands tightly together in front of her, her gaze still cast down to the floor.]

No, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned your Mirror at all. I know I'd be upset if people said mine was nice to them, after what she's done to me.

It's not that-- [His hand goes to his hair again and stays there, lightly gripping the dark strands at the roots.]

It's--

[It's hard, because he doesn't know how to explain it to her. He's never explained it to anyone because the only one who ever cared was Aziraphale, and he already knew. He's never wanted to explain it, not least to a human, because humans were ridiculous and stupid and didn't want to understand.

But, Elizabeth...

Isn't she a friend?]

Can I show you something? In the library.

[If anything, she's even more confused now. But she's grateful that Crowley seems to want to take the time to explain.]

Yes, of course.

[He nods, and leads her by quick steps to the library. Once there, he suggests she seat herself while he finds what he's looking for, displaying an agitation that isn't often seen. His long fingers dance across worn leather spines, creased paper, few undamaged, until he finds what he's looking for.

It isn't with any haste that he returns to Elizabeth. He reads the words he finds again and again before he places the book down in front of her and jabs his finger at them without speaking.

'And the third was named Gadreel: he it is who showed the children of men all the blows of death, and he led astray Eve, and showed the shield and the coat of mail, and the sword for battle, and all the weapons of death to the children of men. And from his hand they have proceeded against those who dwell on the earth from that day and for evermore.']

[She feels calmer in here, more comfortable. Maybe it's the familiarity of the library, maybe it's that the halls in particular felt so sinister, maybe it's just that she's spent most of her life surrounded by books, but she doesn't feel as though she's going to be snatched away back to the Mirror side here.

She reads in silence, continually glancing up at Crowley then back down at the page, finding this revelation a little surreal.]

He's you before-- before you fell from Grace.

[She can understand why that would be difficult for him to be suddenly confronted with.]

In a way. I suppose. He might be.

[Crowley sits, and somewhat heavily at that. After not hearing that name spoken aloud in six thousand years, it was more than a shock to suddenly find the embodiment of it was walking around as an actual person. Who was this mirror version of himself, exactly? Him before he Fell, or a version of him who never did?

He passes through those thoughts and comes out of the other side feeling faintly nauseated.]

I don't know. That-- [Taptap on the book.] Isn't me, not really. Some of it is the same, but I never led anything.

[Being in the spotlight had never been something he'd sought out. Too many people look at you when you make a spectacle of yourself.]

[She pushes the book away from her a little, looking intently up at him.]

None of our Mirrors are really us. I suppose they're might-have-beens. Yours a little more literally than others I've heard of.

[Crowley shrugs, glancing offside. It's an awkward and.. difficult thing to talk about, and for the life of him he can't understand why he would so easily (and it might have seemed difficult, but it was nothing compared to how it usually stuck on the way out) tell Elizabeth exactly why he reacted as he did.

Maybe it was different when a mortal said it. That name.]

They're not supposed to be helpful. You know that, right? The mirrors.

[Elizabeth frowns a little, not believing that for one second.]

Well, of course most of them aren't. But I don't think there's any reason they don't have to be helpful if they don't want to.

[Crowley may have never been particularly vocal on the topic, but if he's good at anything (and he's good at a lot of things) it's seeing patterns.]

Makes you wonder, though, why most of them aren't. They're not made to help us, Liz. Every time they find their way over here, people die.

[She's sweet, but she's naive.]

It's like a clumsy morality scale.

You're wrong. [She's a little surprised at the confidence with which she says it, even if she firmly believes that she's right here.] They're aware that they live in a wretched place, under the thumb of a tyrant. And while some of them are jealous of even the small amount of freedom we have on our side, others learn from watching us and aspire to be like us and among us. I can't believe that anyone is created truly malevolent, even these creatures of the Queen of Hearts.

[If he's honest with himself - which he often isn't, though it would probably do him some good - he's surprised at her confidence, too.

He still thinks she's wrong, but the girl's got some conviction.]

Like my mirror.

[Who, from what he has heard, seems perfectly (and sickeningly) good.]

I wonder if I'm on the wrong side.

[ Elizabeth looks as though he's personally wounded her with that remark. ]

Oh, please don't say that, Mr Crowley! It wouldn't be the same over here without you, after all.

Any place there's one less demon is surely a better one, isn't it? [Despite the words, Crowley doesn't sound particularly venomous. He's under no illusions about what he is and what that means, and it does sound a lot like he should actually be on the other side of the mirrors.

All things said and done, and with Zirah on the prowl, he's happy enough that he isn't.]

I'm not a Good person, Elizabeth. If he's an angel, it sounds like the Queen got her wires crossed.

Well, you-- that is to say--

[ She's not sure how to argue against that. After all, he knows his own nature far better than she does. Although she's certain that there's a difference between Good on a grand scale of heaven and hell and good in the love one feels and the choices one makes. ]

I refuse to believe that just because you're a demon, that means you aren't good. You've been so kind to me.

[His eyebrows go up while she stumbles, but he can't outright deny what she says next. Instead he says nothing, pressing his lips together and turning his attention away to trail it slowly across the uppermost shelves of the nearby bookcases.]

Mm, well.

[She's right, in a way. He's never been cruel to her, but Crowley is rarely cruel to anyone without provocation (after which he can get somewhat unnecessarily dramatic).]

I'm not Good. With a capital 'G'. Kind of the whole point of being a demon. That doesn't mean I have to be... [Here, he waves a hand vaguely.] Uncivilised.

I suppose. [ She agrees somewhat reluctantly, feeling rather sorry for him with the way he feels bound by such a strict morality that is out of his hands.] Civility could be seen as mere politeness, though. You've certainly gone beyond that.

[In general, Crowley is a poor sport when he knows he's been beaten. His expression takes on the look of someone who just bit into a piece of overripe fruit, and he shakes his head.]

You are completely hopeless. [He says without venom.] But I can see there's no changing your mind. Just remember, not all demons are going to be as civilised as I am.

[That is, some of them might happily use her instinctive lack of wariness to their advantage. Crowley finds he doesn't want to be responsible for that.]

"I shall try to keep that in mind," she promises, though she knows it's going to be difficult. She so desperately wants to give people the benefit of the doubt, and he's living proof that she should try to do so.

[ Ward recognizes her as the one who'd been responsible for the last event with the tears. It's why he's choosing to approach her. He'd seen things: some good, some bad, but mostly what intrigued him the most was that ability to jump into the tears and experience an entirely new life. ]

You sure it's safe to do that? [ He's eyeing the lake with some measure of concern. It's a fairly new addition to Wonderland and who knows what could be swimming in it. ]

[It hadn't occurred to her that there might be something lurking in the lake, but now that she thinks about it, it's entirely the sort of thing Wonderland would do. She hurriedly removes her feet from the water.]

It looked so peaceful. Though I suppose it's too much to hope that the addition of this place is to give us something of a respite.

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