merry christmas; i could care less [ open ]

[postictal]

Who: Real Tim, Mirror Tim + YOU / Real Frisk, Mirror Frisk + YOU
Where: All the heck over my guys
When: 12/13 - 12/20
Rating: PG to start with, will edit for anything higher
Summary:
The Story:

[Just kidding starters are in the comments.]

[Let me know if you want something closed cooked up special, etc., or hit me over at arrpee. I will match prose or brackets!]

Comments

[postictal]

Pleasure meeting you in person.

Despite the hiccups, despite the differences, despite the way he's managed to trip-stumble right over one of Tim's own personal boundaries and dragging himself through the best and worst of him, it almost sounds sincere. Maybe it is.

He's a Mirror. He was created because Jay exists in Wonderland. Technically, he's existed...what? Two, three times over, now? He probably doesn't remember. He probably doesn't remember, but maybe he knows enough about it to deal with the crushing existential terror of it all.

He's a Mirror.

A victim, like any other Mirror.

"You're not...alone in all this." He said as much to the Real, and it's not like Jay took it well at the time, but it doesn't mean he doesn't mean it. "You know that. Right?"

[unwoundtape]

He remembers hearing something similar, before. They're not his memories, he knows, but they're all he has. They're the only thing that makes it feel like he's been around longer than seven months, and they're the only life he has outside the Mansion.

Back then, he remembers bristling at it. It felt condescending, like Tim thought he knew what was going on in Jay's head better than he did. Like he wanted control. Like he was pretending Jay was sick just to make himself feel better.

Now, though? Outside the false memories sewn into his head?

These are the nicest words anyone has said to him in his whole life.

He's not sure how to process it.

He didn't expect to have to process it.

They're just words. They're vague enough to mean anything, really. They're platitudes. They're senseless. They're not going to keep him from being Unmade when the Queen's standing over him. They're not going to keep him from being Marked. They're not going to bring him back home. They're not going to help him in any tangible way.

The skin around his eyes is stinging. He swipes at it, and his hand comes back wet.

Meaningless.

Malfunctioning.

He grits his teeth, and (The wind is rustling through the leaves but the sound is wrong. He knows the sound is wrong. The Mansion door opens and shuts. He can hear noise from inside; someone opened a window, despite the chill. The air is sickly-sweet. There is birdsong.) breathes.

He needs a minute.

[postictal]

Has he never...

No. Of course he hasn't. He's willing to bet that the Mirror's never heard anything remotely nice or affirming in the least, even if it's as neutral and simple as you're not completely alone. The Mirrors don't generally deal in compassion, and the Queen of Hearts? Well, it doesn't serve her agenda to encourage that sort of thing.

Of course it's gonna hit him where it hurts.

The Mirror scrubs at his face, at his eye. Like it hurts.

"It's bullshit. That she has the Mirrors going at each other, just to keep them in line."

[unwoundtape]

He makes a quiet hissing noise through his teeth, speaking before he remembers the right word.

(Someone's close enough for him to make out snatches of conversation. '--freezing out--' '--really thought--' '--don't do--')

"Prisoner's dilemma." That's it. That's the answer. "Rational to cooperate, but if you don't know what the other will decide..."

His voice is even scratchier than usual. He hates it.

[postictal]

"I'm not saying that there's not a reason for it. I get it. You do what you have to, to survive." He'd understand that, right? Jay would know that he does. This Jay, and the Real one, they've both seen him scrabbling to do something poorly advised, something neither of them agree with in full, for the sake of getting himself and Jay both through all of it.

Not that it meant anything. Not that any of it ever meant a single damn thing.

"It's just - it's bullshit, all right? That she's not letting you be anything else."

[unwoundtape]

"It's bullshit," Jay parrots back. It's not mocking; he says it just as sincerely as Tim does.

He's built to observe, but not for her.

"Wouldn't want to be something else." He's being honest, and Tim's being nice. It's a Christmas miracle. "I'm fine."

He bets Tim will get a laugh out of that one. His own would.

"I just want to be me, as far away from her as possible."

[postictal]

"Well, maybe we can make that work someday." He means that, too, despite the hiccups and stumbling blocks. He has no idea where to start, but - but they've got to start. They've got to start with figuring out how to decouple the Queen from the Mirrors she's claimed as her own, and let them live their own damn lives.

It's what any living thing would deserve.

[unwoundtape]

"Maybe."

They've got no plan, just information, which in itself may not be reliable. Sounds familiar.

"Until then..." He scrubs again at the stinging skin below his eyes. Salt is an irritant, and the cold air's just making it worse. "Priority is to keep from getting killed."

And he means killed. Unmade sounds terrifying in and of itself, but killed is more visceral. He's not going to die again. He's not going to die for the first time for real, and he's not going to allow himself to be Remade into something lesser.

[postictal]

"Yeah." They can agree on that much, at least. Keep from getting killed, or Unmade, or otherwise incapacitated. It's miraculous that any of them have lasted as long as they have, but Wonderland lends itself to that sort of thing.

Impossibility. Miracles. For better or worse.

"You, uh...I don't wanna keep you," he says, gaze dropping to regard his feet. "I mean, I don't wanna make my Mirror...suspicious, I guess. If he's looking for your or something."

[unwoundtape]

Jay grimaces, rolling his eyes in the direction of the Mansion.

"He probably is." He cups a hand beside his mouth, conspiratorially. "He gets antsy when I'm not where he expects."

His fellow Mirror might only 'care' in the sense that he 'cares' about whether or not all the pieces are still in position, but Jay can work with that. He can even benefit from that.

And if he can make his own moves while his Tim's attention is elsewhere, all the better.

"Keep in touch?"

[postictal]

"Yeah." It's not much of a smile, the twitch at the corner of his mouth, but maybe the Mirror knows that it's about as close as Tim gets, on a day like this. It's faint and it's barely present at all, hardly counting as much of a smile, let alone a display of genuine amusement.

Antsy. His Mirror. Guy's maybe a bit of a control freak, when it comes to lining his plans up? Who knows.

"Yeah. I will."

[unwoundtape]

That's a relief, and the fact that it's a relief isn't something Jay wants to think about too closely. He's got his hook into the apostate, and he's got a new source of information. Might be more reliable than his own Tim.

That's all it is.

He nods at Tim, turns, and starts toward the Mansion with his Real's camcorder in hand.

A few paces away, he stops.

He's no good at goodbyes.

He turns back, and in a motion he's never practiced before and isn't sure he's doing correctly now, he waves.

[postictal]

No Tim knows is any good at goodbyes. Whether you expect them or not, they always come suddenly, and they always leave you bereft.

The Mirror waves. One of Tim's hands slips from where it's been buried in his pocket, without hesitation, as he waves back.

It's not much, in the way of goodbyes. But it's something.