entrancelogs | Winter Wednesday Wonderball

Who: E V E R Y O N E
Where: The Ballroom, Real Side
When: December 20th
Rating: PG
Summary: The invitation sent for you. Now the festivities begin! Come and join, Mirrors and Reals, and have a wonderful winter time!
The Story:

At last the invitations spell TODAY, and come 7 o'clock sharp the ballroom doors open to a beautiful winter landscape in icy blues and whites. Snow and ice of both the artificial and real variety decorate the ballroom, and white fog floods the dancefloor like an icy winter mist, making the atmosphere complete. Nevertheless the temperature is still pleasantly cool, allowing all to enjoy themselves without hiding their gowns under thick cloaks.

Decorations both standing and hanging are cool, elegant and... made with heart, though various symbols of the cool season, such as snowflakes and luscious winter conifers, have their place in the mix just the same. Chairs and tables of ice line the ballroom for anyone who wishes to rest their tired feet or enjoy the rich buffet of food and drink. It goes without saying that everyone's favourite cookies are still available, looking as delicious as ever. Still, there are alternatives, should anyone prefer to abstain for some odd reason.

For your entertainment piano music of various kinds fills the room at all times. The ball will continue well into the night, with food and drink replenishing as needed, and music playing as long as people will dance to it. Come dawn of the next day the ballroom will go quiet, all delicious goods will disappear, and furniture and decorations both will begin to melt, signalling even the most dedicated party guests that it's time to leave.

So go forth, dance, eat and drink, and be merry, and... perhaps spare just one moment to think of the ones less fortunate than yourself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He sees that, you hypocrite.]

[It almost makes him want to snag a drink off the nearest tray and down it, just to spite him.]

[Almost.]

Haven't had anything.

[And he can add to the crazy however he wants, asshole. Next you'll be telling him he shouldn't carry the camera.]

You're just...missing words.

[Wait.]

No, [says the Mirror slowly, drawing the word out as though correcting a particularly glaring error.] That’s you guys when an event from home comes calling. I thought even you would be making an effort to understand the rules of this place, buddy.

[That nickname stings more than the rest, and Jay doesn't want to look too deeply into why.]

That's not what--subdermatoglyphic. There. I didn't touch the box. And I'm pretty sure I'd notice if we had an event from home.

It's like you're being--

[Oh.]

[Oh.]

[Tim said that information was dangerous, didn't he?]

[The Queen said the bracelet would protect him, didn't she?]

[Well, then.]

Say something. No, I mean--something like the stuff you...you wrote on the mirror.

[Say something scary, Tim Wrong.]

No. Why? No.

[Uh, no???????? This isn’t okay. Whatever this is, it isn’t okay. Jay isn’t supposed to be immune to the Mirror’s bullshit. Where’s the fun in that?]

The Real me might be way too willing to jump through whatever hoops he think will save your skinny ass, but I’m not nearly as whipped, buddy chum. get used to it.

[Tim? Whipped?]

[If he were whipped, he'd have told Jay more than just, "It's bad. Can't tell you. Sucks to be you." And Jay probably would've gotten one less shiner.]

[Jay has to admit, though, that seeing Mirror Tim thrown off like this? Deeply satisfying.]

This isn't saving anything. Just trying to figure it out.

[This is probably a terrible idea.]

What? Is it bothering you or something?

[He doesn't deign to answer that question, thank you. Instead, he sets his glass down with a quiet tone of two surfaces aligning, contemplating the table with a neutral cast to his expression.]

Did you know that there used to be a market for little boys who could kill birds? They called them "wringers." Their job was simple, really.

They found the birds that hunters shot, who hadn't died of their wounds, and they learned how best to snap their necks.

[He smiles, and, in one split second - makes a very compulsive snap decision. This is what happens when you let his irritation simmer away beneath the surface and refuse to give anything up.]

[He lunges forward and snaps both hands around Jay's scrawny little neck.]

Nonon--

[Jay only has a fraction of a second before the sound dies, smothered as Tim--not Tim not Tim--crushes his windpipe. Jay can feel it crumple like cardboard, and he reaches up and digs his nails in and claws at the hands wrapped around his throat, and he can't breathe he can't breathe he can't breathe]

[He can't breathe.]

[But he doesn't feel anything else.]

[Nothing hurts. This is supposed to hurt. He's not breathing, and all he feels is a mild, throbbing discomfort, like an old bruise. He's not blacking out. His lungs aren't screaming at him.]

[But he still can't breathe.]

[Is this still the bracelet? Is he--what, is he some kind of zombie now?]

[He doesn't quite stop pushing back against the Mirror's hands, but he stops pressing so hard. Instead, Jay meets his eyes briefly, his expression just flat confusion.]

[It goes by so fast.]

[No one can die during this Christmas, and no one can really be hurt. Not permanently. That takes away the bite of fingers wrapped around his throat, for a moment, but Jay will glimpse the naked chill of utter rage contorting the Mirror's features in those precious seconds. It's not like the Real Tim's messy, desperate fury that wails and howls and claws at the bars of a cage. It's an unveiled moment of thinning control, searing like ice and dripped over with a spectral malice of something without a face.]

[In the same moment, it's over, and he releases Jay with a wry smirk.]

You were saying?

[It happens in an instant, but in that instant Jay knows.]

[The hands around Jay's throat aren't Tim's. They belong to somet͡hinģ

Ę͜Ĺ̷̡̛S̸̵͘͠E̢]

[And then it's over, and the Mirror loosens his grip. Jay shoves at him as he pulls away. It's redundant, but he just--he wants him to get back.]

[He was saying?]

[No, he tries to say, but the word sticks in his throat. His lungs still won't inflate. There's a knot of swollen tissue at the point where Tim's thumbs sank in, and nothing escapes but a wet, choked sound. There's no air behind it.]

[Jay's done. He takes a step back, further out of range, and lifts one hand. The bracelet still hangs around his wrist.]

[He flips Mirror Tim the bird.]

[The Mirror barks out a laugh.]

Very nice, Jay! Guess you aren't completely defanged after all!

[As if that recovery will be enough to score away the vital fucking error he made, in letting the little prick get to him. He really does work under your skin, huh? There's no avoiding it. He shouldn't have let his anger get the better of him, but - hell, it was worth it.]

[It was worth it, just for this.]

You have fun with that, now. Maybe you'll learn to be a little more like your Mirror, huh? [Less talkative.]

[Jay has never, in his life, wanted to punch someone in the face as much as he wants to punch this Mirror.]

[The only thing stopping him is that it would take him back within strangling range.]

[Maybe if he grabs a glass off the--no, moment's gone. It's not worth it.]

[Instead, he just shoots the Mirror the most withering look he can muster and waves, palm facing out and fingers curled. Toodles, asshole.]

Winter Wednesday Wonderball

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