http://dischordiant.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] dischordiant.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] entrancelogs2008-10-12 04:29 pm

start a little anarchy // Mirror!Eiko, Kobato, Vexen

Who: Kobato ([livejournal.com profile] letmehealyou), Mirror!Eiko ([livejournal.com profile] dischordiant), Mirror!Saix ([livejournal.com profile] bloodluna - no mirror LJ), Vexen ([livejournal.com profile] cyrophilia)
Where In the Mansion's Mirrorside, on the first floor.
When: On the first day of the event.
Rating: PG-13 to be certain; you don't know what nasty little mirrors can do~
Summary: Kobato shouldn't be so trusting.
the Story:

Eiko's mirror prowled.

For once, the mirrored mansion's halls were quiet: most of the troublemakers had gone ahead to the other side, and it was too early for those who unknowingly brought over (she could ask one of the older mirrors to explain how the switching works to her, but everyone made such a big deal out of it) to wake up and start panicking. She was sure the other side of the mirror was like that too (she hasn't looked in yet today-- it was more entertaining once the victims are already running)-- or would be.

Her shoes, sensible leather with modest heels, matched with socks that come up just to her ankles, clicked against the floor.

Eiko was restless.

The mirror didn't look much different from her original (oh, and didn't she hate that term and all it implied), save for a far more tasteful (why the other Eiko insisted on looking like she escaped from a carnival Eiko would never know) outfit, and a more... poised appearance, in general. Something predatory. Her posture was carefully rigid, and her steps hardly rustled the layers-- the many layers-- of petticoats that covered her legs down to her knees. Perhaps someone familiar with the story of Alice would have recognized the dress.

It's doubtful, however, that the real Alice would ever go around with carving knives tucked into the ties of her apron.

The mirror reached up to adjust her bow idly, mouth pursing into a small moue of annoyance. Really, was there no one to talk to? How dreadfully inconvenient. She wanted entertainment; why wasn't it presenting itself?

A flash of color at the end of a corridor gave her pause, and she turned her head slowly: a hound scenting unsuspecting prey. Well. It seems as though the mansion does provide, after all.

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting