[If he had the energy to, Vexen might smack the mirror's hand out of his way-- and push him back, and kick him away, or something-- but as it stands, all he can do is snarl weakly and struggle to push himself up to his feet. His knees buckle before he can get there, and a blood-stained palm slams against the glass in an effort to catch his weight, his other arm dangling uselessly.
Vexen doesn't look very well. Among other things, someone's been slamming his head against something hard enough to make the skin over one eye burst and bleed, gumming that eye shut with blood-- and the remaining open eye glares at the mirror through a haze of exhaustion and pain.
The scientist hasn't been sleeping very well on this side, for obvious reasons. His counterpart, though he doesn't know it, hasn't been sleeping at all.]
Help him.
[His voice comes out rough, and grating, jerking his chin at the berserker preparing for a fight on the other side.]
He's you, or a version of you, isn't he? Don't you care?
no subject
Vexen doesn't look very well. Among other things, someone's been slamming his head against something hard enough to make the skin over one eye burst and bleed, gumming that eye shut with blood-- and the remaining open eye glares at the mirror through a haze of exhaustion and pain.
The scientist hasn't been sleeping very well on this side, for obvious reasons. His counterpart, though he doesn't know it, hasn't been sleeping at all.]
Help him.
[His voice comes out rough, and grating, jerking his chin at the berserker preparing for a fight on the other side.]
He's you, or a version of you, isn't he? Don't you care?