Jack Wynand (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatseparates) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2013-05-02 11:35 pm
whatseparates) wrote in entrancelogs2013-05-02 11:35 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Jack Wynand and mirror!Mark Meltzer
Where: Starting in the hallway outside Jack's room, eventually moving on to the door
When: Right now, during the event, with the Bandersnatch running about
Rating: PG? Possible swearing.
Summary: Two men from opposite sides of the looking glass strike a dangerous bargain.
The Story:
Jack is venturing out. Despite the horrifying monster on the loose, he's tired of the packaged fare the closets offer, and he's confident enough in his ability to light fires and hurl furniture items at a distance that he's willing to risk a frumious encounter, just to taste something fresh.
He's well-armed, too, in case fires and telekinesis don't do the trick; he has his wrench, his handgun, and a shotgun slung across his back. He's unmasked--for now, peripheral vision takes precedence over his comfort.
He sets out with purpose, but pauses. Turns back.
He's seen something written on the mirror closest to his room: a chess grid.
It seems an odd time to expect him to play chess, what with a beast that could be upon him at any moment, so rather than make a move, he simply looks into the mirror, frowning faintly.
Where: Starting in the hallway outside Jack's room, eventually moving on to the door
When: Right now, during the event, with the Bandersnatch running about
Rating: PG? Possible swearing.
Summary: Two men from opposite sides of the looking glass strike a dangerous bargain.
The Story:
Jack is venturing out. Despite the horrifying monster on the loose, he's tired of the packaged fare the closets offer, and he's confident enough in his ability to light fires and hurl furniture items at a distance that he's willing to risk a frumious encounter, just to taste something fresh.
He's well-armed, too, in case fires and telekinesis don't do the trick; he has his wrench, his handgun, and a shotgun slung across his back. He's unmasked--for now, peripheral vision takes precedence over his comfort.
He sets out with purpose, but pauses. Turns back.
He's seen something written on the mirror closest to his room: a chess grid.
It seems an odd time to expect him to play chess, what with a beast that could be upon him at any moment, so rather than make a move, he simply looks into the mirror, frowning faintly.
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"Why does he limp?"
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He moves a piece, picks up the remaining sandwich half.
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"But you limp too?"
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"Does it hurt?"
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But then, the mirrorside has no weather, and he's never had to deal with cold or rain during his realside visits.
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"Seems strange. If I spliced up with a plasmid--would my mirror get it too?"
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"But he has the same scars. And the tattoos."
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He nods. This is interesting information.
Still mulling it over, he makes his next move when there's a sound from outside the room, a low clunk--like a deadbolt being drawn back.
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