entrancelogs | 'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

Who: You! !oot ,uoy dnA
Where: Wonderland, both Real and Mirror side
When: June 3 to June 10
Rating: PG-13, will vary by thread, warnings for higher ratings appreciated
Summary: A catch-all log for Mirrors and Reals during the reverse espionage event. Anything from Mirrors leading their daily lives, over Reals reacting to the show, to Reals and Mirrors exchanging messages goes here. Just label your locations and sides accordingly!
The Story:

Your own medicine is worth twice the sweetness in the bush, that is what they say! Here is my plan, now make sure you listen well, or you get it wrong, and then I would need to pair you all up, for only two even wrongs set my head back on right, and we've no time for such things, no time at all, do we?

As mighty as the sharpest blade, as stout as the hardest shield, a spool of thread woven from hearts of gold. It must exist, and I must have it! She'll do worse to my head if I search, but you'll help, won't you? I will let you see, and you will be my eyes! All good things come tomorrow - then I'll let you see, and you'll be my eyes, and when it's all done you'll use your own mouths to tell my personal ears all you know, won't you?

All of Wonderland's mirrors are suddenly working in reverse. The Real side can see everything, and the Mirror side is left with nothing but their own reflections. Details of the event can be found here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

One thing they've had in abundance here is time, and precious little to fill it with but idle contemplation and close observation. The stutter of someone else's timeline is a fairly unique feeling. It appealed to them instantly.

So now this particular Max is thrilled to be the subject to someone else's whims. How positively novel.

Frisk sighs, a low, gravelly sound. "I'm not a wind-up toy."

Her grin settles into a bland smile, but there's still an impish twinkle in her eyes. She's always wondered what it would feel like- one moment standing here, and the next all the way down the hallway and around the corner. To feel time curve around into a circle, without being the one to bend it.

"Do it again, or I will! Or I'll make you!" She tries to remember exactly what she said earlier. "On the count of three. Ooooone..."

"Or what?" The corners of their mouth twitch into a mild, mocking expression. "You'll rewind? Yeah, boy, what a shame that would be. I'll have to endure your stupid expression for twice as long."

Because it feels rote, they smile back. Spread their arms wide in a gesture widely recognized as go ahead.

They're not scared of her.

Max knows that expression. Frisk definitely won't rewind, even if she counts a long twooooo and threeeee. She grins. This is it. This is the hard way. Someone might die.

Fun.

She whips out a pair of pistols from holsters hidden inside her hoodie. They're small, but nonetheless lethal. "Twothree!" she cheers, gleeful, and fires right at Frisk.

BANG!

She rewinds. Bullets hang in mid-air for a moment, then crawl backwards along thin trails of smoke, away from Frisk, back into the barrels of her guns-

"Twothree!" she cheers, gleeful, and fires right at Frisk.

BANG!

She rewinds. Bullets hang in mid-air for a moment, then crawl backwards along thin trails of smoke, away from Frisk, back into the barrels of her guns-

"Twothree!" she cheers, gleeful, and fires right at Frisk.

Blood drips from her nose.

BANG!

She rewinds.

She does it forcefully each time. It's the sudden and reflexive sort of rewind, the kind that makes her head ache and her eyes water. At some point she's going to pass out from the sheer pain of it.

At some point she won't be able to stop the bullets, won't be able to make them climb along their little smoke trails back into her guns.

At some point, Frisk is going to die.

Fun.

She wonders how long it might take them to figure it out. Do they know she'll pass out at some point? Do they know she's just put them on a non-stop game of Russian Roulette? That she's put a time-limit (ha!) on whether or not they'll load?

Do it! Load!

The bullets jerk in mid-air. Time stutters. They climb back again into her guns, almost hesitant. Part of her hopes she isn't able to rewind again. Part of her hopes she's hit with blinding pain and ends in a heap on the floor.

Load!

Human weaponry is pitiful in comparison to the horrors and dangers of monster magic, even if it has a sort of immediacy that the latter lacks. Frisk watches the bullets slip back into the barrels of the gun, again and again.

It's a neat trick. The part of them removed from concern notes this dryly. A neat trick, one that Flowey employed time and time again.

Max might have fun, but Frisk has determination.

"You have no conception of your own limits," they say coldly, as the bullets creep closer, and twist the fold of time deftly like they always do -

'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

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4/4 Hope this is okay!

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