entrancelogs | 'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

Entry tags:

'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.

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[ her mouth forms a disgruntled pout.

it's true she can't see if they've run away now, and that does take some of the fun out of it. much as she appreciates their lovely reflections—and trust that she does, despite the tiredness in victor's eyes—she prefers to be the one observing. it offers her a level of control in a way little else does, and elena craves that rather openly: control. ]

Don't tell me you're suddenly shy now.

[ she glances his way teasingly. ]

Then we must make sure they only see what we want them to see. [ they must make sure the reals only know what they want them to know. if elena seems divulging when it comes to the reals, it's because the information itself detracts from what she'd really like to hide. ]

_{[While Elena smugly admires herself, Victor makes a face and looks up at down at the glossy glass, unsure what he should think. As long as he's been here (which hasn't been all that long at all comparatively), the mirrors have always been their means to look out onto the other side with its color and life.]}

It'd be nice to get a warning before my privacy is invaded is all.

_{[Shy? No... no, except he might be self-consciously trying to smooth his hair down now that he suspects he's being watched.

He should've picked a cleaner shirt.]}

What are you going to do?

_{[Elena's been here almost as long as he has and by now he's learned to expect she has something up her sleeve at all times. He likes to think in words and images; she thinks in ideas and inputs and outputs.]}

[ a sigh.

elena shifts to face victor; eyes narrow as she studies him, and her own fingers smooth his hair back to a degree he might find acceptable. it's almost affectionate, as affectionate as this elena can ever hope to be, in any case. (she may hate katherine, but elena can now respect her better you die than i mentality). ]

I'm not sure yet. I'm surprised the Queen hasn't said anything about this recent turn of events, though.

[ if the real side can look into the mirror side, the queen may be just as vulnerable as they are.

she's kind of hoping this means war. ]

_{[The Mirror turns his eyes upward to track her movements, feeling fingers brush through his hair. When allowed to grow out it has a slight curl to it, though Real Victor keeps it trimmed too short to tell. He's the taller of the two, but not by much; she doesn't have to stretch very far to reach.

Physically speaking, if someone were to date them by the ages of their Reals, he's also the older of them but it doesn't often feel that way. It's not just that she's more (less?) than human--she's been heated and beaten into shape by experience like metal under a smith's hammer in ways he can only imagine. At times like this he feels distinctly like a younger duckling that's wandered off the road, picked up and brushed off so his fragile humanness is less obvious.]}

Better? You're a better judge than my reflection.

_{[Which is still weird to see so plainly, by the way.]}

That's not like her. You'd expect she'd be furious.

_{[And that's not good for anyone--her temper has been known to fall on Reals and Mirrors equally when something of hers as sacred as the mirrors has been tampered with.]}

[ she'd never admit it, but victor's humanity is part of why she has a soft spot for him, cruelty and mischief aside. elena will shout this is the better version of her until she's blue in the face. it doesn't change the truth: she'll never be able to tear it out of her, the piece that remains lodged inside her chest and longs to be human again.

it's longing. she's forgotten what that feels like, so she'd never be able to give it a name. ]

Better.

[ her smile widens, toothy and knowing. ]

You know our Queen. I suspect she is already devising a plan, and we'll be informed of it eventually.

[ all in due time, as they say. ]

Edited 2016-06-13 17:31 (UTC)

_{[If they're making suggestions--]}

You missed a spot.

_{[He makes a vague gesture at her face. Standing facing each other like this, the blood staining the edges of her mouth are all the more obvious. It could look like the faded remains of crimson lipstick if they didn't know her. Know what she is.

As for the Queen, he wouldn't be surprised if "plan" meant a bloody reprisal. He hopes not. He doesn't have much of a desire to pick a fight with the Real side--violence isn't really his forte.]}

I do, and she still continues to scare me a little. _{[He takes a bite out of his apple with an audible crunch.]} I wash I'd known we'd need to put on a performance earlier. I guess we'll just have to act natural.

[ oh, victor. always a darling.

a small laugh escapes her lips, a distinct lack of contrition in the sound as the tips of her fingers wipe the remaining blood off her chin. ]

I was hungry.

[ but then, this is what people don't understand about vampires. once you become one: you're always hungry. everything is heightened. beautiful things are indeed more beautiful. anger becomes rage. sadness takes a quick turn to despair. and hunger — hunger is bottomless. ]

Only a fool wouldn't be scared of the Queen, Victor. [ now that she is a vampire, she understands more than ever the importance of one's maker. and elena, both elenas for that matter, are nothing if not seasoned in the art of social politics. ] I'm certain she'll appreciate us acting as though nothing is amiss, and if we do meet those who seek information, we simply divert them with the wrong kind.

_{[Spend enough time in the presence of the supernatural and beautiful people that grow fangs and drink blood to live ceases to strain the boundaries of the imagination. He's seen her hunger up close, felt her fangs sink into him; her cavalier feeding habits no longer startle him.

The act of feeding is, in its own way, savage and beautiful, though that's a thought he's too shy to utter out loud, condemning it to paper.]}

Me, too. _{[A glance down at the apple and banana.]} Late breakfast.

_{[Her suggestion to dissemble in the name of the Queen gets him thinking. The glance he casts the mirror is contemplative, a pucker forming between his brows, and he lowers his voice a few by a few degrees to ensure Elena and her vampiric hearing are the only ones who will hear him.]}

Information... That must be what this is about. Someone must be looking for something on our side or else why turn the mirrors against the Queen?

[ yes.

please write poetry about how beautiful and savage vampires are, so that elena can read it. her ego clearly doesn't need further stroking, but she would love it all the same.

a small smirk quirks at her lips, mostly because of how starkly different their breakfasts are. ]

Do you have any idea what they'd be looking for?

[ elena steps closer to keep their conversation private, but victor's comment has piqued her interest. he's been a mirror for longer than she has, and that means there are things he knows that she might not. elena would like to write this off as another pissing contest between the queen and the duchess, but she can't. ]

_{[He reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, an unconscious habit he has that the Real Victor lacks (not noticing he disturbs some of Elena's hard work in the act).

It's true that he's been serving the Queen longer, but up until this point he's done it at a distance, following her commands when she insists on obedience and staying out of her way the rest of the time. He'd written a poem for her once, that had been terrifying enough. To this day, he still doesn't know what she'd thought of it--and that's almost as awful as her hating him and his artistic endeavors.]}

It can't be the Vorpal sword. There's no use for it now with the Jabberwock dead... or gone, I don't know.

[ she forgets, every so often, how fragile humans can be. it would be terrible to lose her favorite feeding source, and one of the precious few friends she has on the mirror side. true, elena's temperament doesn't make friendships easy, but even the most sadistic version of elena hates to be alone.

her fingers grasp his chin, careening it toward her. ]

Whatever it is, you need not worry. I will protect us both. I've done a good job so far, haven't I?

_{[With her fangs safely tucked away like this, sometimes he forgets that underneath that soft face there's steel.

The fingers holding his chin are firm, not enough pressure to hurt but enough to command attention, and her gaze is steady with that unapologetic confidence he's grown accustomed to. His wayward heart, spinning in all directions at all times, admires that in times of uncertainty she's a compass needle that points true north.

A smile comes over him unbidden.]}

Yes, you have.

_{[And God help anyone who crosses her the wrong way.

Impulsively, he steps into her and puts his arms around her smaller frame in a show of affection his Real would overthink in a thousand different ways before executing.]}

It'll be all right.

[ mystic falls has become a distant memory on the mirror side. the kind that slips past one's fingers like water — impossible to contain. it's harder and easier to be away from it than she thought it would be. she thinks about home every day. she never wants to go back. it's a town of graves and blood, and she can leave it behind.

she can leave.

elena has officially grown sick of holding on. it's all she's ever done. she lets go now: of the girl who should've died on the bridge; the girl she would have become after that, had damon not turned her into what she is. (she needs both of these girls to be dead.)

but then victor smiles a bashful smile, and gives her affection she is certain is undeserved. holding on makes sense again, even when she teaches herself not to. she latches on, in a twisted way now, but latching on all the same. she sinks into the embrace, and tips her head upward, lips resting gently at his temple.

when she steps back, her hands cup his cheeks. elena smiles back, all mischief and possibility. ]

Now. What do you say we get you some real breakfast and you tell me what you've been working on?

_{[And this--this--is why the idea of vampires so finely humanized that they can pass as any other day creature is beguiling. All that strength and bloodlust, curbed by cool lips and soft affection. It's an alluring contrast.

That's Elena: going from frightening, to scheming, to impish play in fluid, effortless succession.

His exhale has an amused undertone to it. If any Reals are watching through the mirrors right now, they must be wondering what they're seeing. Friendship? Something more? Something less? The truth is more complicated than a glance through a mirror can show. It usually is.]}

All right, since you've already eaten without me.

_{[Agreeing to a more filling meal doesn't keep Victor from tossing his apple into the air and catching it again, then unpeeling his banana. His free arm stays resting across the back of her shoulders as they turn to face the same way on their walk down the corridor.]}

Well, with the mirrors like this, it's put me in mind of the symbolic world we're forbidden, like in Tennyson's "Lady of Shalott"...

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'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

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