[You know what's a really huge mistake? Walking into a House of Mirrors when you've already got massive self-image problems! Zelgadis stands frozen in place in front of one of the mirrors for what seems like a very long time... then suddenly spins on his heel and turns to leave, walking right into Rynlan. (Sorry -- this is a lot like having a brick wall walk right into you.)
All around them, there are only more mirrors. Which way did they come in through, again?]
[rynlan is already a noodle And he's underweight even for that. he absolutely stumbles when zelgadis walks into him; he recovers, though, a hand planted on one of the mirrors to steady himself as he exhales.
his ears are pinned back, but they already were. that part is not zel's fault; they're experiencing a mutual form of suffering here.]
If you're looking for the exit, it's not that way. I don't know where it is.
That was what I thought, but I also thought I came in from that direction- [pointing behind himself,] and now I have no idea.
[it's easy to get turned around, in a mirror house, especially when you try very hard not to look at the mirrors; he doesn't quite look fearful, but certainly very on edge.]
[...ah. he winces, when he hears that, ears pinning back flat just for a second.]
Hell wants us to be tormented, remember. Don't-- don't give it the satisfaction.
[there's enough tension in his voice, though, to make it clear he's not doing great at that either. he gets turned around once more, muttering angrily under his breath-]
Damn it, do they think this is funny-- I got rid of that mirror for a reason!
[He looks over his shoulder in surprise. For a moment, his attention's torn away from his own misery. In that moment, he realizes he can see something that looks different from the other mirrors -- a door?]
This way!
[He grabs a fistful of Rynlan's robe (or whatever he's wearing) and pulls him towards it.]
[-damn. he quietly curses himself for that slipping out, but there are more important things to worry about. for example: suddenly finding himself pulled another direction, with a startled yelp of surprise.
he's definitely not expecting to be grabbed, and stumbles for a step or two as he's pulled; it takes him a moment longer than it probably should to stabilize himself and follow properly, but whatever complaints he might have are stifled. if it gets them out of here, he doesn't care.]
[he breathes that out as he slumps back against the wall for support, spending a minute to settle himself as well; his ears eventually relax a little, and he sighs, though he doesn't move.]
[After a few moments, he slams his fist into the ground with a heavy thud. Then, he turns his body around and sits. He keeps a hand pressed over his face.]
...I'd rather avoid them. It isn't-- I'm not uncomfortable with myself. [that sounds a little too defensive.] But this is... not how I prefer to remember myself, exactly.
...in degrees, over time. This- [a gesture to the tentacle hair, to himself in general, the blue situation,] was the most recent, but my people have always been susceptible to change influenced by magic. We became a separate species of elf entirely from our ancestors, over centuries without our original magic source. We were tainted by the demonic energy we were forced to turn to after the new source we found was corrupted.
[his fingers tap idly on his leg where his hand rests, a little jittery.]
I lost- more than I expected, in war, and I couldn't-- there was no returning to how things were before. That was when it started. Then we were corrupted by the Void while trying to study it, and you can see well enough the sort of change that resulted in.
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Week 1, Monday
All around them, there are only more mirrors. Which way did they come in through, again?]
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[rynlan is already a noodle And he's underweight even for that. he absolutely stumbles when zelgadis walks into him; he recovers, though, a hand planted on one of the mirrors to steady himself as he exhales.
his ears are pinned back, but they already were. that part is not zel's fault; they're experiencing a mutual form of suffering here.]
If you're looking for the exit, it's not that way. I don't know where it is.
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[He mutters a quick apology, but there is immediate fear in his one visible eye at those words.]
What? It has to be nearby.
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[it's easy to get turned around, in a mirror house, especially when you try very hard not to look at the mirrors; he doesn't quite look fearful, but certainly very on edge.]
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That can't be... It was right over here.
[He turns around -- another mirror behind him.]
... I need to get out of here.
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[...no, the mirror was just at an angle. his hair tentacles shift, the movement reflected all around him, and he squeezes his eyes shut.]
What's wrong with this place?!
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Everywhere I go...
Must this accursed face follow my every step!?
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Hell wants us to be tormented, remember. Don't-- don't give it the satisfaction.
[there's enough tension in his voice, though, to make it clear he's not doing great at that either. he gets turned around once more, muttering angrily under his breath-]
Damn it, do they think this is funny-- I got rid of that mirror for a reason!
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[He looks over his shoulder in surprise. For a moment, his attention's torn away from his own misery. In that moment, he realizes he can see something that looks different from the other mirrors -- a door?]
This way!
[He grabs a fistful of Rynlan's robe (or whatever he's wearing) and pulls him towards it.]
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he's definitely not expecting to be grabbed, and stumbles for a step or two as he's pulled; it takes him a moment longer than it probably should to stabilize himself and follow properly, but whatever complaints he might have are stifled. if it gets them out of here, he doesn't care.]
Oh, that had better be what it looks like-
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Then he lets go, falls to his hands and knees, and takes in several ragged breaths. Trying to calm himself down.]
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[he breathes that out as he slumps back against the wall for support, spending a minute to settle himself as well; his ears eventually relax a little, and he sighs, though he doesn't move.]
Fuck that place. Are you all right...?
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I'll live. Damn it...
... You?
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[when he sits, ryn follows suit, just sort of sliding right down the wall to the ground.]
Don't think we'd get away with trying to get rid of the place, or I'd be tempted...
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[is that a joke.]
... Didn't know this stuff bothered you, too.
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[suffering torment etc]
...I'd rather avoid them. It isn't-- I'm not uncomfortable with myself. [that sounds a little too defensive.] But this is... not how I prefer to remember myself, exactly.
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[it can be-- difficult, to be visually confronted with it.]
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[-oh. he glances back to zelgadis, there, attention more properly focused.]
...that's what you meant, wasn't it? When you said you were seeking some sort of cure?
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[His hand slowly lowers... then he pulls the scarf down from his face.]
This face you see is not mine by choice. My body was turned into this wretched form some years ago.
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[he's been there-- he still is.]
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... How'd it happen, for you?
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[his fingers tap idly on his leg where his hand rests, a little jittery.]
I lost- more than I expected, in war, and I couldn't-- there was no returning to how things were before. That was when it started. Then we were corrupted by the Void while trying to study it, and you can see well enough the sort of change that resulted in.
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A gradual corruption...? I didn't know that sort of thing could happen... on a physical level, anyway.
... You've had it rough, huh.
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