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 Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 5:34 pm
Once her group was all done, the four of them stood and unlocked all seven locks that hindered their way forward.
How gaudy. Marzena thought, stepping in through this door. So many riches here, and the rooms down below were filled with deadly and strange traps? She wondered if the gargoyles knew, or if they didn't really care at all. Probably the latter. She still held a grudge against a certain some of them for making her life miserable, after all.
Mirrors as a restroom. Hah!
But there was a man here, and not a gargoyle. She stared at him, wanting desperately to dislike him, but there was only pity, for some odd reason. Under normal circumstances, Marzena would laugh and scoff at him; if he was put in a prison, it was for a reason. But for some reason, she felt her own hand moving and handing the keys over.
And everything seemed to jerk into sudden clarity. It was all so disgustingly obnoxious, to the point that she swore she could feel a shudder running up her spine. Marzena backed away, hand drifting in an attempt to summon her weapon, because this wasn't right, no...
Her suspicions were confirmed along with the strange voices. So many had trusted him. So many thought him one of their own, but he had betrayed them, and he was a traitor.
"Oh please." She spat out, as he relished in the memory of being the bad guy. But this wasn't over, not yet. She found herself shuddering to a stop, as he flattened her into a mirror.
"I don't need--"
She saw herself. Dark haired, sullen, distrusting, but there were a select few that still bothered and she didn't know why
"...anything from you." She whispered, turning around. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get out of here and whack his a**, because he was a traitor and.. hey, was he mad? Well, good! He should be--
She could only watch as he was consumed by flames, but even if she wasn't a mirror, Marzena doubted the should would save him anyway. Or would she? With those unsettling thoughts, she ran, away for her own survival.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 5:50 pm
Harrison eyed the books and coffin suspiciously. The guy seemed pretty. If a little on the crazy side.
Harrison let him monologue, but had his weapon at the ready, in case they had to fight him too.
Instead, what Harrison got was a dose of perspective. The guy had a revelation-
And then he did too. He remembered himself. He wasn't all that great, but he could be. Hell, he'd saved the world on a number of occasions. He wouldn't paint himself as moral, he did what he had to do to get by. He didn't waste too much time marinating in it.
As for what other people thought about him, he suspected he didn't matter much. They had their own s**t to deal with. And that was fine. He'd try not to ******** up their s**t too much, but you couldn't always avoid it.
He mattered to Jordan, and Rep, and they mattered to him. He loved them. He'd fight for them. He'd figured that out without a mirror. When the prison started exploding, Harrison figured it was time to move on.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 5:56 pm
With all the keys in hand, the very, very tired baku made her way up to the final floor with the rest of her teammates. Her gaze was immediately drawn towards the figure, lips pulling into a frown and brows creasing as she stared at him quizzically. Who was he? The whole "finding a hundred different versions" of himself was throwing her off a little as well. Wasn't there only...one version of each person?
...Then again, the things she had been seeing lately seemed to say otherwise.
She perked up when he mentioned releasing him, automatically looking down at her handful of keys, and then back at her traveling companions. When he held his hands out expectantly, she surprised even herself as she moved forward without hesitation and carefully dropped them into his waiting hands.
And then she immediately felt herself regret her choice.
Her lips pressed together into a tight line at the rush of voices that began to surround her, her eyes fixated on the crushed keys. Just who was this man? This...Mordred?
She wasn't given any time to ask questions or ponder over what scraps she had just overheard when she suddenly felt herself shift, a mirror standing where she had been a moment ago. To say that Xiu was alarmed would have been a massive understatement, but then something strange happened. The man beyond the mirror suddenly looked furious for some reason, and then there was a burst of flames as something exploded.
She heard the cracking before she saw it. Clutching a hand to her chest, Xiu whirled around and made a run for it.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 5:59 pm
Erebus was the first to enter, and as the boy looked back at him and Xiu, Wilson grinned and half-nodded for him to continue. He was okay. With a deep breath, he followed him into the room.
Damn, this room was really nice.
Impressed, he stepped toward the lone man in the room. But as soon as he noticed the, ah, casket, Wilson paused and gave the stranger a funny look. His gaze turned toward the plethora of books stacked around him. The first ones he saw appeared old, bound in leather covers that were worn soft. Further inspection, however, revealed more modern books in shining, plastic-smooth covers. Some Wilson even recognized as comics. The man stared down at his copy of Avalan High before shooting him a look while Wilson just looked confused. Contradictions, what? Fortunately, the stranger had the sensibility to explain and the hunter nodded his head slowly. Oh. So that was it.
He leaned back when the man smiled at him. The gleam in his eyes seemed unsettling for some reason, but obligingly he handed over his colored keys. Wilson almost sighed. All that hard work down the drain in one brief moment. The man shifted slightly, or maybe his perspective of him became warped. What was once an unassuming man is someone suspicious, worthy of Wilson’s skepticism.
Wilson stared with horror as the colored keys crumbled, voices ringing. He winced at the multiple voices, and winced more when Mordred spoke. “How…nice?” Not really. He had just helped a traitor, after all.
A faked smile, or maybe it was real? It looked real, so maybe it was. He had lied so many times he couldn’t tell, but no one knew this. They would never know because he was a good liar. A great liar. He was just the nice, helpful guy who didn’t let anything get him down. Right?
He turned around toward a hallway of mirrors, but none of them held his reflection. Silently, Wilson turned back toward Mordred and recoiled when he saw the rage and fire. The mirror shook and reflected the fire. Eyes wide, he ran.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:07 pm
Clara had followed her groupmates to the top of the large tower, where finally, she reached the final door. She pushed it easily, surprised to find a man with many books in the room. The man began talking about what she assumed were the books. Then he mentioned being freed from the tower, which Clara guessed she must have arrived to do? She really wasn't quite sure.
The man reached out his hand, and Clara hesitated, because he seemed very suspicious, but part of her wanted to trust her, so she handed over the keys. As she watched, she felt like what she thought was so great about the man seem to disappear. Clara didn't know what was going to happen, but she began to slowly back out of the door as the man said something about being the betrayer and all...
She was almost out of the door when the man named Mordred gave her the so called blessing, and she sprinted out as fast as she could without another word.
And as she ran as fast as she could, she took a quick glance at the mirrors, which there were many of. Clara was surprised to see that none of them had her reflection in it. She turned around to check on Mordred, wondering if he had done anything. When she turned around, the man had a face filled with rage, and Clara knew something bad was about to happen.
And so she ran as fast as she could.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:07 pm
Keeping an eye on Xiu and Wilson from behind so that they don’t die over fatigue, the group eventually makes it to the last floor and door. Finally, they were almost done!
As the door open, Clyde couldn’t help but marvel at the room. Oh wow, this was really something else. There were books everywhere, but there was one thing that stood out. There was a man, obviously the guy stood out beyond the books populating the room. Clyde watched the man with a sense of caution but something feels…weird. Why was he releasing this guy in the first place…better yet, why was he…
The keys were taken out of Clyde’s hands, and he could only watch as they were crushed by the man. Voices called out and…Traitor. Who? He blinked, and he was in the mirror. Well…s**t. This was really unexpected…Maybe he should really think of why this dude was imprisoned here first before releasing him. s**t.
He tries to get out, but could only hear the man talk…a reward? Clyde scoffed. It better not be something horrible.
He sat there in his room, staring outside occasionally at the ground below. The day was nice, but something tells him to stay in. Not like there was anyone he could call upon if he went out anyways. He was by himself.
Clyde turned around, a little baffled by the hallway of mirrors…were they mirrors? They did not show his reflection. Strange. Turning back to see the jerk who shoved him in here, Clyde was surprised by the rage on his face. What the…? The man burst into flames and nothing was calm. Nope, the floor had exploded and oh balls.
Time to get out of there.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:11 pm
Ying arrived with the rest of her group, piles and piles of keys in her hands. It was actually sort of hard to keep holding her weapon with how many keys she had, but somehow she managed to make a little table support out of the flat end of her axe. Her axe was now a support.
Once they arrived through the door, Ying gasped. It was exorbitantly beautiful, ornate decorations and lavish refinements all around. The books too- the books! Ying was never one for reading- she was too antsy and impatient for more than the occasional perusing of pages- but even she was in awe of the vast amount of books the library held.
They all contradict one another and a few don't make any sense at all."
Ying's eyes turned to the voice who was speaking. Her face turned a little red as she gazed upon the gorgeous man, trying not to look him directly in the eyes. "Um ... oh th-that is too bad ..."
The man continued, as though he didn't notice she was there. "I don't remember most of it you see. I don't even know which I am, and all I can find are a hundred different versions of who I might be." Ying nodded adamantly, the perfect picture of the attentive listener. "But you're here to release me, correct? From this prison, and maybe from ignorance as well."
Ying nodded- "Yes, we all worked very hard to free you um-" She held up her axe, pouring the keys into his hands. Every last one of them. "So if you could-"
The man's disposition changed nearly immediately, turning into something far more sinister. Ying took an instinctive step back, eyes wide with fear. "I must have done something impressive, to merit this prison, don't you agree?"
Prison?
Prison?
Recognition crossed her face. That was right- the gargoyle at the bottom had said this was a prison. So that made this man ...
Voices screamed across her mind, filling the air around her with anger, disappointment, morose disagreements. Ying held her head but the voices wouldn't fade.
...I know this is difficult, but you must not let them suspect...
...are you sure your true intentions remain hidden...
...you're like a son to me...
...my brother in all but blood...
...my disciple...
...my most trusted...
...my darkling prince...
...you...
Mordred.
Mordred?
Mordred!
Traitor.
She gasped as the voices faded away, breathing heavy from the effort of holding all the voices. "I always had a feeling I might be the betrayer, you know. There's a certain glamour to being the bad guy that I find very charming. It was unsettling, though, to never know exactly which side I took in that tangled conflict. Such a relief to find that it was always my own."
"Sir I don't think-"
She felt herself flattening, crunching into the shape of a mirror. "Thank you for freeing me, by the by. I suppose I'll have to give you something in return."
Ying tried to scream but her voice wouldn't come forth. There was no sound in this new place. She turned, finding herself in a place with tons of mirrors. None of them reflected her visage. What had he done to her?
Anger and rage emanated from behind her. Fire raged around her, reflecting on every mirror. Suddenly the whole world cracked, like a giant mirror, and fell to pieces. Ying ran, ran where she could. She needed to find somewhere safe.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:57 pm
The silence lingered heavily, interrupted only by the faint scrape-click-clack of his talons against the floor. They must have gone on ahead, hurrying along as soon as the doors clicked open. He raised a hand towards his head, reaching only to encounter fabric. The smooth plastic crown was gone. Merope wracked his brain as he tried to remember where he last had it, wondering if his reflection claimed it as prize for his short-lived victory or if the gargoyle took it as extra payment. Damn his reflection! The ichor-covered white key was clenched, held tightly as he drove his fist into the wall once, twice. The glass that still lingered in his skin snapped and crumbled, the edges digging deeper into his flesh. Merope turned away from the wall and continued to ascend, his steps a controlled restrained pace. He wouldn't run. He refused to. He dragged himself back onto his feet, didn't he? At last he came to the chamber. A pang of sympathy rang as its occupant spoke. Merope knew all too well what it was like to not know yourself, to only stare and guess at the possibilities. It was all too short lived as Merope was trapped. His hands were raised, pressed against the glass. There was nowhere else to look but at himself. "So this is who I am," Merope murmured quietly as a talon traced his boney jaw, the tip clicking against his bare fangs. "What am I supposed to be? A fool? Hermit?" His hand curled into a fist as he struck against the prison. He couldn't defeat himself. Before he could, only by surprise. Was his face the face of a coward? A fool who couldn't do anything more but fail again and again? He glanced at the mirrors, dismissing them before he turned to face himself. Only he wasn't there; instead the man who trapped him looked angry. Merope didn't have time to revel in his face; one look at the roaring fire made him turn and flee, the panicked look of a coward carved upon his face.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 7:22 pm
Frankly Shik was ready to fight when his group got to the top of the tower. Every floor had made them fight after all, so why not? Misty Wrath was at the ready when the man appeared.
Or, as he learned, Mordred.
Funny name, funnier man. Shik kept his guard up as the guy monologued, not particularly interested in his brand of crazy. He'd really hoarded a lot of stuff, huh? Well there had to be a reason he was stuck in the highest room of the tallest tower, and he wasn't sure if he was going to get to find out the hard way or not. Nor was he sure if he wanted to fight, which was odd in and of itself since he loved scrapping.
The voices nattered and nattered, making him grow impatient. So the man was a traitor, he was imprisoned, and . . . what now? A history lesson? Witty banter before the battle? No.
Now Shik got a few moments to reflect on himself as well, apparently.
He knew he was not generally kind and most others didn't expect him to be. He knew most thought he was idiotic at best and intolerable at worst, and he knew there was some merit to it. And he also knew several managed to care about him nevertheless--several more than he thought he deserved, really.
He knew that he considered himself blunt, irritable, and not above starting a fight. And he also knew that he had become complacent about his image, that deep inside he had simplified himself as an a*****e simply because people expected it by now. It was a pathetic sort of revelation, honestly.
There was a large hallway of mirrors now, reflecting nothing but the contorted, furious face of Mordred. And then fire. And then explosions.
Shik decided now was a great time to get out, much as he would have preferred to enjoy some destruction. These blessings of introspection were starting to weigh him down, quite frankly, and he was getting tired of it.
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Posted: Fri Aug 23, 2013 7:24 pm
Shaheen made it to the final floor.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 4:43 am
The door had opened to the seventh level of the tower, and although Poke had only been there for the 6th level, she was eager to see what laid beyond. She didn't take time to rest her weary body after fighting her clone, so she limped through the doors to see what was inside.
What she did see, was a rather extravagant room. Books lined the walls from all different eras, and she was rather interested in reading some of them. But what caught her attention was the handsome man that was lounging on something. A casket by the looks of things.
Already she was on her guard, but as soon as he began to talk she relaxed. He didn't sound threatening. In fact he sounded pretty weak. His pleading words made her feel like assisting him.
His words though were slightly confusing. It sounded as if he could not recall who he was or what he had done. This wasn't something Poke found weird however, considering she could only remember a small portion of her own life. But even so, she felt better in assisting the guy, handing over the keys that she had managed to procure during her time in the tower.
And then things changed very quickly. She growled low as his demeanor changed to someone who was sly and cunning, stepping back as the keys lit up in his hand and then were crushed with ease. The dragon glanced around as voices filled the room, unable to pick out much but a few words came clear. Trusted. Brother. Son.
Traitor.
Her growling rose to a snarl, stepping back to give herself room but found she was pined against a mirror. No, she was being pushed into the mirror. Mordred continued to talk, and she glared as he offered her a blessing in payment. Damn it, if she had known she was freeing a traitor such as this guy, she wouldn't have bothered.
Now she was in a hallway of mirrors, though it was not as confusing as she thought it would be. The room reflected nothing except Mordred, who was now looking angry for some reason. She then gasped as he was surrounded by fire, and the seventh floor exploded, the mirrors reflecting it all around and making the effect much more intense.
Poke wasn't wasting her time here. She began to run down the hallway, trying to outrun the shaking floor as she sought safely.
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Posted: Mon Aug 26, 2013 10:54 pm
Simply's hand didn't waver as she opened the door. Stepping up to the final floor. What lay beyond it was curious. Filled with brilliance and beauty in it's own way. The most magnificent being the central piece, a person idly reading a book. His expression wasn't pleased even as he stared down, almost picturesque. To the point she wondered if it was all some odd painting until he moved. Speaking of what he'd read. "Different hmm?" She inquired, stepping closer still as she looked to see what it was, still curious. Even so the man continued.
How sad, he didn't recall any of it. She wasn't sure how that was, but then again she felt like she didn't remember everything either. They were in the same boat? Which did please her, that kinship with the man only furthered the need to assist him, causing a nod as he mentioned she was here to let him out. Sure, that was fine. "That sounds good for us both!" She'd make a friend in the process after all. Her tail waved a bit at the smile, her own smile broadening even as he held out his hand. To which she offered the keys without a second of hesitation. For him, of course.
And then it hit, in an odd wave as she halted in her staring to move back a step. Was something wrong about this, incorrect? She wasn't sure... and then it slowly began to unravel. Everything was more perfect than a painting, too much so... it was unnatural. She stared silently, then frowned a bit. "Then why would you do it?" She inquired to his question, even as he crushed the keys.
The voices were confusing, too fast, too broken for her to fully understand. Traitor? Was he? She frowned, shaking her head a bit as even the man seemed to accept it all easily. "Why would you do that to people who trusted you..." She was a bit sad even as he continued, seeming just pleased to know what he had done. And then she felt herself altered, twisted a bit, forced into a mirror. She felt her hands resting on the surface, like glass, but couldn't break free. Her brows knit, even as he said he owed her a gift.
A strange one indeed.
Smiling, friendly, so full of energy and life. Yes that was how she saw herself, but with it... a look that... perhaps she wasn't the brightest? Did people think she was stupid? Annoying?
She'd only started to come to terms with it all when the man suddenly seemed to lose it. Setting himself and the room on fire as she turned about in the mirror. That... that was bad. She shook her head again, frowning one last time before darting off down the hall as the flames threatened to spread further and consume her. No. She had no intention of dying here!
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 9:08 am
Somehow, as he opened the door and stepped into the rather fanciful room, there were no trio of doors, there was no noise aside from the gentle rustle of pages. Honestly, he was drawn curiously to the books, staring at them with interest for a moment before he looked up to the man again as he spoke. "Take the median and traces of things that overlap?" He offered, finding himself ever drawn closer to the man. He... wanted to assist him. He wasn't sure why, but... wouldn't that help?
He nodded at the next question, no hesitation. Yes, of course. That was why they- no he'd climbed the tower. For no reason than to free this man from his prison. The entire purpose of everything. His fingers moved into the pocket he'd kept the keys at as they were beckoned for. And within a moment the set fell into his hand, quiet musings escaping the man as he looked over them. Though it was then, and only then they suddenly the... perfection of the scene began to settle into his mind. How peculiar, how... utterly planned this was. Lounging there waiting, sweet words of curiosity, and then-
No, it was all wrong. Molan grimaced, stepping back slightly as the man spoke again, this time of what horrors he must have done to end up locked away in such a manner. "Such a prison dedicated to you would suggest that." He stated, the distrust in his voice as he realized handing over the keys wasn't exactly the wisest of choices. Too late though, they were crushed in the man's hand as a series of voices spoke then. A mixture of things, trust, plans, and the lasting theme. Traitor. Betrayal.
The man seemed all to content with that outcome as well. Molan's face grew grim as the man seemed almost pleased with it. Too happy to find out he'd thrown aside those who trusted him. "Betrayal of all you cared for for your own wellbeing is foul enough to earn you this prison-" He didn't get to reprimand the man properly though, rather he was cut off as the fellow seemed blissfully in his own world with the revelation. Giving him a 'gift' for his enlightening offering. A gift of becoming a mirror himself, an image not unlike those he'd fought.
Only... it was different.
Stoic, cold, perhaps unfeeling and indifferent. His face was all too serious as he stared ahead at himself.
Seeing how others saw him was peculiar. Strange, perhaps a bit disheartening. That... he didn't want to think that was how he was seen. Was it?
He didn't have long to wonder about it, even as he looked over his shoulder, fingers pressed against the surface on his mirror he heard the first flames coming to life. He looked, staring in silence, perhaps horror. Some part of him was utterly terrified of it, wanting to run quickly... escape it. No... fire was bad, terrible...
He had to run. And so he did, as quickly as he could down the hall, away from it. Hopefully to somewhere not falling apart as the world outside went up in flames.
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 6:15 pm
Olivia didn't realize she had been rather separated from the rest of her traveling group, too preoccupied with the sight of the Seventh floor itself. There were so many things, and her eyes went wise with wonder. Ornate things, and especially so many books. Books she could feel were hit and miss, but she felt herself drawn to the more modern ones with lots of pictures. Which was where she found him grumbling about versions. He seemed distressed and frustrated to the point of rage and the small girl felt the need to help him.
"That seems confusing," she told him as she fingered a few of the comics, "But maybe you are all of them all at once," it could seem like fun perhaps to have many versions of oneself. Different varieties to choose from, to draw from and to learn from. Mistakes and happy times all at once.
But he didn't seem to press the issue, in fact he changed the subject as a whole. There was a gleam in his eyes and Olivia was unsure what it meant, but he had made a request and she was still in the desire to help this man. So, she held out the keys she had collected, even some of the ones she hadn't collected on her own - because they had held her back. They glowed as they were passed from palm to palm and the girl felt a little uneasy about it, she had done the right thing, right?
And it wasn't just the keys, but the room itself and especially him as he went on about the room. "Well, I suppose but I think its just nice looking," was it really a prison? Could such a place be called as such? She wouldn't have minded being stuck in a place. Though, to such a degree perhaps not.
Like he didn't, crushing the keys that held him here. Olivia heard herself gasp but then all she heard were other voices. Some gentle, some concerned, some angry and some filled with such vile tones. Swirling all around her, and this man was drinking it all in. Revelations. His face twisted, the gleam more sinister as he found his true self.
As she did as well. Olivia gasped again, her form flattened and smoothed and reshaped inside that of a mirror. As much as she could tell, she tapped on the surface, "this isn't nice..." she told him but his smile didn't falter at her pitiful little words. He had some of his own, an offering of something in exchange for his work.
Well, that wasn't too bad, nor what she saw herself. She had always thought herself to be kind, polite and friendly with those she met even if she was a little soft spoken. But they were all friends, she hoped they were all friends and she would protect them in the end. In turn many found her in the same light, but for some reason felt the need to protect her, like she was some weak creature. So small, she couldn't possibly fend for herself. That.. annoyed her really, she was made of tougher stuff wasn't she?
Olivia tapped on the glass once more, trying to figure out how she was going to get out. If he would even release her. But he proved to be mean and she frowned at the man on the other side of the glass. So the small girl pushed herself back from the pane and then realized the depths of the room she was in. There were more mirrors behind her, hallways even. More. But those mirrors soon filled with a different image. Ones of fire, Olivia felt herself tense and pull into herself as she looked back towards the room where her capture met the brunt of the attack and explosions.
There was fire everywhere. There was something deep down that pushed through, some natural need to get away. A memory perhaps.. Fire was bad. The room shook, Olivia gave a weak little cry. Everything shattered. She ran.
It was then she wondered where the others were. As much as she wanted to prove herself, this was a time she wanted their help, their comforting arms. Fire. Molan.. where was Molan and Andrew.... Of all the times to be not around! ;A;
Maybe she would find them in the end.
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Posted: Tue Aug 27, 2013 7:25 pm
When Thackery stepped through the door to the seventh floor, he expected to see the rest of his party waiting for him. Efflo, Freya, Kettil. His Queen.
Instead, he saw a man.
He was more handsome than the mysterious stranger had been, dark and perfectly broody as he lounged on a casket. A casket! How edgy and attractive. He was reading some kind of book, but didn't seem to be to impressed with it, if his expression was any indication.
There were some words that came out of the man's mouth, but he was too busy staring to register any of them. The words were only met with a starstruck look of infatuation and a slightly agape mouth, until he asked something that finally made some sense.
"But you're here to release me, correct?" the dashing stranger asked, eyes gleaming. Before he could even finish his sentence, the Cerberus hastily agreed to his request.
"Y...yes, I'll release you, if that's what you--"
"From this prison, and maybe from ignorance as well."
Thackery made a little oh noise and bit his lip, clutching all of the remaining keys neatly in his shaky hands.
When the glorious stranger extended his hand, he knew what he had to do, as much as something in his core protested it. If he needed the keys, though, he would give him the keys. He trusted him with them. He knew that he must have good intentions, if he needed them.
And it didn't hurt that he wanted to see how the keys looked in that flawless hand, either.
So with a crooked smile, he lovingly placed seven keys in his palm: violet, red, gold, green, blue, white, and one black key - the one with the book on it, because he thought that he might like that one the most. Maybe he would appreciate how thoughtful he was!
It sort of seemed like he did appreciate the thoughtfulness. The resplendent stranger began to run his finger over the keys he held, his motions more filled with adoration and intimacy than Thackery had ever offered when he touched his own keys. He felt as if he had failed them. He felt as if he had failed himself.
But most of all, watching the stranger caress those keys in such a way, his fingertips not missing a single curve or tooth, giving each thoughtful detail of every key the moment of attention that he deserved...he felt as if he really wanted him.
(To marry him.)
And just as Thackery's eyes had at the image of the stranger touching them, the keys lit up. He felt almost a little sick, because none of his keys had ever done that, and he wanted nothing more than to have that stranger by his side, holding his hand over his own, gently guiding and teaching him how to touch again.
Then his keys might respond in the same way that the stranger's keys responded, and all would be well with the world.
"Oh, please, come home with me to my kingdom, or...or take me with you! I promise that I will always give you everything that you need, like books that have good endings!"
Something changed, though he couldn't quite place it. It might have been the shift from effortless to intentional, or the way that his smile seemed a lot more smug than it had been before. But he was still holding the keys in that delightful hand, and Thackery's feelings towards him remained the same, the need to be with him unfaltering.
"I must have done something impressive, to merit this prison, don't you agree?" asked the stranger. That need was faintly flickering, mingling with worry as he saw the impeccable fingers curling around the keys.
"I think that everything you do must be impressive," he slowly whispered, eyes wide. "Please, I want--"
There was no moment of hesitation as he crushed the keys.
He crushed the keys.
Thackery considered this a very painful rejection, and was not given any time to protest or begin to cope before disembodied voices found their way to his ears, words about a son and a brother and a prince and Mordred. Mordred? Was that his name?
"Mordred," he murmured, trying to take a few steps too close to the not-such-a-stranger-now. "A prince? I can make you more than a prince, I..."
Why was he hurting him this way? Why wouldn't he say 'yes'?
"I always had a feeling I might be the betrayer, you know. There's a certain glamour to being the bad guy that I find very charming." Mordred smiled. "It was unsettling, though, to never know exactly which side I took in that tangled conflict."
"You can be on my side," Thackery quietly interjected.
"Such a relief to find that it was always my own."
Mordred moved, and Thackery thought that he might be coming to stand with him. But he didn't; instead, he could feel something strange, something unnerving about the edges of his body, something frail and unstable. It didn't stop until he was flattened into the form of a mirror, and he realized that this must be what the ultimate rejection felt like.
The prince (who could have been more) smiled at him again. He felt his heart flutter.
"Thank you for freeing me, by the by. I suppose I'll have to give you something in return."
And the memories came all at once, all scrambling for recognition: (a) Thackery was the best (b) King Thackery was even greater (c) both were well-loved and super popular (d) everyone wanted nothing more but to bring him keys and love him a lot (e) everyone listened to everything he had to say, because he was the best.
Right, this seemed familiar. Except that last part didn't appear to apply to Mordred, for whatever ridiculous reason. Why was he so determined to remain just out of his grasp? He stared at the remaining keys and ran his thumb over one, but it didn't feel the same. He tried again, and again, effectively missing the image of the man bursting into flames.
The mirrors shook in the wake of the explosion, but his mind was filled only with ways to make Mordred notice him.
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