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[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO HotRocks: 30 HP / 40 HP ]

There was a strange whistling in the air around him. Big held up his lantern, looking for its source, but its source found him first. The world cracked impossibly in front of his eyes, a heavy steel ball opening a passageway between himself and a ghoul, a ghoul who was attacking him for no reason at all.

As she struck him in the chest, Big realized that she must have been right there the whole time, he had simply been unable to see her. He clutched at his coat and glared at the ghoul, but did nothing more than that, especially not once he noticed Q swinging her weapon at Blight. It seemed several people had swung their weapons at Blight. Blight didn't look so good.

"Don't look at the mirrors. I... I can do that." He lowered his lantern again, forcing his gaze to the floor.

[ ROUND 2 - 30 HP / 40 HP ]

Shaking his head, he decided to ignore the strange girl and move on, only to find himself staring into another mirror. Except, this time, it wasn't a mirror showing someone else's memories, but his own...

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She was laughing, and he couldn't help but smile too, and he watched as she ran off and twirled her dress. It was nice to finally have a break from the island, and while he had been somewhat adverse to the location she picked for their vacation, he shouldn't let something like the past affect him anymore. After all, it no longer affected him now.

Or so he had thought.

As she rounded the corner, he heard her stop in her tracks and gasp, and fearing the worse, he ran towards her.
Instead of what he had thought, she was pointing to what looked like a burnt down building, or at least, what seemed to be left of one. There were scrawny kids digging through the rubble, some huddled up in a corner, and another comforting one that seemed to be crying over what seemed to be dead bodies. Even after all these years, poverty seemed to run rampant here, something he had been much too used to.

"Those poor things..." he heard her say as she clutched her chest. "Was that their home? It looked like it got burnt down or something. Maybe it was some sort of shelter? It... kind of looks like a church or something..."

... a church?
It... it couldn't be...

"I wonder what would have caused such a huge fire that would destroy it. Or maybe it wasn't burnt-"
"It was."
She gave him a curious look.
"... I burnt it down."

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It wasn't something he wanted to remember, something he didn't want her to know. There was... there was no way someone could have been living there. H-he checked... hadn't he? A-and... if she knew... how would she react?

The image slowly faded, replaced once again with the queen's mocking face, and sombra growled, weapons raised. How dare she taunt him like that, bring back his past to haunt him? He grit his teeth and swung, katars shattering through the mirror.

[ Round 2 : Just RP ]
Leslie and whoever else wants are invited to see ~ !

Another mirror, another future.


Checking up had become a habit over the years, and it was easy enough for her to do. A spare minute at a library or on a borrowed phone on leave days and it was done. It'd become so routine that America has begun to take the results for granted until one day, it was very different.

There were rules and this was a personal matter, one that wasn't quite important enough in the larger scheme to flaunt them. Instead she made the request, supplied the specifics in the report, and got it approved, though precautions must be taken. Measures of safety for both herself and the civilians nearby. It took favours begins called in, but she'd spent years cultivating favours, and this was barely a drop to that bucket.

It was after visiting hours in the hospital and the staff was particularly sparse that evening. Security was a single man, busy in another part of the building. There was no need to worry about cameras, there was a redheaded nurse walking down the hall, but there were two such on staff that night.

As she enters the room, America pulls the mask down and stares at the man on the bed. She was expecting him to be smaller, because that's how these things went. Age and experience make the monoliths of childhood small and fragile. Disappointing. But then, the man in the bed would have been described somewhat similar by the teenage America, bitter and hurt and forever disappointed him. So it was that now, with the distance of years and her own death, that she found herself startled by the size of the man, how he dwarfed the bed and surrounding machinery even just sitting up. Even sick. Even dying.

He couldn't talk, not with that throat, but apparently he had enough strength and motor skill remaining to write. She was glad he still had that comfort. And even more that he still had the family to support him in his final days. The man himself looked washed out and grim, with dark circles and bloodshot eyes shiny from pain and drugs, but the room itself was cheerful for housing a deathbed. Hundred of tokens from family and friends filled it, from cards to stuffed bears in trucker hats, to photos and other small comforts from his home. Her own face smiled out from quite a few of the photos, and America found she couldn't look at them for too long. Not now, not here.

She took a seat at the very edge of the bed, and plucked the pen gently from one large hand, replacing it with her own. He stared at it, uncomprehending for awhile and then looked to her, confusion and sorrow and hope running across his features. He mouthed a name not her own, and she shook her head with a small, tight smile. "Not her, Pa. Not even a ghost, at that. It's me, Meri." The hand began to shake. "I didn't die, okay?" She continued gently, "I just had a different future, one that meant the past me had to be dead as far as anybody else was concerned. It's...it's complicated. I'm not even supposed to really be here now but..." America squeezed his hand and found she had to look away from the expression on his face, "I chose me, the only way I knew how to at the time. And I don't regret that, understand? Somebody had to choose me. I think...maybe it didn't have to go like that, maybe I could have stayed and things could have gotten better, but I didn't. Done is done."

Very gently, her hand was squeezed back until she gave up and looked him in the face again, eyes wet and fiercely unhappy. "You know I'm not one for regrets, you know that. But...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't let you speak your piece in the end. I'm sorry I didn't...I'm sorry I didn't try to build that bridge myself, because I damn well," another squeeze and she automatically corrected with a small laugh, thick with emotion, "I know dang well, sorry Pa, that of the two of us I was better suited to take the first steps."

They stared at each other for a long, long time, in a conversation of silent expressions and the pressure of hands until finally, he gestured for the pen once more. She gave it to him and waited patiently while he set it to paper and stared into it at the minutes ticked by until he began to painstakingly write his last words to her.

When it was done, he fell sleep soon after, and one of her teammates had to collect her. Wracked with silent tears, clutching the papers in a way she'd regret though the control to be gentle with them was lost to her, America seemed smaller in that room. Fragile in both body and emotion. But disappointing she was not, if the words he'd given to her held true, she was not a disappointment at all.

[ ROUND 2 - 30 HP / 40 HP ]
[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO BigIdeas: 20 HP / 40 HP ]

Big had every intention of keeping his eyes off of the mirrors, as he'd promised. Too bad the queen of grief had other ideas. He might have simply kept them shut, but to do so while Piper was attacking people seemed irresponsible at best and at worst complicit in her antics. Which he was. Just not when she was one swing away from becoming a murderer.

It was far too easy to go from staring unblinkingly at the ground to noticing something familiar out of the corner of your eye, especially when the ground was boring and stationary and the familiar something was your father. The boil looked up with a sharp intake of breath, wholly captivated by this newly-sprouted mirror. He stared into its depths with single minded curiosity, the world of Wonderland fading to filler.


"...That's all I can think to tell you right now," the gryphon said, resting his hands on the back of the rolling chair. "I didn't start out here, since, you know, it's my company, but plenty of the kids who come through this position go on to do great things. This is just the beginning. You're gonna go far."

After Amityville and the war, he had been broken and afraid, incapable of leaving the house, let alone landing a decent job. His father had taken... pity on him. It rankled, but he knew he couldn't turn it down. A desk job was better than no job at all. Secretly, he had hoped it would bring them closer. He hoped for a very long time.


He'd offered to go with her to her mysterious ceremony because it had seemed to him that just by telling him about it, Ruth was asking him to attend. Beyond that, he had always been rather curious about her sort of reaper, and what better way to learn than to be surrounded by them? He was only slightly disappointed when she'd said she was bringing someone else. Had he known that moment would be a turning point of sorts, he might have fought harder to accompany her.

With her new rank came greater respect, more assignments, and less time for friends. He didn't begrudge her for it, he only wished for something similar in his life, a greater purpose he didn't have to invent for himself. He wished for a very long time.


Out of all of the places he'd imagined he might one day be, backstage at a pop concert hadn't been one of them. It was loud and bright, and he felt like an old man standing amidst the scantily clad backup dancers and animal handlers in his more formal garb. At first, he'd tried not to look at them for too long. Eventually he realized they didn't even notice.

When he and Piper had graduated, they'd vowed to keep in touch just as they had before they'd met face to face. He'd understood when her letters had become less frequent; he only had to turn on the skelevision to see why. It didn't help him miss her any less. He sometimes dreamed of the day she would realize that a part of him was still with her wherever she went, that even after puppy love had faded into friendship, he couldn't help but care for her a great deal. He dreamed for a very long time.


Big blinked rapidly as he once again became conscious of his surroundings. He waved his lantern at the boil in the mirror, not wanting to see any more futures where everyone left, where he was alone and embarrassed. A hairline crack appeared where his weapon tapped the glass, splintering outward until the surface was completely fractured. The edges of his reflection's coat caught fire as the mirror quietly shattered, its pieces falling to the ground with an impossible silence.

Big smelled something burning. It was him.

"Oh. Oh!" He smacked at his clothing, beating out the flames as well as he could, the future and the white queen momentarily forgotten.

[ ROUND 2 - 40 / 40 HP ]


The scareling was glaring at him. Accusing, pouting. Arms crossed over his chest, propped up on his knees. The long, scaled and furred tail swayed behind him. The spar hadn't gone particularly well for him. He'd lashed out at the loss, and that was when the other students ran to get him. By the time he'd gotten to the scene, the boil in question had run to hide in one of the skeletal trees, from which he now glared down at the balrog. Neithan in turn stood at the base of the tree, hands resting easily on his hips, head cocked as he stared up at the unwelcoming youth. Neither said anything for a time, simply stared. Waited. He was willing to bet the scareling was forming a wide variety of negative remarks he expected his instructor to sling out at him.


"If you're goin' tae stay up there, the least you can do is ref the other spars down here," Neithan shouted up to him, expression neutral as ever. Only the fireball above his head, dancing merrily in its own little way, betrayed the lighter emotions within him. The boil lifted his head a tad from where it rest, ears perking forward as his tail stilled. The balrog had to suppress the urge to smile, though the fire over him sparked a little more. He'd told the little ones time and time again he wouldn't force them to participate in the spars provided they showed effort against the dummies. This was no different--but he could at least give the boil something to do other than brood the day away. He'd done enough of that himself when he was younger.

Turning back to the other scarelings under his charge, his dark hands clapped to gather their attention back. "Alright, all of ya. Back tae your partners. I want tae see drills. Set..." They scrambled to get back to their sparing partners, back to their safe distances from other pairs before he gave the next instruction. "Jab, right hook, jab, right upper." The 'hostile' of the pairs went forward with the strikes, with their partners in charge of blocking. He watched, making rounds, pausing here and there to lift elbows to make sure they were holding their arms properly, or tap at feet to get them into more solid positions.

"He's not even trying to block!" Golden eyes blinked, looking up to the boil in the tree. He was pointing down to one of the pairs not far from his location, the pair in turn staring up at him. Before they looked to him, and one of the boils blanched just a tad.

Curious, he instructed them to keep going, and kept making his rounds. The boil in the tree began to pout, hunched himself down further, till Neithan managed to catch his eye. And wink. He'd been close enough to see the defending of the pair doing just as his 'scout' had said, though this time the balrog had seen the lack of attention or care for himself. Easy enough to correct--"Bored, lad? Try a few laps while the others finish this drill. Might spark some interest for ya before startin' the next drill." The scareling had flushed and mumbled his acceptance, skittering off quick to begin his laps while Neithan himself crouched down, lifting his hands and motioning the now solo of the pair to continue practicing with him.

From up in the tree, the other boil sat a bit straighter, keeping his eyes on the rest of the class. It'd taken only one more shout and identifying of another student slacking off before they all seemed to key in. Neithan never smiled throughout the class--he never really smiled throughout any of the classes--but the fire above his head certain sparked and sputtered merrily. Everyone had a strength and a place. If he could teach them nothing else, he hoped to at least instill such a thing.



Burn had been lost to the mirror, the... promise. It was a rather attractive future, teaching students how to defend themselves and learn their strengths. It was a peaceful future, a peaceful concept. He... enjoyed it. Yet all too soon, the image faded, and before him was no the edge of the woods where the little ones practiced, but the face of the White Queen herself. Startled from his thoughts, he summoned his winged spear and did the only thing proper for such a situation. For such a trick.

He lunged, roaring and striking through the mirror with his blade. The Royal Gryphon charged straight through the shattering mirror. One less threat, right? One less. All blacks and reds and golds, BridgesBurn barely stopped even as the glass shattered and rained down around him. Charging was charging. Unfortunately, his momentum made it rather difficult to pause when he realized there was someone else behind the mirror.

[ ROUND 2 - 30 HP / 40 HP ]

He hadn't meant to. It was a mistake, but... was it not his fault for letting the queen trick him so. At least, that was what he told himself, and yet...

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He knew it was inevitable. Hunter lives were short. MUCH too short. And yet... when Nevada first left them, he felt as if he was re-living his past all over again. Next to go was Stormy. Then Gale. Wilson. Solia. Eva. Even Sherry.

He had told himself it was going to be different this time. He had grown past it. He wouldn't let anyone else get hurt this time. Instead of pushing them away... he would protect them. And yet...

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There were no words. Fear and frustration welled up inside him, and as soon as he saw the queen's stupid face, he swung, letting out an angry cry.

[ ROUND 2 - 30 HP / 40 HP ]

It happened again. And while one would think they'd learn by now, Jake was unfortunately prone to repeating mistakes.

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He was used to this by now, living in such meager conditions. Deus was fated to fall at any time, and while he had always hoped for the best, fate never worked that way. Even now, he didn't know how many survivors there were, if any. The horsemen had completely overwhelmed them, and they had lost.

Even so, he wasn't going to give up here. Even now, he would continue to struggle. Continue to live.

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He was so tired of this. Sick and tired. Sick of her laughing at him. Taunting. Mocking.
He threw his katar at the reflection, not caring who it hit.

[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO CorvidaeCat: HP 20 / 40 HP ]

Dotdotdot watched in horror as the next mirror featured a very familiar figure who appeared to be dying. The gryphon wanted to jump through the mirror to check on the ghoul’s condition, but no matter how much she tried, her hand was met with solid glass. She could only watch in horror as the ghoul made a deal to extend her life for a bit longer … dotdotdot wanted to yell at the figure not to do it, but paused to consider if she would have done the same thing if she’d been in the same condition. However, her thoughts were interrupted when something attacked her from the other side of the mirror. “…..Aldara?”