"You're a freak you know." Celeste noted calmly, applying
lipstick, vivid and red. He mirrored her, move for move as she
did so.

He knew this skit. They'd done it off and on since they were young, though they'd stopped for a while after their mother had threatened to separate them the first time. The lipstick had a faint, not unpleasant taste like he remembered. He was never able to identify what it was or why.

He didn't answer her, since that wasn't part of the skit. He was her reflection after all, sitting behind an empty frame, he could see the audience over her shoulder, vague faces in the dark.

"I mean look at you. How many normal men do you know who put on make up and a dress as a joke." She continued preening, as he mirrored her. Mascara. Tasteful eye shadow. Earrings. "But thats not the worst about you. You're a sham. You're a fake. You put on a costume at night and run around throwing magical flaming knives at people."

She paused, and they mirrored a look of surprise at each other. He wanted to interject, but he was locked in the routine, unable to break away from her.

"You thought I didn't know that? Of course I knew that. It's been obvious the entire time. You think you could hide anything from me?" She stood, and he mirrored her, their matching sequined gowns glittering in the stage lights as they shrugged on matching fur stoles.

"I haven't told father." She reached forward and they touched fingertips, like reflections in a glass, her blood red lips curving in a smile. "Because I think it should be my privilege to deal with this terrible terrible secret you've tried to keep from me. Your secret life. Your horrible, common little girlfriend. You think she doesn't have secrets from you? She does. She tried to lie to you, to pretend she wasn't a freak like you. Doesn't that hurt? Doesn't it cut you to the core?"

It did, at least in the dream. It burned in his gut but he couldn't answer her still. Preen, preen, pose. The skit continued as they brushed their pale hair.

"All this because you looked elsewhere. Because you thought you could find solace elsewhere. It's all YOUR fault, for doubting me." Her pretty mouth twisted in an ugly sneer as they leaned forward, accusing each others image.

"What ever were you thinking Jaimie?" She asked, reaching forward. This time he didn't move, couldn't, as she extended her hand forward... and plunged it into his chest. Her fingers closed almost delicately around his starseed, as though she clasped a butterfly in a cage, but her grip was tightening as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"You know you can only belong to me."