the androgynous keeper of plushfrogs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crossfortune) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-12-07 11:49 pm
crossfortune) wrote in rainbowfic2015-12-07 11:49 pm
sweet reflection knife into me
Name: Mischa
Story: and as the daylight falls
Colors: vienna orange (I am wide open, only a little afraid), spark (Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen), elvish green (Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 170
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, I think.
Summary: Mika dreams, and meets himself.
Mika is always dreaming: dreams have always been his stock-in-trade, but this dream is different-
(he dreams of walking through gardens, flowers beneath glass, empty corridors with every step reflected back. he wanders those hallways all alone, pathways a maze leading towards the center.
what he finds there is different and yet the same: a mirror of ice or the serene glass of a still pond. his reflection dressed in stark white, the dress his sister had been laid out in as her shroud and barefoot, with a doll’s empty eyes and a doll’s blank, sweet smile. As he watches, his other self stares back with that blank gaze and smile, lips moving as if to say something-)
a warning, but one he cannot hold onto-
(but the words are veiled by silence. He cannot hear. he reaches for the other him, who reaches back: their fingers touch with the barest brush for only a moment in the glass, the water, the ice. the mirror’s surface ripples with echoes, before he wakes, trembling.)
Story: and as the daylight falls
Colors: vienna orange (I am wide open, only a little afraid), spark (Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen), elvish green (Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 170
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None, I think.
Summary: Mika dreams, and meets himself.
Mika is always dreaming: dreams have always been his stock-in-trade, but this dream is different-
(he dreams of walking through gardens, flowers beneath glass, empty corridors with every step reflected back. he wanders those hallways all alone, pathways a maze leading towards the center.
what he finds there is different and yet the same: a mirror of ice or the serene glass of a still pond. his reflection dressed in stark white, the dress his sister had been laid out in as her shroud and barefoot, with a doll’s empty eyes and a doll’s blank, sweet smile. As he watches, his other self stares back with that blank gaze and smile, lips moving as if to say something-)
a warning, but one he cannot hold onto-
(but the words are veiled by silence. He cannot hear. he reaches for the other him, who reaches back: their fingers touch with the barest brush for only a moment in the glass, the water, the ice. the mirror’s surface ripples with echoes, before he wakes, trembling.)