video;

[welcome]

[Cecil is in his room, shuddering, arms wrapped tightly around his body. Is it fear? Is it the cold?

His closet door is open, and there's a bedsheet draped over it -- covering the mirror.

Cecil's fingers press into his sides, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it. He stares straight ahead, his bright eyes wide; unseeing.]

My mother always said that it would be a mirror.

Comments

[welcome]

Dessert? No. [he shudders.] Death.

[ryuuzaki]

[He's tempted to say, "Steal your death?," but taunting Cecil wasn't really his aim in replying. Neither is reassurance for the sake of reassurance. Pouring as much oil on the situational waters as he can, though? That might be a goal. His tone changes when he speaks again; it's a little more serious, less irritable.]

It's just a mirror. I don't think it's going to kill you.

[Even if it's behaving strangely in a way that he hopes will end by the next jump, without escalation.]

Did your mother ever warn you about anything else?

[welcome]

The mirror might not, per se, but I think it's about to have an integral role in the situation! And my mother warned me about many things. Strangers. Razor blades in the pie. Going outside, at all, for any reason.