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[Thoryne Reaucher]

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She felt alone. She always felt alone. Perhaps she enjoyed the feeling she wasn’t sure. Sometimes her mind felt old, burdened, worried. She knew she wasn’t natural, none of her siblings were. Look at their mother. How Thoryne wished she were like Iris or Roderick. So often she felt odd and out of place as if she didn’t belong. She wished she was more like what her mum wanted not a fraidy-cat that didn’t want to leave the house. The great outside world frightened her, she was happy to be back in their other house. Where she could hide down in the basement for hours, where it was dark and cool and quiet.

She had begun reading books, a great many of them. Books were her freedom; they gave you small glimpses of the outside world in easy doses, not so scary. Some were her fathers, others had come from the Britain library. She enjoyed the ones on fiction, but the ones that centered on anatomy caught her attention most, she read them over and over.

It was late, her mind finally relinquishing its thoughts, she fell asleep and dreamed.

She awoke in a large opulent room; there was china on a breakfast tray near her. It was for her. She lifted the lid, stewed corn, peas, carrots, and potatoes awaited her there. Her mouth watered, she loved vegetables. It was all she ate, and ate them she did, to the very last small pea. She smiled happy now and went to rise from the lovely bed she laid in. However her body had a mind of its own, she felt sore and tired, she ached and her legs wouldn’t move properly.

A servant came in, would madam like some assistance? Madam? She was eight... what was going on here? Assistance, why wouldn’t her legs move? She turned her head, her mind lost in confusion and a gleam out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. The Mirror, cracked and aged, sat upon the vanity. It reflected an old woman of nearly 80 years of age. She understood now, her legs wouldn’t move because she was bed ridden. She lifted her hand and lay there staring at it. Its veins running down her arm the skin sagging and wrinkled. She screamed...Her eight-year-old mind reeling she just laid in the bed screaming.

The dream began to fade, at last she awoke, her heart pounding. She sat up with a start and immediately swung her legs over the edge of the bed. With relief they moved easily, the strength in them returned. She looked down at her hand, smooth and supple, the skin normal. The fingers long.. and lovely... Her breath came in shallow gasps, as she stood, something still was not right.

She could sense it, feel it, she stood and walked to the mirror. Gazing at herself in amazement. She looked about 16, in one night her body had grown and doubled in age. For a moment it seemed like her image shifted. Yet this made no sense, how did one grow, twice their size, in one night...

Where was the little girl? Where was her youth? She could bear it no more and threw her brush at the mirror shattering it. Mirrors lied... They lied...

She sank to the floor and began to cry, sobs shaking her now sixteen-year-old body, but they sounded eerily childlike.

[Willow Smythe]

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The sound of the glass breaking sent Willow reeling. She drew her kryss as he rounded the corner. She kicked the door open fearing the worst. She feared that she would be face to face with the Reaucher's murderer. Willow knew that seeing him, her fears would be confirmed.

Despite the maid taking the place of her daughter, Willow was quite relieved to see nothing more than the aged child and the shattered mirror.

The maid resembling her daughter sobbed, "Mirrors lied... They lied... "

"You seem to have inherited your mother's aging. My dear, darling Thoryne in my side, the mirrors never lie, they tell us of things to come and what should be, but they never lie. Let us go through my drawers, I must have something more suitable for you to wear" She smirked
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Malorn ‎(12:14 AM):
I'm an idiot