Amy Peterson (ripefruit) wrote in carnaval_logs, @ 2013-11-25 23:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed (15), !plot (25), amy peterson, peter vincent |
Who: Amy Peterson and Peter Vincent
What: Investigating the House of Mirrors and freeing Peter from his glassy prison.
When: Backdated to Sunday the 24th, nighttime
Where: The House of Mirrors
Status: In progress / closed
Rating: Fairly harmless except for the possibility of language
It seemed so harmless on the outside. The House of Mirrors was just a tent with a path inside bordered by mirrors of all kinds. Amy was following a hunch. After all, it was only after the erection of this attraction that Peter had shunned alcohol and turned cold. Part of her thought it was a very stupid hunch, but there was nothing normal about the carnival. It was only natural to assume that there was nothing normal about the carnival’s House of Mirrors.
Amy took pause before entering, craning her neck to get a look inside without actually setting foot in the place. She had a bad feeling about going inside. Taking a look around the tent she spotted a rousty’s hammer sitting somewhere she guessed it wasn’t supposed to be. On gut instinct she decided to pick it up and take it inside with her.
The first few steps were almost a disappointment. If Amy hadn’t been so uptight she might have smiled at her reflection. Sometimes bigger, sometimes smaller, all depending on whether the mirror was concave or convex, it would have been amusing under normal circumstances. True, she wasn’t a child. The funny reflections wouldn’t have reduced her to tearful laughter. Still, the innocence of the place was making her feel like an idiot for having been scared enough to bring a hammer with her to defend herself.
Then, suddenly, something strange happened. Amy could have sworn that she saw movement other than her own. That was enough to put her on guard once more.
“Hello??” She raised her voice, hoping to hear a friendly response. Almost defensively, Amy raised the hammer as she looked from corner to corner trying to find who or what was following her around. She was wound so tight at that point that she was afraid if anyone did, say, tap her on the shoulder or wave ‘hello’ she might have struck them. When she saw movement again her suspicions proved true and she swung the hammer as hard as she could with little preparation right at... A mirror? Amy looked confused at the cracked mirror. She’d suspected some sort of sinister figure to be stalking her, but instead it was her own reflection. In that moment she felt incredibly dumb, but the moment passed as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye once again.
“This isn’t funny at all, you know!” Whoever it was that was following her had her angry, and that wasn’t smart considering that she was armed. Though there was no verbal response to her shout, Amy saw that same figure darting around in her peripheral vision. She whirled around with her hammer, winding up smashing another mirror, shards of reflective glass falling to the tent’s floor.
Smashing mirrors wasn’t even cathartic for Amy’s anger. The fear and rage inside of her was only building and the very moment she thought she saw the figure again she smashed another mirror. She repeated this over and over until at least six mirrors were cracked messes. Amy was out of breath from her outburst and finally stopped, trying to calm herself and prepare a speech for Art or Carl or whoever would call her out on destroying carnival property.
Finally, as Amy made her way through the mirror maze out of the tent she saw something, or someone, that she definitely wasn’t expecting to see. She rubbed at her eyes with her free hand to make sure what she was looking at wasn’t some strange kind of hallucination. Peter. On the other side of a mirror.