[ in hindsight, perhaps this was not the best idea to come into his head tonight, deciding to pay over for a ticket to come into the maze. not that vash ever has good ideas, mind you, but this would count towards one of the lower highlights even in the series of mistakes he's made. it's disorientating, the myriad of reflections staring back at him with eyes too old and too knowing - is that what he really looks like? - that vash mostly stares at the ground as he walks, carefully toeing around the edges of the mirrors to avoid running into them.
perhaps it's just his imagination, but he can hear footsteps - behind him, before him, leading the way as surely as a clear path to a slaughterhouse. a couple of wrong turns as vash whirls around, chasing a glimmer of a blade at the edge of one mirror, a tinkling of golden earring dangling off the end of a dark-fringed ear - and vash is completely lost.
okay, vash thinks to himself as he does a full circle turn where he is completely hemmed in by the mirrors. everywhere his eyes land, there's something wrong about the reflection that looks back at him - white face, white hair, red hands, green hands, red coat, black coat. surely this is all some kind of weird trick of the lighting, some angle of the mirror that throws up something wrong. okay, this isn't fun anymore. he wants out of here, thank you!
spying a gap between two such mirrors - avoiding looking directly at either of them, though one holds its - his - hands out expectantly, vash slips through and picks a random direction to walk in. ]
wildcard ....
perhaps it's just his imagination, but he can hear footsteps - behind him, before him, leading the way as surely as a clear path to a slaughterhouse. a couple of wrong turns as vash whirls around, chasing a glimmer of a blade at the edge of one mirror, a tinkling of golden earring dangling off the end of a dark-fringed ear - and vash is completely lost.
okay, vash thinks to himself as he does a full circle turn where he is completely hemmed in by the mirrors. everywhere his eyes land, there's something wrong about the reflection that looks back at him - white face, white hair, red hands, green hands, red coat, black coat. surely this is all some kind of weird trick of the lighting, some angle of the mirror that throws up something wrong. okay, this isn't fun anymore. he wants out of here, thank you!
spying a gap between two such mirrors - avoiding looking directly at either of them, though one holds its - his - hands out expectantly, vash slips through and picks a random direction to walk in. ]