Airalin

Strange World

"You deny me," said the mirror, voice fainter than ever, yet devoid of emotion. "Yet you cannot lie. It follows, then, that you are blind. None capable of sight - of objective analysis of one's own actions - could deny that yours are those of a monster."

Abby snorted, the throbbing in her chest fading slowly. "A monster? You must not know what the really bad people are capable of." She walked over to the mirror, though she didn't remember standing. Once near, she pressed her hand against the glass, brushing the reflection of her cheek. It was cold. "Sometimes, I'm weak," she admitted, "That much is true. And weakness often leads to mistakes. But those alone don't define me. I'm not always an awful person. There's still enough of the old, happy me left to care about people. If there wasn't, I would have left that little girl on her own."

Abby wiped at her eyes. "You are fickle," said the mirror, "In this moment, you may believe there's hope. But the darkness is never far. It has taken you before, and will do so again. You are helpless to stop it."

"Maybe so," said Abby, "But I guess the darkness always fades eventually, if you let it. Maybe I should stop staring into it and look at what I can see. I understand now I'm not blind. I just have to try a bit harder to keep my eyes on what's ahead."

"So be it," said the mirror, "Then I, too, shall change."

The mirror cracked, breaking into a multitude of shards. They flew outward, toward me - no, past me. As I turned my head to follow the first of them, they formed a dome around me. But even once I was completely enclosed, the light never faded. In fact, it grew brighter, engulfing everything around me.

Nev's Desperate Attempt to find a 1x1 (Always Searching. Always Desperate)

I like the sound of The Royal Guard. Specifically, I'd like to play the fleeing princess. Let me know if you're interested!

Death Note(s)

Lyra was halfway done her last math problem when itappeared.

She screamed, falling over in her chair. It landed on the carpeted floor with a thud. There were no legs waiting where Lyra expected to find some; for a moment, she thought the bizarre creature must have been a hallucination brought on by her guilt. Then she looked up.

The creature did have legs, but they were exaggeratedly small, and hung uselessly from its torso two feet off the ground. The hideous, gray creature had wings, but they weren't moving. That meant it was levitating.

"Only two so far, huh?" it said in a gravelly whisper.

Lyra scrambled to her feet and positioned herself behind her bed, as if seeking protection. The Death Note sat on her desk, far out of reach. Not that it was useful. She didn't even know what this creature was, much less its name.

"A-are you going to kill me?" she asked, her voice shrill. The creature tilted its many-horned head back and forth as if curious, then shrugged the thin arms that were several times as long as its legs.

"Nah, I'm just here 'cause you have my notebook," it said casually, "Name's Ezerion, by the way. You can call me Ez."

"Just take it!" squeaked Lyra.

"Nah. That's not how this works," said Ez, "The Death Note is allll yours now. Use it as much as you want."

"Please don't hurt me!" said Lyra, backing against the wall.

"You got it all wrong, kid. I'm just a shinigami - a god of death. My job is just to sit around and watch until you're done with the Death Note. The real monster here... is you."

Strange World

Abby stared into the mirror and met her own callous eyes.

"What do you want?" she yelled. Her reflection grinned wickedly, though the real Abby was doing no such thing. "You're evil. Just go away!"

Evil?

The voice was stronger now, and more familiar. It was hers.

If I am evil, then so are you, for we are one and the same.

"No - we can't be!" shouted Abby. She was messed up, but she wasn't a monster. Her sins were born of boredom, not cruelty!

Why do you deny it? You know what you are capable of. Speak the truth - are you not wicked and detestable?

Abby opened her mouth as if to speak. But, this time, she said nothing. There was no confession that she was a failure, no admission that she was pathetic. Something about the image before her caught her attention. It was the girl's eyes - her eyes. Even filled with malice as they were, there was something familiar about them.

She closed her eyes, tried to remember. Slowly, a picture formed in her mind's eye. It was a photo, one that had been taken before her parents had died. Back then, she had still been, free of the sorrow that awaited her. Her brown eyes shone with hope and innocence.

When Abby's eyelids lifted and she gazed into the mirror again, she saw that glow. After all this time, it wasn't gone. There was still hope.

"No," she said, voice growing strong, "No, I'm not." If the mirror thought she would go down without a fight, it was in for a big surprise.

Death Note(s)

Awwwww, but player characters are special! Lyra isn't supposed to actually die! She'll be quite valuable to the frugal once she has the eyes... =p

Death Note(s)

Little Lyra is gearing herself up to be the villain~

Strange World

Abby cried, slumped in her chair, until she was out of tears. The police officer opposite hr watched in silence, a mixture of pity and disgust in his eyes.

"W-what's going to happen to me?" asked Abby when she stopped crying. The cop answered with a shrug. "That's up to you, kid," he said, sliding his chair back and standing. "My job's to find out the truth, not to pass judgment. That's his job."

He nodded into the darkness, then walked away, fading into nothing.

Abby stared at the vacant space the cop had gestured toward, squinting. There was nothing there; no movement, no sound, no light. She was alone, still tied to her chair.

"Hello?" she called, shivering. Surely, she had failed whatever trial this room was supposed to represent. The voice from before had promised she would not die, so at the very least, she would not be put to death... so what punishment awaited her? Torture? Eternal imprisonment? "Please, answer me!"

Just when she had given up on receiving a response, a deathly quiet voice rose out of the abyss.

This room is the projection of your deepest fear. Tell me, girl... what terrifies you most?

"The truth," said Abby instantly, despite her racing heart. Apparently, she was still under whatever spell forced her to answer questions honestly.

Then truth is what you shall suffer.

A shadow materialized before her. Tt coalesced into something vaguely flat, then began shining on one side. The glow gradually faded, leaving glass in its wake. A mirror. Abby met her reflection's eyes.

It sneered at her.

Death Note(s)

Lyra sat in the living room, feeling oddly out of place in her pajamas. Her parents weren't around, and her brothers were out doing whatever it was that they did. This was her only chance. Time to test whether writing a name on a scrap from the notebook would kill.

She sat with her English notebook on her lap, the sheet from the Death Note laid on top of it. But her focus was on the television in front of her. She flicked through the channels with the remote control, searching for a live broadcast. It would be foolish for her to kill another person living physically close to her with the Death Note - that was draw the worst sort of attention to her school or her family. That meant her victim had to be someone more well known. A celebrity, politician, whatever.

Her stopped on a news station. One of the anchors, Oscar Chapman, was a middle aged man who'd been caught cheating on his wife the previous year. It had been quite the scandal. Though he claimed all was forgiven within his family, Lyra couldn't help but view him as a scumbag. Only jerks cheated!

She wrote the name before she could reason herself out of it, then watched the television with her breath held. Ten seconds... twenty... thirty-nine... forty... nothing. Lyra buried her head in her hands. So it didn't work. The only way she could write her own name in an emergency was by keeping the entire notebook on her.

The female anchor working with Chapman gasped. Lyra's head jerked upward, and her eyes widened as Chapman's hands shot toward his heart and he struggled to breathe. It had worked! But why had it taken so long?

Lyra giggled madly as it hit her. Broadcast delay. Duh.

"Bye-bye, Mr. Cheater," she whispered. The scrap of paper worked. From now on, Lyra would always be safe.

Strange World

Abby stared at the officer sitting across from her, wide-eyed and trembling. He was sneering at her, as if she were the scum of the earth and he was about to revel in making her interrogation a living nightmare. Yet when he spoke, his voice was level.

"Why did you take the phones?" he asked.

'I don't know'. That was the answer she tried to give. But when her mouth opened, she said something entirely different.

"I just did it for fun. I was bored, and too scared of the people around me to get to know them instead."

Her cheeks grew hot as the words rushed out of her. She sounded pathetic. Yet the tears trickling down her cheeks spoke of an acceptance of those words as true. And, struggle though she wanted to, her arms were completely immobile. She could not brush the tears from her face.

"And what made you so scared?" asked the officer, folding his arms.

"If I let them in, they would have hurt me," Abby whispered, "Laughed at me. Left me." She shuddered. "Everyone leaves in the end. Mother and father... grandma... all the friends I made when I was little. If they didn't leave me, I was taken from them. And every time, I felt so alone. So I decided to just stay alone. That way, no one could betray me again."

The officer grunted. "You know you're pitiful, right?" he asked.

Tears blurring her vision, Abby nodded. "I know."

Death Note(s)

For the first time, Lyra realized just how loud all the other students in her school could be.

For at least the fifth time in the three minutes since she'd seated herself at an unoccupied table in the corner, she glanced up in irritation, her concentration broken. Each time, she feared she would find a policeman approaching her, handcuffs in hand. Just the thought made her shiver.

Of course, she knew her fear was completely unfounded. No one would suspect Mr. Johnson's death had been supernatural. As long as she was careful and never used the Death Note again, people would just assume the man had a fluke of a heart attack.

"Not like you to sit all alone, Lyra."

Practically jumping out of her skin, Lyra jerked her head toward the source of the words. Richie - her partner at the school dance - sat down across from her. She suppressed the urge to tell him in no uncertain terms to go away. Girls were expected to be tearful and scared when something like this happened, not angry.

"What do you want?" she asked, disgusted by the defeat in her voice. Richie's grin faltered. A small triumph.

"You just looked like something had you down," he said. "I thought maybe you would want to talk about it. I'd still like to be friends."

Lyra glared. Richie's excuse for not going out with her after that dance had been that he wasn't looking for a relationship, but just someone to hang out with. Apparently, he had a girlfriend a few cities away. He could have mentioned that before inviting her along.

Still, it wasn't like Richie was anything special. Lyra had only gone out with him to see what a dance was like. The problem was that he had rejected her. She was a princess! No one was allowed to do that!

"My brothers were giving me a hard time yesterday," she lied, taking a bite of potatoes. "I don't want to talk about it... just leave me alone."

"Fine," said Richie, frowning, "If you change your mind, I'm always willing to listen."

Lyra's eyes followed him as he walked away. Richie Carter... it would be easy to be rid of that jerk forever.

No! That would be stupid. Everyone knew she hated him. If people realized she hated everyone who mysteriously died of a heart attack, someone would be suspicious for sure.

But... the Death Note could kill in more ways than one. If she could arrange a scenario where there was a clear culprit, she should be able to escape suspicion. That shouldn't be so hard. The only real problem was a prickling in the back of her mind, a silent voice begging her to reconsider.

Fine. Richie would live another day. But if he ever bothered her again, he was dead meat!