Silent night, holy night. All is calm. All is bright...
Who: Phil (britchillsout) and Dean Smith (respectedman) // Philip (sadfreezingbrit) and Alex Kralie (40410)
Where: Smith & Phil's room on the mirrorside // 5th floor on the realside
When: The evening of Christmas Day
Rating: R for character death
Summary: The event is over and Phil walks back to Smith's room. Hey, did he mention that he met his regular just before being transported back? It didn't go so well...
The Story:
Phil smirks when Philip enters the room.
Philip still doesn't know why his mirror was there to begin with - there in that room and not upstairs with his fiancé. Then again, Philip doesn't rightly know why he himself went ahead to investigate the noise next door either.
(Daniel. Maybe he thought it was Daniel, maybe that made it worse from the start. Worse? How much worse could it even get? After Evelyn's mirror? After home? After the tape, after everything?)
Phil smirks just before Philip turns to leave.
They have words, most of which Philip doesn't recall, all of which seem to wind Philip tighter and tighter while having no impact on Phil (or his smirk) whatsoever.
Only a particular set he recalls all too well.
"I just gave her a copy so she'd see what she's missing out on! You won't let her have it and a girl's got to get it somewhere, right?"
A girl's got to get it somewhere, right?
A girl's got to get it somewhere, doesn't she?
Phil smirks just before Philip throws the first punch.
More hits, more punches, more kicks. A split lip, a black eye and too many bruises to count. Who got away with what? It doesn't even matter.
What matters is that it's winter, that there is a fireplace in every room. And a fire poker to match.
What matters is that Philip usually isn't one to throw the first punch and it shows. He's lying on the floor, clutching his chest and Phil is recovering easily from the kick that sent him staggering.
(He is probably smirking as he does, but Philip can't be bothered to have a look right now.)
All he can do is scramble to his knees, grab the fire poker and swing, because he needs to knock his mirror back, because--
The iron doesn't move and Phil is standing right where he is, steady on his feet.
Philip's attempt failed, he thinks Phil must have blocked the attack with his hands, but...
But Phil isn't smirking anymore.
And Philip can't make sense of it.
Not until the mirror suddenly repairs behind them.
Phil looks back.
And then he's gone.
And Philip is left staring at his own reflection, silent and incredulous, blood dripping from the iron in his hand.
Where: Smith & Phil's room on the mirrorside // 5th floor on the realside
When: The evening of Christmas Day
Rating: R for character death
Summary: The event is over and Phil walks back to Smith's room. Hey, did he mention that he met his regular just before being transported back? It didn't go so well...
The Story:
Phil smirks when Philip enters the room.
Philip still doesn't know why his mirror was there to begin with - there in that room and not upstairs with his fiancé. Then again, Philip doesn't rightly know why he himself went ahead to investigate the noise next door either.
(Daniel. Maybe he thought it was Daniel, maybe that made it worse from the start. Worse? How much worse could it even get? After Evelyn's mirror? After home? After the tape, after everything?)
Phil smirks just before Philip turns to leave.
They have words, most of which Philip doesn't recall, all of which seem to wind Philip tighter and tighter while having no impact on Phil (or his smirk) whatsoever.
Only a particular set he recalls all too well.
"I just gave her a copy so she'd see what she's missing out on! You won't let her have it and a girl's got to get it somewhere, right?"
A girl's got to get it somewhere, right?
A girl's got to get it somewhere, doesn't she?
Phil smirks just before Philip throws the first punch.
More hits, more punches, more kicks. A split lip, a black eye and too many bruises to count. Who got away with what? It doesn't even matter.
What matters is that it's winter, that there is a fireplace in every room. And a fire poker to match.
What matters is that Philip usually isn't one to throw the first punch and it shows. He's lying on the floor, clutching his chest and Phil is recovering easily from the kick that sent him staggering.
(He is probably smirking as he does, but Philip can't be bothered to have a look right now.)
All he can do is scramble to his knees, grab the fire poker and swing, because he needs to knock his mirror back, because--
The iron doesn't move and Phil is standing right where he is, steady on his feet.
Philip's attempt failed, he thinks Phil must have blocked the attack with his hands, but...
But Phil isn't smirking anymore.
And Philip can't make sense of it.
Not until the mirror suddenly repairs behind them.
Phil looks back.
And then he's gone.
And Philip is left staring at his own reflection, silent and incredulous, blood dripping from the iron in his hand.