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[polymods]

✖ THE CARNIVAL

Ⅰ. ARRIVAL & THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
You can see the lights of the Ferris wheel from the water, and by the time you pull into port you can smell popcorn, cotton candy, grease, sawdust. Music drifts on the air, interspersed with screams from the rides.

The carnival is in town.

Not just any carnival, either - the carnival. The one to end all others. Every circus you ever read about or saw in a movie, with striped tents filled with acrobats and sideshows, midway games complete with carnival barkers in straw boater hats. But it's also every shitty fair that ever rolled through your hometown, with unreliable looking men with greasy mullets smoking as they jockey the Wild Mouse, the Gravitron, the Zipper, the Corkscrew. There's a constant stream of 80s hair metal playing underneath the roar of the rollercoaster tracks, blending somehow with the traditional piping organ of the carousel.

Experienced Travelers will know by now that every island has its own temple, and this one is no exception. It’s not in the carnival proper, though; if you step away from the lights of the midway and tents, you’ll notice dozens of old wooden circus trailers, arranged in a circle, growing tighter together the closer to the center you walk. The trailers are functional living places, with built in beds - sometimes one, sometimes two - and a small table and an old wood burning stove with a cooking top just big enough to boil a kettle on. There’s a toilet, but if you want a shower you’ll have to go outside and find a tent set up at the outskirts of the makeshift trailer park where there are tent showers set up, locker room style.

The clearing in the middle of the parked caravan is completely empty except for a solitary midway game: a towering high striker. It must be at least twenty feet tall, surmounted by a round, red bell. A wooden mallet is leaned against a sign next to the game that reads, predictably, TEST YOUR STRENGTH.

Step right up.

Notes:
1. Please remember to mark threads appropriately with Content Warnings when necessary.

2. These prompts are a jumping off point - how they affect your character and their development is up to you.

3. The island temple is accessible to all. The High Temple is only accessible to new characters this month - it will re-open to all others next month.

4. The Test your Strength game can be played by anyone. How well your character does is entirely up to you, but the game does not necessarily measure physical strength.

5. These residents of the island are normal humans. Killing them is possible and will affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation.

6. Any food found on the midway is safe to eat, and is consumable by non-human entities.

7. Have fun!

---

Ⅱ. HALL OF MIRRORS
When it comes to amusements, the Hall of Mirrors has always been second-fiddle to the Haunted House. But the line for the former was shorter, so here you are. The guy working the door has weasel eyes and is smoking. He gestures for you and whoever is behind you to enter together; "No singles. For safety."

The lights are a dull neon, cycling from deep blue to cyan to purple and back again. You find that your outstretched fingers will bump against smooth, clear glass as often as not. The mirrors reflect the maze back into itself over and over, disorienting and strange.

Some of the mirrors are convex, some concave, and as you pass them your reflection warps and bends alongside that of whoever you're stuck inside the maze with.

At some point you will realise that the reflection looking back at you isn't quite right. It's still you, sure, but it's not how you really look, not on the outside.

Looking back at you from the cold glass is how you perceive yourself. Perhaps that's stronger, perhaps uglier, perhaps as a sniveling child or an ancient hag. And this reflection is going to follow you from mirror to mirror as you desperately try to find your way out.

One of you spots an exit sign, bleeding red light. Only catch is that it's behind a pane of glass. And another. And another. You could break your way through all of them, certainly, but it's not as if there's anything laying around for you to use to do so. Just yourself, which might work in action movies but tends to cause a lot of physical damage in the real world.

Above the glass someone has placed a sticker that reads, “who are you really?” in black sharpie. Answer it, and the glass will swing open. Don't, and well...

Guess you'll have several years worth of bad luck.

Notes:
1. Yes, characters can bash their way out of the maze, but it is real glass and will cut anyone who isn’t invulnerable. There is a first aid station run by extremely unreliable carneys on the premises, so hopefully they can patch themselves up enough there.

---

Ⅲ. THE CAROUSEL
CW: childhood trauma
Old fashioned organ music and a million flashing lights draws you to the carousel. It's a vintage delight: huge, with ornate animals carved out of wood and lovingly hand painted. There are horses, of course, but also lions and leopards and birds and rabbits and wolves... any animal you could want! In fact, you'll see an animal that looks perfectly YOU. You just have to climb up on it for a ride.


Settled on your mount, the ride begins to move. To your surprise, it begins to move backwards. You can't seem to ungrip the pole you're hanging on to, so you're helpless to escape as the ride spins again and again.

When it stops and you step off, you will be younger. You will in fact be the same age you were when a formative event happened to you.

You're a kid at a carnival! How fun! Well, maybe you're not that young, and it's probably not very fun at all considering that now your trauma is fresh.

The only way to become your proper age again is to get on the carousel and get it to run forward. Depending on your age, you might not be able to figure any of that out, but surely one of the other Travelers can help you. You'll definitely need someone to man the carousel controls. Oh, and be careful not to knock it into overdrive...

Notes:
1. If your character does not get back on the carousel and ride it in reverse, they will revert to their actual ages at the end of the month.

2. Please be especially mindful of content warnings with underage characters. A reminder that the game does not allow explicit sexual content with minors.

3. You do not have to regress your character to childhood - if a very formative event happened at age 20 for example, you can choose that route instead.

4. Speeding up the carousel while it is moving forward will result in, you guessed it, aging your character UP. Obviously you can ride it backwards again to fix this, or again the aging will be reversed at the end of the month.

---

Ⅳ. COULROPHOBIA
CW: clowns, suffocation
Who can possibly resist the big top? Not you! You're ushered into the tent and you take a seat in the stands, where you have an excellent view of the huge ring before you. The excitement in the air is palpable, and even if you're the grouchy type you'll find yourself a little bit thrilled.

It's a little surprising when the lights go up to the sound of screaming guitars. Mist belches from hidden foggers, and flames shoot from near the center of the ring. The lights stutter red, blue, green. The whole thing is a lot more rock show than it is Ringling Brother's.

At any rate, even if the ringmaster looks like a reject from a trailer park metal band and the music is liable to burst some eardrums, it's still a circus. There are trained horses and riders, contortionists, and a score of talented trapeze artists. It's all sparkling and impressive and terrific fun.

The trapeze artists take their bows, clearly ready for a break. And if a break is needed at the circus? You know what happens next, don't you?

SEND IN THE CLOWNS!

The clowns spill into the ring, all sorts of them! There's Harlequin and Pierrot, Auguste and Tramp. There's Bozos and Ronalds and Clarabelles and Krustys. Hopefully no Gacys, but there's so many of them that it's hard to know for sure.

One of these clowns - the one you hate the most, of course - approaches you in the stands. With comically exaggerated movements, it leans close to you and whispers...

Well. It whispers horrible things to you, really. It recounts to you some instance in your life where you delighted in the suffering of another, a moment where you really and truly were happy that somebody else was hurt. It's not a moment to be proud of, for sure, but as the clown tells your own secret shameful joy to you, you start to laugh. Really laugh - soon you're bent over double, tears running down your face, absolutely howling with laughter.

Your stomach hurts, and you're running out of breath. Very soon you won't be able to breathe at all.

Eventually, one of your fellow travelers won't be able to resist asking you, "What's so funny?"

The only way to stop laughing is to tell them. Otherwise you're going to pass out right where you sit, a creepy clown leering over you the whole time. Maybe your fellow traveler will be nice enough to drag you out of there if that happens, because if you're left alone? Everybody knows clowns get so much scarier alone in the dark.

Notes:
1. What happens if you really do get ditched with the clowns? Great question. Maybe they make you one of them. Maybe they eat you. Maybe you just wake up in the Big Top dressing room and see all the clowns smoking cigars and taking their floppy shoes off to film Clown Foot Erotica.

It wouldn't be a party without some jams.

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

Comments

Saxsice King | OC | OTA

[queenking]

i. test your strength

[This is Saxsice's entire jam. Flowers are nice and all, and she enjoyed the speakeasy a few months back, but a carnival? A noisy, crowded, chaotic place full of fun, food and frivolity? Sign her up. She doesn't even bother investigating the temple, instead hitting up the fairway immediately and trying to do everything at once.

She's got half a corndog in one hand and a caramel apple in the other when she sees the "Test Your Strength" game. That's a challenge if she ever saw one, so she steps up eagerly, then frowns at her snacks for a moment. Finally she shoves them towards whoever's passing, complete stranger or not.]

Here, hold these. If I win, you owe me funnel cake. If I lose, I'll buy you somethin', deal?

ii. hall of mirrors

[This part of the circus is...a little less fun. Inside like this, in such close quarters, Saxsice can't rely on her nose to guide her out, and she keeps getting turned around and bumping into mirrors. She keeps up a long string of profanity as she does so, which probably makes her pretty easy to find. If she can just find the right way forward, and not keep hitting reflections --

-- except one of the reflections is...off. It's definitely her, but distinctly younger, by about a decade or so, barely more than a teenager. She's hunched over, arms locked over her chest, hair lank and loose around her face. The Saxsice in the reflection has none of the real one's swagger or confidence. Instead she's trembling, looking down at her feet, reaching up every so often to wipe at her eyes.

The real Saxsice freezes before the frightened, shivering reflection, an unreadable look on her face. After a long moment, she slowly reaches out a hand, resting it on the glass of the mirror, as if to comfort her younger, smaller self.]

iii. carousel

[Because the Hall of Mirrors wasn't enough of a peek into Saxsice's past, now she's hopping onto the nearest horse and clinging on with all her strength, letting the merry-go-round do what it does best. It spins her round and round and round until she can't even remember her own name.

...literally. The person who gets off the horse and wobbles away, dizzy and disoriented is...quite a bit different than the woman who'd gotten on. The girl, wide-eyed and scraggly-haired, with freckles and old healing scrapes all over her arms from running around in the woods, stares around for a long moment, trying to figure out where she is.

The crowd, the lights, the noise are all very overwhelming to the now-11-year-old, who staggers over to a crate and sits down heavily on it, still trying to look at everything at once. Her skinny chest is heaving for breath, and she looks halfway between terrified and enchanted.

After a beat, the girl mumbles to herself:] Momma's gonna kill me...

Test Your Strength

[neverwither]

( It's warming to see someone enjoying the festivities and even more so that it's Saxsice. Not minding at all when the snacks are thrust in her direction, Chloe takes them with a smile. They'll be well guarded while Saxsice has her fill of the game. She's not overly fussed about participating at all herself but if the competition is wanted, she'll partake. It probably won't be much of a contest, though. )

Okay. Deal. Let's see some muscle.

( Saxsice will be getting that funnel cake either way, if Chloe has anything to do with it. )

[queenking]

Hell yeah, hell yeah. [Saxsice gleefully struts up to the machine, spitting on her hands and rubbing them together, then hefting the hammer into both hands. She points it threateningly at the game, scowling darkly.] Better not embarrass me in front'a a pretty girl or I'll turn ya into spare parts.

[The game is nonplussed, of course.]

[neverwither]

( The good cheer is infectious and Chloe is grateful for it. ) Talking about yourself there, I see.

I don't have any unfair strength advantage, by the way. Just in case it might seem like I'm trying to rig the game.

[queenking]

Flattery, it'll getcha everywhere. [Saxsice flashes a cheeky grin, then brings the hammer down with considerable power. It's more than someone her build ought to be able to exert, but the game doesn't seem to realize it -- the little metal bullet only rises about halfway to the bell.

Scowling ferociously, Saxsice steps back, tilting her head.] S'matter with this thing? That was a damn good hit.

iii because u no

[wwrench]

There's something childishly intoxicating about the flashing lights and the smell of fried food emanating from every corner of this island. It batters Wrench's senses in a way no less overwhelming than the putrid-sweet stench of flowers, but certainly more welcome. He's no more certain what his purpose is here than he was before, but the cut on his hand is healed (apart from the gnarly scar) and he's starting to get his bearings.

The giant carousel in the middle of it all reminds him of something he saw once in the Mall of America, and instantly he's reminiscing on his old unfulfilled desire to climb atop one of those big black horses and let it twist him around and around. It takes a little coaxing from the faces he recognizes from the last island, but it's not too long before Wrench is straddled one of the attraction's statues, looking plainly ridiculous.

It's a dizzying blur of lights and color, and when it finally comes to a stop the man whose feet scraped the floor of the carousel has been reduced to a boy of no more than twelve, gangly and underfed and with a shock of rumpled hair half-bleached by the sun. He stumbles off the ride and looks around, scowling with mischief.

a GIFT to ME PERSONALLY

[queenking]

After about ten minutes of sitting and fretting about how much trouble she's going to be in, Cassie had gotten thoroughly bored and decided instead to get herself some of the food she kept smelling. It wasn't anything like what they had at home -- which was mostly wild game, bread and whatever they could keep alive in the garden. This smelled like grease and sugar and forbidden things. Cassie was a scrawny, rangy little thing, so she slipped in and out of the tents fairly easily, helping herself to whatever her grubby little hands could reach.

Soon she had two funnel cakes, a corndog and a huge bag of cotton candy. She was gnawing on the corndog, walking around and trying to look at everything at once, when she caught sight of the most amazing thing yet -- a kid her age. Cassie was the only one her age back home, all her cousins either in their late teens or barely above babies. She'd never met someone exactly her age before.

Excited, she bounded forward, all sugar-smeared face and huge smile. "Hi!!"

[wwrench]

At twelve years old, there's only one person in the world who Wes is looking for amid the neon lights and enormous stuffed teddy bears. The presence of so many adults absent their children is enough to set him on edge. What kind of carnival would grown-ups actually want to come to? He imagines they're all terminally allergic to fun.

The longer he goes with no sight of Grady the more bored he becomes with the chaos that surrounds him. Without his best friend's antics, none of it seems very amusing to him. But the wafting scent of fried dough is enough to make his stomach rumble, so when he catches sight of the girl with more than her fair share, his eyes widen.

Shit. She sees him too. Wes frowns and wriggles his fingers at her, completely unaware that the ScryWatch on his wrist has changed its circumference to fit his new dimensions, and that it's already busy interpreting the universal gesture for the girl.

[queenking]

The funny watch thing on the boy's wrist chirps out a "hello", and Cassie's wide eyes go even wider. "Wow, your watch talks! That is so cool, how'd you get it to do that? Mine doesn't do anything but blink with flashy lights and stuff. I don't really know where it came from. I've never had a watch before. Momma says I should tell time from the sun and moon and stars and stuff."

She rolls her eyes, pausing to polish off her corndog, which mercifully allows his watch to finish transcribing her rambling before she's off again. "But that's way too hard. It hurts my eyes to look right at the sun. Have you ever looked right at the sun? It's really bright." In the same breath, she thrusts one of the funnel cakes towards him, sprinkling powdered sugar everywhere. "Do you want one of these things? I grabbed two by mistake."

i

[detectivemiracle]

[ One moment, Chloe is walking along, wondering if she ought to get something to eat. Next moment, her arms are full of fair food, and - ]

Wait, what? I don't have any money - at least, I don't think...

[ What is even happening? ]

[queenking]

Ehhh, whatever. [Saxsice shrugs, seemingly unbothered that she's just given a stranger an armful of half-eaten snacks. She rubs her hands together, picking up the hammer for the test your strength game.] You can, uhhhh, figure out a barter system or somethin', right? That's an island thing.

[detectivemiracle]

Is it? I'm new here.

[ Chloe doesn't move, though. Apparently, she's now the keeper of the snacks, so she's doing her duty, giving the other woman space to swing. ]

[queenking]

I dunno, each one's different. [Saxsice hefts the hammer to rest on her shoulder for a moment.] The temple's usually got some kinda spendin' money, though.

[Then she lets the hammer fall, quick and hard, easily ringing the bell at the very top. She grins toothily, turning to the other woman and offering a hand.] Welcome to the island. Saxsice King.

ii.

[what_fourth_wall]

At some point during the carnival, Deadpool had played a game and won a prize. Sure those sharpshooter games were rigged af, but when you were a fantastic shot and were used to firing around your own chaos, a rigged game involving shooting things didn't really do much.

And the prize he'd chosen? A pair of boots. Okay sure, they were pretty hella cowboy, like to an absurd extent. And yeah, some of the cowboy clowns wandering around had been wearing them, so they were basically cowboy clown boots. BUT. They were boots!! And they were lady boots!! (The carny had given Deadpool quite the look as he'd requested them, but Deadpool had yoinked an obvious humanities grad student down and asked them a question about cultural gender expectations and then walked away, leaving the carny to quite the lecture. Take THAT!)

It had taken a little bit to find her, but finally he noticed Saxsice about to go into a hall of mirrors. He'd rushed up and shoved some other loser out of the way to be the partner that went in behind her.

"HEY! SEXY!! I GOT YOUR BOO-FUCK!" He shook his head, having run right into a mirror. They'd gotten separated by mirrors just that fast.

He started trying to get to her, naturally slamming into mirror after mirror and swearing as profusely as her. Then he sees her pausing to reach out to a mirror, and that gives him pause himself.

"You okay? Is that mirror talking shit?"*

An interesting note is that Deadpool sees nothing wrong with the mirrors. What he sees in the mirror is Deadpool. That has interesting implications - namely that he sees himself as Deadpool and nothing more than Deadpool - but if that depth is to be explored, it'll have to be pointed out to him at some point.

*((OOC: Do we want to assume that they can see each others' changed (or not, in Deadpool's case) image? I'm cool either way!))

[queenking]

Saxsice jolts a little at the first sound of face meeting mirror -- well, a face that isn't hers, at least -- and turns to watch Deadpool's truly abysmal progress into the maze. It makes her snort out a laugh, which is definitely an improvement from what her mirror's doing, which is mostly just...huddling into a ball and crying.

"You all good there, DP? Don't get a concussion, this place ain't worth it." She's trying not to look at his mirror to see if there's any differences, but he can absolutely see hers, woeful as it is. Because what use is a hall of mirrors that you can't go through alone, if not to improve relationships by revealing innermost weaknesses?

Saxsice lights up a little at the sight of the boots, making grabby-hands. Her reflection, meanwhile, just peeks upwards with red-rimmed eyes under snarled hair. "Oooo, gimme, gimme!"

[ooc: hell yeah let's make this a hall of FEAR-ror. nope, that doesn't work at all, nvm, you get my meaning.]

[what_fourth_wall]

Why IS Deadpool so terrible at this? Is it because he's so unused to consequences that he doesn't give a shit if he runs into a mirror? Is it because one has to have a fear of pain to be more cautious? Or is he just impatient as he chases the thought of eight tiddies? WHO KNOWS.

The upside of running face first into mirror after mirror is that he breaks his nose. Well, okay, that's not the upside. The upside is that his nose bleeds. Okay, that sounds like not an upside either, but it IS! Because he bleeds on the mirrors, so he actually starts to get a grasp for what's a mirror and what isn't through evidence of his pain. See? It's all tactical and shit.

"I'm good, I'm good. This carnival just sucks. It made me barf. Nobody makes me barf my own vomit. Plenty of people make me bleed my own blood, so I'm not exactly Ben Stiller, but vomit? No!!"

If she does happen to catch his reflection, it might be interesting to note that while it is indeed Deadpool, it is Deadpool. As in, the man standing with her boots just has the Deadpool mask, but is wearing red and black flannel and black jeans because he blew off his costume two islands ago and there aren't exactly super hero costume shops around here. But the reflection is Deadpool in full costume. It's him, but not the present him. This makes sense if you think deep thoughts.

"They're all yours, as promised!" He starts to hand them over. "Although only if you share them with your daughter there. I hate to see kids crying, especially when it's obviously because they're staring at non-booted feets wishing they were booted feets."

[queenking]

It's like that myth about the uhhhhh mino-something. With the twine. And the dead virgins. Saxsice isn't positive, she didn't go to high school. But she knows there's some myth about getting out of a maze using string, and she feels blood smear is a sufficient alternative.

The Deadpool-but-fully-costumed reflection gets a thoughtful "hmm", but Saxsice is...definitely not a deep-thinking type. At all. It'll hit her eventually, probably that night when she's trying to fall asleep and then suddenly sits upright like ohhhh, it's a metaphor for how his identity is solely that of the mask!! But for now, she just sits down and starts untying her sandals. "Didja go on all the roller coasters? That's where barf comes from, man, all the uhhhhh centipedal force."

One sandal is kicked off, then Saxsice frowns up at Deadpool, baffled. "I don't have a daughter." She almost, dumbly, mentions that she does have a son, but stops herself, looking over at the mirror instead. The girl is still huddling there, hugging her knees to her chest. "...oh, uh. Some weird carnival...creepy mirror thing." She shifts so her back's to the mirror and starts working on untying the other sandal. "Just tryin' to freak us out is all."

i

[hect]

What's a funnel—

[ Camilla doesn't even have a chance to finish her sentence before she's suddenly juggling a corndog and a sticky apple, the scent of caramel overwhelmingly sugary and tantalising as it wafts up to her. Hand extended, she tries to hold it delicately by the stick, not letting her hair drift into the caramel in order to ruin the stranger's snack. But intrigued and curious, she cranes her head and watches as the other woman limbers up and readies to grasp the hammer. A cheerful blonde bulldozing her way into conversation with her feels oddly familiar; it reminds her of Coronabeth. ]

Question still stands. What's a funnel cake?

[ People from the Sixth House were taught to read all the terms and conditions (yes, all dozen pages) before signing any contract or agreeing to any deal. Plus the subscript. And the addendums. And corollaries. God, her home was big on paperwork. ]

[queenking]

[Saxsice bounces on her heels a couple times, gearing herself up to swing the hammer, but the question has her pausing for a moment, frowning.]

Uhhhh, it's like...a pancake? [She nods, once at first, then with more confidence.] Yeah, like a pancake, but cooked in a funnel. And covered in sugar. [That sounds about right. Don't ask her what a funnel is, though.] And they're delicious.

[hect]

How do you cook something in a—

[ No, you know what, #priorities. ]

Never mind. If it's delicious, that's what matters.

[ Pancakes summons up a memory of some sad and oatmealy things from back home, but from the sounds of the other woman's gushing, Camilla would be entirely unprepared for the reality of a carnival funnel cake. But she moves obediently to the side, stepping out of the way of the inevitable hammer arc, and instead watches Saxsice's form as she takes the hammer and readies herself. There's a sharpness in Camilla's attention, almost something of a professional assessment of the other woman's performance going on. ]

If you get turned into a frog or something, I'll still get you that cake.

[queenking]

I dunno, man, you just pour it in, maybe? [Saxsice shrugs, letting the hammer rest over her shoulder for a moment, lightly, like it's made of styrofoam instead of wood. She might be reedy, but she's clearly strong.] Do I look like a cake-ologist?

[Then she turns back to the game, bouncing on her heels a couple times before setting her feet apart, shifting her weight from one to the other, eying the target and then -- bringing the hammer down hard, hard enough for the little metal bullet to sail upwards and strike the bell with a brassy, resonant clang!

Saxsice pauses for a moment, until the noise dissipates a little, then glances back at the other woman.] Well? Do I look froggy yet?

ii. hall of mirrors

[howlett]

In the mirror next to that one two bright blue eyes look quietly at the moment she's having with her younger self.

By the look on the boys face he's turned a corner into this and certainly didn't mean to. But the voice that speaks when he opens his mouth comes from another direction and certainly doesn't match the pale little boy in the short coat and knickerbockers.

"Ah. Shit. Sorry. I thought I caught wind of... never mind. Just lookin' for the exit."

[queenking]

Saxsice has a bewildered moment where she squints at the reflection of the kid, taking in the short pants and short clothes and short everything, and tries to reconcile it with the deep, gruff voice she's hearing.

"Can't catch wind of much'a anythin' in here," she offers finally, leaning forward and tilting her head at the reflection. "Got a real deep voice there, kiddo."

[howlett]

The nickname raises his eyebrow until he catches a glimpse of that young reflection himself. It's tempting at first to keep where he stands and not offer up a more accurate look at himself. But he's trying not to be quite so much of an unknown. Even if it goes against his better judgment.

"I grow into it," he says. There's resignation in his voice as he steps around one of those mirrored corners and the reflections move with him, revealing him in from perspectives.

In another reflection there's man, mostly naked, save for a patchwork of tech and wires strapped around his body. That one looks at her from beneath a red eyepiece attached to the hardware on his head. In another there's a mangled beastly thing with more scar tissues than facial features that barely looks capable of standing upright on its hind quarters. In another, there's an ordinary looking man in Buffalo plaid and steel toe boots. Every instance of Logan's reflection is wildly different from the last save for the pale blue eyes.

He looks at her a long moment and then reaches out to touch one of the mirrors near him, just to confirm he's looking at the right version of her.

"There's an exit somewhere that way," he points. "The smell of stale popcorn and fryer grease gets stronger. But I ain't found the right path."

[queenking]

Saxsice lets out a low, impressed whistle, turning in a little circle so she can see all the reflections, trying to find the pattern. She fixates on the eyes immediately, confirming it's all the same person, but she can't imagine what would possibly cause so many variations.

Her own reflections are somewhat simpler -- there's a little girl, blonde and scruffy, with skinned knees and wide eyes, the young woman she'd first seen, a slightly younger, pregnant teenage girl, and a snowy white wolf. She's oblivious to her own reflections, though, focused on the man, who she vaguely recognizes from the temple. "Hey, you're the carvin' guy."

Then she huffs out a perturbed grumble, raking her fingers back through her hair. "Me neither. Tried followin' the human stink, but that really is everywhere. Should we just...start smashin' stuff?"