It's a strange thing to walk in on, probablyー a giant of a man, sitting with his legs folded in front of a polished mirror, laughing softly under his breath at the furious demon of his reflection in front of him. There's water and blood on the other side of that translucent partition, an ocean that Douman's doppelgänger is wading in, ankle-deep with the hem of his priest's robe stained; it doesn't flow beyond the glass, trapped on the other side despite the half-materialized state of the doppelgänger reaching out through the mirror.
A pale arm hovers over the real Douman's head. It stays, open-palmed, and drips ichor over Douman's hair: black and viscous, the tar runs from Douman's head to his shoulder, over his sleeve, into his lap.
"This is you", the double whispers. Its face is split in a grotesque smile, enunciating its words with gleeful malice. "The mud that simmers in you. The curse of your being, the culmination of your pointless life.
You were made in mud, and you return to mud."
Douman weathers the aggression with unhinged serenity; his smile almost matches his doppelgänger's, if not with the same vehemence. He hums in response, nodding along to the insults being hurled at him, until he notices that someone is watching.
Jet-black eyes swivel towards Hythlodaeus, his features obscured by the strange substance staining his face. ]
Ah. [ Coquettishly, with a tip of his head. ] How inopportune of you.
CLOSED TO HYTHLODAEUS.
It's a strange thing to walk in on, probablyー a giant of a man, sitting with his legs folded in front of a polished mirror, laughing softly under his breath at the furious demon of his reflection in front of him. There's water and blood on the other side of that translucent partition, an ocean that Douman's doppelgänger is wading in, ankle-deep with the hem of his priest's robe stained; it doesn't flow beyond the glass, trapped on the other side despite the half-materialized state of the doppelgänger reaching out through the mirror.
A pale arm hovers over the real Douman's head. It stays, open-palmed, and drips ichor over Douman's hair: black and viscous, the tar runs from Douman's head to his shoulder, over his sleeve, into his lap.
"This is you", the double whispers. Its face is split in a grotesque smile, enunciating its words with gleeful malice. "The mud that simmers in you. The curse of your being, the culmination of your pointless life.
You were made in mud, and you return to mud."
Douman weathers the aggression with unhinged serenity; his smile almost matches his doppelgänger's, if not with the same vehemence. He hums in response, nodding along to the insults being hurled at him, until he notices that someone is watching.
Jet-black eyes swivel towards Hythlodaeus, his features obscured by the strange substance staining his face. ]
Ah. [ Coquettishly, with a tip of his head. ] How inopportune of you.
[ last chance to ruN AWAY, ]