This particular mirror is notably tall - floor-to-ceiling, separated out into panels about three feet wide each, running the wall of one of the numerous suite rooms.
It's one of the only ones tall enough for the figure that stumbled out of it - armored, white-haired, closer to seven feet than six by no slim margin, and slim everywhere else. The sound of the water flowing out of is accompanied by a heavy crash, as the person in question attempts to catch themselves on something, anything, and in the process sets a stack of leaning mirrors tumbling over with a great and cascading crash of shattering glass.
"Hells," the figure mutters, Their voice is either deep for a woman's or light for a man's, and accented in a way that stinks of a high class upbringing, though perhaps one more recently neglected. They pull themselves up straight, pushing hair out of their face with one hand while the other linger and stops just short of reaching for the polearm held by a quick release to their back.
(It never hurts to be armed in an unknown place, and it never fails to be comforting that such a place hasn't disarmed you, after all.)
Anyone who might be standing around at that time will then be the target of a pale gaze and a pointed, narrow frown. Despite that, the hand very deliberately falls away from the half-reached-for weapon - if Eula has learned anything at all, it's that most people do not provide good information when you speak to them weapons-first. "And what do you know of this?" they ask instead, gaze rolling ov er the scattered bits of broken glass and the dark room in a single sweep.
2. how much longer will this feeling torture me
The halls of mirrors in this place are endless, and after the third time being ambushed by aggressive reflections, Eula has taken to carrying their gunspear loosely at their side rather than leaving it secured to their back. Those few instants are all it takes to turn the tide of combat, after all.
They come to a stop, coming down a hallway, and seeing the leading tip of that spear in the mirror turn into something else, before their own proper reflection has even appeared. Their expression darkens.
"Bad enough to be haunted by the rest," they say to the mirror and the image that hangs just out of sight. "Of course you would appear as well."
With that comment, they step fully into view of the mirror - the reflection cast is of the same height, and perhaps the same build underneath - it's impossible to say, when the image wears armor that is so much heavier than what Eula now wears in reality. The face of the helm is impassive in its monstrous, militant fashion, giving no indication of anything lying underneath.
Despite the appearance, this reflection remains, at least for now, only a reflection - the armor of Nael van Darnus imitates Eula's movements in a completely normal manner, despite the obvious mismatch, and the thicker plates pass into each other where the real thing's slimmer plate allows for greater freedom of movement. Despite this... Well, it's quite the telling tale, for those who know what story it belongs to.
3. so long to you, my beloved traitor
Good things might come to those who wait, but Eula has never been one to neglect the more pertinent help comes to those who help themselves. Accordingly, they have no inclination to simply stand around when there might be more information to be found elsewhere on board the ship.
Up, first - a commander's instinct for getting the lay of the land, whatever it might be. That leads to the open top deck, beneath its protective bubble, and ultimately a better indication of what kind of ship this is, well aside from its size.
... Some kind of indication, at any rate. Aside from the vast open space and the walking legs (one question answered), the first thing that gets Eula's attention is the lack of weapons, of defenses. This is no military craft, nor likely ever was one. And a shipping craft, too, seems unlikely - not with the lines of lounge chairs across the deck and the almost-empty (save for a shallow layer of water at its bottom) pool with steps down into it like an Ishgardian public bath.
Eula can be found wandering around the topdecks investigating these things, or perhaps just staring out at the passing wasteland beyond the bubble - but if you are a person who has a certain air of capability, you might find yourself being called over by a short gesture that's barely more than the curl of a hand and the tilt of a head. Once you've come close enough that it isn't yelling distance, they tilt their head again, this time towards the short structure at the front of the ship.
"What do you think?" they ask, something half-expectant and pleased in their eyes. (They took to the adventuring life all too easily, once upon a time. Some people are just not meant for sitting idle.) "Care to investigate? I mislike the idea of undertaking it without some form of friendly eyes on my back, given that the mirrors have afforded us unfriendly ones aplenty so far."
[[Note: I use they/them for Eula but characters are welcome to assume whatever! If asked they will express not giving a fuck, though not in such words lmao. More info on their appearance and AU can be found on their wip timeline sheet.]]
no subject
This particular mirror is notably tall - floor-to-ceiling, separated out into panels about three feet wide each, running the wall of one of the numerous suite rooms.
It's one of the only ones tall enough for the figure that stumbled out of it - armored, white-haired, closer to seven feet than six by no slim margin, and slim everywhere else. The sound of the water flowing out of is accompanied by a heavy crash, as the person in question attempts to catch themselves on something, anything, and in the process sets a stack of leaning mirrors tumbling over with a great and cascading crash of shattering glass.
"Hells," the figure mutters, Their voice is either deep for a woman's or light for a man's, and accented in a way that stinks of a high class upbringing, though perhaps one more recently neglected. They pull themselves up straight, pushing hair out of their face with one hand while the other linger and stops just short of reaching for the polearm held by a quick release to their back.
(It never hurts to be armed in an unknown place, and it never fails to be comforting that such a place hasn't disarmed you, after all.)
Anyone who might be standing around at that time will then be the target of a pale gaze and a pointed, narrow frown. Despite that, the hand very deliberately falls away from the half-reached-for weapon - if Eula has learned anything at all, it's that most people do not provide good information when you speak to them weapons-first. "And what do you know of this?" they ask instead, gaze rolling ov er the scattered bits of broken glass and the dark room in a single sweep.
2. how much longer will this feeling torture me
The halls of mirrors in this place are endless, and after the third time being ambushed by aggressive reflections, Eula has taken to carrying their gunspear loosely at their side rather than leaving it secured to their back. Those few instants are all it takes to turn the tide of combat, after all.
They come to a stop, coming down a hallway, and seeing the leading tip of that spear in the mirror turn into something else, before their own proper reflection has even appeared. Their expression darkens.
"Bad enough to be haunted by the rest," they say to the mirror and the image that hangs just out of sight. "Of course you would appear as well."
With that comment, they step fully into view of the mirror - the reflection cast is of the same height, and perhaps the same build underneath - it's impossible to say, when the image wears armor that is so much heavier than what Eula now wears in reality. The face of the helm is impassive in its monstrous, militant fashion, giving no indication of anything lying underneath.
Despite the appearance, this reflection remains, at least for now, only a reflection - the armor of Nael van Darnus imitates Eula's movements in a completely normal manner, despite the obvious mismatch, and the thicker plates pass into each other where the real thing's slimmer plate allows for greater freedom of movement. Despite this... Well, it's quite the telling tale, for those who know what story it belongs to.
3. so long to you, my beloved traitor
Good things might come to those who wait, but Eula has never been one to neglect the more pertinent help comes to those who help themselves. Accordingly, they have no inclination to simply stand around when there might be more information to be found elsewhere on board the ship.
Up, first - a commander's instinct for getting the lay of the land, whatever it might be. That leads to the open top deck, beneath its protective bubble, and ultimately a better indication of what kind of ship this is, well aside from its size.
... Some kind of indication, at any rate. Aside from the vast open space and the walking legs (one question answered), the first thing that gets Eula's attention is the lack of weapons, of defenses. This is no military craft, nor likely ever was one. And a shipping craft, too, seems unlikely - not with the lines of lounge chairs across the deck and the almost-empty (save for a shallow layer of water at its bottom) pool with steps down into it like an Ishgardian public bath.
Eula can be found wandering around the topdecks investigating these things, or perhaps just staring out at the passing wasteland beyond the bubble - but if you are a person who has a certain air of capability, you might find yourself being called over by a short gesture that's barely more than the curl of a hand and the tilt of a head. Once you've come close enough that it isn't yelling distance, they tilt their head again, this time towards the short structure at the front of the ship.
"What do you think?" they ask, something half-expectant and pleased in their eyes. (They took to the adventuring life all too easily, once upon a time. Some people are just not meant for sitting idle.) "Care to investigate? I mislike the idea of undertaking it without some form of friendly eyes on my back, given that the mirrors have afforded us unfriendly ones aplenty so far."
[[Note: I use they/them for Eula but characters are welcome to assume whatever! If asked they will express not giving a fuck, though not in such words lmao. More info on their appearance and AU can be found on their wip timeline sheet.]]