[imgright]https://matope-swamp.com/images/phoenix ... uncert.png[/imgright]The maze had intrigued her as a matter of principle. Being a deeply flawed kin herself, she didn't find the company that much more vile than loneliness. (She had not even bothered with a costume, as she was already wearing borrowed flesh.) Besides, the idea of strange things from deep within the maze was a little bit of motivation that drove her on.

Despite being a Zikwa, Warped Reflection was an unusually sturdy little thing. The thorns had already shred through her delicate flesh and coat, leaving her somewhat bloodied. Her hair, normally an elegantly woven affair, was sticky with sharp brambles that snagged and pulled at it. She was lucky to have left the ring she usually wore on her tail with Spark as a plaything, for she had a feeling it would have long been lost by now if she'd brought it. Yet, somehow despite all this, she seemed rather unfazed.

This was an advantage she had over most of the kin who were attempting this maze- she was from deep underground, where such things like a little darkness and pointy stones stabbing you were mere trifles. ...Though it was a little obnoxious.

She couldn't see at all, frankly. But she was used to it- sometimes it was better not to see anything. After all, she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that there were things here that weren't meant to be seen by mortal eyes. Better to close them, then.

So, unseeing, she sniffed and felt her way forwards with her horns and hooves.

The pollen was so thick it hurt to breathe, and smelling her way through seemed no longer a viable option.

She had kept her ears perked the whole way through the brambles, hoping to perhaps catch the sounds of other kin making their way through in the distance- simply to follow their lead. But the wind in the distance whispers it, repeated over and over again.

"Autumn, autumn-"

She clenched her eyes closed further, grit her teeth until she tasted blood. She drug her hooves even as they began to shake. On some level she knew she was hearing things. Oh, of course she knows she is hearing things- Reflection has heard things her whole life.

But she could feel it, too. The feeling of a breeze that flickered by her side, like the cold flesh of a corpse brushing against her wounds. It stung, like fresh citrus against rough skin. The wind now had no words for her, but it screamed. It screamed like a mother in mourning.

Deep in the distance, she heard that wailing once more- a kin faraway, injured and desperately in need of her help, or just the wind again? It sounded like it was dying. Perhaps if she listened very hard, she almost heard it begging for help.

Her shaking hooves didn't really care either way. There was one way forward. She couldn't open her eyes just yet.

If she's judged by the lives she's failed to save, well. She'd already failed.

What's one more?

She forged onward.

She stared for perhaps longer than she needed to.

For most kin, it was not something they saw often. For Warped Reflection, it was something she saw every night, unfailingly. Each night was like ritual, watching her own face contort, rot, whisper her every failing into her ear. Yet here she stared, deep into the eyeless sockets of her sister's face. Transfixed.

There was nowhere else to go.

Tonight, it didn't shift and rot from underneath itself. It simply sat there, breathing. So much like herself, just with her eyes plucked from her sockets. Yet, the longer it looked, the further away she seemed to get. As if it was fading into nothingness.

Despite herself, she took a faltering, fearful step back- tripping over her own hooves.

Quietly, in her ear her sister whispered,

"You'd steal my body, then fail to respect even my name?"

Her eyes could no longer meet the face on the wall. They looked only at the brambles below her feet. She heard the sound of Autumn's hooves drawing closer, closer, closer- until the wind was a corpse's breath on the back of her neck.

"Give me back what you owe. For the night."

The reflection leapt from the wall, and into her flesh.

Reflection stared through eyes that did not listen to her, felt her hooves moving but could not control them. She was the shadow that lurked below Autumn's body, watching silently as the ever-optimistic kin took in the maze around her.

Very suddenly, the maze was so bright. Colors she'd never imagined seemed to burst from the leaves that littered the ground. Each and every petal of Sinweed seemed painted in the strokes of the MotherFather themselves, glistening with dew. The fog seemed to glitter like the scales of a fish in the summer river. The pain that struck her sides from the tearing bramble had long since vanished.

(Well, of course she wouldn't feel it. Autumn was the one in her body, now.)

Was this... How the maze had looked all along?

Had she been too afraid of nothing to even open her eyes and see it, or had her own perception been warped from the beginning? What was the truth of the world?

A shiver ran up her spine.

Why could Autumn see this when she couldn't?

...Why was she broken?

She is not quite 'angry' berserk.

No. She laughs.

In Warped Reflection's flesh, Finds Beauty in the Autumn seems to dance right back at the hobby-horse. Where Reflection's footsteps had been shaky and unsure, hers are steady and graceful as she seems to skip and hop around the great intruder into her little excursion. She has all the energy and tenacity of an Acha, all the speed of a Kiokote, all the smarts of a Zikwa... She is, in the moment, oh so perfect.

She is playing a game as she strikes, slamming her hooves hard at the side of the towering creature that threatens her.

[blockquote]Rolled 2d10-6 : 9, 10 - 6, total 13[/blockquote]

Crack. A sickening noise. Autumn's hind hooves strike the creature hard in the ribcage and send it reeling. Red blood, both her own and that of her foe, drip drip drips from her sharp hoof, one half of it split open from the impact. It is unsightly, more and more red against this crimson wash around her. While beautiful in its own right, Autumn wishes there were a bit more color in this little scene. After all, she's missed out on some of the variety thus far.

"Out of my way." Her voice is more singsong than Reflection's typical quiet murmuring. "I have much to see before she wakes up! If I only get this chance once a year, I'd best make the most of it."

Still with a spring in her step despite her split hoof, she lowers her horns, and charges.

Warped HP: 37/40
Hobby-Horse HP: 24/60

[blockquote]Rolled 2d10-6 : 10, 5 - 6, total 9[/blockquote]

It

Falls.

Red blood spatters on Autumn's still-smiling face. The creature beats a swift retreat, clearly unprepared for the sort of thing it was going to be getting.

(Reflection, who stared up at herself, did not blame it- she was clearly not the most capable controller of her own body. It probably expected her, meek and defensive.)

With her tail raised, each hoof-step ever graceful and prim, the Zikwa seems to skip through the end of the maze as she is guided to it, oh-so-excited. To the other kin who look upon her, she is clearly high in a patently manic way. She would have to be, to enjoy herself in this sort of maze.

(To Warped Reflection, who had known all along this thing was probably just another kin in costume, she only hopes this pollen wears off before she becomes a permanent spectator to her own stolen body.)