32nd Zi’da, 716
How foolish must one be to leave their door open?
Paplo still pondered on the question as he proceeded to loot the room opposite of his. Living in a tavern did have the advantage of being able to subtract an item or two every now and then, depending on his needs. Paplo’s first target within the neighboring room was the clothing, which proved to be inadequate as it was mostly composed of lingerie and provoking underwear of all colors. Other strange items were found, such as a great number of chains, bizarre spikey leather compliments, leashes and some strangely flexible wooden stick, which seemed as some sort of punishment tool. Furthermore, a small cage was near the bed, and despite being empty, Paplo finally understood just whom lived in the room; a slaver
. It would certainly explain the noises that escaped the room at night.
The Mortalborn had no intention of becoming a slave of any kind, obviously, and so he set his eyes upon the grand prize right away: a mirror, as large as himself, that stood against the wall. It was difficult not to be distracted whilst staring into it, but the urgency of his looting broke the enchantment. Peeking out of the room, making sure there were no witnesses in the tavern, Paplo quickly transported the mirror to his own tavern room. Afterwards, and after looting a partially bitten apple from the same room, he’d close both the slavers’ door and his own, for he wanted not to attract suspicious upon himself were the slaver to notice the open door and missing mirror.
Once he was alone, Paplo lost himself within the reflection. Male, human, adult, above average height, above average weight. Blond hair tied in a ponytail, thin facial hair, moderately patchy. Blue eyes, staring right back. Attractive features, symmetrical. Signs of dominant personality, as hinted by the correct poise, raised head, and unwavering eyes. He watched himself, mesmerized by his own reflection. He was beautiful and perfect
. Paplo smiled, and his reflection smiled right back. He waved, and his reflection waved right back. It amused him, and so he laughed, and his reflection laughed with him. How magical!
Paplo began undressing, of course, for he was a child beneath it all, and he wanted to gape at his reflection, for that reflection was his. Once fully naked, Paplo began inspecting the details of his body. The length of his limbs, their girth, the details on them. He did so by performing a wide variety of postures before the mirror, be it flexing, turning around, or peeking over the corner of the mirror, trying to see if he could fool his reflection. He could not. As this happened, Paplo giggled, again and again, with genuine innocence. He even began a strange dance, waving his hands here and there, seeing how his reflection imitated them.
After panting from his various shenanigans, Paplo took a seat before the mirror, and bit on the stolen apple. It seemed as if someone had bitten on it before, perhaps in the midst of a torture, but Paplo didn’t mind eating through it. As he ate, he stared at the mirror, and watched his reflection devour its own apple. Its jaws moved, crushing the apple, relishing on its lips before swallowing it.
“Excuse me,” he said to the reflection. “Are you looking at me?”
“I asked you a question.” Paplo finished his apple with haste, and proceeded to stand up, facing his reflection. “Would you mind answering it?”
There was something odd. His words felt unreal.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Paplo, now trying to communicate his worry through his facial expression, arching his eyebrows but also pulling them down, making them stand uneven.
The result was satisfactory. His reflection seemed less empty and more humane.
“I suppose you must like me. I…” Paplo trailed off his words on purpose, hand raising to his chest, a light fist forming, his expression changing to that of mild pain. “I must admit I feel the same.”
Paplo’s eyes met those of his reflection. He blinked on purpose, for he noticed he rarely did so.
“Do you want to be my friend?” Asked Paplo, a coy and dubious smile forming underneath his beard. His eyebrows arched once more, for he found the action felt more convincing.
“I would love to be yours. I can please you, I assure you. I can be your best friend, and your lover if you desire so.” Paplo took a step forth as he said his words, trying to show initiative.
“I have a secret, however. I am not what I seem.” Now, he attempted to portray doubt. This was done by slightly turning his chest to the side, as if trying to hide it from his reflection. As a bonus, he began moving his lips to further give the appearance of being scared to confess.
“I am a monster.”