In a Manor of Speaking

The Beginning

It was cold. No, actually, it was warm. Or maybe it was both? Y/N couldn't tell up from down, left from right, let alone what the temperature was.

They were... falling. They think. Yes, they're sure of it. They were falling, but where to? Y/N started to slightly panic. They never did like being kept in the dark.

Y/N opened their eyes, which they seemed to just realize they had. It was pitch black, their surroundings no more discernible than when their eyes were closed. How ironic.

...

Oh yeah, they were really falling now. Y/N was falling, straight into a seemingly endless abyss, and it felt... good? They seemed to finally figure out the temperature, which was hot, and decided that the breeze was fairly nice. Y/N sighed, content, and closed their eyes again. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Thump.

Y/N opened their eyes. They had stopped falling, though they didn't feel themselves land. They also appeared to be on some sort of solid ground, though Y/N still couldn't see a single damn thing. Were they actually blind? The longer they stared into the deep, black space, though, the more things they were able to see. Perhaps Y/N just needed to adjust to the darkness?

There was the faint outline of a grand, spiral staircase. It led up to a balcony, which seemed to give way to the rest of the upper floor. Y/N couldn't really tell, though, because the outline of it stopped abruptly in the middle of it's low railing.

Then two people (or, rather, the shadows of them) suddenly appeared on the balcony, and one of them... pushed the other? Shot them? Whatever happened, they tumbled off the railing and Y/N screamed as the person fell to the first floor with a sickening crack. Y/N could feel their pain, both physical and emotional, and had to take a knee as they continued to scream.

But Y/N's screams were silent as they doubled over. They couldn't speak. Whether from shock or a newly formed disability, they couldn't tell. And they didn't really care. The pain was unbearable. Betrayal and hurt and confusion swirled around in Y/N's brain for hours, weeks, years it felt like, until it was suddenly gone. It was gone as soon as it had come.

Y/N sensed a presence behind them, and twisted around. Their eyes went wide as they cast them upon a large landscaped mirror.

The mirror was cracked rather roughly into three pieces, and some shards and dust from it laid on the floor. It's frame was black and thin, nothing like the extravagant hall it was placed in. The mirror was affixed to the wall at head level, for Y/N, at least. They stood up and approached it with caution, too curious and focused to realize that with each step towards the mirror, the world was slowly beginning to materialize around them.

Y/N stepped directly in front of the mirror. Their reflection stared back at them, but it was... odd. They were certain they didn't look anything like what was projected in the mirror. Y/N knew what they looked like... kind of. Maybe. Possibly.

...

Ok, maybe Y/N didn't remember what they actually looked like. But they were positive that they didn't have grey skin. Or black, slicked back hair. Or a three piece suit.

Y/N began to scratch their head in confusion and realized that their reflection wasn't moving along. They moved back a step, startled, as their reflection sneered at them. It seemed disgusted to even look at Y/N. And yet it's expression also seemed rather somber. As if Y/N was a recently deceased being that it knows it shouldn't disrespect, but can't help itself.

The reflection looked Y/N straight in the eyes as it turned it's sneer into a smirk and muttered darkly, "Oh, there you are, old friend. How are you settling into your new office? Now, I know it'll take some getting used to, but there's no one I would rather have alongside me to protect this great manor of ours."

And before they could ask any questions—well, attempt to ask, anyway—the reflection reached out and yanked Y/N into the mirror with it.

~ ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ ~

It was cold. No, actually, it was warm. Or maybe it was both? Y/N couldn't tell up from down, left from right, let alone what the temperature was.

...

Wait. Y/N was able to use their senses properly now. They could feel a slight breeze, and the grassy floor beneath their fingers. Their skin felt warm, but they themselves weren't completely burning up. So that must mean...

Y/N was... outside. They think. Yes, they're sure of it. They were outside, but where? Y/N started to slightly panic. They never did like being kept in the dark.

Y/N opened their eyes. They must have been sleeping. Their eyes were hard to open, and filled with the cursed crust that comes solely from dozing off. Y/N rubbed the sleep from their eyes and looked up. The sky was a nice shade of blue, one noticeable only during a sunrise.

Huh. A sunrise. Y/N's internal clock must be extremely fine-tuned. That, or their apparent nightmare woke them immediately after being pulled through that mirror before anything seriously damaging could happen.

That nightmare was certainly unsettling, and nothing like what Y/N had ever experienced. Usually it was of something obscure, like a dude they had passed at the gas station that day chasing them through a car dealership. Sometimes they were actually scary, like the time Y/N was dangled from a sewing thread over a pool of sharks. And they could never remember the whole thing, just bits and pieces. Enough to laugh about it the next morning.

Y/N sat up as they fully soaked in the nightmare. The staircase, the murder, the pain. And that mirror. The reflection.

What had it said to them? "There you are, old friend." It certainly didn't make Y/N seem like an old friend. They feared the reflection's image would be practically ingrained into their brain.

"How are you settling into your new office?" What did that mean? As far as Y/N knew, they didn't work in an office.

...

Now that they think about it, they sort of forgot where they worked. And what they worked as. And where they lived, and their friends' names, and family's faces, and...

Well then. It seems Y/N forgot everything about their life except that nightmare. They weren't even really sure what their name was, but it was on the tip of their tongue. Y/N was sure it would slip out if someone asked.

Y/N was so absorbed in their thoughts that they almost, almost , didn't notice the figure approaching them. They had temporarily forgotten that they were lying in the middle of a grassy area, which was apparently this person's lawn. What luck.

They looked hesitant to talk to Y/N, but seemed to push down their anxieties and ask, "Sah, dude, you good?"