[mirror]

mirror

/ˈmɪrə/

noun

“a flat piece of glass which reflects light, so that when you look at it you can see yourself reflected in it”

Agathe was old enough, smart enough, to not to mess around with unknown artifacts she found lying on the bottom of the lake, where the sun only reached, barely, when the sun was at its highest, and even then the water was murky and dark and filled with things that would eat her if she weren’t careful enough.

And yet, when she saw a gleam of light buried between the mud and branches and organic waste, she couldn’t help but be drawn to it, and, before she knew it, she was digging her webbed feed into the soft, wet soil, digging out a metallic object. Its middle reflected her face back at her, bright and clear even in the darkness, and the runes encircling it seemed to know. She ran one clawed finger across the runes, surprised that she could read them at all, doing so almost unconsciously.

What this mirr'r shows, is not thy visage.  T reaches across w'rlds and across timeth, to showeth thee the thee yond thou art not, yond thee shall nev'r beest, couldst nev'r beest, yond thee yearn to beest.

The thee yond is not thee, 'mongst the w'rlds, yond is the closest, in mind and soul and corse, to thee yond is thee.

The her that isn’t her, but that’s closest to being hr? Agathe blinks at the mirror. It makes no sense—

It glows ablaze like a sun but white not gold, and she suddenly feels herself tugged forward, as the mirror vanishes in white light, and instead, a portal rimmed with white writhing light opens before her. Agathe knows, logically, that she should be tailing the hell away from it, she really does, because it’s weird and potentially dangerous, by a part of her cannot bring herself to do it, remembering the inscription. Is it what it’s going to show her? Another Agathe in another world, who isn’t her, who could never be her, who nonetheless is the closest thing to her that will be in either dimension?

Agathe doesn’t know what she expects, but the doe-eyed face that looks almost completely human, and innocent, and childish, staring back at her in shock, isn’t it.

The other one is small and soft, with a tail that’s brighter, greener, shorter and weaker, with pearls around her torso and waist and in her hair, too, with eyes that couldn’t see in the dark and claws that couldn’t cut through even softest skin and teeth that couldn’t crush bones open.

The other one is small and soft and defenceless, and yet, she still reaches towards the tear in the world, and Agathe does too—and just before they can touch, the force tugs them back, and the portal vanishes, as soon as it appeared.

Agathe stares unblinkingly for a moment at the spot where the tear was, and then looks around nervously, hoping that the bright light didn’t attract any predator she couldn’t afford to miss.

It didn’t, thankfully.

The odd mirror was gone, too, nowhere to be found.

Agathe swam up from the depths of the lake, done with scavenging the lakebed for the day, but full of thoughts instead.

Because was it her, truly? The closest incarnation of her across the dimensions? That soft-skinned, delicate, doe-eyed girl, wearing fabric and pearls and ropes that would mean certain death if caught on the underwater rocks and brambles?

Agathe couldn’t help but scoff. That ‘other her’ looked as if she would faint at the mere sight of blood, and her soft nails most certainly were not able to cut through crocodile’s thick hide or dig into stones and skulls. No, that girl would die the second a threat on her life appeared before her.

She took a breath full of water into her gills, and looked up, at the moon shining through the murky water, between the tree branches.

But it would be nice, wouldn’t it? To be soft, and cared for, and unaware of the world outside. Not having to rely just on oneself, not having to label everyone an enemy, not having to fight tooth and nail to ensure one’s own survival. To be able to wear silks and nets and necklaces of shells.

Somewhere, deep within her, Agathe wished that it was her. The delicate, colorful creature that knew no hunger and no fear and no pain. But those were dreams only littlest tadpoles could indulge in, and Agathe was no longer a tadpole—not for a long, long time.

Her head broke the surface of the water, her ears filling with the sounds of night, as she zoned on a deer grazing perilously close to the riverbank.

She still needed her dinner.

(In another world, another Agathe looked at the mirror that wasn't a mirror, at the predator that wore her face, and yearned for the freedom it meant more fiercely than she thought she could.)

Translation from Shakespearean:

What this mirror shows, is not your face. It reaches across worlds and across time, to show you the you that you are not, that you will never be, could never be, that you yearn to be.

The you that is not you, among the worlds, that is the closest, in mind and soul and body, to you that is you.

Miss Villain Round Four: "Doppelganger" - Alternate Universe Fusion

***

I almost didn't make it because work. Money if sun, but forcing myself to complete an entire drawing that I had no idea beforehand for in half a day is definitely less fun. I got to design Androsi!Agathe but I'm not entirely happy with her design, so there. I based it on the very first design of Agathe I've made, actually: www.deviantart.com/killergirlf…

Also, yanno, one would think that drawing Agathe would be easy--she's wearing no clothes after all, her design is very simple!
Hah, you'd think. Her tail is what took the longest, though I'm also very proud of it.

Credits:
Agathe belongs to me, Winx beclongs to Straffi and Rai, Androsi!Agathe base from original winx mermaid art of Corelia, for OG!Agathe referenced hands and how to draw body from the side.
Scales: www.deviantart.com/jojo-ojoj/a…