Nightmares
looking glass event signupTansy had certainly been told when she was younger that the trick to any cohesive, polished look was to look into the mirror before going out and removing a singular item. She'd also been told (perhaps by the same person -- her older sister, the best traveler of her whole clan, knew all sorts of tricks) that the best way to recognize a dream was to try and look in a mirror: in a dream, one's reflection wouldn't be quite right.
Somehow, both of these two facts contributed to the creation of one of Tansy's recurring nightmares. She would be standing in front of a mirror, dressed in her best outfit of plush velvets, with every single accessory she owned on: her holly hair clips, the many caplet-like skirts she wore over her tail, all the bells she owned, ribbons in every color. And every time she squinted at the mirror and reached up to pull an accessory off, it would
dig into her tightly, as if it had teeth; and if she successfully pried it away, it would scream and cry in the tiny voice of a child, asking her,
mother, why don't you love me?
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