Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own this franchise or any of its characters.

Vanity Mirrored

She is so flawed, so insecure, so proud, so like me. The bitterness of flower trimmed when it was fully in bloom. The heartache of a still beating soul deep within a chest too cold to feel. I can't help but fall in love with that horrible twisted soul. It was admiration at first, at last and always. That biting and sarcastic woman had a piece of me in her heart, has a piece of me. So rude, so cruel, so proud. That woman was me with a tragedy. Her laugh, her walk, everything about her is so very reminiscent of me.

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, is it me imitating her flawed or mirrored? I know that whomever made me made her as well. That lovely woman with the curl of her lips and the thrill of her fight intoxicated me completely, intoxicates me. If only she wouldn't elude me, evade me.

I have never been the highest leveled monster on the field. Everyone, everything seems able to manipulate and outwit me. I don't like that at all. She on the other hand is a witty woman with manipulations as her language. They say that vanity comes from flattery. Then we must be imitations of each other because our vanity is perfectly mirrored as never before.

Unlike my other counterpart I have no true honor. The man would ramble and rant about overly dramatic heroics and fate, as if I believe in either. I merely exist to put on a beautiful show. Something beautiful with my body, my voice, my soul. She on the other hand has no audience yet she still puts on a show. Her words, her walk, her soul are quite the dramatic instruments of my one and only.

Our vanity is mirrored, I can see hateful and vain purple in her eyes and I assume she sees the same in mine. Kissing her is like kissing myself. Is that not the most wonderful thing? I would like for her to see how similar we truly are. I want her to see our mirrored vanity clearly like looking through a looking glass. Only the things that are reflected remain. If I am not reflected in her then where am I? Where would I be? I was taught vanity from an early age. Tell vanity is a sin and let me sin more and more and more. Let me sin to see myself reflected in adoring eyes.

I was made of adoration. She refuses that need. I want her to be completely intoxicated with me. Why does she deny me this when I in turn offer her the same? What a sad and pitiful man I am if I don't follow my own rules. If he hates you then hate him even more I said. Why do I adore that woman that in turn can not adore me? This adoration, this vanity is my sin and my virtue. It manifests as beauty and strength and soul when really it is that ugly, ugly, ugly thing that lurks under my skin. It crawls there and scars me with scars that no one but she can see.

I won't allow this lack of adoration to continue. Either she admits that she sees herself hiding in my mind, in my soul, in my words or she doesn't get anything, any love from me anymore. I can't bear this, can't bear her pride and vanity being stroked as I wither. Even my friends have begun to think of me as worthless and scarred with useless pride interrupting kindness.

It's all over now is that alright with you? She said she could not stand my vanity, that it was not mirrored. I think I'll cry to my reflection and let the sweet swears and nasty praises lull me into false security. If she refuses to have herself completely reflected in me, completely mirrored then I am afraid that I have no use for the knight. This king will have to do with himself.

And everything has returned to it's start. I alone and her in memories. I with my reflection and her with her music box of time. I suppose it was meant to be.