Hetalia Shtuff

Reflective Differences

Southern Scotland, or Irene, had quite the tiresome day and plopped down onto her queen sized bed. She let out a heavy sigh, and slowly sat back up. Her fingers entangled her hair until they found the scrunchy holding her flame-red locks up in a ponytail. As she tugged it out, she swiveled her head to the right so her whole right side was facing toward her body-scale mirror.

Her lips let out yet another sigh. France insisted that she get one, and she finally gave into his idiotic begging and pleading. Sigh. Not exactly how I expected my life to go, she thought quietly to herself.

As she glanced into the clear, reflective glass of her mirror, she noticed something.. different. Then again, she had for some time now. Some time after getting the mirror, she had noticed how every time she would look into it, she would always see a completely different person than who she was looking back at her. But, she didn't really mind it much at all.

Irene knew it was HER she was looking at, but she also didn't think it was at the same time. The woman she saw gazing back at herself was VERY different indeed: Her 'reflection' showed her, but with her fiery hair down and in an alluring, slightly disheveled manner; her skin was a bit paler than it usually was; and her eyes weren't a striking navy, but an icy cold blue.

The 'reflection' was wearing a collared, black dress shirt unbuttoned a quarter way down; a dark red kilt that was an inch shorter than Irene's, with a slit going up her right leg; black, lace up boots that go up to where her calves meet her ankles with smoke grey laces; and black gloves.

Quite strange, the Scottish woman thought. But, she had seen this person a few times before and kind of enjoyed her. If she waved, her 'reflection' would wave back, or just smirk. She couldn't understand why it did this, but she never paid much heed to it. Irene just enjoys having some.. company once in awhile, even if it is her own 'reflection'.