( @soulsustained, i suppose we are fated to be together in some way. )
He didn’t realize that he forgot what he looked like until Jinn had showed him.
That’s right, his hair was dark brown before, body armored to the teeth and holding that damned scepter. It isn’t visible under his clothes, but he remembers the mole that sat ever so slightly above his navel to the left, that one scar from the time a Nevermore almost ripped his arm off hidden below his shirt. It’s all so familiar, yet... Not at all. Hm. Ozma, wasn’t it? Perhaps that was his name, once.
The immortal isn’t quite sure what to call himself now, whatnot with the much smaller stature and distinct lack of glasses. Ozpin had grown to be a role that he was particularly fond of, and, well. It’d be wrong, right? To take the name of the one standing right before you.
“ Oscar. “ the doppelganger says with a lilt of hesitation, before nodding his head in greeting. There’s a tenseness that he wishes with all of heart he could dissipate, but that must be impossible when they’re both looking into a mirror like this. Still, his voice is calm, soft.
“ How are you? “
