You are walking through a forest. The air is cold and dry, laden with the scent of pine. You reach the edge of the woods just as a light rain begins to fall. Mist gathers fast; you can no longer even see the trees. You stop walking. A delicate thread of ice snakes down your spine and you shiver. This is a place with a long memory. You dream that you're standing in front of a polished brass mirror. Your reflection is watching you. You dare not move: if it sees you move, it might lose patience and leave the mirror.
~~~
My personal interpretations of a pair of nightmare storylets from Fallen London! The individual of mysterious and indistinct gender on the left is Lucille Fenes, and they belong to me! The lady on the right belongs to my friend @starflethegreat and her name is Josephine Gray!
EDIT: forgot to shade the feathers on Josephine’s head