[Mikleo hums thoughtfully. He doesn't seem to mind Eren draping on him like this, though he's pushed Zaveid and Sorey both off his shoulders before. He's just short enough that tall people like to use him as an armrest. But this-- this is different, less like someone subtly making fun of him and more like cuddling into a heated blanket. It's the kind of encouragement he needs right now, even if he hasn't come out and said it.]

That could be true, too. It's definitely some kind of gateway, but... I think the mirror is part of why we're Witches and Monsters instead of our normal selves. It's just a theory, though-- I don't really have anything to back that up.

[He'd rather talk about theories and history and mathematics than the fact that he is sorely missing his best friend right now.]

It's like when you look into a crooked mirror and your image is distorted. That's what this reminds me of.

[He's silent for a minute after that, and as the stars twinkle above and that damn cricket drones on, he finds himself slipping a little. He resists that, tries to pull himself back to the present. He can't remember when he last ate or slept. It doesn't really matter at all.]

... Before I came here and found Sorey, the last time I saw him was almost a hundred years ago. His life as a human has almost certainly ended.

[He hugs himself even as he's curled up against Eren, lavender eyes distant and half-open.]

When he wakes up from the magical sleep he's in, he won't remember anything about his previous life. He'll be reborn as a seraph, like me, but it could take a thousand-- even a hundred thousand years. He might never wake up at all.

That's why I--

[His voice cracks unexpectedly. He pauses, tries again, his voice softer.]

That's why I watch over him. At least... he got to be himself for a little while.