Kaisel
If Kaisel had even an inkling that the woods had been guiding him, he’d have noped the fuck out immediately. He nearly does anyway when he stops before the, hands down, creepiest house he has ever seen or could ever imagine. "Oh fuuuuuck no," he breaths as he stops suddenly. The wander of his feet and thoughts alike got him closer than he would prefer, and he's suddenly very aware of how even the forest has remained back, as if it too has chosen not to edge in too close to this place.
It could just be an old, abandoned hunting cabin of some sort, perfectly normal and empty. Except, the flicker of candlelight against the windows is a clear indication of some sort of inhabitance, but arguably too little light for it to be a sane person, you know—the kind who light up every room at dusk to make sure the monsters won't settle in around the corners or the long and dark hallways, the ones you have to quickly turn off behind you as you scurry to bed, the one island of safety throughout the night. This amount of light is positively ghostly.
Between the waver of the candles and the more steady glow of the single lamp, there's just enough brightness to catch all the plant-scattered outlines of the place. The dark edges are jarring in the gloom as he eyes them, seeming to shift and morph at the corners of his gaze where he can't quite see if the movement is real or imagined. Not bright enough to adequately see, but not dark enough to ignore either.
Kaisel's fingers curl at his sides, clutching at uncertainty, an abnormal feeling of tripping over nothing. He might have thrown it in reverse and gone for a light sprint back to civilization, except something does move. The opening of the door feels like all the exits around him have suddenly slammed shut. His focus is a narrowed pinpoint on that stream of light racing along the gloom, so apprehensive for what it means that the staggering silhouette of the man can only be something truly monstrous being unleashed. He's slow, because his attack is inevitable, because Kaisel is caught in his snare and this—fuck THIS—is how he'll die, chewed up by some unholy beast until no one can recognize him, until he's a bed for worms and his name eventually fizzles out of breath and memory alike. No statues to remember him by, no campfire tales. Fuck he wishes he'd done more. He should have loved fuller, should have fought harder, should have...
Oh, the demon is kindly greeting him.
All the gnarled edges of Nikandr's house soften a bit as Kaisel's gaze relaxes, a breath loosing as a nervous and erratic laugh courses through him. "Holy shit, you're real!" He decends into mania for a moment, doubled over with the sheer relief of prolonged existence and the dropped weight of dread. Even the brush with Jack had not felt so terrifying—it'd been to quick for him to regret much, and that survival had hurt. Nothing like this near-death high that trembles along him now, too joyful to feel right. "You're Niki?" he asks, a hum of wild humor still lacing his tone. "I'm Kaisel, a friend of Flora's."
It could just be an old, abandoned hunting cabin of some sort, perfectly normal and empty. Except, the flicker of candlelight against the windows is a clear indication of some sort of inhabitance, but arguably too little light for it to be a sane person, you know—the kind who light up every room at dusk to make sure the monsters won't settle in around the corners or the long and dark hallways, the ones you have to quickly turn off behind you as you scurry to bed, the one island of safety throughout the night. This amount of light is positively ghostly.
Between the waver of the candles and the more steady glow of the single lamp, there's just enough brightness to catch all the plant-scattered outlines of the place. The dark edges are jarring in the gloom as he eyes them, seeming to shift and morph at the corners of his gaze where he can't quite see if the movement is real or imagined. Not bright enough to adequately see, but not dark enough to ignore either.
Kaisel's fingers curl at his sides, clutching at uncertainty, an abnormal feeling of tripping over nothing. He might have thrown it in reverse and gone for a light sprint back to civilization, except something does move. The opening of the door feels like all the exits around him have suddenly slammed shut. His focus is a narrowed pinpoint on that stream of light racing along the gloom, so apprehensive for what it means that the staggering silhouette of the man can only be something truly monstrous being unleashed. He's slow, because his attack is inevitable, because Kaisel is caught in his snare and this—fuck THIS—is how he'll die, chewed up by some unholy beast until no one can recognize him, until he's a bed for worms and his name eventually fizzles out of breath and memory alike. No statues to remember him by, no campfire tales. Fuck he wishes he'd done more. He should have loved fuller, should have fought harder, should have...
Oh, the demon is kindly greeting him.
All the gnarled edges of Nikandr's house soften a bit as Kaisel's gaze relaxes, a breath loosing as a nervous and erratic laugh courses through him. "Holy shit, you're real!" He decends into mania for a moment, doubled over with the sheer relief of prolonged existence and the dropped weight of dread. Even the brush with Jack had not felt so terrifying—it'd been to quick for him to regret much, and that survival had hurt. Nothing like this near-death high that trembles along him now, too joyful to feel right. "You're Niki?" he asks, a hum of wild humor still lacing his tone. "I'm Kaisel, a friend of Flora's."
And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
