Time to deck some halls
"At least I clean you up after," he quips back, though the long stretch of his grin is unmistakably pleased. Hard to say if it's his own satisfaction of a surprise well done, or if he's grateful for her putting that back in his mind for the time being, content to comb through those home videos of his thoughts despite the ominous threat—maybe even because of it. If he should perish in the line of duty today, let it be with all his warmest memories, and there's an extensive catalogue of them involving Flora in the frame of her bed (or other various locations, the scenery scarcely matters).
With her confident dismissal of his query, his smile deepens into something far richer. Good, he thinks, unsurprised that she'd be prepared but glad to verify it just the same. At the feeling of a new presence, padded footfalls whisper soft behind him, he hazards a quick glance back, spying the prowling ocean cat in all its deadly grace. "Never sure with you," he insists, the foolishness thick enough to notice. "Could be your costume jewelry, could be your killer jewelry," he shrugs with exaggerated dismissal. He also wouldn't put it past her to turn invisible and let the mud get him. She'd step in eventually.
While he lingers on the edge of obscurity, he's more than happy to let the jaguar take the lead now and make friends with big and lumpy up ahead. A feeling of unease is growing more taut with every passing second. Every moment they've come across here so far has felt plainly wrong, and the sensation is growing so thick that surely the audience is screaming at them by now. Kaisel glances warily back at Flora, making a few coded hand gestures that should be pretty clear to understand, not willing to risk his voice now, even if he'd just been shouting. The lack of verbal response is daunting, to say the least, and the form doesn't seem to register the jaguar in the slightest.
His message is cut short as a hand suddenly claws free from the hulking figure ahead, appearing like some struggling metamorphosis. The sight runs up his spine like metal shivering, every nerve on end with wrong. The freed fingers scrabble at the misshapen head, carving back the muck into a gaping hole, the frantic shape of a mouth darting behind the muddy window. It's enough room for the body within a body to suck in a loud breath, then release another wail. The shed mud is already wriggling on the ground, fighting to amble back up the sloppy feet and seal up the open scar.
Having snapped back around to watch all this, a measure of clarity sinks in, to the relief of the viewers. "There's a fucking person inside it!?" Guess that's what happens when the memory mud is remembering a full body soak. "HANG ON!" he bellows out to the person, running through the steamy hallway to get to them, candy cane baton now brandished like a large scraper that he thuds into the wide chest of the creature and yanks down, shaving away some of the mud to try and free the trapped bather.
With her confident dismissal of his query, his smile deepens into something far richer. Good, he thinks, unsurprised that she'd be prepared but glad to verify it just the same. At the feeling of a new presence, padded footfalls whisper soft behind him, he hazards a quick glance back, spying the prowling ocean cat in all its deadly grace. "Never sure with you," he insists, the foolishness thick enough to notice. "Could be your costume jewelry, could be your killer jewelry," he shrugs with exaggerated dismissal. He also wouldn't put it past her to turn invisible and let the mud get him. She'd step in eventually.
While he lingers on the edge of obscurity, he's more than happy to let the jaguar take the lead now and make friends with big and lumpy up ahead. A feeling of unease is growing more taut with every passing second. Every moment they've come across here so far has felt plainly wrong, and the sensation is growing so thick that surely the audience is screaming at them by now. Kaisel glances warily back at Flora, making a few coded hand gestures that should be pretty clear to understand, not willing to risk his voice now, even if he'd just been shouting. The lack of verbal response is daunting, to say the least, and the form doesn't seem to register the jaguar in the slightest.
His message is cut short as a hand suddenly claws free from the hulking figure ahead, appearing like some struggling metamorphosis. The sight runs up his spine like metal shivering, every nerve on end with wrong. The freed fingers scrabble at the misshapen head, carving back the muck into a gaping hole, the frantic shape of a mouth darting behind the muddy window. It's enough room for the body within a body to suck in a loud breath, then release another wail. The shed mud is already wriggling on the ground, fighting to amble back up the sloppy feet and seal up the open scar.
Having snapped back around to watch all this, a measure of clarity sinks in, to the relief of the viewers. "There's a fucking person inside it!?" Guess that's what happens when the memory mud is remembering a full body soak. "HANG ON!" he bellows out to the person, running through the steamy hallway to get to them, candy cane baton now brandished like a large scraper that he thuds into the wide chest of the creature and yanks down, shaving away some of the mud to try and free the trapped bather.
Kaisel
Ho ho ho Bitches
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
