Kaisel
Fixing Charlie with an eyeroll for her obvious comment is all the rise she gets out of him before he engages the backpack in a game of keep away. Perseverance and grumbling is enough to win however, and he's finally got everything on display, his parchment the best prize of all among his occult treasures.
"Oooh, you're right, that's why I always throw dragon when I play dragon, troll, spirit." The alternative of course to rock, paper, scissors, wherein dragon beats spirit, spirit beats troll, and troll beats dragon. He laughs brightly, the sound coming deep from his belly with the authentic joyful absurdity of it. "I guess this tower is kinda already falling apart, so no one would mind if we broke it more." He glances up at the cracks and gaps in the sections above, the wind pouring through dilapidated sections. Seems like a waste of a good tower if you ask him.
Sucking in a breath as the reality of getting started has finally come, Kaisel leans over and reaches for the chakram at her offer. Collecting everything, journeying here, selecting the spot and laying it all out had been part of it, but the actual summoning now feels very daunting. What, exactly, they'll call forth is something even he is unclear on. "Oooookay," he declares, chakram poised in one hand, palm raised with his other. He pauses for effect, and to glance her way with a skeptical brow. "Trick?" he wonders, certain that by now he's aware of most of what she can do, but she does always find a way to be surprising. "Is it something to do with overcoming fears?" Maybe she could turn into a cute ghost, that'd be nice.
Looking back at his arm, he exhales something shakier than he'd like. The idea of bleeding enough to coat the weapon and paint with it is something that alone, is enough to make him balk, much less adding that it'll directly lead to a scary encounter. Clicking his teeth together to steel his resolve, he quickly slices against his palm with the chakram, going fast to avoid ducking out. The speed makes it deeper and longer than he meant, but the well of blood is immediate. "Ahhhh," he says, wincing. His first inclination is to draw his hand back and shelter it against his body, but he reminds himself of the whole purpose here and sticks it out, drizzling it across the weapon he sets down and soon enough the floor to begin the design. "If mine isn't enough we'll need yours," he explains, not about to bleed out for the sake of this.
"Oooh, you're right, that's why I always throw dragon when I play dragon, troll, spirit." The alternative of course to rock, paper, scissors, wherein dragon beats spirit, spirit beats troll, and troll beats dragon. He laughs brightly, the sound coming deep from his belly with the authentic joyful absurdity of it. "I guess this tower is kinda already falling apart, so no one would mind if we broke it more." He glances up at the cracks and gaps in the sections above, the wind pouring through dilapidated sections. Seems like a waste of a good tower if you ask him.
Sucking in a breath as the reality of getting started has finally come, Kaisel leans over and reaches for the chakram at her offer. Collecting everything, journeying here, selecting the spot and laying it all out had been part of it, but the actual summoning now feels very daunting. What, exactly, they'll call forth is something even he is unclear on. "Oooookay," he declares, chakram poised in one hand, palm raised with his other. He pauses for effect, and to glance her way with a skeptical brow. "Trick?" he wonders, certain that by now he's aware of most of what she can do, but she does always find a way to be surprising. "Is it something to do with overcoming fears?" Maybe she could turn into a cute ghost, that'd be nice.
Looking back at his arm, he exhales something shakier than he'd like. The idea of bleeding enough to coat the weapon and paint with it is something that alone, is enough to make him balk, much less adding that it'll directly lead to a scary encounter. Clicking his teeth together to steel his resolve, he quickly slices against his palm with the chakram, going fast to avoid ducking out. The speed makes it deeper and longer than he meant, but the well of blood is immediate. "Ahhhh," he says, wincing. His first inclination is to draw his hand back and shelter it against his body, but he reminds himself of the whole purpose here and sticks it out, drizzling it across the weapon he sets down and soon enough the floor to begin the design. "If mine isn't enough we'll need yours," he explains, not about to bleed out for the sake of this.
Haters on my back like a backpack
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless
Code stolen from Queen Sky
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
