When the reaper comes knocking at my door, we'll be going twelve rounds
Crunch. A cheese ball is perfectly cleaved in two by one of his molars, the puffy, flaky goodness of it soon symmetrically dissolving into a flavored sort of puff of air against either cheek. He absently pops another one in his mouth to sever it too, leaning closer towards her as she begins. Already, he feels a shudder of anticipation, because he knows that exact feeling she's describing. "Ooooh, yes!" he approves at once of her selection, anxious to see where it goes. "That's the worst when you fall for something like that." Spoken from gullible experience.
Assuming this is some tale about a figure in the house that is doing all of these things, or bewitching the man into believing perfection out of actual horror and filth, Kaisel at first follows along with eager nods. The walls catch his eye most of the time, gaze slowly moving across the steadily haunting loom of this crafted and false paradise. His attention flicks back to her, features caught up in a tangle of delight and despair, another cheeseball fed onto his tongue once in a while.
"Oh my gods, I hate it when the spirits do that!" he comments quickly, of the chairs being moved behind him, proof he can relate to this awful story she's making even in small, irrelevant ways. Her house, after all, is not trying to consume him like it sounds as if this one means to. A small gasp as she carries on, and he tries to guess the ending. "Is it eating him slowly!? Is the whole thing just made of bodies it's absorbed and the paint is just, people shade??" He doesn't really want an answer, and immediately buttons his face up, now cheeseball-less hands folding in together in a set of a fist that his chin rests on.
Then, the sense of hope, that this tale could end happy. Kaisel sits taller, a touch more rigid, his hands now fretting in his lap as he wills the man to escape. "Get the fuck out man!" he cheers at the figure and the walls that are built upon walls, terrifyingly slow-moving like any good movie villain, stretching out the door until feels like it's never been within reach. All the while, the small, carefree motions of Flora feel like storytelling being worn, removing herself from this image so that her words can fully immerse.
When she says he doesn't, and now the man is well and truly stuck, Kaisel groans with all the theatrics of something that was always known to end poorly finally arriving, yet adoring it for that very reason. "Fuck, I thought he was gonna make it out. The fact he even remembered once, such a good sign!" His hands flare up with the excitement of the prospect before they come to rest on his thighs, elbows bent out. "Haunted house huh, very good take. Can you even imagine?" His gaze tilts up faintly, thoughtful, before he shakes his head a touch to disperse the willies. "You think you'd make it out?"
Assuming this is some tale about a figure in the house that is doing all of these things, or bewitching the man into believing perfection out of actual horror and filth, Kaisel at first follows along with eager nods. The walls catch his eye most of the time, gaze slowly moving across the steadily haunting loom of this crafted and false paradise. His attention flicks back to her, features caught up in a tangle of delight and despair, another cheeseball fed onto his tongue once in a while.
"Oh my gods, I hate it when the spirits do that!" he comments quickly, of the chairs being moved behind him, proof he can relate to this awful story she's making even in small, irrelevant ways. Her house, after all, is not trying to consume him like it sounds as if this one means to. A small gasp as she carries on, and he tries to guess the ending. "Is it eating him slowly!? Is the whole thing just made of bodies it's absorbed and the paint is just, people shade??" He doesn't really want an answer, and immediately buttons his face up, now cheeseball-less hands folding in together in a set of a fist that his chin rests on.
Then, the sense of hope, that this tale could end happy. Kaisel sits taller, a touch more rigid, his hands now fretting in his lap as he wills the man to escape. "Get the fuck out man!" he cheers at the figure and the walls that are built upon walls, terrifyingly slow-moving like any good movie villain, stretching out the door until feels like it's never been within reach. All the while, the small, carefree motions of Flora feel like storytelling being worn, removing herself from this image so that her words can fully immerse.
When she says he doesn't, and now the man is well and truly stuck, Kaisel groans with all the theatrics of something that was always known to end poorly finally arriving, yet adoring it for that very reason. "Fuck, I thought he was gonna make it out. The fact he even remembered once, such a good sign!" His hands flare up with the excitement of the prospect before they come to rest on his thighs, elbows bent out. "Haunted house huh, very good take. Can you even imagine?" His gaze tilts up faintly, thoughtful, before he shakes his head a touch to disperse the willies. "You think you'd make it out?"
Kaisel
I ain't afraid to bleed, there ain't a casket strong enough for me
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
