Kaisel
He cannot help but be transfixed by the horror that is the witch's face. From every bulbous wart swollen with excess flesh to each wiry hair that sprouts long and crooked out of place, it draws him in. She's too grotesque for seeing her to be pleasant, and yet, his gaze is unable to leave her, reflected back at him in the wet sheen that encases the one eye working hard to leave the socket of her skull as it bears down on him. For the moment, Kaisel forgets this is a dream, forgets he isn't ten, that the witch is just Remi. He knows only the gripping terror of being caught, and the consequence, it is ugly.
The gnarled figure of Remi!Witch doesn't move so much as looms closer, edges seeming to spill further out of the house the way shadows elongate in the absence of light. Kaisel takes a weak-kneed step back, inching away with all the careful appreciation of keeping attention off his retreat. The word die makes his shoulders flinch up, as if instinctively guarding his neck. "Hope to d-die?" he repeats, a thin chuckle giving an exit for his nerves. He certainly doesn't want to invoke the grave binding pact of that particular childhood vow, especially when he's hoping to do the exact opposite of dying.
His lips press his sound back into silence, a wariness folding his hands at his sides, fingers fighting for purchase on his pants. "They...get let go?" He hopes, more than answers, but he doesn't waste time in waiting for it to be handed to him. Quickly, he reaches to the side and wrestles a gumdrop from the corner, drop kicking it at the witch before hauling ass the opposite direction.
The gnarled figure of Remi!Witch doesn't move so much as looms closer, edges seeming to spill further out of the house the way shadows elongate in the absence of light. Kaisel takes a weak-kneed step back, inching away with all the careful appreciation of keeping attention off his retreat. The word die makes his shoulders flinch up, as if instinctively guarding his neck. "Hope to d-die?" he repeats, a thin chuckle giving an exit for his nerves. He certainly doesn't want to invoke the grave binding pact of that particular childhood vow, especially when he's hoping to do the exact opposite of dying.
His lips press his sound back into silence, a wariness folding his hands at his sides, fingers fighting for purchase on his pants. "They...get let go?" He hopes, more than answers, but he doesn't waste time in waiting for it to be handed to him. Quickly, he reaches to the side and wrestles a gumdrop from the corner, drop kicking it at the witch before hauling ass the opposite direction.
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
