I will never be too afraid to bleed, giving all of me
Worth a try is probably one of Kaisel's top ten sayings for things he likes to hear. Number one, of course, would belong to there being a sale on gummyworms, at least when Flora says it. "That's the spirit!" he crows, one fist thumping down into his other palm, the motion a tad awkward to avoid cutting himself on the blade dangling from its smooth gripping section on a finger. The connection of the idea in his palm makes the blade shiver into motion, swinging like some plant-guillotine.
While it had been a genuine suggestion, he absolutely did not expect Zavien to lean into it, so it's with ample enthusiasm that he turns to get into position, quite certain they need to do it quickly before Zavien changes his mind. Mended as things may be between them now, a past Kaisel tries not to haul up if it can be helped, he expected some healthy skepticism or arguing over who would be hoisting who. It isn't many who go along with his general problem-solving, which involves a lot of trial and error, heavy on the error. He knows they could keep marching, but the world is always a little more fun when you try some shit.
Zavien doesn't withdraw his agreement, Kaisel unaware of the soggy extent to which Zavien has fallen, prolonged dampness a strong motivator, but the labyrinth itself certainly makes a statement. Perhaps he should have whispered the plan.
He's just lifted his wet, red boot from the ground to place it in Zavien's brace, one hand steadying on Zavien's shoulder, the other arced back with the chakram in hand, when suddenly a bundle of sticks snaps at his weapon-hand like a school teacher with a ruler on a warpath. "OW!" Kaisel cries, jerking his hand back suddenly in the same moment the grip beneath his boot staggers away. "Whey!" he wails, his free hand windmilling as he stumbles with a series of splashes back into the flooded trail, catching himself with a wince. A series of red scores color his knuckles, and his fingers wrapped around his weapon begin to tingle, his grip slackening enough that it kersplashes into the gloom of their trek. "O, fuk!" he swears, kneeling down to search for it in his best Velma from Scooby Doo impersonation.
While it had been a genuine suggestion, he absolutely did not expect Zavien to lean into it, so it's with ample enthusiasm that he turns to get into position, quite certain they need to do it quickly before Zavien changes his mind. Mended as things may be between them now, a past Kaisel tries not to haul up if it can be helped, he expected some healthy skepticism or arguing over who would be hoisting who. It isn't many who go along with his general problem-solving, which involves a lot of trial and error, heavy on the error. He knows they could keep marching, but the world is always a little more fun when you try some shit.
Zavien doesn't withdraw his agreement, Kaisel unaware of the soggy extent to which Zavien has fallen, prolonged dampness a strong motivator, but the labyrinth itself certainly makes a statement. Perhaps he should have whispered the plan.
He's just lifted his wet, red boot from the ground to place it in Zavien's brace, one hand steadying on Zavien's shoulder, the other arced back with the chakram in hand, when suddenly a bundle of sticks snaps at his weapon-hand like a school teacher with a ruler on a warpath. "OW!" Kaisel cries, jerking his hand back suddenly in the same moment the grip beneath his boot staggers away. "Whey!" he wails, his free hand windmilling as he stumbles with a series of splashes back into the flooded trail, catching himself with a wince. A series of red scores color his knuckles, and his fingers wrapped around his weapon begin to tingle, his grip slackening enough that it kersplashes into the gloom of their trek. "O, fuk!" he swears, kneeling down to search for it in his best Velma from Scooby Doo impersonation.
Kaisel
I'll be more than just a fable, I'll be written in the stars
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
