Kaisel
Drawn towards the mechanisms of their ascending fire, not because he has a vested interest in invention, but because dangerous things seem to draw in boys like moths, he has to jerk his hand away rapidly as the green breath roars up. Remembering in the last moment that he does not have to have his arm hair singed or skin blistered, he instead pops his finger into his mouth not to suck on the hurt, but to melt the little nest of emerald cotton candy he swiped up onto his tongue.
Gripping the side of the basket as it begins to swing into their ascent, Kaisel's gaze dips down to watch the wreckage of their visit grow small beneath them. Slipping his goggles down over his eyes, an effort of safety that sits out of place when there has been none elsewhere, Kaisel looks back at the talking moustache with another helpless flare of a smile.
"There's no place like home?" he repeats, utterly skeptical. Lacking the oomph of it, nothing happens except an abrupt jostling of the hot air above them, the basket swinging tremendously as if doing this wrong is a greater affront than not at all, the wicker alarmingly sentient all the sudden. Before anyone can welcome them as their guest though, Kaisel stands to attention, heels clicking and he more properly leans into the meaning as he repeats it, because there is truly no place like Wildering house.
With a massive yawn, Kaisel blinks the world back into view with effort. A finger's edge pulls at the edges of his eyes that stay stubborn and bleary, wiping away the grit of unexpected sleep until everything comes back into proper focus. Shifting himself out of the awkward slump he'd sunken into, he grabs the bag of gummy worms that'd tumbled into his lap, peering warily at them as though expecting they might start talking. "You remember all of that, right?" he tests, peering past the colorful sugary wrigglers to the Bastion.
Gripping the side of the basket as it begins to swing into their ascent, Kaisel's gaze dips down to watch the wreckage of their visit grow small beneath them. Slipping his goggles down over his eyes, an effort of safety that sits out of place when there has been none elsewhere, Kaisel looks back at the talking moustache with another helpless flare of a smile.
"There's no place like home?" he repeats, utterly skeptical. Lacking the oomph of it, nothing happens except an abrupt jostling of the hot air above them, the basket swinging tremendously as if doing this wrong is a greater affront than not at all, the wicker alarmingly sentient all the sudden. Before anyone can welcome them as their guest though, Kaisel stands to attention, heels clicking and he more properly leans into the meaning as he repeats it, because there is truly no place like Wildering house.
With a massive yawn, Kaisel blinks the world back into view with effort. A finger's edge pulls at the edges of his eyes that stay stubborn and bleary, wiping away the grit of unexpected sleep until everything comes back into proper focus. Shifting himself out of the awkward slump he'd sunken into, he grabs the bag of gummy worms that'd tumbled into his lap, peering warily at them as though expecting they might start talking. "You remember all of that, right?" he tests, peering past the colorful sugary wrigglers to the Bastion.
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
