You're the caffeine in my coffee cup

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

The witch leans farther from the doorway, and the movement only makes him larger. His head swells above the chocolate eaves, his apron stretching grotesquely across a body now far too broad to fit through the entrance, while the shadow he casts spills ahead of him in long, reaching fingers. One bulging eye fixes on Kaisel with terrible interest, the other squinting as his crooked grin begins to spread. He seems almost eager for the answer, for the little boy before him to offer up the promise himself, and his gnarled hand curls around the edge of the doorframe as though all he needs is one more word before he can reach down and take hold.

Then, the gumdrop strikes him squarely in the middle of the stomach. For one stunned second, the witch simply blinks at it. Then the force of the tiny sweet sends him flying backward into the cottage with a shriek of outrage, knocking through the doorway in a magnificent flurry of flailing limbs and frog-print apron. Something crashes inside, followed by the clatter of what sounds like several shelves giving up entirely beneath his weight, and a moment later one of the gumdrop shutters pops loose and tumbles into the street.

By the time Kaisel has turned to flee, however, there is someone waiting at the edge of the trees. Remi stands there in the guise of a friendly woodsman, an axe slung easily over one shoulder and the sleeves of a worn flannel shirt rolled to his forearms. He raises his brows as Kaisel nearly barrels into him, his expression open and pleasantly puzzled. "Whoa, whoa," he says, looking down at the boy with mild concern. "Where are you off to in such a rush, young man?"

and I said "only ever other memory"

Kaisel

The great clatter of chaos behind him demands he turn and look, much like the rule of the world that you have to look into any window you pass. It's not a choice, the body just does it, same as breathing. He doesn't want to see it, truly. He's certain it'll reveal an even angrier witch and assure him a much more imminent death, spoken with hope or not.

Instead, he watches the shutter tumble off the house, delivering a giddy sense of triumph. He had to look back over his shoulder at all this, and by the time he straightens his head out, he's abruptly snapping to a stop. A nonsensical shout of surprise goes up as his hands windmill and his ass tips back, trying to heave momentum the opposite way before he crashes directly into the woodsman. It's enough to slow him, but he still collides into the man's chest, bouncing back a touch.

Glancing up with an apology that loses out to worry, Kaisel reaches up to grab hold of the stranger's arms, tugging anxiously at his shirt sleeves. "Pleasemister!" he begs in that rushed, choking way that makes it hard to discern what he's saying. "The witch!" he manages to get out better, the frantic thrum of his thoughts trying to untangle themselves. "The witch his coming, and she wants me dead!"

And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

The woodsman chuckles warmly as Kaisel collides with his chest, one broad hand coming down by reflex to steady the boy before he can stumble backward onto the roots. There is nothing sharp in the sound at first, only the deep, easy amusement of a man who has just been run into by a child made mostly of panic and momentum. As Kaisel’s fingers clutch at his sleeves, however, the laughter fades, and the woodsman’s brows draw together with immediate concern.

"A witch, you say?" he asks, looking past Kaisel toward the path as though expecting the terrible thing to come crashing through the trees at any moment. His jaw sets. The axe shifts against his shoulder as he straightens, suddenly every inch the sort of man who chops firewood, frightens wolves from doorways, and does not permit small boys to be hunted through forests by hungry old women. "Well," he says, voice dropping into something reassuringly firm, "we can’t have that, now can we?"

Without waiting for more, he starts forward with long, purposeful strides, guiding Kaisel with him back through the trees and toward the place where the candy cottage had stood. Only when the house comes into view, it is no longer made of chocolate and gumdrops. The walls are plain whitewashed timber now, the roof thatched instead of sugar-spun, and a neat little trail of smoke curls from the chimney as though nothing frightening has ever lived there at all.

In the doorway stands an old woman. She is soft and round and kindly looking, with silver hair tucked beneath a kerchief and a shawl gathered around her shoulders. When she sees the woodsman approaching, she lifts one hand in a warm little wave, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as though she has been expecting friendly company rather than accusations of child murder.

The woodsman slows, frowning. He glances down at Kaisel, one brow lifting in quiet confusion. "Is this who you meant?"

Behind his turned back, the old woman’s smile widens. Her eyes shift first, the gentle brown curdling into a sharp wolf-yellow gleam, and then her lips peel away from a mouth full of too many teeth. For that sliver of a moment, all grandmotherly softness vanishes, and she flashes Kaisel a grin that promises she knows exactly what he tastes like.

and I said "only ever other memory"

Kaisel

He didn't think he had run that far, or made any turns really for that matter, but as they walk back towards the cabin, Kaisel is quite certain this isn't it. "No..." he starts to say, voice small and curling away with the uncertainty as he glances around. He doesn't know enough to say where else they could go, but his small hands curl and flex at his sides, fighting the offered truth that this is it after all. "This isn't right," he mutters, but it's mostly to himself, certain the man would not pay him any mind if he babbled about the wrong thing without any helpful advice for the right thing.

With reluctance, he follows the wood cutter, head on a swivel as he peers around for the candy cottage. Frowning, Kaisel glances up at the woodsman as they draw upon the ordinary house. Though, the old woman there, she's familiar in an uncanny way, because it's also clear that she's different. His gaze narrows, and an unidentifiable urge to point and scream WITCH! rises up reckless inside him.

Pulling up the red hood of his sweatshirt, as if that'd give him more confidence, Kaisel steps forward in a brave puff to his chest as he inhales deeply. "WOLF!" he cries out instead, all at once recognizing her for who she is and what's gone wrong. It sharply twists to fresh fear inside him, and wide-eyed he turns his gaze to the woodcutter, afraid on behalf of him. "Go! Hurry! She's a wolf and she'sgonnaeatyou!!!" Kaisel pushes on lumberjack!Remi's arm, trying to force the bulk of the man back, and quickly. Alarmed, Kaisel glances back over his shoulder, certain the witch wolf is already coming for them, and expecting she'd gobble him up too.

And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

At the cry of WOLF, the woodsman turns at once, axe shifting higher on his shoulder as his gaze snaps toward the little house and the old woman standing there. For a moment, he looks ready to step between Kaisel and whatever monster has shown itself, but there is nothing before him except a grandmotherly figure with a shawl gathered around her shoulders, one hand still lifted in harmless greeting.

The shove against his arm barely moves him. He bears it with the patient weight of someone much larger, glancing down as Kaisel tries to force him back, and the concern on his face settles into something softer and more disappointed. "There’s no wolf here, son," he says gently, reaching to neaten the red hood where it sits crooked around the boy’s face. His fingers are careful with the fabric, smoothing it into place as though that, at least, is a problem he can solve.

Looking back toward the old woman, the woodsman offers her a faintly apologetic smile before his attention returns to Kaisel. "You should be careful about calling for help when there is no danger," he says, and though his voice remains kind, there is enough firmness in it to make the lesson land. "Or one day, when there is, someone might not answer."

Behind his turned back, the old woman’s smile peels wide. Her eyes gleam wolf-yellow beneath the soft fold of her kerchief, and when she shows Kaisel her teeth, there are far too many of them for any grandmother’s mouth.

and I said "only ever other memory"

Kaisel

The man's unyielding stature is reminiscent of the last time Kaisel had tried to make Remi move, as effective as shouldering the ground and trying to dial daylight back to darkness. It's a memory that flares through the insistent terror of child Kaisel, and the reminder that this is Remi, both of them are, because this is a dream, floods him. It's then that he remembers he already got his socks wet with it all.

Still clutching onto the plaid arm, Kaisel's features gradually lose the shape of the horror that is the too-toothy grandmother wolf-witch in disguise. "Boom, bitch," he whispers to her instead, as casual as the racking of a newly acquired shotgun during a zombie outbreak. Overhead, a house comes careening down, spinning through the air and smashing down to flatten her beneath it like a bug to a boot heel.

"Very funny mister," he scoffs as he rounds, freshly lucid, back to woodsman Remi with his still-small hands balling into fists at his hips.

And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

The house lands with a spectacular crash, all puffed-out curtains, splintering gingerbread trim, and a chimney that pops loose only to bounce once before rolling politely to a stop at the woodsman’s feet. Beneath it, the grandmother-wolf-witch gives one muffled shriek of outrage before the sound is squashed flat, leaving nothing behind but two striped stockings, a pair of buckled shoes, and one furious yellow eye blinking from beneath the foundation until a gumdrop shutter drops over it like a lid.

The woodsman is gone when Kaisel turns, and in his place stands Remi in a dark suit with a waistcoat, a curled old-timey moustache sitting proudly above his mouth and a hat tucked beneath one arm. Confetti begins to drift from the sky in lazy, bright handfuls as he applauds, his expression shining with the sort of congratulatory pride usually reserved for theatre finales and children who have successfully escaped being eaten.

"Your did it!" he declares warmly, as though this has all been an elaborate test Kaisel was meant to solve and not a dream which has been making itself up with increasing enthusiasm.

With a sweep of his hand, Remi gestures to the clearing beside them, where a hot air balloon now waits as if it has been there all along. The silk of it is black and purple, deep and gleaming, with the shape of a dragon curling across one side in darker thread. Beneath the basket, a steady green flame burns without smoke, holding the whole thing ready and restless above the grass. Remi’s moustache twitches with his smile. "Ready to go home?"

and I said "only ever other memory"

Kaisel

The moment he's greeted with the unexpected face, Kaisel has to fight back the abrupt laugh that tries to flee his throat. This is accomplished with an exaggerated pucker of his lips, humor briefly puffing out his cheeks before he sucks it back down, the crease of his mouth curling long and wide up his face. It's the moustache that's sending him into orbit.

The distraction of celebration is ever a hook for Kaisel's attention. It drags up, mouth popping open slightly with the tilt of his head, mirth faltering to a different sort of enjoyment. Holding his hands up like every dumb bitch does in a romcom when it starts raining, he chuckles up at the colorful flutter of confetti descending to gild his accomplishments. Bits of it dapple his palms as his gaze sinks back to dapper!Remi. "Extremely good look for you," he ventures the moment he's met with the moustache again. "You should try for that in the waking world." Who knows, Ronin might like his chimney swept.

Easily goaded into pride, Kaisel can only beam as a figurative gold star is handed over, and with it the keys to the city hot air balloon. He leans faintly to peer around Remi's tailored shoulder to properly take in the gestured prize. "Age before beauty," he recommends, bowing subtly at the waist, a boy no more and decorated in the velvet coattails of a more noble man, which fiercely competes with the worn goggles pushed against his forehead that inspire the frequent piloting of someone too low in station.

And when the day broke, buried in violence
Somethin' made my mind up
I could do this with my eyes closed

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

Remi’s brows rise with thoughtful interest, though without a mirror there is very little for him to consult beyond Kaisel’s barely contained laughter and the unfamiliar weight sitting above his mouth. He lifts a hand to the moustache, catching one of its long, curled ends between finger and thumb, and gives it an experimental twist as if the motion might reveal something essential about the look. "Oh really? You think so?"

The top hat comes off in his other hand as Kaisel bows, and Remi inclines his head in gracious acknowledgement, every inch the gentleman except for the ruby slippers glittering quite outrageously beneath the hem of his suit. He turns toward the balloon with a sweep of his arm, strolling across the confetti-dusted grass as though crystal-studded shoes and dragon-emblazoned airships are the natural conclusion to any reasonable afternoon.

Once Kaisel is in the basket, Remi reaches for the cord above their heads. A single pull sends the green flame roaring higher, bright and steady, and the balloon lifts from the ground with a smooth upward lurch. The ruined cottage, the flattened witch, the scattered candy trim, and the absurd little street all begin to shrink beneath them, becoming bright and toy-like as the dream pulls away from its own edges.

Remi rests one hand lightly against the side of the basket, moustache curling proudly over his smile as he glances across at Kaisel. "I think," he says, looking down as the world below turns small enough to fit in a storybook, "you just need to say there is no place like home, and we should wake up."

and I said "only ever other memory"