open | leave the horror here

[castitas]

Who: Kate Marsh + you!
What: Making rosehip tea/syrup shenanigans; nightmares; feast preparations + more!
When: The month of October.
Where: Various places around Milton.

Content Warnings: Warnings in the individual prompts. As a general rule, themes of depression and suicide, possibly mentions of suicide attempt from last month from It Speaks prompt.




contact: heolstor / _heolstor @ discord for plotting!

Comments

i think we could probably wrap this one?

[castitas]

[ The praise is appreciated, even with her quiet fluster about it all. Still not good at accepting it all that much — but there's a tiny smile of appreciation before the seriousness of it all softly smothers it. Kate's head dips, hands fret with the rope of her sled. She's listening, even if she can't quite meet his eye, shifting her weight from foot to foot briefly.

He is a devil. It might not have the same weight in modern times, but it still holds weight for her — considering her beliefs. To call someone that isn't something offered so lightly, and she swallows hard at that, her lips a thin line.

She knows he probably doesn't mean to scare her about it all. That he would never intend to. But it's there, anyway. Mostly with the severity of it all, to really... drive it all home for her. The Lieutenant's dire seriousness about it all, even when he does try to soften it for her. Mr Goodsir had told her plenty, and she knows that she has to be really careful. But this is... different, in a way. Mr Goodsir and Lieutenant Little are two very different men. It's... like a warning she's never had before. And that's scary, despite how much he tries to be gentle with it all.

Of course her parents warned her of Stranger Danger, and of course she knows that there are terrible people in the world — of course she knows. But they've always existed beyond a glass pane, never crossing over, never moving into her space. Like it's almost imaginary but still real — there but not there, like some sort of strange variation of Schrödinger's Cat, in a way.

But, no. Mr Hickey walks among them. He is there, free. One of the community, despite the things he has done in his own world. Mr Hickey who has hurt people, caused the deaths of people. Who wouldn't hesitate to do the same in this place too, maybe. She can't help the slight tremble, she can't. ]

... I understand. [ It's hushed. Quiet, but clear. ] I do.

[ It takes her another moment, wavering a little. But she does look up at him again, nodding — a little cowed but at least able to look him in the eye again. For as much as she's frightened of Mr Hickey and what he's done, what he could do — she trusts Lieutenant Little more. Knows he'd do what he could to help, even if she's... worried about how that might go. ]

I— I really hope it doesn't come to that, that— that maybe he'll just stay away as much as I'll stay away from him. [ Avoiding one another is... honestly, super preferable. ] But— but I'll tell you if he does. I promise.