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

two, with shades of one

[worthallthis]

[The asset likes to be helpful. He can't deny that one even to himself. So when Methuselah shows up needing help for the feast, he does what he can. He was, unfortunately for Kate, one of the ones butchering rabbits, so when he meets her to collect the heavy canister from her, he hangs back a little, only holding out one (gloved, left) hand for what she's carrying.

He doesn't speak, not yet, sure she was more afraid of him than what he'd been doing and wanting to be as non-threatening as a murder machine can be. No eye contact whatsoever, posture making him as small as is possible for an objectively large man.]

[castitas]

[ There's a vague recognition of the man, she'd look at him briefly before she'd caught sight of the rabbits and she'd promptly just... freaked out. She still feels kind of stupid about the whole thing, in truth. But she's still sure she can smell the scent of game and it still makes her stomach turn.

He waits for the canister, shrinking from her a little, and maybe it's because she probably startled him with her outburst. She feels terrible as well as stupid, and she inhales before passing the canister to him. ]

Thank you. [ There's a beat, before she adds, gesturing. ] I think it'd be good to put it down that end of the table?

[worthallthis]

[He nods and moves obediently to set it down where directed. Then he comes back, still keeping himself careful and still. His voice, when he speaks, is softer than one would expect from someone his size, and without much inflection.]

Are there more.

[castitas]

There's one more, still in the kitchen. That's all. [ It's strange how he holds himself, and she watches carefully — not quite sure what to make of him. Maybe she should say something, about the freak out. Her own embarrassment isn't an excuse to not say anything.

So she waits until he's moved the second canister from the kitchen to the table before she does, hesitating for a long moment. ]

Um. I just... I want to say sorry, for before.