[intro] EVERY DOOR A WINDOW
Aug. 29th, 2019 11:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hauntedxholy posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
castle_perraultKris Dreemurr has had a pretty long day.
The sort of day that people could probably make really weird game demos about. The sort of day that feels like it came out of Aesop and the Grimm brothers' surrogate lovechild's feverdream. Or whatever. Long day. They're tired. Time to yeet a soul.
Or like, that was the plan. As soon as they get home and open the door to their room, they lose their balance on the edge of literally *nothing* and end up falling- falling-- oof. Ok. Not falling anymore.
In a kitchen.
Not their kitchen.
Their skin is its usual color, but they're in their Dark World regalia, which is either a good or a bad sign. There's no one else around, though, and there are a few baskets full of fresh-looking fruit and bread and stuff on the counters.........
Fuck it! Time to raid a pantry.
The sort of day that people could probably make really weird game demos about. The sort of day that feels like it came out of Aesop and the Grimm brothers' surrogate lovechild's feverdream. Or whatever. Long day. They're tired. Time to yeet a soul.
Or like, that was the plan. As soon as they get home and open the door to their room, they lose their balance on the edge of literally *nothing* and end up falling- falling-- oof. Ok. Not falling anymore.
In a kitchen.
Not their kitchen.
Their skin is its usual color, but they're in their Dark World regalia, which is either a good or a bad sign. There's no one else around, though, and there are a few baskets full of fresh-looking fruit and bread and stuff on the counters.........
Fuck it! Time to raid a pantry.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-09-03 03:49 pm (UTC)Humans aren't really supposed to be using swords where he comes from. They're dated and, though they're clearly the superior weapon, far less effective than a gun. Or magic. Or even a really well-thrown rock. Points for style?
Wykkyd disappears, reappearing shortly on the adjacent counter, legs crossed neatly. He puts his chin in his hands, then his hands on his knees, then his hands on the table, rocking back briefly.
"You're human."
Now he feels awkward. That's embarrassing. He could stick around, making even more of a fool of himself, or... he's still kinda hungry. He slides off the counter, sidling over to stand next to Kris, and reaches out to snatch a handful of apple slices. Sword apple slices? God knows what it's touched. He'll probably be fine. Instead of hanging around and being charged with apple thievery, he waves, sticks a slice of apple between his teeth, and disappears.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-09-04 03:29 am (UTC)THEIR APPLES.
Sweeping a suspicious glare across the suddenly empty room, they grab a few more apples from another nearby basket, and sullenly continue to chop.
"...Demon stealing an apple." Hm. "L-M-A-O."