[The kid is knocked over with a yelp, but he scrambles back, pulling out a very long shard of glass wrapped in cloth.]
I-I-If you're not food, then I can't eat you even if I bite you, right? So let me bite you, and if you're not food, I can't eat you, and if I can bite you, I can tell if you're chewy or soft.
To see if it's food. I'm really, really, really, really hungry. I just want him. You all look 'chewy' and I need 'chewy', but I can take only a little bit, so that's fair, right? I can put one chewy on my pile and I'll throw the other chewy back outside.
I don't know who paintings is. I'm hungry now. Hurry up. Do you want to go on the pile or do you want to go away? I want dinner. Two for one, I need to eat.
You’re lying on a nice bed. It’s soft under you, flattened by the weight of you, if a little wet against your bare skin, and there’s the creepy March child's voice thinking aloud:
"But if I eat chewy now I won't have chewy later and if I don't have chewy later I'll be just as hungry but-"
You might want to wake up properly, because you’re lying on a bed of meat. Wet meat, dry meat, meat hacked down into little pieces and lined in rows.
All around you are similar heaps. You appear to be missing the majority of your clothing, stripped down to your underlayers in the most scandalous fashion. No doubt there's a clothing pile somewhere.
You're close enough to the rubbish pile to smell nauseating sweet rot.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: STAGE: DONNER MAMA.
(the everything else, though...)
touches Enkidu's shoulder, still just safe of freezing temp ]
Absinthe-san, let's go back.
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[ . . . turning back ]
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>dodge and aim to knock the kid over with your cane.]
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running to close the rest of the distance ]
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plz hold for staggering and possible concussions.]
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... What he means, I believe, is that he would prefer not to be eaten either way.
[ mildly considering offering him anyway ]
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or i would if i were. listening.]
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I'm all right with that, but could I ask you something, first...?
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Oh, are you all right . . .?
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Ask me what? Hurry up, I want to eat.
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...Ah?
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Hey.
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[KIND OF INDISPOSED, DUDE.]
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I see. In that case, that's all.
... I'll leave the rest of the cake, as well.
[ bringing the cane down like a bat into Hatter's head again, you would like what's next even less if you were conscious for it probably ]
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[ OFF WE GO I GUESS ]
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You’re lying on a nice bed. It’s soft under you, flattened by the weight of you, if a little wet against your bare skin, and there’s the creepy March child's voice thinking aloud:
"But if I eat chewy now I won't have chewy later and if I don't have chewy later I'll be just as hungry but-"
You might want to wake up properly, because you’re lying on a bed of meat. Wet meat, dry meat, meat hacked down into little pieces and lined in rows.
All around you are similar heaps. You appear to be missing the majority of your clothing, stripped down to your underlayers in the most scandalous fashion. No doubt there's a clothing pile somewhere.
You're close enough to the rubbish pile to smell nauseating sweet rot.]
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oh my god
I am solo running everything from here on out.
Trying not to retch, sitting up and sliding off the meatpile without giving himself time to account for how fucking dizzy he is.]
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