away for me!"
I’m several piece of junk furniture away from him, screaming and retreating, my wings unfurled and angry. I don’t care that I’m knocking half of this garbage over, I just want him to stop.
I feel my anger rising, but the skeletal man isn’t chasing me.
He stands there with the needle and thread, I can't read any emotion, and he hesitates as it seems confused. I feel my lip, and look at my finger. No blood, but it still hurts. "No! You're not doing that to me! Put that thing away!"
Is there even any negotiating?
I raise my black wings slightly to make my point, more junk falling over, and I am not going to hesitate if I have to harden these and slice him in half. The skeleton man hesitates again, holding the needle as if he were going to continue. I point at him again. "No!"
I stare into dead eyes for longer than I ever wished, trying to make sense of him and why. “No! Explain yourself! Who are you?”
As if he could speak back to me.
Still, if a skeleton can walk, it can talk, right?
He turns, and puts the needle away in a small wooden drawer. The skeletal man turns to me and stares, his hollow eyes staring right through me. I’ll probably never find out why he did that to me.
"What you want? Why did you take me here? Why did you try to sew my mouth shut?"
I just stare at him. I just stare at him like he's nothing, like I'm not afraid of him, and I am his equal. I blink. Not his equal, his superior. He is dead, and I am alive. I lower my finger, and just glare. I look back towards the entrance of the cave, and then at him.
"I am leaving."
He raises his bony hand, waves it around the room, and points at all of the junk. He then points his bony finger at me. Then, he just stands there, waiting.
I sigh. "What? You want me to look around? For what? Seriously?"
I look both ways, and peer into the near darkness at the piles of junk. I look back at him and point. "No funny stuff."
He lowers his bony hands and just stands there.
Right, you just stay where you are, buster.
I turn, and start rummaging through the junk. It looks like some sort of Ren Faire cast-off pile, with rotting leather scabbards, random bits of chain mail, leather shoulder pads, belts, and pieces of plate armor all scattered about open trunks and hanging on broken racks. I end up tossing more of the junk to the side and digging through it more than anything else.
"What are you looking for? What do you want me to get you?" I look back at him, and thankfully he's not holding a needle and thread anymore. "What am I looking for?"
He points at me, and then towards the junk.
"You want me to take something? You want me to get dressed? In this?"
The skeleton man folds his fingers over his belt contently.
"Are you serious?" I sigh, looking at some of the castoffs and holding them up. "I'm not even sure there's anything my size here."
I have no idea. From being led around in a graveyard by one man, nearly killed by the sight of another, and now this skeleton trying to sew my mouth shut and offering me garbage to wear has gotten my suspension of disbelief all screwed up. I just have no idea. None of this makes any sense, and the skeleton from an attacker one moment to someone wanting to dress me the next.
Why sew my mouth shut? Well, I guess it's not like he values flesh that much anyways. Maybe he got sick of my questions. Maybe it's something he does to everyone that comes down here. I peer back, he hasn't moved and I'm not letting him do it. I'm just lost a strange world right now, hurting, alone, and too miserable to be afraid.
“Who are you?”
The shine of black leather catches my eye. I recognize the dull glint of rusting chain mail, and pull a black leather corset free. Its edges are trimmed by gold, with fancy gold patterns sewn along the surface of the leather. It looks like something a fancy dominatrix or dark elf would wear, but I like it in a darkly sinister way. There are hundreds of gold studs in decorative
I’m several piece of junk furniture away from him, screaming and retreating, my wings unfurled and angry. I don’t care that I’m knocking half of this garbage over, I just want him to stop.
I feel my anger rising, but the skeletal man isn’t chasing me.
He stands there with the needle and thread, I can't read any emotion, and he hesitates as it seems confused. I feel my lip, and look at my finger. No blood, but it still hurts. "No! You're not doing that to me! Put that thing away!"
Is there even any negotiating?
I raise my black wings slightly to make my point, more junk falling over, and I am not going to hesitate if I have to harden these and slice him in half. The skeleton man hesitates again, holding the needle as if he were going to continue. I point at him again. "No!"
I stare into dead eyes for longer than I ever wished, trying to make sense of him and why. “No! Explain yourself! Who are you?”
As if he could speak back to me.
Still, if a skeleton can walk, it can talk, right?
He turns, and puts the needle away in a small wooden drawer. The skeletal man turns to me and stares, his hollow eyes staring right through me. I’ll probably never find out why he did that to me.
"What you want? Why did you take me here? Why did you try to sew my mouth shut?"
I just stare at him. I just stare at him like he's nothing, like I'm not afraid of him, and I am his equal. I blink. Not his equal, his superior. He is dead, and I am alive. I lower my finger, and just glare. I look back towards the entrance of the cave, and then at him.
"I am leaving."
He raises his bony hand, waves it around the room, and points at all of the junk. He then points his bony finger at me. Then, he just stands there, waiting.
I sigh. "What? You want me to look around? For what? Seriously?"
I look both ways, and peer into the near darkness at the piles of junk. I look back at him and point. "No funny stuff."
He lowers his bony hands and just stands there.
Right, you just stay where you are, buster.
I turn, and start rummaging through the junk. It looks like some sort of Ren Faire cast-off pile, with rotting leather scabbards, random bits of chain mail, leather shoulder pads, belts, and pieces of plate armor all scattered about open trunks and hanging on broken racks. I end up tossing more of the junk to the side and digging through it more than anything else.
"What are you looking for? What do you want me to get you?" I look back at him, and thankfully he's not holding a needle and thread anymore. "What am I looking for?"
He points at me, and then towards the junk.
"You want me to take something? You want me to get dressed? In this?"
The skeleton man folds his fingers over his belt contently.
"Are you serious?" I sigh, looking at some of the castoffs and holding them up. "I'm not even sure there's anything my size here."
I have no idea. From being led around in a graveyard by one man, nearly killed by the sight of another, and now this skeleton trying to sew my mouth shut and offering me garbage to wear has gotten my suspension of disbelief all screwed up. I just have no idea. None of this makes any sense, and the skeleton from an attacker one moment to someone wanting to dress me the next.
Why sew my mouth shut? Well, I guess it's not like he values flesh that much anyways. Maybe he got sick of my questions. Maybe it's something he does to everyone that comes down here. I peer back, he hasn't moved and I'm not letting him do it. I'm just lost a strange world right now, hurting, alone, and too miserable to be afraid.
“Who are you?”
The shine of black leather catches my eye. I recognize the dull glint of rusting chain mail, and pull a black leather corset free. Its edges are trimmed by gold, with fancy gold patterns sewn along the surface of the leather. It looks like something a fancy dominatrix or dark elf would wear, but I like it in a darkly sinister way. There are hundreds of gold studs in decorative
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