stardust

"I'm not a psychiatrist or anything, but I'm pretty sure that it's not supposed to do that." His pupils are Huge, tail flicking back and forth like a cat that's seen something tasty scuttling across the floor.

At least Jack is acting cat-like, that's a small comfort in the middle of all of this. Perfect little hunters, cats.

His ear twitches once, he does not blink for what feels like a very long time, before he addresses Jon again. "I know a guy, but I'm not sure you'd like him..." He says, very slowly, as if doubting the words as they appear on his tongue. "He's Outerkin, something like one of your Fears but also Not, if that makes any sense."

@cyberneticlagomorph ⧐ Lint is going to offer Alastor a lemon square from his weird little front pocket. "That last adventure was a lot rougher than it should have been, I think I lost a horn back there! How are you holding up?" UNPROMPTED ASKS.

Alastor is beginning to see the vast opportunity for calamity in the adventures themselves, returning along with the rest of the group from one that seems to have put them deep within the bowels of an underground cave, only to be nearly assaulted by a litany of giant bats while they desperately try to climb - and then swim - their way to freedom.

And so now he is wet, but the deer is no worse for wear, having observed much of Caine's specific brand of madness and beginning to formulate quite a few ways upon which he might improve their capacity for horror.

That is, until his thoughts are interrupted by the strange looking patchwork rabbit that approaches him to offer a snack.

A snack which he will not turn down, reaching out to take it when offered and stick half of it into his mouth before he says anything in response.

"Well, I no longer need a bath," he answers cordially. "But otherwise, I am relatively unscathed. I cannot say the same for the others, however." And his gaze turns towards the remainder of the group who seems to be wetly and tiredly making their way back to their individual rooms. All except Kinger who seems to stare at something - or nothing - in the distance, left alone to do so.

"What did you say your name was?" Alastor asks amid his nibbling on the lemon square.

The lemon square itself is incredibly low poly, just a flat cube with a blurry lemony texture, but the flavor is pretty accurate to a real lemon square. Lint seems proud of himself, despite the soaking.

"My squeakers are waterlogged and my bell won't jingle but after I dry out I should be ok." He takes a step forward and back, making the squeakers in his feet honk and squelch sadly in response. "I think Caine's mad at us or something."

An attempt at a withering glare is shot over towards Jack, his eyes narrowing as Jon bites his goddamn tongue. He knew, vaguely, of which of his many miseries that they may be alluding to, but at this point there were too many of them to be able to put a specific pin in.

"My mental health is fine," It really isn't, but all things considered this is probably the best it will be at this stage. "I'm not depressed." Daisy's - unfortunately accurate - impression of him still haunts him. "...Even if I wanted a release from it, there's nothing I can do about it."

"I'm not a psychiatrist or anything, but I'm pretty sure that it's not supposed to do that." His pupils are Huge, tail flicking back and forth like a cat that's seen something tasty scuttling across the floor.

"You sure do ask a lot of questions." He says, sitting crisscross apple sauce on the floor. He looks up and around again, studying his location the way normal people do not but trapped animals always do.

Jack is face down in his 300+ gallon/1135+ liter stock tank with some sort of fishy little creature firmly planted on his back.

❝ Aha, so you’re the one causing trouble ❞ They walked over and climbed into the the tank. Their bog bucket still in their hand as they approached the creature.

"Oh, but I like it here." Says the Nixie, when she blinks her lids move horizontally across her huge black eyes. "There is so much prey, so much space, and very little competition for any of it."

@cyberneticlagomorph said: "I made you lemon squares."

{♚} -- ❝Oh! What a nice surprise!❞ Kinger softly exclaimed, clasping his gloved hands together in front of his velveteen robe. Where his discernible lack of a functional mouth let him down, Kinger allowed his eyes to express his smile instead, a thoroughly innocuous gleam of appreciation shining through their general misaligned zaniness. 

❝Thank you, uhh…❞ Kinger rested a finger on his chin, looking vague. ❝I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember your…wh-who are you again?❞ He queried, tilting his head to take a better look at them.

Nope. Nada. Nothing.

At this point, it would be a win just for Kinger to remember his own name – or at least, the digital identity he’d been assigned.

They unzip their front and reach inside. "It seemed kinda rude at first but... I mean look at me, if I'd be named anything it would be Lint." After a few seconds of digging they pull out a plate of fresh lemon squares on a granny plate and offer it to Kinger.

He wiggles his claws around in a menacing sort of way.

"Pomni! pomnipomnipomnipomni!!!"

"So... Did you want chili crisp on your eggs or should I just leave them plain?" He's half dressed and even more than half asleep, his fur is sticking up awkwardly like full body bedhead. The whole house seems to yawn, stretch and settle like an impossibly large animal.

"Hey, what'cha do if this fella youse been talkin' to's into kids n' stuff, but'cha dunno if kids should be anywhere near ya?"

"COOL COOL COOL COOL." He dives behind Angel just as something tall, yellow and staticky stalks by.

The yellow figure turns its singular eye towards Angel and smiles smiles smiles, gold fangs flashing like muzzle fire. "Say pal, have you seen a pin cushion around here anywhere?"

He smells like ozone and nightmares.

"You're cute, kid," He looks around with that big terrible eye, searching searching searching. "But not my type, not NEARLY enough fingers... or brains." He tips his tall top hat almost politely.