lost souls are not uncommon. kaen themself is no stranger to the idea that - one day - someone would come to pass judgement on the sins carved into their existence ( every life taken, every wound self-inflicted in arbitrary penance ) . thus it is not fear that falls over them as the great shadow devours their own ... it is a knowing, an understanding. they do not dare move, do not dare waste their breath on excuses. instead, the doe gathers what little strength they've left and looks over their hunched shoulder, peering up and up at the looming, lurching figure. "... ah'm sorreh," it is all they can think to say, not that it will do much good in a place like this.
The lumbering figure moves as steadily as the passage of time. It looks strained, his whole body lurching and bent unnaturally from the weight of the helmet atop his shoulders. Heavy footsteps are matched in tune with the shrill screeching sound of the knife he drags across the floor. There's no particular force that drives him. Nobody telling him what to do or how to do it. All the red pyramid knows is the urge to kill, and that some deserved it more than others.
The sound would stop, his shadow tall and reaching across the dimly lit hallway. He can't see who stands before him, but knows by sound that they aren't scared: if anything dully accepting.
It irritates him, that they aren't even going to fight back. The hand not holding onto his massive knife reaches out with intention of snatching them up.
He's going to make them regret not running sooner.
