#brainsorwhatever

Vicky grimaced, giving Brian a look (TM).

“I... most certainly am not. Although... I could probably figure out a lava-proofing spell to try that with.”

She hummed, tapping her chin as she took the shoe proffered by her favorite zomboy, taking a seat on the grass as she got rid of her socks. No point in making the walk back to the campfire more uncomfortable than it had to be.

“UGH but where am I going to find a volcano at this time of day? At this time of year? Localized entirely near Camp Spooky? Let’s face it, Brian.”

Vicky let out a sad sigh, looking back over to the camp where the rest of their friends were. Drinking, laughing, having fun dancing around the fire- so... alive.

@brainsorwhatever​

“ can’t wait to see my new neighbors! there’s molly, then death, then a zombie, then a demon - ”

the witch’s house: diary of ellen sentence starters.

@brainsorwhatever​ said:  “ hey, i don’t look weird, do i? “

“Do you have everything memorized...?” Poppy would ask, her voice soft and gentle. Almost shaky as she holds the script close to her chest. Poppy couldn’t help but be a little bit nervous being paired up for a dialogue scene for their theater class. Even if it is just Brian - no one but Mami was safe from Anxious Poppy, and sometimes even still that angel gets a quiet, shy doll.

“I-I’m--”

Even gulping feels difficult.  He’s scared. He’s clearly scared.     But he’s even more scared he could hurt someone.

"Can we skip the punch part and you just call me hot?"

So few seem to dwell upon this aspect of the various undead roaming their world, that once they were living, breathing creatures before it was all torn away.  While there may be a fortunate few to escape that previous life -- perhaps their state is a result of experimentation or witchcraft -- one never thinks of the differences present between one and the next, instead creating a blanket assumption to cover all.  Unfortunately, even one like himself is not above that.  He had assumed that an undead, a risen zombie was that and only that; a reanimated corpse with some form of intelligence.  Clearly, that is a mistake on his part.

“Surely that cannot be all you remember?"  Fear, death -- ah, this poor child, left with mementos from a life no longer his own.  No matter how one might spin it, that is depressing.  Perhaps pity is not the appropriate response, yet it cannot be helped, though he’ll keep it masked, as he does anything else; hidden well behind a finely crafted veil and coupled only with a curious gaze.