✞❤ϻɑɖ Ħɑƫƫɛʀ Ȼɦʀᴑɳɨƈɫɛʂ❤✞
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Those eyes blinked at you, and then narrowed in speculation. You were held out at hands-length. Once he caught sight of your attire, his expression brightened considerably.
"Oh, so you're mad too?"
You stared incredulously up at the violet-haired man. He was the picture of a civilized and cultured gentleman, with the top hat and the formal apparel. But those oddly-smiling eyes, and the mouth that curved up in an entirely different way...
You tried to speak to him again, but it seemed that your vocal cords failed to function properly. Nothing but a pitiful hiss issued from your mouth.
Plip, plip, plip.
Droplets of blood gathered by your throat and the underside of your jaw, gravity forcing them to fall to the ground and onto your jacket.
Wait, the jacket-
You looked down at yourself, and let out another sob.
You were wearing the trappings of one that lurked in the deepest cells of an asylum.
Broken chain links hung from scratched hoops, and the straps that were supposed to be holding your legs together, at both the ankles and knees respectively, were shredded into tattered pieces of cloth.
You didn't know what you were terrified more of: The man, the beast, or yourself.
"Why do you cry, little girl? This is a place for fun and frolic. Come and join me, the tea party's just starting!"
His cheerful voice was strangely off-kilter, and his head was tilted in a charming smile.
Oh god.
He's frickin' nuts, isn't he?
Desperate, you gave him a sharp glare, and jerked your head off back and to the side, in the direction of the woods.
Finally, he seemed to understand what you were saying.
Or finally decided to listen.
You didn't know which one.
"Oh? You mean we have an uninvited guest? What a pity."
There was a sharp gleam of silver, and your arms fell to your sides. Your hand was taken in a most genteel fashion, and he led you to a plush, red-cushioned chair.
...If the thing chasing you was an uninvited guest, what were you? A VIP, or what?
"Sit, sit, and eat your fill. I shall only take a minute. It is the duty and privilege of the host to see the safety of his guests."
As he strolled off, twirling his cane in an amused fashion, you wondered three things.
One: Where did the knife go, that he just used?
Two: Was he seriously dumb enough to go off and fight that thing alone?
And three, which was the really tricky one:
What the hell did you get yourself into?