Unsure of his true nature, they bring the feline to their living area, plopping down with a thud as they hold him up with both hands. “Some witch's cat or something?” he stares, mumbling mostly to self.
( Am I high or do more supernatural things just keep happening to me.. )
Groaning with a roll of eyes, grabbing the cat by the scruff of his neck as they arise from their seat— “You're gonna ruin my work, fucking.. creature.”
An impending doom in the form of a celebration, nearing like a meteor to crash and leave craters of damage into the soil of the Earth. There are ghosts pulling at every bone inside of him, screaming for refuge—he must run. He must hide.
But there is nowhere to go.
There is no sound, truly silent. There is no smell; he can not register a scent in the room. There is no one here, no one to save him from himself as he feels so much of him disintigrate into nothing, the ashes of what he once was resting inside of his ribs.
( …❔) Hanwool picks the creature off of his head, placing it—hesitates—on the floor instead. Swiftly removing headphones, tilting curious head...
“The fuck?”
Slow nodding, agreement coming later. His body is moving before his mind can think or process.
“Know one close?” Questions curiously, not too sure with where they are at the moment. He figures somewhere close to his own home but everything is too much right now for him to know.
Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't even know where to take him -- there is no good option, for now. First things first, he needs to buy some medicine for the pain.
"Let's go to the pharmacy first." trying to sound in control. Again, pain is the father of cruel things.