Krouse doesn't flail at the air, as much as instinct tells him to. He's fallen before, learned to cope with the panic, how to pivot mid-air to reorient himself to see the ground. If he can see the ground, he can find something to swap with.
There's nothing but the fall, and more puppets, and a guy who looks like the contents of many of Krouse's own personal nightmares. The lurch in his guts only has fifty percent to do with the untethered pull of gravity, and maybe one surprised percent to do with how the guy has been apparently dipped in acid, rolled in salt, and healed over in whorls of gnarled flesh.
He knows this kind of dream.
"I'm not exactly loving this either!" He snaps back, anger quicker and easier than fear. "Great time to think some happy fucking thoughts, Peter Pan!"
cw: suicidal ideation, more cws will continue
Krouse doesn't flail at the air, as much as instinct tells him to. He's fallen before, learned to cope with the panic, how to pivot mid-air to reorient himself to see the ground. If he can see the ground, he can find something to swap with.
There's nothing but the fall, and more puppets, and a guy who looks like the contents of many of Krouse's own personal nightmares. The lurch in his guts only has fifty percent to do with the untethered pull of gravity, and maybe one surprised percent to do with how the guy has been apparently dipped in acid, rolled in salt, and healed over in whorls of gnarled flesh.
He knows this kind of dream.
"I'm not exactly loving this either!" He snaps back, anger quicker and easier than fear. "Great time to think some happy fucking thoughts, Peter Pan!"