[What it is. If it was even real to begin with, or just some awful amalgamation of bits and pieces lodged in his head. In his nightmares. The only thing he recalls with any sort of certainty are... the eyes.]
[The Witch's eyes.]
It's - it must be something they made. An experiment, like - [He barely catches himself there. Barely stops himself from the words: like me.]
[The thing moves. It jitters in place, as if it's trying to perform every kind of locomotion a living being can use. Automatically, Shiro's throwing an arm out. To block Ange from its sight. He can't help the gesture any more than he can help breathing.]
no subject
[What it is. If it was even real to begin with, or just some awful amalgamation of bits and pieces lodged in his head. In his nightmares. The only thing he recalls with any sort of certainty are... the eyes.]
[The Witch's eyes.]
It's - it must be something they made. An experiment, like - [He barely catches himself there. Barely stops himself from the words: like me.]
[The thing moves. It jitters in place, as if it's trying to perform every kind of locomotion a living being can use. Automatically, Shiro's throwing an arm out. To block Ange from its sight. He can't help the gesture any more than he can help breathing.]