Haunted Wood ⁠—so you can't crawl no more,

Pressure. It was on his back, and at first it felt like residual feeling from when Revui had been prone against the dirt. There was movement, warmth on his ear—tension and a pinch of teeth. He pulls away from the woman's touch as best he can but she has a good grip of his ear, and the feeling of it makes him want to shake his head. Groggy, so groggy — but he tries. Pulls, lightly shaking his head like a lion might tousle their own mane, and the sensation of the pinch deepens in the process. The sound of the skin of his ear being tugged at grates in his head and he grimaces to it.

Disgruntled by the feelings around him, Revui huffs and tries to sit up. He props his limbs beneath himself and lurches, trying to be free of the presence and the drifting face, the sounds of teeth. He isn't successful. The woman is too close; she's still got a hold of his ear and could just as swiftly redirect his momentum, plus the poppies have made him uncertain of his own body's limits. Where does he start? Where does he end? Is he doing all of this to himself...?

A low rumble starts in the back of his throat, and Revui fades. He is back against the dirt beside the woman, not sure how to move or how to escape — or anything else really, the fog of the drugs is too strong.