@narrationstold
The deepest of frowns hadn’t left Kamil’s face since they left the city for a coastal town in Massachusetts. Of all things, the coast in October didn’t seem particularly enticing, especially when he could be back at the theatre working on his most recent project -- But it was that mentality that led him here. Kamil’s inability to let go of his work was a concern amongst the small group of friends. So much so that his bags had been thoroughly checked before even leaving the door to ensure he didn’t pack any of his emergency seamstress kits or sketchbooks to work on. What they hadn’t confiscated, by his surprise, was a fine bottle of liquor that he often relied on as he went through his “creative” moments. The moments where he’d coop himself up in a small, dark space, as his mind ran wild. Pushing his fingers through his hair -- flat from the humidity -- Kamil inspected the little manor that they’d thrown down on. Impressive. Rumors of hauntings was certainly an attraction to this little humble abode, and Kamil wasn’t much for such superstitions. “If they have a bath tub as big as me, I’ll consider this home in no time at all,” Kamil offers lightly, the deep frown finally softening into one of interest. “Salem certainly does have an appeal to it, doesn’t it?” he’s trying to be a bit more optimistic, charmed by the infrastructure. His mind sounds the creative alarms, fingers itching to draw out a whole panel of different costumes to fit this house alone. “I love the witchy vibe,” he laughs, taking the lead towards the manor.
