[There's no answer -- not in so many words, but there's a gentle creak of the door; for some reason, it's not properly locked or shut, allowing some snow to get into the jamb and hinges and pop it slightly open upon the knock. Muffled beneath all this but there if you listen for it: a rhythmical THUMP, THUMP, THUMP within, but it's impossible to get more information if you just stare at the door.
Whether Oikawa manages to gather the courage to push it open or merely peeks through the cracks while lumps of hail smack him in the head -- the cabin itself looks fairly simple, small and made of dark wood with minimal furnishings and maybe a threadbare rug or two, but there's a roaring fire toasting up the place.
In front of it, the looming silhouette of a someone with a fluttering something tied on his head; there's a pause where the scene crystallizes -- then an arm rises, there's the distinct and brilliant flash of a well-polished knife, and another THUMP as it falls onto whatever's going on in front of the fireplace.]
... The hell do you want? You're letting the storm in.
[Oops. Looks like that door creak was louder than you thought it was.]
[Fuck! He jumps at the sound of another voice, stepping forward to try and cover the door a little more. He takes a brief moment (30 seconds max) to observe the place and really that chopping and the knife are putting him on edge.
This is like something out of a horror movie.
Iwa-chan... Why did you leave him behind?!] Sorry for the intrusion. [He says it like a sing song, with an apologetic smile on his face.] I ended up trapped because of the storm. Could I stay until it blows over?
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stop dying in all our threads...... delicate volleyflora
Whether Oikawa manages to gather the courage to push it open or merely peeks through the cracks while lumps of hail smack him in the head -- the cabin itself looks fairly simple, small and made of dark wood with minimal furnishings and maybe a threadbare rug or two, but there's a roaring fire toasting up the place.
In front of it, the looming silhouette of a someone with a fluttering something tied on his head; there's a pause where the scene crystallizes -- then an arm rises, there's the distinct and brilliant flash of a well-polished knife, and another THUMP as it falls onto whatever's going on in front of the fireplace.]
... The hell do you want? You're letting the storm in.
[Oops. Looks like that door creak was louder than you thought it was.]
omg this is a week old ... sry fyre
This is like something out of a horror movie.
Iwa-chan... Why did you leave him behind?!] Sorry for the intrusion. [He says it like a sing song, with an apologetic smile on his face.] I ended up trapped because of the storm. Could I stay until it blows over?