The Scarecrow shook his head with a shrug- it seemed he didn't know her after all, but he was so sure he'd seen her face somewhere! It had to have been sometime more significant than a passing glance, or surely it wouldn't have bothered him so much.
He continued his drawing, leaving Agatha to her reading. The pen hit the paper with two more idle taps as he considered what he should add next. The background was plain- maybe the Emerald City would liven it up, or even the Wicked Witch flying--
Realization hit him so sharply that he nearly leapt from his chair- instead, his knee hit the table and he fell back into his seat, hissing at the immediate feeling of pain that shot through him. He scooted his chair back a few inches, desperately attempting to sink into it and disappear. It didn't work out so well.
The Scarecrow had suddenly recognized Agatha, remembering exactly where he'd seen her face: her own visage was opposite of Depth Charge, both visible in the sparking light from the Horrible Hallway just the night before. "Y-y-you're the witch from the second floor!" he stammered, holding his pen with two hands as if it would protect him. He wanted to know why she was out in the daylight, why she wasn't haunting the Horrible Hallway that very minute. She wasn't like the Mangled Witch, who appeared just out of sight the following day, stalking him like a shadow- Agatha was right there, and he had to admit she didn't look nearly as frightening when not illuminated by the light of her magic.
no subject
He continued his drawing, leaving Agatha to her reading. The pen hit the paper with two more idle taps as he considered what he should add next. The background was plain- maybe the Emerald City would liven it up, or even the Wicked Witch flying--
Realization hit him so sharply that he nearly leapt from his chair- instead, his knee hit the table and he fell back into his seat, hissing at the immediate feeling of pain that shot through him. He scooted his chair back a few inches, desperately attempting to sink into it and disappear. It didn't work out so well.
The Scarecrow had suddenly recognized Agatha, remembering exactly where he'd seen her face: her own visage was opposite of Depth Charge, both visible in the sparking light from the Horrible Hallway just the night before. "Y-y-you're the witch from the second floor!" he stammered, holding his pen with two hands as if it would protect him. He wanted to know why she was out in the daylight, why she wasn't haunting the Horrible Hallway that very minute. She wasn't like the Mangled Witch, who appeared just out of sight the following day, stalking him like a shadow- Agatha was right there, and he had to admit she didn't look nearly as frightening when not illuminated by the light of her magic.