He starts off towards some obscure direction.
"Green ... I mean, Edmund," you say. His head snaps around.
"Where are you taking us?" you say, feeling rather insecure since you aren't in control of your destination.
"Oh, just somewhere," Edmund says vaguely. Clearly other things are on his mind. Like that burning smell coming from what seems like the kitchen.
"He's taking you to the roasting pits," Blimden says mischieviously, making you want to squirm. It isn't the type of playful mischievious, more of the scary I-like-making-you-scream mischievious. "It's where people are cut up, then roasted for that fine just-roasted-screaming flavour that only roasting people alive can bring."
You swallow, not wanting to retaliate for fear that your voice will shake. What type of place did you wander into?
"Don't worry, Blimden's just a practical joker. I wouldn't stress too much on Blimden's behalf," Edmund said reassuringly. Blimden huffed at Edmund with a rather wounded look on its face.
"Well, I would. Who knows what might happen to you if you don't? Stress on my behalf, I say. And worry, worry, worry till the sun goes down, because when you are at least three meters away from me, you'll be in grave danger. Anyway, I'm so dangerous you're always in grave danger of me," Blimden said, nodding to itself. "Yes, I'm as dangerous as can be."
"Pah. Don't worry about it, dear," Green Eyes -- Edmund -- said, looking at you kindly. "Blimden was meant to be some sort evil devil from what I can tell, but didn't quite make it there in terms of fitness and torture abilities..."
You almost snort looking at the rolls of fat standing before you. Blimden did not seem like someone who'd be fit enough to torture someone.
"It's a raw topic," Blimden said shortly, silencing the conversation.
They suddenly stopped by a pair of huge oak doors.
"What's this lead to?" you ask, curious.
"Somewhere where you keep your mouth shut," Blimden answered back.
"I wasn't asking you," you say, rather rudely, to Blimden. It turns away, wiping a tear that you're sure isn't there from its eye.
"There, there, Blimden. It's alright," Edmund says, rushing over to comfort Blimden. But before he gets there, the burning smell has reached such a high level that you are in danger of fainting right there. Before you can say a word of warning, Edmund is already through the doors.
"I'll get it fixed!" Edmund calls back to you. "Never fear!"
"Edmund! Where have you been? We've been worrying ourselves thin while you've been chit-chatting with a guest. Quick, stamp on it, before it burns tomorrow's bread rolls!"A woman's voice can be heard, and you you put your head to the door, curious.
"Bread rolls don't catch on fire, do they?" a young voice asks.
"Bread rolls are highly flammable, my dear," Edmund's kind voice answers back.
"Then quick! Your techniques aren't working, Edmund!" The shrill woman's voice is back, yelling at Edmund again.
There was silence for a few minutes, then a collective sigh of relief. "Okay, let's evacuate the premises."
Before you have time to figure out who said that, you realize the meaning of that sentence. You try to hurriedly scrabble away from the door, but it's too late, and you are pushed backwards as the huge oak doors are opened and the wafting smell of smoke engulfs you. You splutter helplessly, and a shadow falls over you.
You look up, fearing the worst.