If it weren't for the current circumstances, Benedict might pry, but he's (fortunately for Myr) a bit preoccupied now. The woman with the knife always comes next, so he doesn't react as violently to the ghost-slashing of his throat, but what he didn't expect was the attention of the spirit next to Myr.
"Wait," he says, unnerved by her approach despite his knowledge that no actual harm will come to him, "what's... what's she... don't do that." He backs up a few steps and is startled by hands reaching up from the ground, belonging to a rapidly materializing and raggedly-clothed throng of what appears to be peasants, their faces twisted in rage. Their fingers claw and tear at nothing, and he takes a few shuffling steps to try and free himself of them, turning only just in time to be met face-to-face with the new ghost.
"Stop it, stop it," he whines, hunching to hold his head in his hands, fully aware that there's no real danger yet not brave enough to look at any of it.
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"Wait," he says, unnerved by her approach despite his knowledge that no actual harm will come to him, "what's... what's she... don't do that." He backs up a few steps and is startled by hands reaching up from the ground, belonging to a rapidly materializing and raggedly-clothed throng of what appears to be peasants, their faces twisted in rage. Their fingers claw and tear at nothing, and he takes a few shuffling steps to try and free himself of them, turning only just in time to be met face-to-face with the new ghost.
"Stop it, stop it," he whines, hunching to hold his head in his hands, fully aware that there's no real danger yet not brave enough to look at any of it.