It was quite the sight to see the disheveled commander out in the open, much less willingly in the same vicinity as sprawling bodies of water. For an entity disguised as a little feline, he appeared deeply upset at even the thought of inching close past the muddy cattails and to the shore; a ghastly scowl had been carved into his freckled features, scrunched up wrinkles distorting his youthful appearance. He had been attempting to rig together a crude fishing trap, but the instant he was staring out over the placid muck of the estuary, his confidence deflated into a mere whimper of fear. Swamp puddles he was fine with, they were too shallow to drown in. But the thought of the phantom hands escaping from his memories and forcing beneath the surface here was a different story. Crooked wire net clutched between hesitant paws, his honey-brown eyes stared at everything lurking in the water's depths and nothing at the same time. Beck's attention was always easily torn away at the slightest of sounds, senses forcing his being into alarm mode every time as if expecting a bounty hunter to burst from the dark foliage, swinging and slashing at him.

    A metaphorical heartbeat of owlishly staring back at the rustling's source, pricked ears managed to snatch snippets of conversation. Familiar voices paired with familiar smells -- he was fine, nothing wanted to attack him yet. His self-reassurance didn't prevent a shaky huff from leaving his bruised lungs, matted cowlicks falling into his vision as his gaunt figure slouched in relief. Propping his unused fish trap up against a willow's roots, the poltergeist slunk into the ferns to investigate, seeking to distract from the constant boredom and paranoia overwhelming his thoughts.

    He didn't think Iota was strange. He didn't think anyone was strange at all. Partially because he was nearly blind unless he ignored their personal bubbles and got up in their faces to discern the blurred details. They all were the same smudged outlines and vibrant shapes either way. The only way he noticed Iota's horns at all was due to the obvious spikes jutting from her skull. Fenrisulfr was too tall for him to even begin calling out on his oddities, Nayru seemed to be ordinary, and Morgan always wore a mask. That said, Beck could care less about appearances. If his mangy flanks, terrible scarring, and scorched-away cheek weren't enough evidence already.

    The boy waited on the fringes of their get-together for a while, occasionally an electric-blue tongue peeking out to obsessively lick the edges of his missing cheek and razor-blade teeth. Flicking a notched ear to the rhythm of words being spoken, he eventually caught himself up with their exchanges even if he remained wordless for the most part. Hospitality? Family? Amber eyes rolled at that claim, sharkish teeth gritting as if the idea made him feel sick. He supposed he had sparked the unsteady beginnings of a family -- albeit a handful of them had disappeared already, and if they wanted to label themselves as a family, he bet they were awfully dysfunctional. He had spent many years watching these "families" from the intangible corners of their own homes, and they were examples of normal behavior, right? Well, how was he supposed to know how a proper, unhaunted family behaved? He couldn't remember his, and his so-called brother didn't feel like a brother after showing up out of the blue.

    "Ugh, families," the scrawny ghost finally spoke up in a shrill whine, face pulling back into a grimace as he stuck out his discolored tongue in a child-like manner. A wheezing snicker followed as if his grievances were nothing more than jokes, and after a moment of labored gasping to regain his unneeded breath, Beck continued with a mumble, "I guess if ya wanna call us a 'family', ya can, even though we ain't related." Families were only bound by kin or marriage from his experience, and no creature alive held the title of blood relative to him.

    Beck warily offered a strained smile, the expression out of place on his disfigured maw as he rambled on, "But -- hey, nobody's gonna care 'bout horns, or wings, or third eyeballs, least last time I checked. We're all freaks here." To emphasize his degrading point, the poltergeist flaunted around his undead state, more than happy to allow a foreleg to lose its tangibility and pass it through Iota's head, certainly giving her a cold rush of static before he recoiled and resumed his corporeal apparition. Another eerie giggle rattled from him, baring his jagged fangs in the process. "Yeah, we're a whole 'family' freakshow! Somebody's gotta call up the circus, their entire show just escaped!" Whatever moral or point he was struggling to describe was once again twisted and mangled by his cynical teeth. Beck caught himself, faltering for words before he sputtered out, "Not that it's a bad thing, I mean -- heh."