STAND VERY STILL ☆ movie

[wormwood.]

( done for the october cdc prompt of "corn" !! )

Ever since everything had happened with Beck and his freak out, Worm hadn't seem him around much. He supposed it was understandable for Beck to be condemned to bed rest, kept mostly asleep by medication and warned away from by others, but Worm still didn't like the thought of someone being shunned away from the group, even if he was still slightly bitter about the fact that the ghost had taken out his eye. He had grown a little bit used to only being able to see his left side fully by now, but it was still sometimes disorienting to have someone come up on his right side, or to reach up and feel the way that the bandages over his eyes depressed, rather than touching down on an eye that was no longer there. Deep down he knew that there was something simmering deep down inside, telling him that he was angry at Beck, and that he didn't want to be around the boy, but he fought against that part of him, insisting that he wasn't going to hold a grudge over it. After all, Beck hadn't meant to, he had just been freaking out. He hadn't intentionally gone after Worm in his panic to take out his eye... at least, he hoped not. As a result of his stubborn refusal to give up on Beck or dislike him, he had decided that he was going to set something up so that Beck could have company without needing to leave his house, or at least without needing to be far from it. It hadn't even begun to occur to him that maybe it wasn't just others that were warning away from Beck. Maybe Beck was was warning them away from him.

Not thinking for a moment that could be the case, Worm had started to put together a little event outside of the other male's house. He had managed to, after quite a bit of searching and finagling, to get a projector that could play Children of the Corn, as well as a big banner to project it onto, which he had gotten after some bugging of Feza. After some addition bugging of Feza, he had also gotten tons of containers of popcorn, and it seemed as though everything was ready for setting up. Heaving everything out to the bit of land in front of Beck's houseboat in the first light of the morning, the chaser struggled and pulled at the banner before it was fully unrolled, and then moved to set up the projector, which wheezed and grumbled with disuse as Worm tried to get it to play as a test. It wasn't until then middle of the afternoon that everything was properly set up and, and Worm was pretty damn happy with himself. Sure, the event wasn't exactly Feza levels of crazy, but it was still pretty nice, and he knew that the scary movie would probably entice Beck to at least come outside for a bit to hang out with others. After all, Children of the Corn had been one of Worm's favorites after he had left the pride and first started to watch movies, and he knew just how fucking scary it could be when you weren't prepared.

Once everything was set up, Worm had trotted back to camp and announced to several others that he was having a little get together at Beck's house, announcing softly as to not blow anybody's ear drums out, "If anybody is interested in it, I'm having a screening of Children of the Corn at Beck's house to try and cheer him up and have him socialize. I'm not sure how much of it he'll actually stay awake for, but I felt bad over him not really interacting with anybody lately. I even set it up so that he doesn't have to stop resting, so don't worry Selby." He could practically feel the medic about to speak up from wherever he was, so he added on the last bit just for him. Once a few people had expressed interest, the male turned and half walked and half glided back to Beck's house, taking in a deep breath of courage before moving over to where the front door of the houseboat was, closed as it always seemed to be. Raising a paw, the chaser gently knocked against the door of the boat, rumbling softly as he flicked a wing towards the projector and everything on land, "Beck, you in there? You should open the door, I set something up you might like!" He found himself desperately hoping that the ghost was awake, since if he wasn't, this was gonna be a lot of wasted effort.

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]

[beck.]

[align=center]

    If you asked him, the film adaptation of Stephen King's Children of the Corn flunked his test of good horror flicks. Sure, the child prophet Isaac -- oh, how he loathed that name -- proved to be an intimidating antagonist in the first half. At least until he was sacrificed by the cult he guided. Beyond one actor's performance, flaws jutted out at every corner, plot holes burning through the scenes like an unwatched film roll. He would much rather watch a different adaptation from the author, perhaps revisiting one of his favorites and taking a trip to the Overlook Hotel. But Children of the Corn was, well, corny. Pun intended. The poltergeist could remember cringing at the predictable tropes upon his first midnight viewing.

    But at the moment, his mind strayed far from its course of the horror movies he sought to distract himself with. The boy slipped into a fitful sleep, whimpering as pained memories distorted into a horror movie of his own creation. Yet no sugary stage blood nor clever practical effect served as a barrier between fiction and reality in his dreams. He would toss around in his blankets, jolting awake in a frigid sweat with his rattling lungs heaving and fur bristling with static. Panic ebbed, his senses flooding with fatigue before he slumped on the ratty mattress and hid his head beneath covers once more.

    Layers of fleece and quilt could not muffle the knocking at his door -- a feeble whine of protest escaped pale lips as a painfully jovial voice followed. Why now? Rubbing the allure of sleep from his dark-circled eyes, Beck shimmied out from under his wad of blankets and reared his head. A look of exasperation twisted his freckled features and his apparition flickered as he quite literally rolled from his bed and strained to stand. Limping to the door, he nudged the trusted defense against society open, leaning on the frame for support. The towering lion in his threshold obscured his view of the bog surrounding his reclusive dwelling until he pushed the door open further, allowed to gaze upon the event his front yard transformed into.

    Bewilderment blindsided him first. "What... did you do... to my house." Each word fell from his trap slowly to form more of a statement than a question, like bitter molasses struggling to process the reason behind such an impudent act. Initial shock swiftly warped into vexation, his slackened jaw snapping shut as he gritted teeth. Mangy hackles rising with the telltale crackle of electricity once more, his disfigured lip curled to bare razor-sharp fangs. A distant film settled over his eyes and the injured boy whipped his head back to face Wormwood, to hiss and screech at the chaser. Yet when he glared into the heavenly creature's face, all he could see was a gouged eye, concealed by bandages just as his own socket had been. So that's what he clawed at that night. Beck drew in a punctured inhale through clenched teeth, hunching his shoulders. Selby said he needed to try and be better; he needed to let go of his anger and forgive. The wiry feline exhaled, his head dipping as he closed his eyes in thought, only for his lambent glare to snap open and pinprick pupils to lock on the lion. His voice trembled in restrained ire, "Just leave me alone, Worm. Please."

[trojan g.]

[align=center][div style="bgcolor= black; width: 500px; font-family: georgia;font-size:12px;text-align:justify"]Contrary to likely many of the Tanglewood member's thoughts, Moth was a fan of the horror genre. At first, when she had discovered different horror books, she wasn't a fan. That was until she realized how dumb they were in comparison to herself when it came to scary things. Moth simply froze at stuff, but they went into the dark rooms in the basement and in the sewers where they *knew* something was lurking before promptly dying - at least Moth didn't go looking for danger. When she had heard Wormwood's announcement about showing a screening of a horror movie - one she'd never seen before and couldn't think of a book about it, in fact - she got excited. Then she heard where it was at, and her ears pinned back to her head. Beck's boat. She wasn't sure that was going to go well, considering Beck didn't know this was going to happen until it was already said and done.

Though she had gone, just in case. Just in case it was something that Beck would be a fan of - he liked horror, she had heard, and maybe it was true - though it seemed as though he wasn't a big fan of this going on. Hearing the voice of Worm speaking to Beck and knocking on his door, and Beck opening up the door, tired and frustrated sent Moth's ears pinning to the back of her head. Padding forward, the domestic feline would look over to the two, maw opening for a moment before it closed as she tried to think of what to say, before it finally opened at last, words spilling out. "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to Beck, but it might be nice to watch the movie with you. Get you out of the boat and get some fresh air, might help with healing too?" She wasn't sure if fresh air actually helped or if it was just a myth, but she could only hope for the best. "And if you don't want to, we can leave." Well, she'd leave if he wanted her too. She couldn't speak for anyone else.

[wormwood.]

Wormwood thought that he could hear a faint pained – or annoyed – groan from within the houseboat, and he stepped back a bit so that Beck would have room to look around. When Beck began to speak, Worm grinned and opened his muzzle, ready to enthusiastically tell Beck about the event that he had set up, but only a moment after he stepped out to look around, his face immediately shifted, anger showing clearly on his face as his fur began to crackle with electricity. Wormwood immediately felt his chest clench, readying himself for the poltergeist to attack him, his ears pinning down against his skull. He couldn't help the spike of fear that ran through him, the memory of Beck tearing his claws across the lion's eye still fresh on his mind and his body ready to throw the other male away from him. However, it seemed as though Beck rethought his actions. His voice came with restrained rage when he finally spoke again, and Worm immediately felt a frown come to his face as soon as he heard Beck's words. He had set this entire event up just for Beck, and the thought of the boy not coming to it...? Well, it was upsetting, honestly. He wasn't going to fight too hard, since he had no desire for Beck to take another one of his important body parts out. It was already hard enough for him to navigate moving around and fighting with only one eye, and he definitely didn't want to risk having Beck digging his claws into one of his front legs and making him have yet another disadvantage.

The lion readied himself to speak again, taking in a deep breath as well, but then there was the approach of another person that pulled away his attention. He glanced over at Moth, noting the way that she hesitated and thought hard before she finally spoke, making Wormwood smile softly at her words. After all, she had pretty much just said exactly what he was going to voice. Tail happily flicking from side to side, the lion dipped his head and rumbled softly as he sat back on his haunches, gesturing enthusiastically at the screen that was just a bit away from them on the land, "Yeah, what she said! I know you think that you should just stay in here all the time, and I know Selby has told you to stay in bed, but you don't have to move far for this. Hell, you can just take some blankets out there and watch silently. But I mean... sitting all the way out here in this houseboat must be boring, right? I mean, I've been visiting with Red, and he's said you're bored out of your mind... I figured that this would cheer you up a little bit... could you at least trying coming out and enjoying yourself?" His voice was faintly tinged with anxiety as he continued to speak, trying not to lean away from the spirit as his wings shifted upon his back, ready to whack Beck in the face if it was needed. He hated that he felt such worry about being around Beck now, but he couldn't help it. Even if he hadn't been present for it, he had heard about Beck brutally snapping Roman's neck, and Beck had already taken out the chaser's eye when he hadn't been in his right mind, so what sort of damage could he do when he was actually trying to?

[glow=black,2,300]THE FREEDOM OF FALLING[/glow]