If only Beck had noticed the second pair of eyes on Amunet from the get go. When his inky nose picked up and sneezed at a wafting foreign scent lingering on the stagnant air, he should have acted upon his paranoia ringing the alarm bells instead of brushing it aside as the native wildlife -- he needed to stop expecting everyone was a threat anyways, right? He forced himself to ignore it, to calm down for once. Yet another mistake in his long line of fatal blunders.
He hated thinking back on his mistakes. He hated being reminded of all the things that could no longer be, of every single regretted action that left him and the other hurt. He mostly hated when his mind allowed her to slip through the repressing barriers, her concerned face corroded with old age, her unruly auburn hair, and that stupid tear-soaked cloth. It left the boy with his face buried in his hands, or paws now, teeth gritted as unwanted memories flooded his senses. The girl was his first foolish love, a childish infatuation that ended in jealousy and abandonment. He didn't let himself fall for anyone else after she was settled with a family of her own and inevitably six-feet-under. They always grew up and moved on anyways while he was left stuck in his self-inflicted limbo. But Tanglewood, the band of idiots he dragged together, they were different, right? They couldn't leave him, they just couldn't. They'll leave us, they always leave us, and we'll be alone again.
Amunet had been there from the start, the only member besides Beck himself who was witness to Tanglewood's founding. And yet he rarely worked up the gall to have a conversation with her, much less speak at all. That didn't mean she wasn't a stranger to him, observing and admiring from the shadows. From her actions, the commander slowly began to learn what a mother should be, a substitute for the faceless woman evading his memories. Did his mother used to coddle him like Amunet? He could take care of himself -- not that he would mind knowing at least someone out there was protective of him. Beck wasn't sure what to think, but when he caught wind of the honeyed presence of Amunet, gushing copper, and the same invading scent from before mingling together not too far off, instinct kicked in; he couldn't lose a mother again.
Stalking alongside creeping vines and under brambles raking their thorns down his bristling spine, he failed to make out much of the conversation but from his view beneath the foliage, he saw two sets of bloody paws tensely facing each other. Pressing his mangled cheek to the ground and army-crawling forwards yielded more of the picture; as much as Beck wanted to rip out every single scale and tendon from the tiger's body right then and there, he restrained himself, curling pearly little claws into the mud out of frustration. Knowing that blindly charging was suicide against larger opponents, the scrawny feline took the long, more successful route of backing away.
Only to circle back around to approach from the other side, noiselessly climbing up the same tree Amunet was cornered against. He wasn't the only one with the same idea of defending the beloved goddess, wincing as he scrambled onto a branch only to see a full-on alligator sailing from the side into the stranger. "Way to make an entrance, Zima," Beck mumbled beneath his ragged breath, recognizing the rotten stench of the polar bear with a twinge of disgust wrinkling freckled features. Daring to stray from the tree's trunk and out further on the decaying branch until he was nearly above Kaatachi's head, a black blur's sudden lunge onto the scene caused the boy to wobble, his claws sinking into the bark to prevent an early fall right in front of the threat's face. He needed to wait for an opening, lantern-like eyes watching for Kaatachi to be properly distracted. Once Whisper appeared to inject something into him, hopefully halting any attacks from the towering tiger, Beck was quick to strike. Claws securely hooked around the branch, he flipped himself over so he was hanging by his paws, using the resulting momentum to swing forward and deliver an electrified kick to the back of Kaatachi's head. The kick itself had a target, determined to send Kaatachi's face straight back onto the tip of Amunet's pointed sword, and impale the blade through the roof of his mouth and out the top of his snout. Beck was left suspended by the branch like a cat on a hang-in-there poster, a crazed snarl escaping damaged lungs and peeling back ashen lips to reveal teeth dripping with chemical cleaner. After a moment or two of kicking at the air, he nimbly pulled himself back onto the branch with surprising ease, retreating to assumed safety until another opening was cleared for him.
[align=center]»――➤He hated thinking back on his mistakes. He hated being reminded of all the things that could no longer be, of every single regretted action that left him and the other hurt. He mostly hated when his mind allowed her to slip through the repressing barriers, her concerned face corroded with old age, her unruly auburn hair, and that stupid tear-soaked cloth. It left the boy with his face buried in his hands, or paws now, teeth gritted as unwanted memories flooded his senses. The girl was his first foolish love, a childish infatuation that ended in jealousy and abandonment. He didn't let himself fall for anyone else after she was settled with a family of her own and inevitably six-feet-under. They always grew up and moved on anyways while he was left stuck in his self-inflicted limbo. But Tanglewood, the band of idiots he dragged together, they were different, right? They couldn't leave him, they just couldn't. They'll leave us, they always leave us, and we'll be alone again.
Amunet had been there from the start, the only member besides Beck himself who was witness to Tanglewood's founding. And yet he rarely worked up the gall to have a conversation with her, much less speak at all. That didn't mean she wasn't a stranger to him, observing and admiring from the shadows. From her actions, the commander slowly began to learn what a mother should be, a substitute for the faceless woman evading his memories. Did his mother used to coddle him like Amunet? He could take care of himself -- not that he would mind knowing at least someone out there was protective of him. Beck wasn't sure what to think, but when he caught wind of the honeyed presence of Amunet, gushing copper, and the same invading scent from before mingling together not too far off, instinct kicked in; he couldn't lose a mother again.
Stalking alongside creeping vines and under brambles raking their thorns down his bristling spine, he failed to make out much of the conversation but from his view beneath the foliage, he saw two sets of bloody paws tensely facing each other. Pressing his mangled cheek to the ground and army-crawling forwards yielded more of the picture; as much as Beck wanted to rip out every single scale and tendon from the tiger's body right then and there, he restrained himself, curling pearly little claws into the mud out of frustration. Knowing that blindly charging was suicide against larger opponents, the scrawny feline took the long, more successful route of backing away.
Only to circle back around to approach from the other side, noiselessly climbing up the same tree Amunet was cornered against. He wasn't the only one with the same idea of defending the beloved goddess, wincing as he scrambled onto a branch only to see a full-on alligator sailing from the side into the stranger. "Way to make an entrance, Zima," Beck mumbled beneath his ragged breath, recognizing the rotten stench of the polar bear with a twinge of disgust wrinkling freckled features. Daring to stray from the tree's trunk and out further on the decaying branch until he was nearly above Kaatachi's head, a black blur's sudden lunge onto the scene caused the boy to wobble, his claws sinking into the bark to prevent an early fall right in front of the threat's face. He needed to wait for an opening, lantern-like eyes watching for Kaatachi to be properly distracted. Once Whisper appeared to inject something into him, hopefully halting any attacks from the towering tiger, Beck was quick to strike. Claws securely hooked around the branch, he flipped himself over so he was hanging by his paws, using the resulting momentum to swing forward and deliver an electrified kick to the back of Kaatachi's head. The kick itself had a target, determined to send Kaatachi's face straight back onto the tip of Amunet's pointed sword, and impale the blade through the roof of his mouth and out the top of his snout. Beck was left suspended by the branch like a cat on a hang-in-there poster, a crazed snarl escaping damaged lungs and peeling back ashen lips to reveal teeth dripping with chemical cleaner. After a moment or two of kicking at the air, he nimbly pulled himself back onto the branch with surprising ease, retreating to assumed safety until another opening was cleared for him.