08-02-2018, 12:47 AM
All he could see when the two animals approached were bags of flesh puppeteered by brains weighing only ounces, supported by skeletal rods and moved with strings of muscle and tendons. There was no life to them; all the materials their bodies borrowed would be recycled again once the puppet failed. Beck. No reaction was drawn from the entity as Vigenere barked out a name -- who was Beck again? Clouded eyes drifted up to stare past the dream demon, unable to focus on the yellow blur blocking his line of sight. Becky. While Vigenere's lips remained still, it was a recognizable voice that ushered his catatonic attention away. Slowly tilting his head to peer over Vigenere's scarred shoulder, the boy's jaw dropped open in terror at who was looking back, spilling out more of his foul blood over his front. A decayed mimic of him, held together by invasive foliage and bloodless skin, grinning with all teeth on display as he watched his counterpart struggle to maintain control. Amber eyes held contact with empty sockets for almost an eternity, until Vigenere repeated the same name, his maw parting to match the faint ringing Beck distinguished.
Could he hear? No, he didn't think so. A glob of ebony dripped on top of his paw, and although small, was the first action to stir Beck back into motion. Even if all he did was cup his paws around his mouth, frantically wiping away the unrelenting blood with any part of his forearm not soaked by the replicated fluid already. Why was he bleeding? Did those strangers hurt him? The trembling feline pressed himself against the statue stained with his dark blood, a wild glint forcing its way through his glazed vision as he assumed the worst. Why wouldn't they go away? His nose flared in a desperate to catch their scent around all the bitter fluid pouring from his snout, but it was useless. Tipping his head forward to keep himself from drowning in his own blood for a second time, the boy whimpered to himself with a bubble of nonstop oil distorting the pitiful sound. "Where?" Where was he?
[align=center]»――➤Could he hear? No, he didn't think so. A glob of ebony dripped on top of his paw, and although small, was the first action to stir Beck back into motion. Even if all he did was cup his paws around his mouth, frantically wiping away the unrelenting blood with any part of his forearm not soaked by the replicated fluid already. Why was he bleeding? Did those strangers hurt him? The trembling feline pressed himself against the statue stained with his dark blood, a wild glint forcing its way through his glazed vision as he assumed the worst. Why wouldn't they go away? His nose flared in a desperate to catch their scent around all the bitter fluid pouring from his snout, but it was useless. Tipping his head forward to keep himself from drowning in his own blood for a second time, the boy whimpered to himself with a bubble of nonstop oil distorting the pitiful sound. "Where?" Where was he?