08-20-2018, 01:16 AM
If his thoughts had been coherent enough, he could have predicted the local creatures would wind up curious over blood in the air. Like sharks drawn to a wounded seal struggling to stay afloat, to reach shore before open jaws caught up with them. But it hurt to think about the future, and even more so to delve into scratched-out memories. Beck was content as a sitting duck, the farthest end of his blood trail already disappearing into obscurity without the entity nearby.
Audrey III, on the other hand, wasn't. It could sense the familiar cold presence pressing against its trap, and while bothersome to some degree, the cold being was seeking comfort. The fly trap released its vines' grip around its bucket, and while still using a tendrils to keep itself propped up in order to not spill any of its soil, the rest begrudgingly wrapped around the freezing boy, trying to mimic the unrecognized gesture. Beck only gave a slight puff of stale air at the plant's attempt, not minding nor registering the vines on the verge of strangling him.
What he could discern through his hazy senses was a distant and faint thumping, steadily growing louder but never rising above a whisper. His ear swiveled to face the source -- was it footsteps? Was it a heartbeat? Something above him blocked the blinding sun, buzzing out words that rang in his ears. After a moment of deciphering the almost foreign lilts of a question, Beck peeked open a single eye and limply nodded, glare trained on the silhouette as if determining whether or not he was a threat. His suspicions were fortunately laid to rest with the next few syllables he could comprehend, and he only let out a harsh sigh in response, letting his head dip back as he resumed his waiting. Why couldn't people leave him alone? On second thought, he didn't want to be completely alone, even if the desire was uncertain.
Two more heartbeats added to the first's slow pulse, and annoyance wrinkled his disfigured snout into a twitchy snarl. The mangy feline forced himself to sit up when the pair arrived, wobbling as he slumped and propped himself onto Audrey's makeshift pot, the oily sand he previously collapsed on undisturbed and smooth, save for the blood and where Audrey was, as if no one had been there at all. Unfocused eyes settled on the blurring figures, even as he plopped back down with a pathetic wheeze. Staring beyond the three hovering over him and up at the cloudless blue, Beck hesitantly parted his maw, croaking out with a feeble voice despite the immediate pain in his jaw, "Ya talk funny." He wasn't one to judge, his own speech severely impaired by irreparable damage and the recent shatter of bone, but all he could think about was one of the girl's warped words.
The poltergeist didn't have long to ponder the small quirk, drawn back to attention by the other feline wiping something away from his arm. While it did faintly sting thanks to replicated nerves, he recoiled from her touch out of instinct, expecting a blow rather than treatment. The plant entwined around him didn't take to kindly to the sharp movement, viciously-toothed trap snapping out in her direction as a warning. Beck sniffed, examining the little glimpse of torn flesh he could recognize on Goldie's back, before holding his own slashed arms out with a pout for her to continue if she wanted to help so badly. Why were they so concerned anyways? It wasn't like he was about to kick the bucket a second time. Oh -- they thought he was alive. He supposed his attempts to blend in with the living and deny a centuries-old murder weren't all too shabby, but he didn't think he was that convincing. Or maybe they just didn't care. Either way, it was better if it wasn't brought up. His apparition couldn't help but flicker into distortion as he winced, not at all liking the vulnerability of an unpredictable stranger cleaning his wounds. Yet Beck was far too disorientated to rebel, even if he was gradually gaining his sense back. The poltergeist remained numbly compliant, wordless as he tore his stare from his company to finally acknowledge his tropical surroundings, hackles bristling as paranoia crept back into his mind. The border seemed somewhat familiar, the same train tracks and same beach from a lost experience only a few months ago. While he preferred the comfort of a dark and secluded forest, a jungle was practically the same, right? Only noisier and... weirder. A vacation would be nice, though.
[align=center]»――➤Audrey III, on the other hand, wasn't. It could sense the familiar cold presence pressing against its trap, and while bothersome to some degree, the cold being was seeking comfort. The fly trap released its vines' grip around its bucket, and while still using a tendrils to keep itself propped up in order to not spill any of its soil, the rest begrudgingly wrapped around the freezing boy, trying to mimic the unrecognized gesture. Beck only gave a slight puff of stale air at the plant's attempt, not minding nor registering the vines on the verge of strangling him.
What he could discern through his hazy senses was a distant and faint thumping, steadily growing louder but never rising above a whisper. His ear swiveled to face the source -- was it footsteps? Was it a heartbeat? Something above him blocked the blinding sun, buzzing out words that rang in his ears. After a moment of deciphering the almost foreign lilts of a question, Beck peeked open a single eye and limply nodded, glare trained on the silhouette as if determining whether or not he was a threat. His suspicions were fortunately laid to rest with the next few syllables he could comprehend, and he only let out a harsh sigh in response, letting his head dip back as he resumed his waiting. Why couldn't people leave him alone? On second thought, he didn't want to be completely alone, even if the desire was uncertain.
Two more heartbeats added to the first's slow pulse, and annoyance wrinkled his disfigured snout into a twitchy snarl. The mangy feline forced himself to sit up when the pair arrived, wobbling as he slumped and propped himself onto Audrey's makeshift pot, the oily sand he previously collapsed on undisturbed and smooth, save for the blood and where Audrey was, as if no one had been there at all. Unfocused eyes settled on the blurring figures, even as he plopped back down with a pathetic wheeze. Staring beyond the three hovering over him and up at the cloudless blue, Beck hesitantly parted his maw, croaking out with a feeble voice despite the immediate pain in his jaw, "Ya talk funny." He wasn't one to judge, his own speech severely impaired by irreparable damage and the recent shatter of bone, but all he could think about was one of the girl's warped words.
The poltergeist didn't have long to ponder the small quirk, drawn back to attention by the other feline wiping something away from his arm. While it did faintly sting thanks to replicated nerves, he recoiled from her touch out of instinct, expecting a blow rather than treatment. The plant entwined around him didn't take to kindly to the sharp movement, viciously-toothed trap snapping out in her direction as a warning. Beck sniffed, examining the little glimpse of torn flesh he could recognize on Goldie's back, before holding his own slashed arms out with a pout for her to continue if she wanted to help so badly. Why were they so concerned anyways? It wasn't like he was about to kick the bucket a second time. Oh -- they thought he was alive. He supposed his attempts to blend in with the living and deny a centuries-old murder weren't all too shabby, but he didn't think he was that convincing. Or maybe they just didn't care. Either way, it was better if it wasn't brought up. His apparition couldn't help but flicker into distortion as he winced, not at all liking the vulnerability of an unpredictable stranger cleaning his wounds. Yet Beck was far too disorientated to rebel, even if he was gradually gaining his sense back. The poltergeist remained numbly compliant, wordless as he tore his stare from his company to finally acknowledge his tropical surroundings, hackles bristling as paranoia crept back into his mind. The border seemed somewhat familiar, the same train tracks and same beach from a lost experience only a few months ago. While he preferred the comfort of a dark and secluded forest, a jungle was practically the same, right? Only noisier and... weirder. A vacation would be nice, though.