09-04-2018, 01:23 AM
Fuzzy darkness was all the boy needed to descend into the basement of his mind, ducking under cobwebs strung along the portraits of his family and turning a blind eye to the monsters trailing in his wake like the very hounds that chased him into a fatal corner. He liked this darkness much more than the shared blanket of tragedies his truthful place provided; here, it was simply him and his thoughts. He knew this process as well as he knew the scars striping his arms. A state of repair, the closest thing to sleep he was allowed. Too much energy would be used frantically trying to patch up his overworked apparition, and to prevent any further exertion, the entity locked himself into a temporary coma. All he could do was wait. Beck flopped onto the creaky floor of the dim mental basement, folding his legs under him as he impatiently stared into nothingness. The owner of the voice was behind him, yet didn't take interest in his counterpart, mumbling the same lines as before. The stronger half ignored the hoarse ramblings of his rotting doppelgänger, inevitably losing concentration and submerged himself into a river of the few salvaged memories.
The lone flicker of candlelight was what he first recalled, illuminating an elderly man hunched over a desk and furiously scribbling with his left hand. Left-handed; he was left-handed like him! A trembling grin and the warmth of an unrequited connection flickered inside the hidden child, peering over the genius' shoulder as he admired the backward notes of nigh impossible ideas. Sometimes Beck couldn't wrap his head around the strange man's notes, others he would stalk off into the night with a skull filled to the brim by flying machines and anatomy sketches and bizarre instruments and religious paintings. He made sure to only visit the elderly man whenever anger from a recent death didn't threaten to boil over nor did he ever pester the man as he did to others; watching him work was entertainment enough. The candle melted down and was snuffed out by the sympathetic touch of death, and all Beck could offer was a shy wave to the man as he was escorted to his judgment.
A distant voice pulled him from his reverie, crying out in shock. He didn't want to go back to reality quite yet -- the gaunt frame of the feline disguise reared his head, barely managing to lift his twisted chin off the obsidian puddle collecting underneath. Glassy eyes opened as wide as they could, one eyelid heavier than the other as sticky blood accumulated on thin eyelashes. Who was there? "Lin?" he slurred through broken teeth, missing the scamper of tiny paws leaving his side. He failed to notice the clear fluid trickling from his ears and nose, defeatedly lowering his head back to the rocky surface. He wanted to go back to his safe place, everything was nauseating and blurry and distant here. Not finding the will to move as another creature rushed to unneeded aid, Beck let out a feeble puff through his nose, his muted disapproval of any hands or paws or whatever touching where the pain had been replaced by a groggy numbness. As limp as an opossum staging its death to deter predators, he was slipping back into his mind again as Silus wrapped something soft around his head. One of his last coherent thoughts was an internal snicker, believing the overworked sage foolish for assuming he could sleep before he succumbed to a jumble of unregistered sensations once more. Yet Beck didn't retreat into the few soothing memories spared from coping mechanisms. No, he focused on his fading window of vision, watching as his illusion of a body faintly winced with every unwanted touch or word, gradually becoming less and less responsive.
[align=center]»――➤The lone flicker of candlelight was what he first recalled, illuminating an elderly man hunched over a desk and furiously scribbling with his left hand. Left-handed; he was left-handed like him! A trembling grin and the warmth of an unrequited connection flickered inside the hidden child, peering over the genius' shoulder as he admired the backward notes of nigh impossible ideas. Sometimes Beck couldn't wrap his head around the strange man's notes, others he would stalk off into the night with a skull filled to the brim by flying machines and anatomy sketches and bizarre instruments and religious paintings. He made sure to only visit the elderly man whenever anger from a recent death didn't threaten to boil over nor did he ever pester the man as he did to others; watching him work was entertainment enough. The candle melted down and was snuffed out by the sympathetic touch of death, and all Beck could offer was a shy wave to the man as he was escorted to his judgment.
A distant voice pulled him from his reverie, crying out in shock. He didn't want to go back to reality quite yet -- the gaunt frame of the feline disguise reared his head, barely managing to lift his twisted chin off the obsidian puddle collecting underneath. Glassy eyes opened as wide as they could, one eyelid heavier than the other as sticky blood accumulated on thin eyelashes. Who was there? "Lin?" he slurred through broken teeth, missing the scamper of tiny paws leaving his side. He failed to notice the clear fluid trickling from his ears and nose, defeatedly lowering his head back to the rocky surface. He wanted to go back to his safe place, everything was nauseating and blurry and distant here. Not finding the will to move as another creature rushed to unneeded aid, Beck let out a feeble puff through his nose, his muted disapproval of any hands or paws or whatever touching where the pain had been replaced by a groggy numbness. As limp as an opossum staging its death to deter predators, he was slipping back into his mind again as Silus wrapped something soft around his head. One of his last coherent thoughts was an internal snicker, believing the overworked sage foolish for assuming he could sleep before he succumbed to a jumble of unregistered sensations once more. Yet Beck didn't retreat into the few soothing memories spared from coping mechanisms. No, he focused on his fading window of vision, watching as his illusion of a body faintly winced with every unwanted touch or word, gradually becoming less and less responsive.