and every breath we drew // o - prompt + poetry

[beck.]

      Valo's efforts were in vain, as grubby dead paws had managed to snatch up at least two pages of scandalous poetry. Perhaps the wind had a little assistance by a cold draft, and Beck was more eager than ever to nose around in what he assumed were psychotic scrawlings by the mutated feline. With his loot clenched in his jaws and slinking the opposite direction, the poltergeist flopped down against the ivy-choked wall of a house, hiding crumpled papers from Valo's searching gaze until they turned their backs. At the first chance he got, Beck unfolded one of the pages, expecting a deranged message to be scratched out on the paper. Why else would Valo be so desperate to recover it? It was quite the let-down; he couldn't decipher more than half the words lovingly written down. His freckled features wrinkled in plain confusion -- since when did Valo-ass learn to read? -- and Beck started to flip the page over and glare at it from different angles as if looking for a secret line or stanza somewhere he could understand. The other was no different. Illiteracy was a bitch.

    He was tempted to just toss the poetry into the mud and curbstomp it, but his narrowed eyes glanced back up at the scrambling Valo-kas and flickered with a malicious glint. He rose from his slump against the overgrown house, claws hooking the missing pages. "He-ey Valo, I think ya missed some," Beck harshly crooned in a breathless wheeze, all too happy to wave around the open papers for others to glimpse and murmur over with an awful grin splitting his scarred muzzle.

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