12-10-2018, 12:50 AM
Days no longer dragged their feet along as he drowned in boredom thicker than molasses, free time engulfing what little schedule of trap upkeep and hunting for a gluttonous plant he could manage. But now studying flooded the empty gaps of time in his twenty-four hour day, squeezing through his finicky motivation in order to prove his peers wrong. He wasn't dangerous, he wasn't irresponsible, he could help! Although, besides stocking up on herbs or stitching up one newcomer's wound, the boy hadn't yet snagged a chance to drastically help. The daily lives of Tanglewood were stagnant as always and cruel as it may be, Beck found himself staring up at the clouds, wishing injury and disease upon those vulnerable around him.
He should've knocked on wood. When the moss-draped form of Feverdream approached as he sprawled on a wood-rotted porch, he assumed her arrival brought inspecting her gash for infection, not news of Leroy's collapse. Biting his tongue and clambering to his feet, Beck didn't wait to be lead, limping as fast as a crippled ankle allowed in the direction Feverdream arrived from. Collapsing could mean a lot of things. Bad, bad things. Low blood pressure, heart attack, stroke, seizure... three-fourths of which were not simple to fix without the modern devices he observed so long ago. Hell, it'd probably be downright impossible. From what he could see by the time he skidded up to Leroy's breathing side, the wolfhound wasn't seizing at least, crossing one diagnose off his mental checklist. "Ok-kay -- it's o-okay, Leroy, it's okay," he stammered, partially to calm his own panicking thoughts before repeating the assurance of "okay" under his breath as his amber eyes scanned the guardsman. Sucking in his unscathed cheek, Beck crouched in front of Leroy, freckles wrinkling as he scrutinized the canine's face for any signs of drooping, just in case. "D'ya hu-urt anywhere? Chest pain or, or a headache or anythin'?" the poltergeist rasped as he reached through his chest, allowing for his apparition to become translucent for a second before retrieving the washcloth he wisely began to carrying around for blood clean-up. Beck hesitated to wipe the crimson dribbling from Leroy's grizzled chin, shyly wadding up the old rag and sponging away the main trickle of blood draining from the wolfhound's tongue. Raising his head to ask the specifics of what happened, his focus redirected itself to stare into Leroy's eyes -- moreso one eye, to be exact. "Your pupil's di-dilated," mumbled the boy, moving a trembling paw to the periphery of his left eye as he continued, "Can ya see how many numbers I'm holdin' up?" Neglecting to fold down any of his digits instead, he patiently waited for a response despite his stomach threatening to coil around his intestines as suspicion grew. Beck didn't look away as he hissed out the remaining side of his muzzle to anyone nearby, most likely Feverdream if she lingered still, "Can ya go get, um, get Kiira?"
[member=1828]Kiira[/member]
[align=center]»――➤He should've knocked on wood. When the moss-draped form of Feverdream approached as he sprawled on a wood-rotted porch, he assumed her arrival brought inspecting her gash for infection, not news of Leroy's collapse. Biting his tongue and clambering to his feet, Beck didn't wait to be lead, limping as fast as a crippled ankle allowed in the direction Feverdream arrived from. Collapsing could mean a lot of things. Bad, bad things. Low blood pressure, heart attack, stroke, seizure... three-fourths of which were not simple to fix without the modern devices he observed so long ago. Hell, it'd probably be downright impossible. From what he could see by the time he skidded up to Leroy's breathing side, the wolfhound wasn't seizing at least, crossing one diagnose off his mental checklist. "Ok-kay -- it's o-okay, Leroy, it's okay," he stammered, partially to calm his own panicking thoughts before repeating the assurance of "okay" under his breath as his amber eyes scanned the guardsman. Sucking in his unscathed cheek, Beck crouched in front of Leroy, freckles wrinkling as he scrutinized the canine's face for any signs of drooping, just in case. "D'ya hu-urt anywhere? Chest pain or, or a headache or anythin'?" the poltergeist rasped as he reached through his chest, allowing for his apparition to become translucent for a second before retrieving the washcloth he wisely began to carrying around for blood clean-up. Beck hesitated to wipe the crimson dribbling from Leroy's grizzled chin, shyly wadding up the old rag and sponging away the main trickle of blood draining from the wolfhound's tongue. Raising his head to ask the specifics of what happened, his focus redirected itself to stare into Leroy's eyes -- moreso one eye, to be exact. "Your pupil's di-dilated," mumbled the boy, moving a trembling paw to the periphery of his left eye as he continued, "Can ya see how many numbers I'm holdin' up?" Neglecting to fold down any of his digits instead, he patiently waited for a response despite his stomach threatening to coil around his intestines as suspicion grew. Beck didn't look away as he hissed out the remaining side of his muzzle to anyone nearby, most likely Feverdream if she lingered still, "Can ya go get, um, get Kiira?"
[member=1828]Kiira[/member]