12-10-2018, 02:04 PM
It certainly had been too long. Too long since his peers were stirred into assignments, too long since bees droning in boredom nestled in everyone's brains. Beck hated their restless buzz constantly pestering him to shake off the weekday laziness, to the point he was tempted to drive an icepick through his ear just to shut them up for a while. Never the boy to allow stagnancy as days rotted away into a sandpit of melancholia, the poltergeist took it upon himself to breathe some... well, fun back into the lungs of his dreary companions. They were all so serious sometimes, and it was rubbing off on him -- how disgusting.
Rolling bony shoulders with a crack of joints, the poltergeist stalled for quite some time on the outskirts of the town square, debating with himself on how to accomplish the feat of attracting the others' attention. With a sharp inhale and a sharper exhale, he licked bloodless lips, raw from his teeth shredding into them whenever a panic crawled up his spine, and croaked as loud as battered lungs could muster, "If any -- any of y'all want so-somethin' 'fun' to do this week, c'mon over for a ta-ask, I guess." Admittedly, his shrill voice was never quite as powerful as, for example, Morgan's when he summoned the various swamp residents to gather. His words scratched and grated against strangled vocal cords, unable to project with only a faltering supply of waterlogged air. Not to mention the tics that plagued his pitiful speech into a stuttered mess. But at least he could get the message across; if death rendered him completely mute, he would've gone crazy keeping all his thoughts inside his head. Flopping onto mud-colored haunches, the disheveled medic fiddled with the fresh bandages binding his forearms, brainstorming activities to toss at the first lucky few who sauntered up.
[align=center]»――➤Rolling bony shoulders with a crack of joints, the poltergeist stalled for quite some time on the outskirts of the town square, debating with himself on how to accomplish the feat of attracting the others' attention. With a sharp inhale and a sharper exhale, he licked bloodless lips, raw from his teeth shredding into them whenever a panic crawled up his spine, and croaked as loud as battered lungs could muster, "If any -- any of y'all want so-somethin' 'fun' to do this week, c'mon over for a ta-ask, I guess." Admittedly, his shrill voice was never quite as powerful as, for example, Morgan's when he summoned the various swamp residents to gather. His words scratched and grated against strangled vocal cords, unable to project with only a faltering supply of waterlogged air. Not to mention the tics that plagued his pitiful speech into a stuttered mess. But at least he could get the message across; if death rendered him completely mute, he would've gone crazy keeping all his thoughts inside his head. Flopping onto mud-colored haunches, the disheveled medic fiddled with the fresh bandages binding his forearms, brainstorming activities to toss at the first lucky few who sauntered up.