05-21-2019, 10:22 AM
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Initially at the start of the horrendous noise, Crow flinched and felt his ears clench against his head to divert the sound assaulting his senses, and of course he heard it. Crow heard everything, whether he liked it or not, even the sounds that were questionable in existence. In those situations, he chose to ignore them, but this time he was unsurprisingly unable to.
This noise was about as real as could be—as real as he was, as real as the soil beneath his paws and the birds and the wind and the rain—and he desperately wanted it to shut up more so than the clamor in his own head. The feline started from his house, green lanterns squinting as his sore limbs trekked clumsily across the town in the direction of the noise until it became unbearable. There he found Leroy howling in desperation, and an annoyed Arrow and disgruntled Sam at the site attending to the issue. He couldn't stay mad at Leroy.
The guy said it himself: it wasn't his fault, and it never had been, never would be. He could sense it anyway, a presence inside the wolfhound's house that was otherworldly, much like that of Beck, except this one felt unfamiliar. New, different, and somehow more chaotic. It irritated him for some reason. Leroy wasn't crazy, there really was something in that jukebox that was undesired.
"What'd ya do this time, Leroy?" the tabby said stiffling a laugh. "Did ya make another bad ghost joke?"
Initially at the start of the horrendous noise, Crow flinched and felt his ears clench against his head to divert the sound assaulting his senses, and of course he heard it. Crow heard everything, whether he liked it or not, even the sounds that were questionable in existence. In those situations, he chose to ignore them, but this time he was unsurprisingly unable to.
This noise was about as real as could be—as real as he was, as real as the soil beneath his paws and the birds and the wind and the rain—and he desperately wanted it to shut up more so than the clamor in his own head. The feline started from his house, green lanterns squinting as his sore limbs trekked clumsily across the town in the direction of the noise until it became unbearable. There he found Leroy howling in desperation, and an annoyed Arrow and disgruntled Sam at the site attending to the issue. He couldn't stay mad at Leroy.
The guy said it himself: it wasn't his fault, and it never had been, never would be. He could sense it anyway, a presence inside the wolfhound's house that was otherworldly, much like that of Beck, except this one felt unfamiliar. New, different, and somehow more chaotic. It irritated him for some reason. Leroy wasn't crazy, there really was something in that jukebox that was undesired.
"What'd ya do this time, Leroy?" the tabby said stiffling a laugh. "Did ya make another bad ghost joke?"