04-22-2018, 01:21 AM
Now Beck was by far not a genius, but he could piece together from the little details that Bella was already qualified to be a medic. The constant aroma of herbs following her around in what he assumed was a first-aid satchel, her hesitance to violence, and her constant fretting over other's well-being. The boy could never be a medic himself; he was selfish and rude and crazy and just everything Bella wasn't perfect at. Not that he wanted to heal whining creatures anyways, but it was a possibility his imagination liked to entertain.
His disfigured maw parted to croak out a mandatory greeting at Bella, inky nose twitchy in attempts to fight back a sneeze from the overwhelming scent of herbs growing around him. Her question cut him off, and Beck could only scowl like a child being told to take their bitter medicine. "No -- nope, I already did. Don't worry 'bout it," the boy sharply countered, refusing to acknowledge the black fluid staining the gauze bundled around his neck. He already looked like an ugly walking corpse, a few little scratches wouldn't hurt him that badly. Quickly changing the subject, Beck's notched ear twitched in thought as he stared Belladonna down. "I figured ya would be here, Bells, since ya carry 'round those plants all the time. Bet I don't even need t' test ya," came the giggly wheeze, his voice worse than dragging blades down a chalkboard. He perked for the slightest moment when Morgan spoke, confusion flickering on his freckled features before he offered an awkward yet wary wave back. When did they learn to talk, much less his name? Glancing at Amunet, who seemed to be watching rather than volunteering, Beck rolled his bony shoulders and looked at the tiny stalks of green encircling his paws before muttering out quizzical questions to Bella, glowering eyes scrunched shut as he sought to remember what he had planned. "Here's your test: which one of these l'il herbs is used to help out someone who's been poisoned, where would you find, uh, what's it called... marigold?And how'd ya treat a concussion?" Well, he hoped she knew, because he had forgotten the answers already.
[align=center]»――➤His disfigured maw parted to croak out a mandatory greeting at Bella, inky nose twitchy in attempts to fight back a sneeze from the overwhelming scent of herbs growing around him. Her question cut him off, and Beck could only scowl like a child being told to take their bitter medicine. "No -- nope, I already did. Don't worry 'bout it," the boy sharply countered, refusing to acknowledge the black fluid staining the gauze bundled around his neck. He already looked like an ugly walking corpse, a few little scratches wouldn't hurt him that badly. Quickly changing the subject, Beck's notched ear twitched in thought as he stared Belladonna down. "I figured ya would be here, Bells, since ya carry 'round those plants all the time. Bet I don't even need t' test ya," came the giggly wheeze, his voice worse than dragging blades down a chalkboard. He perked for the slightest moment when Morgan spoke, confusion flickering on his freckled features before he offered an awkward yet wary wave back. When did they learn to talk, much less his name? Glancing at Amunet, who seemed to be watching rather than volunteering, Beck rolled his bony shoulders and looked at the tiny stalks of green encircling his paws before muttering out quizzical questions to Bella, glowering eyes scrunched shut as he sought to remember what he had planned. "Here's your test: which one of these l'il herbs is used to help out someone who's been poisoned, where would you find, uh, what's it called... marigold?And how'd ya treat a concussion?" Well, he hoped she knew, because he had forgotten the answers already.