07-08-2019, 08:56 AM
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Impatience was quick to settle in the poltergeist's thoughts, clouding his vision as he vacantly watched the flames engulf the sugary concoction. Before long, his mind wandered to question how exactly marshmallows were created, only to jerk back to reality and find the poor treat incinerated on his fire poker. "Dammit," he hissed, bringing his makeshift stick closer to blow out the fire and examine whether or not the marshmallow was salvageable. Its sticky exterior had been burnt until it appeared more like blackened tree bark than a marshmallow and in defeat, Beck tossed his fire poker overhead before slumping lazily, resting his intact cheek on bandaged paws. A gluttonous Audrey III was more than happy to gulp up his discarded fire iron and marshmallow, teeth snapping the metal pole into jagged pieces and leafy trap tilting back to hork down the remains with all the grace of a ravenous baby bird. When it finished its snack, its pseudo-tongue greedily slid out from behind the lips of its trap to collect any crumbs it might have forgotten. The poltergeist offered a slight grimace at this -- he stole the fire poker from a house he terrorized years ago and now it was nothing more than plant food. His sigh could scarcely be heard over the fire's crackle and he returned to idly waiting.
The woman of the hour finally decided to appear, more than likely having tracked down his bonfire with the assistance of its noxious smoke. The little feline straightened, pulling himself to lean back on scruffy haunches. While he parted his scarred mouth to speak, he hardly had any time to react as Sam bit down on his mangy scruff and flung him from his small-scale arson. Beck tumbled from the force of the throw, winding up sprawled on his side in shock. Then the pain kicked in. His ribs broken in the same manner Sam just demonstrated, the boy could've sworn he heard the fractured bones shifting and cracking as he hit the ground. Beck instinctively curled, bringing his legs closer to his underbelly while clutching the impacted side with one paw, and did his best to stifle a cry of pain. Mikolaj's scolding fell upon distracted ears as Beck simply lay in the mud, stunned. He wasn't pathetic. He would brush it off. Hissing through clenched teeth, the ghost ignored the buzzing conversation around him, focusing on staggering back to at least a sitting position. Even with his features twisted in old agony and his paw still folded over his chest to grip at his aching flank, Beck glared at his peers from the other side of the roaring fire. His mutated fly trap nudged his side, searching him for possible food before abandoning him entirely, withdrawing its vines into its pot.
Faces with their noses crinkled in disgust -- disgust at the smell or at him? -- stared back. His blurred gaze sought out the doecat rather than Mikolaj or even Crow, finding her sifting through the bordering ashes of the smoldering cigarettes. With an expression of shame hidden in his face, a pained wheeze escaped him, aimed at the female. "I was -- I was doin' ya a favor." Why did all his good intentions fail so miserably? He only wanted to help her quit the ill-fated habit. Maybe through questionable methods, but the results should have been the same. Beck's frame slouched. Unable to voice his thoughts, he could only sink his claws into his side, his guilt shifting to frustration as he directed his glare from the creatures around him to the ground.
The woman of the hour finally decided to appear, more than likely having tracked down his bonfire with the assistance of its noxious smoke. The little feline straightened, pulling himself to lean back on scruffy haunches. While he parted his scarred mouth to speak, he hardly had any time to react as Sam bit down on his mangy scruff and flung him from his small-scale arson. Beck tumbled from the force of the throw, winding up sprawled on his side in shock. Then the pain kicked in. His ribs broken in the same manner Sam just demonstrated, the boy could've sworn he heard the fractured bones shifting and cracking as he hit the ground. Beck instinctively curled, bringing his legs closer to his underbelly while clutching the impacted side with one paw, and did his best to stifle a cry of pain. Mikolaj's scolding fell upon distracted ears as Beck simply lay in the mud, stunned. He wasn't pathetic. He would brush it off. Hissing through clenched teeth, the ghost ignored the buzzing conversation around him, focusing on staggering back to at least a sitting position. Even with his features twisted in old agony and his paw still folded over his chest to grip at his aching flank, Beck glared at his peers from the other side of the roaring fire. His mutated fly trap nudged his side, searching him for possible food before abandoning him entirely, withdrawing its vines into its pot.
Faces with their noses crinkled in disgust -- disgust at the smell or at him? -- stared back. His blurred gaze sought out the doecat rather than Mikolaj or even Crow, finding her sifting through the bordering ashes of the smoldering cigarettes. With an expression of shame hidden in his face, a pained wheeze escaped him, aimed at the female. "I was -- I was doin' ya a favor." Why did all his good intentions fail so miserably? He only wanted to help her quit the ill-fated habit. Maybe through questionable methods, but the results should have been the same. Beck's frame slouched. Unable to voice his thoughts, he could only sink his claws into his side, his guilt shifting to frustration as he directed his glare from the creatures around him to the ground.