vanish // joiner

[beck.]

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    Unlike Mae, his morning had been expended leisurely, although he might have preferred aimlessly walking in search of acceptance if he wasn't intent on catching lunch for his dearest friend. For more than a couple hours now, Beck waded in the shallows of the swamp, peeking under rocks and lilypads for the elusive crustacean he hunted for. His fur up to his shoulders was matted with murk and plant debris, and not to mention sopping wet as well, but his efforts were rewarded. A tin bucket balanced precariously on a nearby rock, partially filled with wriggling crawfish -- at least until a shout from close by caused him to heavily flinch just as he was about to drop another catch into the bucket, knocking the bucket and tipping its fortunate contents back into the water. "No, no, no!" came the strangled whine from the boy as he frantically attempted to recover any freshwater lobster he could, yet they all managed to slip from his grasp and disappear into the cattails in a cloud of dust. The poltergeist flopped onto his haunches, an expression both crestfallen and stunned settling over his scarred features. His woes quickly turned to blame as he heard the girl call out again, grabbing his attention and warping his bewildered pout into a scowl. Snatching up his now-empty bucket and tossing the only crawfish he still had in his clutches into it, Beck pushed himself to his feet and clambered onto the shore, not bothering to shake away the water and mud clinging to his apparition.

    As soon as he could see her tall figure, Beck crept from the brambles with a snarl splitting his disfigured snout, dropping the bucket at his feet. "D'ya have any idea --" his words broke off into a harsh coughing spell, yet he continued once he regained himself, albeit heavily wheezing. "D'ya have any idea what you've done?" the little ghost fumed, his apparition distorting as he hissed at the stranger. "You cost me a whole morning's worth of crawdads, that's what you've done!" His false southern accent slipped the more he seethed at the newcomer until his speech splintered into an unrecognizable jumble of other voice. Realizing this, he sucked in a hoarse inhale to regain himself before rasping in an emotionless tone, "You're gonna help me get 'em back." With that statement, he abruptly lashed out to grab her arm, seeking to drag her towards the pond he previously lurked in. He didn't mean to be rough with her, yet his claws could snag on her skin or he could yank her arm hard enough to dislocate something. Well, the latter was unlikely, but he witnessed it before.