I hold so many small regrets [open, joining]

[RED]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]It didn't really matter that Vathmos smelled like dirt, because the whole place had a similar reek to it. The smell of murky, stagnant water, decaying garbage from the distant landfill, and occasionally the stench of a dead animal that got caught in the thick mud like a tar pit permeated the air throughout most of the territory.

The territory wasn't all muck and water - in fact, it seemed to have a mind of its own, flooding out all convenient paths to the border whether it had recently rained or not. Most were left to wade through or take to the treetops. Hellboy was on a familiar path, or what now remained of it, checking the border just as his peers were often tasked during this period of political unrest. It'd be rather unfortunate to stumble upon another corpse or enemy by mistake, and with him being something along the lines of six feet tall at the head without the horns, the job was usually delegated to him. Plus, he always seemed just a second too slow whenever it came down to shouting "not it" first. Just his luck, of course.

Red had begun to walk more like an awkward triped these days - his elongated, mutant hind legs kept him above water most of the time, and he didn't mind a little mud on his stone hand because he couldn't quite feel the thick goop. He kept his good hand free to grab the low-hanging branches above him should he slip, and the vestigial tail helped with balance in times like this. But then again, that was most of the time.

He sees someone at the border and picks up the pace, not because he is alarmed by the unfamiliarity of their face but because he's thankful that it isn't some Pitt member, here to cause more drama. Hell, he was almost glad he came out here, because an uneventful, slow day was worse than the name-and-business routine. At least this gave him something to do.

Red grabs a low-hanging branch overhead and carefully steps over what looks like a deep puddle. It's easy for the first second, and he's about to say something to Vathmos, but when he puts his hoof down and feels for purchase he realizes that there is no ground to stand on. It's a deeper pit, and a wider one, than he guessed. It's almost comical, the dawning shock that crosses his face as he goes down. Knowing him, more of his clanmates will appear at the border soon, and somehow all of Tanglewood will know that he faceplanted before the day was over. He reaches for something - Vathmos, maybe, or another branch that juts from the ground, but it's too late when his balance gives and a splash of swamp water douses him in mud and debris. His whip-like tail curls desperately, sending a spray of watery mud in the opposite direction.

Red staggers a little, clamoring back to his feet. He's soaked now, and equally pissed off, but he supposed this kind of shit was all a part of the job description. When he stands, he offers little more than an awkward half-wave in Vathmos' direction. Maybe she blinked and missed it. Blinked for ten seconds straight, right. You goddamn idiot. You don't belong in a place like this - he cuts off the chastising voice in the back of his head before it can grow legs and kick him in the ass.

"Fuck. Uh," Okay, talk about embarrassing. He brushes away a stray twig that tangled itself in the fur of his chest. "What's up?"