[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]If Red had known that Beck was locked up in his house for a reason, he would've tried to help. He was no witch, but he figured that within reason a demon could break a cast circle - or something like that. He'd never really dabbled in the stuff. In spite of his mutations and unholy origin he was, in the end, just an animal like anyone else. He wasn't even sure if pentagrams and sigils affected him with all the time he'd spent on Earth. But for Beck, he could have tried. Somebody had to give the kid a hand once in a while, even if he could be a little bitch from time to time. He was just a kid who was mad that he got the short end of the stick. (For the past few hundred years, that is.)
And yet, everyone seemed keen on putting the poor kid in a corner and forgetting about him while the world continued to turn.
Audrey's existence doesn't make much sense, but then again, nothing does around here. It's a plant with teeth holding up a pinata. He thinks of venus fly traps and shark jaws, then uses this mental image to try and make sense of the sentient plant - it doesn't really help, but at least there's a natural explanation for the whole thing. Beck isn't exactly the pinnacle of sense today, either, because the frantic and angry look on his face tells Red that he's in another world.
And then the ragdoll - it's a sorry effigy of their leader, limp and dangling by its neck where it swings over a tree branch. He was planning on asking the kid for some of his snack stash, but was stopped by a harsh whistle and the faint thump of a body (albeit stuffing-padded) being beaten. He wonders, at the distance where he stands, if Beck had plans for Crow and this is just target practice. The demon hangs back a few meters, standing out against the dark woods but carefully unmoving as he watches the ghost from behind. He's sniffling, Beck, and snarling like a wild animal as he beats the doll into the afterlife. It's more than just practice for a coup - something is wrong, and Red has a feeling he might be able to put the pieces together.
He steps out of the brush, wet leaves crunching under hoof and stone. Nothing seemed to decay out here, and even last winter's foliage laid rotten on the ground. He wondered if Arrow would return to the Earth if they buried her, or if she'd be mummified by the mud, like a lost body in a tar pit. He wonders if, when things come to an end, her face will be unearthed and will still be calm but no less frightened behind those half-open eyes. He wonders if she'll still be encrusted in her own dried blood when the earth itself cracks and her corpse is freed. No, they couldn't bury her. She deserved better.
"Hey," It's quiet, because Beck is essentially wielding a baseball bat and Red doesn't feel like getting a concussion on this particular afternoon. "Is this about Arrow?" There's a soft pause. He tries to approach, closer, and lower the branch in Beck's grip. "What's old Crow got to do with all that, huh?" Everything is slow, gentle, and he thinks of Beck carrying that decapitated head across the fields and into the forest. He wonders how much this child has had to witness, young but immortal as he is, and feels sorry for him. Perhaps such events were taking a toll on the weary spirit.
And yet, everyone seemed keen on putting the poor kid in a corner and forgetting about him while the world continued to turn.
Audrey's existence doesn't make much sense, but then again, nothing does around here. It's a plant with teeth holding up a pinata. He thinks of venus fly traps and shark jaws, then uses this mental image to try and make sense of the sentient plant - it doesn't really help, but at least there's a natural explanation for the whole thing. Beck isn't exactly the pinnacle of sense today, either, because the frantic and angry look on his face tells Red that he's in another world.
And then the ragdoll - it's a sorry effigy of their leader, limp and dangling by its neck where it swings over a tree branch. He was planning on asking the kid for some of his snack stash, but was stopped by a harsh whistle and the faint thump of a body (albeit stuffing-padded) being beaten. He wonders, at the distance where he stands, if Beck had plans for Crow and this is just target practice. The demon hangs back a few meters, standing out against the dark woods but carefully unmoving as he watches the ghost from behind. He's sniffling, Beck, and snarling like a wild animal as he beats the doll into the afterlife. It's more than just practice for a coup - something is wrong, and Red has a feeling he might be able to put the pieces together.
He steps out of the brush, wet leaves crunching under hoof and stone. Nothing seemed to decay out here, and even last winter's foliage laid rotten on the ground. He wondered if Arrow would return to the Earth if they buried her, or if she'd be mummified by the mud, like a lost body in a tar pit. He wonders if, when things come to an end, her face will be unearthed and will still be calm but no less frightened behind those half-open eyes. He wonders if she'll still be encrusted in her own dried blood when the earth itself cracks and her corpse is freed. No, they couldn't bury her. She deserved better.
"Hey," It's quiet, because Beck is essentially wielding a baseball bat and Red doesn't feel like getting a concussion on this particular afternoon. "Is this about Arrow?" There's a soft pause. He tries to approach, closer, and lower the branch in Beck's grip. "What's old Crow got to do with all that, huh?" Everything is slow, gentle, and he thinks of Beck carrying that decapitated head across the fields and into the forest. He wonders how much this child has had to witness, young but immortal as he is, and feels sorry for him. Perhaps such events were taking a toll on the weary spirit.
[div style="text-align:center;font-size:10pt;line-height:9pt;color:black;font-weight:bold;font-family:verdana;"]IF YOUR FORTRESS IS UNDER SIEGE,
YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN TO ME
YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN TO ME