08-26-2019, 12:08 AM
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As soon as the little poltergeist slipped into a motionless stupor, tangled in blankets swiftly drenched in oily blood, his faithful flytrap dragged itself to his gory side. The mutated plant hesitantly, gingerly coiled a vine around Beck's amputated wrist, seeking for the familiar comfort that the missing appendage brought when it pet the unorthodox friend. Without a reaction, Audrey III recoiled, drool dripping past its tooth-lined trap and down its lower jaw. A frown tugged at its rubbery lips before the alluring scent of spilled blood captured its focus. Any concern decipherable beforehand vanished into thin air, almost as quickly as Audrey lunged at the slick wooden floor, pressing a serrated tongue into the blackened puddle like a parched beast at a shallow watering hole.
Audrey only slowed their lapping when the door creaked open and a rush of fresh air tickled its fuzzy senses. Rows of teeth flashed at the intruder, the flytrap no longer hovering by the unresponsive ghost and now rearing to its full height. The vibrating shape of Selby's movements brought forth the association with two blows -- both delivered by the medic's father. Failing to distinguish the two big-eared felines apart, the mutant lowered its head to send a bitter hiss in Selby's direction and slunk back towards Beck, its makeshift pot scraping against the floorboards as it settled in the blankets.
Two honey-brown eyes opened into watery slits as Audrey III protectively draped its heavy head across his ribs, reawoken pain shooting throughout his apparition. But the reassuring voice returned as well, prompting Beck to raise his head from wadded inky sheets. He desperately wanted to croak out to the sawbone, to insist that he would be okay, but all he could manage sounded like the agonized squeal of a drowning piglet. Dropping his head back with a useless splutter, the boy forced himself to roll onto his back, blankly gazing at the broken light fixture embedded in his houseboat's ceiling. A cleanly notched ear twitched at the tabby's instructions. Was that why he couldn't force out noise much more than a pinched wheeze? Seeking to sink claws into the stained blankets beneath him when there were no paws to even clutch at the fabric, Beck scrunched his eyes shut and with a screwed-up face, blindly kicked a hindleg out twice, the action spasmodic and quickly dying off once more into stillness. The thought of any examination would have twisted his guts in fear and uncertainty on any normal day, but seeing as his entrails remained sprawled outside of his belly and dismantled like a scrapped kitchen appliance with its wires exposed, Beck supposed he could suck it up and tolerate Selby's touch just this once.
Audrey only slowed their lapping when the door creaked open and a rush of fresh air tickled its fuzzy senses. Rows of teeth flashed at the intruder, the flytrap no longer hovering by the unresponsive ghost and now rearing to its full height. The vibrating shape of Selby's movements brought forth the association with two blows -- both delivered by the medic's father. Failing to distinguish the two big-eared felines apart, the mutant lowered its head to send a bitter hiss in Selby's direction and slunk back towards Beck, its makeshift pot scraping against the floorboards as it settled in the blankets.
Two honey-brown eyes opened into watery slits as Audrey III protectively draped its heavy head across his ribs, reawoken pain shooting throughout his apparition. But the reassuring voice returned as well, prompting Beck to raise his head from wadded inky sheets. He desperately wanted to croak out to the sawbone, to insist that he would be okay, but all he could manage sounded like the agonized squeal of a drowning piglet. Dropping his head back with a useless splutter, the boy forced himself to roll onto his back, blankly gazing at the broken light fixture embedded in his houseboat's ceiling. A cleanly notched ear twitched at the tabby's instructions. Was that why he couldn't force out noise much more than a pinched wheeze? Seeking to sink claws into the stained blankets beneath him when there were no paws to even clutch at the fabric, Beck scrunched his eyes shut and with a screwed-up face, blindly kicked a hindleg out twice, the action spasmodic and quickly dying off once more into stillness. The thought of any examination would have twisted his guts in fear and uncertainty on any normal day, but seeing as his entrails remained sprawled outside of his belly and dismantled like a scrapped kitchen appliance with its wires exposed, Beck supposed he could suck it up and tolerate Selby's touch just this once.