04-27-2018, 01:46 AM
If he could realize how unsettling he was towards the peculiar lynx, then Beck would have been bragging for days on end. Who could believe it, a poltergeist that actually managed to scare someone in this decade. His whole existence orbited around terrorizing unwitting creatures; he would be terribly pathetic if he couldn't at least manage that every once in a while. The faint twinge of pride in his chest aside, his honey-brown eyes narrowed into a suspicious squint to counter the warm glint in Marco's olivine gaze.
Yet the instant Marco opened his mouth, all spite and settled blood drained from his freckled features. Beck hadn't heard his native tongue in years, and here this stranger was, speaking fluently. "Woah, woah, woah -- slow down," the boy stammered, voice empty of emotion as he was taken offguard by the onslaught of forgotten words. There was a reason Beck pointedly erased the language he had been raised by from his mind -- too many memories were attached. Plus his accent stuck out like a sore thumb. Gnawing on the inside of his only cheek and trying to ignore the strands of electric-blue drool beading at the edges of his burnt maw, the poltergeist glared at the ground in an attempt to decipher Marco's words by replaying his sentences over and over in his head. 'I beg your... pardon -- I don't understand? My name is... Marco. Something in Beck's mind clicked, the single name a bullet piercing straight through his hippocampus and the barricade holding back memories. The faceless brother from his memories now had a name. "Marco? Is that --" Beck started in disbelief, taking a wary step forward before recoiling with his ears pinned flat against his skull. No, it wasn't. Marco died in his arms as a child, not the grizzled adult the lynx appeared to be. Jaw muscles clenched taut, face returning to the constant scowl as he concentrated on stringing together a response. "Nu-mi... uh, am -- amintesc prea mult, but yeah, I mean -- dar da? Yeah, dar da." More muttering under his breath than anything else, his prominent accent began to slip through his phony drawl, creating an odd warped filter his words were caught in. "Sunt, um, Beck. De ce ... de ce ești aici?" Awkward phrasing aside, it wasn't too shabby for someone who hadn't spoken in Romanian for years. Then again, it was his first language. Some things never left you no matter how hard you fought to forget them.
[align=center]»――➤Yet the instant Marco opened his mouth, all spite and settled blood drained from his freckled features. Beck hadn't heard his native tongue in years, and here this stranger was, speaking fluently. "Woah, woah, woah -- slow down," the boy stammered, voice empty of emotion as he was taken offguard by the onslaught of forgotten words. There was a reason Beck pointedly erased the language he had been raised by from his mind -- too many memories were attached. Plus his accent stuck out like a sore thumb. Gnawing on the inside of his only cheek and trying to ignore the strands of electric-blue drool beading at the edges of his burnt maw, the poltergeist glared at the ground in an attempt to decipher Marco's words by replaying his sentences over and over in his head. 'I beg your... pardon -- I don't understand? My name is... Marco. Something in Beck's mind clicked, the single name a bullet piercing straight through his hippocampus and the barricade holding back memories. The faceless brother from his memories now had a name. "Marco? Is that --" Beck started in disbelief, taking a wary step forward before recoiling with his ears pinned flat against his skull. No, it wasn't. Marco died in his arms as a child, not the grizzled adult the lynx appeared to be. Jaw muscles clenched taut, face returning to the constant scowl as he concentrated on stringing together a response. "Nu-mi... uh, am -- amintesc prea mult, but yeah, I mean -- dar da? Yeah, dar da." More muttering under his breath than anything else, his prominent accent began to slip through his phony drawl, creating an odd warped filter his words were caught in. "Sunt, um, Beck. De ce ... de ce ești aici?" Awkward phrasing aside, it wasn't too shabby for someone who hadn't spoken in Romanian for years. Then again, it was his first language. Some things never left you no matter how hard you fought to forget them.