04-27-2018, 10:26 PM
He always thought that a self-proclaimed embodiment of war and all hardships that came with it would be much more brutish. Wasn't war all about violence? If anything, Beck would have labeled Fenrisulfr on any other day as the "god" of looking bad-ass and not actually acting the part. Yet today, the poltergeist made certain to steer clear from the hybrid's path and his foul mood, sending a narrowed glance over his shoulder towards him whenever Fenris was nearby. Beyond that, Beck brushed aside his irritable behavior, assuming Fenris probably just ate a bad piece of meat that morning for his breakfast.
Apparently, spoiled breakfasts were highly flammable. Beck watched from afar with a hint of mirth in his eyes, sprawled out on abandoned porch stairs and pretending to be interested in a tattered magazine -- which he was supposedly reading upside-down. Spontaneous combustion was quite the sight, and using the magazine to nonchalantly shield his face from the heat, the wiry feline quirked a brow as Fenrisulfr waltzed from the flames with new rows of spines shaking away soot. Rifling to the next page of the magazine and briefly scanning through the pictures, Beck lazily rasped from his seat on the porch, "Cool party trick." Without skipping a beat, he tore a glossy page from the magazine, crumbling it into a wad for safe-keeping, and hoarsely suggested, "Ya should teach me how t' do that sometime, Fen." Was he serious? Hardly. But it was an entertaining scenario to busy his bored mind with for the time being.
[align=center]»――➤Apparently, spoiled breakfasts were highly flammable. Beck watched from afar with a hint of mirth in his eyes, sprawled out on abandoned porch stairs and pretending to be interested in a tattered magazine -- which he was supposedly reading upside-down. Spontaneous combustion was quite the sight, and using the magazine to nonchalantly shield his face from the heat, the wiry feline quirked a brow as Fenrisulfr waltzed from the flames with new rows of spines shaking away soot. Rifling to the next page of the magazine and briefly scanning through the pictures, Beck lazily rasped from his seat on the porch, "Cool party trick." Without skipping a beat, he tore a glossy page from the magazine, crumbling it into a wad for safe-keeping, and hoarsely suggested, "Ya should teach me how t' do that sometime, Fen." Was he serious? Hardly. But it was an entertaining scenario to busy his bored mind with for the time being.