02-08-2020, 12:28 AM
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Damp streaks long since rolled down his cheeks by the time he staggered a trail to a quiet meadow nestled on the brink of territory. He didn't think of where he retreated to, considering no home remained for him to hide in. A rodent without a mousehole, a spook without a haunt. What a lousy joke. Sniffling as he calmed, he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of a gauze-wrapped arm before slowly sinking to the wilted earth, tucking his legs under him at the knee like a fawn. A trembling sigh followed, leading into a placating numbness.
Unsure what to occupy himself with now, Beck stared out into the landscape, shifting so bent legs were angled to the right instead. While the world was far from silent, a momentary murmur of peace surrounded him despite the wicked voice hissing in his ear. Leaning on a hand, the poltergeist took a steadying rasp and searched for anything else to focus on. A communion of plump mourning doves perched in the bare branches of an oak, their cooing hushed now that he intruded, while a breeze rustled the dying grass, reminding him of wind through reed pipes. It was an odd melody; not a melody at all. But it was something, and that's what mattered.
Lost in his clashing thoughts, the boy flopped backward, gripping at the sod and dead stalks as he watched scattered clouds hanged from invisible gallows in the drab sky. Regret brought a grey flush to his drying cheeks -- he wanted to be happy for Selby. He wanted to be a good friend, to support the sawbone just as he had done for him. But... he closed his eyes, scrunching his upturned nose in frustration. Everything about this simply struck too much of a familiar chord within the poltergeist. Beck exhaled softly, everpresent rattle in his chest breaking the sound into a ragged huff. He supposed he would return to the town soon enough, after taking a moment to collect himself. But the voice's suggestion sickened him still, even as he absently curled his fingers into the mud and gnawed on his inner lip.
Unsure what to occupy himself with now, Beck stared out into the landscape, shifting so bent legs were angled to the right instead. While the world was far from silent, a momentary murmur of peace surrounded him despite the wicked voice hissing in his ear. Leaning on a hand, the poltergeist took a steadying rasp and searched for anything else to focus on. A communion of plump mourning doves perched in the bare branches of an oak, their cooing hushed now that he intruded, while a breeze rustled the dying grass, reminding him of wind through reed pipes. It was an odd melody; not a melody at all. But it was something, and that's what mattered.
Lost in his clashing thoughts, the boy flopped backward, gripping at the sod and dead stalks as he watched scattered clouds hanged from invisible gallows in the drab sky. Regret brought a grey flush to his drying cheeks -- he wanted to be happy for Selby. He wanted to be a good friend, to support the sawbone just as he had done for him. But... he closed his eyes, scrunching his upturned nose in frustration. Everything about this simply struck too much of a familiar chord within the poltergeist. Beck exhaled softly, everpresent rattle in his chest breaking the sound into a ragged huff. He supposed he would return to the town soon enough, after taking a moment to collect himself. But the voice's suggestion sickened him still, even as he absently curled his fingers into the mud and gnawed on his inner lip.