02-21-2020, 12:36 PM
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Dirt may as well been the only consistency surrounding him, a halo of filth fit for a creature birthed in the field and raised in the slums. He could never fully clean the dirt under his nails when he was alive, no matter how hard he scrubbed in river water or smuggled soap out of town. Even his very bones now existed under layers and layers of soil, bones now likely eroded into dust twice over. What can one do? If he couldn't escape the sty of his lost life, he may as well get over it. Although, Beck still found himself splashing water onto mud-splotched freckles and fur every now and then. He supposed now he didn't mind the dirt all too much; it gave him some amount of character beyond scars or birthmarks.
The little ghost sighed quietly to himself, dark fur still drenched from privately wading into a thawing stream. It wasn't exactly a tub, but he could do without lavish privileges. When he returned to the ash remnants of his home, perhaps he could scavenge through the exposed basement for a towel or just air dry in the sun -- his thoughts scattered as a tossed clawful of soil splattered his side, reversing the effects of his backwoods bath in seconds.
An expression of dismay opened his mouth into a stunned frown, looking to the direction of thrown dirt and slumping upon discerning the black blur of Abathur, soon joined by another oversized spider and the always omnipresent Aurum. Curiosity encouraged him forward rather than spite for his dirtied pelt. A huff fell from chewed lips. Anyone could tell that the arachnid was planting something, assured to him by glancing at prior holes with little white flecks and overturned earth. Both crowding Abathur's work had to have been blinder than the cataract-afflicted spider himself.
So the poltergeist shook mud from his frame and rolled onto his haunches, mouth twitching as he waited to speak. The others tossed their offers without hesitation -- they would probably benefit from gardening with Abathur, either gaining his trust through kindness or boosting their reputation of a generous saint. Beck studied the whisker-like fibers decorating Abathur's legs and how they trembled with every movement even while caked in dirt. He hummed in thought, a stump of a tail wagging idly. "Hey, Ab," he raspily chimed, "I have some seeds from all over the world if you want to use 'em. They've... kinda been sitting around, so..." Better to be put to use than be stored within a soot-covered cardboard box for eternity.
The little ghost sighed quietly to himself, dark fur still drenched from privately wading into a thawing stream. It wasn't exactly a tub, but he could do without lavish privileges. When he returned to the ash remnants of his home, perhaps he could scavenge through the exposed basement for a towel or just air dry in the sun -- his thoughts scattered as a tossed clawful of soil splattered his side, reversing the effects of his backwoods bath in seconds.
An expression of dismay opened his mouth into a stunned frown, looking to the direction of thrown dirt and slumping upon discerning the black blur of Abathur, soon joined by another oversized spider and the always omnipresent Aurum. Curiosity encouraged him forward rather than spite for his dirtied pelt. A huff fell from chewed lips. Anyone could tell that the arachnid was planting something, assured to him by glancing at prior holes with little white flecks and overturned earth. Both crowding Abathur's work had to have been blinder than the cataract-afflicted spider himself.
So the poltergeist shook mud from his frame and rolled onto his haunches, mouth twitching as he waited to speak. The others tossed their offers without hesitation -- they would probably benefit from gardening with Abathur, either gaining his trust through kindness or boosting their reputation of a generous saint. Beck studied the whisker-like fibers decorating Abathur's legs and how they trembled with every movement even while caked in dirt. He hummed in thought, a stump of a tail wagging idly. "Hey, Ab," he raspily chimed, "I have some seeds from all over the world if you want to use 'em. They've... kinda been sitting around, so..." Better to be put to use than be stored within a soot-covered cardboard box for eternity.