03-10-2020, 12:44 AM
[align=center]
Now this was a new addition to tradition. But not necessarily one the former commander could enjoy. He couldn't exactly say he was a fan of parties. Too loud, too crowded, too social. As the polar opposite, Beck was too quiet, too hostile, too... depressing. A sullen little poltergeist didn't belong anywhere near a party.
Bandaged paws shuffled near the outskirts of those entering, mud sullying the floorboards of the tavern pitched in his absence. Beck clung to the corner, a weed of a wallflower, sprouting from a rotten crevice and slithering up along the sill plate. The little dark-furred cat could be easily lost within the dimly-lit crowd, disappearing against woodworks without surrendering his visible apparition at all. The first mask of Tanglewood dangled limply from his neck, bleached and painted bone stark compared to the shadowed auburn of his shallow chest, fractured collarbone jutting from under skin as he hunched warily.
Unsure of himself, pearly claws picked at the staining blood on his mask's devilish horns, horn once impaling the notorious ardent's ribs. A miserable trophy, reminding him of the caverns and the bloodshed. His thoughts strayed, gloom darkening freckled features despite the candlelight reflecting gold off his gaze.
Mangy ears perked as Feza's singsongy words instructed the festivities to commence. The mention of food brought his gluttonous appetite to rear its ugly head, a strand of drool escaping the mutilated side of his mouth, beads plummeting to a halt between his paws. Hastily licking his exposed gums, teeth, and scarred tissue to recover any saliva seeking to leak, Beck wobbled to stand, rocking his weight while debating whether or not to brave the tide of party-goers for a treat or continue sulking by his lonesome.
Bandaged paws shuffled near the outskirts of those entering, mud sullying the floorboards of the tavern pitched in his absence. Beck clung to the corner, a weed of a wallflower, sprouting from a rotten crevice and slithering up along the sill plate. The little dark-furred cat could be easily lost within the dimly-lit crowd, disappearing against woodworks without surrendering his visible apparition at all. The first mask of Tanglewood dangled limply from his neck, bleached and painted bone stark compared to the shadowed auburn of his shallow chest, fractured collarbone jutting from under skin as he hunched warily.
Unsure of himself, pearly claws picked at the staining blood on his mask's devilish horns, horn once impaling the notorious ardent's ribs. A miserable trophy, reminding him of the caverns and the bloodshed. His thoughts strayed, gloom darkening freckled features despite the candlelight reflecting gold off his gaze.
Mangy ears perked as Feza's singsongy words instructed the festivities to commence. The mention of food brought his gluttonous appetite to rear its ugly head, a strand of drool escaping the mutilated side of his mouth, beads plummeting to a halt between his paws. Hastily licking his exposed gums, teeth, and scarred tissue to recover any saliva seeking to leak, Beck wobbled to stand, rocking his weight while debating whether or not to brave the tide of party-goers for a treat or continue sulking by his lonesome.