03-19-2020, 11:42 PM
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Given the mindless tedium he often found himself drowning in, a game seemed to be the perfect opportunity for just a little excitement. He doubted much would come of it though, considering the dreary atmosphere of the swamp and the lifeless buzz of near-zombies trudging about. But Atticus appeared to be at least somewhat outgoing. Actually, a lot more outgoing than most of his peers, even his brothers. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as people would say.
It came as no surprise when the poltergeist arrived, pawsteps silent despite the creaky floorboards. After all, he had been the one to instruct the task. The others might have seen it as rude or ignorant if he didn't attend his own suggestion. And he wanted to support his newfound chance at a little brother in any way he could. Or rather, one of five chances.
Sighing gently to himself, Beck settled beside Ivan, pressing a cold shoulder against him before offering an affectionate smile downward. Atticus received a similar gesture, his waterlogged chest swelling with a fuzzy warmth. Only then did he realize that the age-old question was directed at him. "O-oh," he stammered, casting a wary glance to Aurum -- he couldn't be vulnerable around the proxy! And who knew what Ivan would think up to pry! Telling any forced truth appeared to be the lesser of two evils. He sucked in a shallow wheeze, shoulders hunching as he exhaled. "Dare." What was the worst Ivan could throw at him?
Apparently nothing too miserable.
His face brightened with relief upon hearing the dare. Talk with a foreign accent? Well, that was easy, considering his vague American drawl happened to be a learned dialect. A wry smirk twisted the intact corner of his lips before he slipped into his native tongue, adopting the accent he was raised with. "Mă așteptam la ceva mai greu," he quipped, head tilting as a dark paw tapped on his chin in thought. Remnants of his birth language purposefully lingering as he switched back to English, Beck pointed to the next in line. With words warped from their familiar and lax cadence, the poltergeist prompted, "Truth or dare?"
[size=8pt]truth: if you had to execute someone, how would you do it?
dare: lick a toad's belly
It came as no surprise when the poltergeist arrived, pawsteps silent despite the creaky floorboards. After all, he had been the one to instruct the task. The others might have seen it as rude or ignorant if he didn't attend his own suggestion. And he wanted to support his newfound chance at a little brother in any way he could. Or rather, one of five chances.
Sighing gently to himself, Beck settled beside Ivan, pressing a cold shoulder against him before offering an affectionate smile downward. Atticus received a similar gesture, his waterlogged chest swelling with a fuzzy warmth. Only then did he realize that the age-old question was directed at him. "O-oh," he stammered, casting a wary glance to Aurum -- he couldn't be vulnerable around the proxy! And who knew what Ivan would think up to pry! Telling any forced truth appeared to be the lesser of two evils. He sucked in a shallow wheeze, shoulders hunching as he exhaled. "Dare." What was the worst Ivan could throw at him?
Apparently nothing too miserable.
His face brightened with relief upon hearing the dare. Talk with a foreign accent? Well, that was easy, considering his vague American drawl happened to be a learned dialect. A wry smirk twisted the intact corner of his lips before he slipped into his native tongue, adopting the accent he was raised with. "Mă așteptam la ceva mai greu," he quipped, head tilting as a dark paw tapped on his chin in thought. Remnants of his birth language purposefully lingering as he switched back to English, Beck pointed to the next in line. With words warped from their familiar and lax cadence, the poltergeist prompted, "Truth or dare?"
[size=8pt]truth: if you had to execute someone, how would you do it?
dare: lick a toad's belly