"Who was chasin' ya?" hissed the seemingly-disembodied voice from the entwined trees, and if one cared to glance up, they would identify the question's owner as an eavesdropping poltergeist. Lantern-like eyes slitted in suspicion of pursuers, Beck pointedly refused to scramble down the tree slick with parasitic moss and rain, albeit he inched forwards on the branch to reveal his perched form. Despite his hydrophobic efforts, he hadn't escaped the storm either, all prior fluff and bristle to his pelt now clinging to his bony flanks, where prominent ribs jutted out from underneath soaked fur. Pearly little claws digging into the damp bark and wincing at the slightest raindrop, he was quick to register Bella, her scent, and her mannerisms into his overworked memory, squinting down to catch a glimpse of the creature beneath Amunet's cloak. Sure, they had only been an official group for a little less than a while, but he figured it wouldn't be long until wet heaps of fur found themselves shivering in the swamp. Ears inclining forward, he perilously stretched forwards, drooping bobbed tail wagging in mock delight as he abruptly shifted focus from possible threats to the two's shared offer of assistance. "Aw, just look at ya two, gettin' along and helpin' -- ain't that just the cutest thing?" he cooed with a sickly wheeze, following giggles bouncing off the branches only to be drowned out by a loud clap of rolling thunder.
Shaking out his fur to no avail, the poltergeist's apparition rippled briefly in thought, before he slumped on his branch, draping scratched arms under his chin and offering a wicked flash of sharkish teeth down at Belladonna. "Name's Beck -- and I'm the commander of these weirdos, I s'pose, so, uh, welcome. Or somethin' like that." He cut off his rambling to scratch behind his notched ear in search of anything else to say. After nothing remarkable came to him, the poltergeist gave a rasping whistle from punctured lungs, "I ain't gonna help 'em get ya to our camp though, I've got, uh, business to do. Like watchin' the border." A lousy excuse for why he was hiding from the rising swamp water and had settled himself in the dense canopy instead.
[align=center]»――▸Shaking out his fur to no avail, the poltergeist's apparition rippled briefly in thought, before he slumped on his branch, draping scratched arms under his chin and offering a wicked flash of sharkish teeth down at Belladonna. "Name's Beck -- and I'm the commander of these weirdos, I s'pose, so, uh, welcome. Or somethin' like that." He cut off his rambling to scratch behind his notched ear in search of anything else to say. After nothing remarkable came to him, the poltergeist gave a rasping whistle from punctured lungs, "I ain't gonna help 'em get ya to our camp though, I've got, uh, business to do. Like watchin' the border." A lousy excuse for why he was hiding from the rising swamp water and had settled himself in the dense canopy instead.