He knew he swore off his trademark trickery. No more traps, no more schemes, no more pranks. He didn't want to be punished, no matter how much the voice disagreed or argued. Beck was the one in control, not him. But both Becks were silver-tongued and manipulative, and it was easy to persuade someone you knew inside and out. Just one last time. It would be harmless. For once, they will laugh with you. Lies, but Beck wanted to believe them. And he did.
It was a simple enough prank. The plan was to catch a few live birds and lock them in someone's hut while the resident was asleep. It shouldn't of gone so wrong so quickly. All Beck had been trying to do was collect a magpie from the small trap he had set the night before. The whole night had passed by with no feathered pests spotted, and the sun was well past morning by the time a net was dropped ontop of an unsuspecting bird. Finally! Took us long enough. An exited smile broke through the darkened features of the boy as he skipped over, all too eager to yank the net away from the thrashing clump of iridescent and piebald feathers, and even more willing to scoop the magpie up with a careless paw. The angered bird let out a reproachful screech as a wing was gingerly pinned down to keep it from flying away. Beck wasn't exactly sure of how he would transport the bird into someone's home, and he distantly watched the struggling magpie as he distracted himself with various possible ideas on the matter- the wing was torn out from underneath his clammy paw, and the magpie flapped upwards, screaming its horrid chattering call of alarm at the top of its lungs. Beck flinched backwards, startled at the failure to keep the bird contained, and even more shocked as the magpie swooped back in, a flurry of flashy feathers swarming in his face. Next thing he could recall, a piercing pain entered his vision as the furious bird began to peck at what ever soft organs were reachable. His sight shut down immediately, like turning off a light switch and leaving his senses in pitch black. Yet the magpie continued to attack, even as Beck stumbled back and toppled over tangled legs, landing harshly on his side. His eyes, his eyes were stinging, no, burning, overwhelming the sensitive nerves residing there. The poltergeist gave a sharp yelp in his pain, frantically swatting at the bird he could no longer see. Along with vicious pecking, the ave battered his ears and face with unrelenting wingbeats, and scratched at whatever fur its small, curving talons could latch onto. Desperate, the boy rolled over, burying his face in the earth to protect the remains of his eyes. The magpie soon lost interest after that, swiftly flitted away, disappearing among the canopy of trees.
The feline didn't move for a while once the bird escaped. After what seemed like ages, Beck reared his head from the soil, expecting to see the forest again - but it was still dark. He tried to blink, but his entire face ached with an agonizing soreness, especially his eyes, he couldn't tell what he was doing. The poltergeist lifted a paw to wipe away whatever what blocking his vision, only to find that his paw jabbed into an empty, cavernous hole slick with an unknown fluid where an eye should of been that caused a wave of scorching pain throughout his being. A panic rose in his chest, he hysterically clawed at where his eyes should of been, paws fumbling around in the dark. There was nothing. A metallic tang dripped into his mouth, and he recoiled as he recognized the taste of his own otherworldly blood. Logic dictated that his eyes were bleeding, right? Stupid bird. Digging the heels of his paws into the hollow sockets, Beck stayed like that until his forepaws and cheeks were drenched with the sticky, inky blood. Shivering, the poltergeist stumbled his way over to a tree trunk with paws feeling around blindly, leaning against it as he tried to think through the pain. He needed a medic. Yet there were no medics available: Iselotta was captured, Jacob was paralyzed, Imperia only just returned, and Chesspieces didn't like him. Great, he was left to his own devices. Sinking bloodied claws into the bark and leaving a good amount of oily black wherever he touched, Beck forcefully pushed himself off and away from the tree's support, wobbling unsteadily before firmly planting his feet into the overturned soil. It- It shouldn't be hard to navigate back to camp. Beck knew the forest like the back of his paw, but that was based around sight. He stepped off nevertheless, trying to think of where his paws should be. Left, right, left, right. Except he immediately tripped over the net previously intended to snag a bird. Kicing and tearing away from the net, Beck heaved his battered form back up, now limping along with a careful paw outstretched to check his surroundings.
By some miracle, the poltergeist bumped into a stone barricade, and although it bruised his snout, it meant he had found the outskirts of camp. To his side, a young NPC kit gave a frightened and unease scream and Beck could hear little footsteps fleeing in the other direction. Although he couldn't see it, the boy's honey-brown eyes had been completely torn out and the optic nerve severed by the magpie's beak, leaving behind vacant sockets coated with dark blood. Two voids spilling and bleeding ebony liquid down his cheeks and muzzle. No wonder the kitten had screamed in fear. Did he realize that she had been afraid of him? Beck staggered over to the apparent wall of the hut, resting his shoulder against it as his paw began to prod around in search of something to stop the bleeding. He brushed past a cluster of spongy leaves, wrapped his claws into it and uprooting what hoped was moss. Pressing the wad of moss onto his face, Beck slumped over, unable to hold back a muffled whimper of pain as the makeshift sponge soaked up the thick, black blood until it was saturated and heavy.
/ injuries, ay yo ghost boy got his eyes pecked out and it's his fault