A visceral alarm rang loud in Bast's head. 'Who the hell...' his body scrunched up, slouching closer to the ground as if he could be absorbed by its hold.
Crunch.
Who was coming? Was it a stranger? Or could it have been a guard, forced to search for the outskirts for a runaway criminal?
There was no way to find out.
Crunch...
Not until they came closer.
Crunch...
Not until Bast could judge them with a quick look.
Crunch...
Dust swayed in the air like the last barrier of a veil disconnecting Bast from the outer world. A few moments later and his eyes could faintly pick up a silhouette. The sky might have been bright with the sun and powered with light... but the air felt dark and heavy. Whatever was coming turned his stomach the wrong way...
Who knew if it was even human at all?
Crunch...
Without him realising, the Coin in his hand was glowing throughout the entirety of the scene -- its faint light overshadowed by sky-light.
"Hurry the hell up..." Bast whispered, the anxiety of the situation seemingly dragged out this procession.
Whatever was coming towards him, turned his stomach the wrong way.
Grr....
The thought of running came up in his mind, but running was pointless on weak legs -- with nothing to eat or drink, it was hard to even stand. Talking to a monster--if it even was--would be pointless as well. All he could do was lower his body closer to the sand just in case, watching whatever came... waiting.
He saw it.
Crunch...
The figure finally pushed through the veil of dust -- a crooked shape, hunched over, wide in width.
'...The fuck is th--' Bast's thoughts came slow, before they were interrupted by a sound. A sound one could recognise immediately.
"Khff--!"
It was a cough. Not the cough of a beast, clearing its throat from the remains of flesh. It was the cough of a human, one you'd hear walking past a crowd in a busy street; loud yet muffled.
A jolt shot through the boy as rays of sunlight beamed down across his forehead -- maybe that's why he was beginning to sweat.
Another step.
Crunch.
Another crunch.
The dust parted a little more, and Bast caught a glimpse of a shoulder draped in cloth, not hide. A hand, thick and calloused gripping something long and thin. A head dressed over in a hood.
Bast's first thought was to hide. Bury himself into the sandy ground, or straighten his back behind a sunken rib jutted out of the ground. "Fuck..." he whispered. He wasn't fond with the idea of meeting someone out here, or meeting anyone for that matter. Especially when there was no way to understand their intentions.
'What if it's a Veilguard?'
Crunch. Crunch.
Bast's hand twitched. His eyes locked onto the approaching hood pacing over. It loosened just enough for him to see a jawline -- not sharp like a noble, but scruffy, uneven, shadowed by travel. It wasn't easy to see, but the figure looked like they hadn't seen a real bed in some time.
That didn't ease Bast's heart, in fact it may have done the opposite. Maybe that's why he gripped the Coin in his hand like an emergency fallback, prepared to flip a chance if he absolutely needed.
Another crunch.
The figure hadn't looked Bast's way. They hadn't seemed to notice him yet.
Instead, they appeared to be staring up -- way up -- at the towering ribs of the bone monument of this forgotten war-zone. Head tilted back, neck craned, their hands even seemed to be dressed across their hips, like an idiot appreciating a sunset -- even as it was covered -- instead of a grave marker.
Bast swallowed.
Eye twitching.
'The hell is he doing? Really admiring that?' he thought. It seemed he'd forgotten the rush he felt placing his own hand across those forgotten bones.
The Coin seemed to warm his palm, but he had yet to flip. Not yet.
At this point, he'd even forgotten he had already flipped. A nonexistent sandwich gone down the drain, lowering his flips.
[Flips: 2/3]
The figure seemed to move, brushing their shoulder off with dust. Then... they turned. They didn't walk straight through -- from where Bast had came -- instead they turned to their right.
Toward Bast.
'Shit.'
He flattened himself closer to the sand, shoulders tight, and breath held behind clenched teeth. He prayed a wave of dust would cover his person, obscuring his head full of mopped brown hair. His fingers curled around the Coin so hard it bit into his skin.
If they got too close.
If they reached for a weapon.
If they said anything that Bast's heart didn't like...
He would flip.
Whatever the cost was... he'd deal with it later. A cost would be something small, if it meant saving his own skin.
Crunch...
The strangers shadow stretched across the sand, aided by gleams of sunlight dressing his back.
He took one step.
And then--
He squinted.
"...Huh," the stranger voiced. Straight away Bast clenched his teeth further. It was the voice of a man. Rugged in tone, but casual in conveyance. So casual, they almost sounded amused. "Thought I saw somethin', " he continued.
A gust of wind fluttered the cloths draped across his shoulder, shaking the man's hood in a ruckus.
"Musta been the wind..."
The man turned a little, shading his eyes with one hand, as he looked to his left through the dust.
Bast didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just a little more.
'Just let him walk away...'
It seemed the world had other plans.
Grrrr!!
His stomach betrayed him.
A deep, ugly growl ripped like a dying animal, loud enough to echo off the damn bone monument.
His eyes widened in horror.
'No. No, no, you piece of shit--'
The man froze.
Slowly... slowly... his head turned back to the source of the sound. Right at Bast's pile of sand and quiet pleas.
A second passed.
Then the man spoke:
"...That you," he asked, "or somethin' still buried up under, tryin' to crawl out?"