He was caught. Caught by the sounds of his own hunger bellowing in the quiet air.
Their eyes met at that moment, one hesitant with his sand covered lids quivering, the other calm--looking with a certain amusement.
Bast didn't utter anything, he was too busy cursing himself through his own mind--those dry lips biting into one another.
"Well? You got a voice? Or is the ground that enjoyable?" the man questioned, before tapping his foot in the soil.
'Fuck me...' Bast grumbled, before he stood up -- grains flowing off of his back like a river. It was truly a scene to behold. Two silhouettes standing in the sand, under a monument of bone that covered the very sky.
"That's better," the man motioned his hand.
Grrr!
The sound repeated again, growing that emptiness in Bast further, even as he was stuck in a battle of eyes.
"That look in your eyes don't match the sound in your stomach kid," the traveller muttered, voice kept sweet even under the view of wind hurling dust.
A clench of his fist set Bast back to reality.
The man in front of him was tall, even his back held crooked. Covered head to toe in garms, the only signature of human flesh he could bear witness was the slight flashes of his jaw and those thick calloused hands.
Bast's eyes moved to look at what was behind him. He was carrying something... no dragging something. Earlier he had caught a glimpse at his thin yet long frame.
Now that he was closer it became more apparent.
'A stick...?'
The wind sang as the two stood still.
All Bast could do was shift on the spot, waiting for something to call a reaction.
He didn't know who this guy was... but at least he didn't appear to be a Veilguard.
But maybe... that wasn't a good thing.
"You planning to stare, or move?" Bast followed up, the words leaving his throat raw. Their eyes stayed locked onto one another. A set of amber gazing at the faint irises of black, obscured by the wrappings of a hood above.
There wasn't an immediate reply to Bast's question.
Instead, the man's head turned slightly--his hood shaking--as if surprised the boy in front of him had a voice.
'The hell does he want...' Bast questioned his mind.
The way he was standing tall, body covered head to toe... it didn't sit right at all.
It was instinctual.
Something that had kept Bast surviving this long this long, that told him to be wary.
Still, he couldn't show anything he wouldn't want seen.
Maybe that's why his vision straightened, almost unwavering even under the pressure his mind set upon him.
"Hmph--" a faint sound rummaged the air. It wasn't a chuckle, but it was something very close to it. It immediately sent a faint jolt through Bast's calf as his foot dug into the sand, something the man opposite him picked up on.
"White Mile's a bad place to sleep if you scare easily," the figure voiced. A short lapse went on, filled only by the wind.
What is he talking about?
A confused brow sat on Bast's face as his fingers twitched. Those pair of eyes looked at both reactions, seemingly void of one:
"...but it seems you don't know that yet."
Grrr!
Bast had to say something. Already as tense as it was, he had to put on an appearance. That's why his lips parted ever so slightly:
"...You always this--"
Before he could finish his own words a sudden flow of movement prompted his eyes to go wide.
The figure opposite him, dressed head to toe in coverings had dug into his pocket unceremoniously, interrupting Bast's words whilst paying no mind. It wasn't slow. It wasn't smooth.
Swift.
"Hey--" Bast took a step back -- his eyes shooting wide. Any form of fatigue he'd been drowned over from the wake of a restless night was sparked away.
Crunch!
The sound shifted under his footing, spraying as his foot nervously moved back. If it was already on his mind, the option of the Coin weighed heavy on his mind.
[Spike in Emotion Detected]
He didn't need a message for his mind to already be honing onto the Coin. Any more of this... and he'd have to take a chance. His fingers were already sweating over both faces of that rusted coin twiddling in his pocket.
Grrr!
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared. No matter how hard he tried to hide it from leaking, it was clearly festering.
'If I have to... I'll flip--'
Wsshh!
A shape crossed the air before Bast registered the motion.
'Shit--'
He flinched on instinct--hand lifting in the air--before a weight struck his chest, dropping to the sand below.
It was over. A second of distraction. A second of overthinking. A second too that his eyes had left a clear threat to his life...
And now he was--
Bread.
"Huh..."
Wrapped tight. Still warm.
Grrr!
His stomach seemed to get louder at the sight.
That's it.
A distraction.
Bast looked back up expecting to see the man mere inches away, logging that stick behind him like a hammer, about to crack another poor helpless soul. But he wasn't... he stood where he always had been, apart from a slight step forward.
"What--never been fed before?"
No reply came from the boy.
The coin warming in his hand was enough.
[Flips: 2/3]