Moonspear berserk

hehe! Thanks for joining! <3

Salmon pink tongue scraped futilely against the sharp canines that lined his top jaw in an effort to scrape away the horrid taste of the mushroom, knowing that it was entirely useless yet at the same time couldn't yet give into the idea of giving up. He even scooped up a mouthful of cold snow but giving that snow had no actual flavor — except for the yellow snow but he wasn't going to eat that — it did essentially nothing for the aftertaste Tev was suddenly left with. He gave a nod of his head, brow furrowed and stare icy as he glared at the small hole in the earth he'd made to keep them. “Yeah you taste like shit ...you...little shits,” It had sounded cool in his head but it sounded ...lame when he said it out loud, followed by the consideration that he might be going insane because he was talking to mushrooms. Tev couldn't recall the last time he'd spoken to an inanimate object but he knew for certain that he had grown out of that stage a long time ago.

Still, it felt nice to vent about how awful they tasted even if no one was around to hear it (and frankly, though he was blissfully unaware of this fact, he was lucky his mother wasn't around to catch him eating them).

It hadn't taken long for him to begin to feel weird. It began with shivering, though not something Tev paid much mind too despite that he wasn't really cold. His toes were a little chilly, it was true, but he, inherently, wasn't cold. His fur prevented him from feel the true nip of the air, though he was better equipped due to his northern lineage, his winter coat coarse and thicker, bred to resist the more frigid temperatures of the north. It wasn't until there was a slight chatter of his teeth as they clicked together with the shivers did he understand that of course he felt weird. Something wasn't right about the mushroom(s) he'd eaten. He glared at them, let out a low curse in Norse before he turned, alarmed at the crunch of snow beneath another's footfalls. His pupils were blown wide in their pools of icy caribbean blue, ears slicking back to rest at half mast atop his skull, hackles rigid as they bristled as he took in the black form of Amekaze. It took him longer than it should have to recognize her, and when he did he took in a deep breath and shivered, shoulders hunching as his head lowered slightly. As entirely indiscreetly as he possibly could while under the beginnings of the Beserker high he used his back paw to kick the small mound of dirt haphazardly into the hole, not caring that the mushrooms were now buried in the dirt. Ah well, the dirt might actually make them taste better.