🫧 for the prompts!
🫧 The pressure of a trapped burp, straining their stomach but refusing to come out
If there’s one thing that Evor especially hates about eating deer, it’s that the bucks kick and writhe so horribly—not to mention those antlers threatening to pierce his poor paunch—and their struggling never fails to make him unbearably gassy.
He’s a very polite Inhabiter. When he hears and feels the telltale bubble of a cauldron beginning in the pit of his stomach, his instinct is to clamp his iron jaws tightly shut. As no beast can threaten the walls of Dineria, no foul manners may pass his lips (or lack thereof, rather).
But, as it always does, it becomes so much worse. It’s like a new being stirs to life inside his stuffed gut, a vengeful air elemental born next to the steadily digesting deer. And how fast it grows—it feeds off the ever-constant churning of its surroundings, pushing out against the walls of Evor’s stomach.
He stands there at his post, wincing internally as his volcano-rumbling belly protrudes a couple extra inches, expanding to make room for all the tumultuous air. It’s bad enough that his gut already has been given a window out of his armor by necessity; at its most bubbly, eagle-eyed passerby can see his belly twitch and jiggle subtly with the immense churning within, particularly violent gurgles rippling the surface like wind across a pond.
Around that juncture, he can’t take it anymore. He will murmur an embarrassed “excuse me” to another knight and request his post be covered while he waddles off to a private corridor to take care of his issues.
Like clockwork, two hours after a hearty buck, Evor is forced over a windowsill, his upper half dangling out of it as he grinds his grumbling gut against the windowsill. It’s useless this time, though—it only pushes the forming belch around like a tightly wad ball of thunder magic, and it’s complaining just as loudly. He can only moan miserably as the air pocket ricochets off of every wall in his stomach, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth as he tries to force the damned thing out.
“I really should have just eaten the doe, I think… oooouuuunnnhhh…”
The most he can hope is that the gods will have mercy on his near-bursting, pressurized belly… and that no one will happen by the east side of the castle. Not again.
