Semi-Selective Multimuse for primarily fantasy oc characters as well as canon muses from Marvel, The 100, and Daniel Molloy of The Vampire Chronicles. Please read my pages before interacting.

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This is really dependent on where Beck is and what she's doing.

If she's spending long portions of her time in animal form, then she's probably eating as often as instinct tells her. She doesn't love eating in most of her animal forms, but there are some days when she takes great pleasure in leisurely grazing beside Grani.

If she's on the road and she's primarily in her human form she'll generally eat twice a day if she can remember to. Beck is the type that if it comes to caring for herself will just eat an apple, get distracted, and forget to have anything substantial. Generally she eats more meat than she normally would on the road/run because she doesn't have any space to garden. She has started experimenting with gardening on top of the Goose though. If Beck got to choose she'd be a vegetarian (at least in her human form) but when you're on the run, you eat what you can, and when you're on the road you stock up when it is safe/convenient.

In more settled environments like Jon's, Beck cooks real and proper meals for people and while doing so it often reminds her she needs to eat. Gardening, cooking, sewing, knitting, playing guitar, embroidery, they are all things she enjoys, but she does them a lot more when she's settled because she has to have an outlet for all that energy. She'll host parties and cook elaborate themed meals a couple of times a month. And her diet is more balanced when she's not on the run. She can eat what she chooses, and for the most part that's a very balanced diet that might be a bit heavy on the fruit and veg. Still it isn't uncommon for someone to ask "have you eaten today?" and her response to be "I knew I was forgetting something." But like I said when she does it, she eats really nutritious food.

Beck at the beach in mammalian mosasaur mode:

~

Braxton Campbell bent down and reached into the bag at his feet. He rifled in its contents for a handful of seconds, and then pulled out the phone he used specifically for work-related issues. By the time he pressed record and looked up, the person he’d been speaking to was already half way down the street. He sighed heavily, snatched up his things, and jogged a short way to catch up with her. 

These days he spent a lot of time following around Beck Tandy. What had started out as a failed assignment for the Talamasca had turned into an marvelously beneficial friendship. Beck wouldn’t tolerate any information on her being passed on to the organization, but if he didn’t put her through the hassle of ducking out of the view of his long scope camera or picking yet another broken tracker from the underside of her vehicle, she was willing to tell him some things that her people knew about the magical world; granted that the Talamasca left her in peace, and that she’d deny ever meeting him if the witches ever found out their secrets had been spilled. He’d agreed to the deal readily and his employers—a bit more reluctantly. Still, they came around when Beck allowed him to take the three-headed dog she was babysitting for a friend into the Motherhouse for an hour.

“Beck!” He said in a thin, breathy voice, but more from exasperation than exhaustion. 

The witch cut her eyes at him irritably. “What?”

“We were talking about you-know-who?”

“I don’t know who, you haven’t said their name yet.” She snapped.

Braxton rolled his eyes. The problem with Beck was that she was in constant motion both in body and brain. Given two seconds of silence, her mind could wander a thousand miles and four topics away from the subject at hand, and her feet were never far behind. Sometimes she didn’t even need the silence. She was one of the only people he’d ever seen distract themselves mid-sentence and veer onto a completely new avenue of conversation. When he was with Beck, his job had more to do with bridling the discussion and steering it back in the direction he needed it to go than spying or researching or archiving files. And Beck didn’t always appreciate that.

“That’s because I don’t know if they’re listening. Vampires can hear for miles.” Braxton mumbled.

Beck’s lips pressed together into a thin line. “And what of it? You think they’ve got nothing better to do than sit by the window cupping an ear and straining to find your voice out of the masses? If you’re going to ask me something, just ask it.”

“Alright.” Braxton paused to consider his question. If he didn’t get it right the first time, there was a chance he’d never get them close enough to the topic again before Beck decided she was done playing nice for the evening. “How can you tell if someone’s a vampire? For sure.”

“How can you tell?” She prodded, “Or how can I tell? Those are very different questions.”

He clarified. “You.”

“Oh. Well, depends on the type of vampire. Usually I can sense it, but mind you I don’t know too much about them. Only what I learned with Harper and what I’ve seen of Vasilii. Harper didn’t want me around them much, either, and Vas has little to do with anyone outside his family. That being me and Fen. And I guess Manya, but can you really be friends with a possessed metal butterfly? Hm, then again, you don’t really have to be friends with your family at all. That’s why-”

“Beck.” 

She paused her step, blinked a few times, and realized. “Oh right. Vampires. Well you can’t tell from the sun. Some vampires spend more time sunbathing than I do. And garlic’s a toss up. Some can’t eat a thing aside from blood and others can stomach anything like big, gloomy, undead goats. Disappointingly the rice counting doesn’t work on anyone or anything that isn’t cursed or mentally ill in a particular way.”

“So you’re saying it’s impossible.” He groaned, his thumb hovering over the delete button on the recording already. This wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m not done yet.” She glared at him until he hit the red button again. “Mirrors are a maybe for some species of vampire, but never the mirrors in their own house, you know. Vampire lairs are similar to witch cottages; they have a sort of allegiance with their keepers. I’ve never met any that can’t cross running water though, and crosses are a bust. There’s a surprising number of very religious vampires. There’s only one way I’ve found to really tell, and that’s if they can’t see sprouts.”

“... Sprouts?” 

“Mhm.” She nodded with absolute certainty. “Not plant sprouts. People sprouts.”

“I’m going to regret asking this, but what are ‘people sprouts?’”

“Oh that’s right, you can’t really see them either. Not unless they want you to. That’s their problem with vampires, but we’ll get to that part. Sprouts are-” She paused to reach into a small bag attached to her hip, and from it she produced a thin, hand-drawn journal that looked like it held no more than twenty pages. But she flipped and flipped well past what should have been possible, until finally passed the book over to him. There was a carefully drawn side profile of a humanoid looking creature on the page, etched in charcoal and shaded a faint baby-blue. Its eyes were bigger than a human’s, and behind ears that looked more hippo than human, a tiny patch of grass was growing. The scaling on the side showed that the being was no more than four inches tall, and it had a long, winding tail covered in little milky trichomes and ended in a tuft of hair the same pale white as that of their head. 

“There.” She said, “That’s a sprout. Very lovely creatures, but awfully territorial, and they hold grudges like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Where do you find them?” It was a silly thought, but he did briefly wonder if such creatures were interested in a job. The Talamasca could use an automatic vampire detection service. “And why can’t vampires see them?”

“Used to be you could only find them in old places. You see when people live some place, they leave things behind in the spirit realm. Ideas, emotions, obsessions. They don’t realize it, but if you hang onto them for long enough or you feel strongly enough, these things take on their own life. Especially in places where people have lived a long time. Think castles that have been inhabited for centuries or even graveyards with generations of the same family buried there, but then for some reason or another the living people abandon it. All that stuff they left behind gets lonely. It wants life. When the plants move in and start to grow through the floorboards and infect the house, that’s good enough for them. Thus, a sprout is born. Or planted at least. It takes a while for them to grow properly. And now there’s enough of them that they’ve started reproducing on their own. Kind of like witches. Or my sort anyway. In the beginning, the first witches were all incarnations of spirits, but over time they became more physical. More people.”

His head was starting to hurt. Sometimes you had to squint to see Beck’s point of view on the world. It was wrapped up in magic and spirits and traditions and “things that just were” that he’d never even heard of before. But if he didn’t think too hard about what he considered the real world, he could understand her well enough.

“That… doesn’t explain the vampires.”

“Hm? Oh. Well that has to do with the keeping grudges I told you about.” She took the book back from him, snapped it shut, and tucked it away again. Her hands waved in the air emphatically as she spoke. “See back when sprouts were really becoming, a very large portion of the population lived in this old fort in Wales—I don’t recall the name—that was abandoned after some rich Roman captain died. The problem was, he didn’t stay dead. Nearly three hundred years later he waltzes back into the very occupied ruins with a gaggle of fledglings and starts to rebuild the place. The sprouts, mind you, tried to use their new-found peopledom and handle the situation diplomatically. The story goes that they appeared with their best army and let the vampires see them, and that the vampires laughed at them. The old captain even bent down and called the general of the army a pixie. They’ve never shown themselves to a single vampire since. It’s best not to even bring it up around them.”

“... That’s it? They didn’t squash any of them or set fire to the place?”

Beck made a face. “Goodness no. I believe they all lived there for a century before the whole place was ripped up by a unicorn one of the vampires tried to keep as a pet. That’s what they say at least, and it is true that the Bear King’s grandfather tried to align himself with vampires, so he might have rangled the unicorn for them. A very silly idea. Unicorns are notorious-”

“Focus.” Braxton pinched the bridge of his nose. “And they’ve had this grudge for?”

“Oh I couldn’t even say. Well over a thousand years.”

“Over being called pixies?”

“Well if you’d ever seen a pixie, you’d probably take it as an insult too.” Beck shrugged. “In any case, that’s the only fool-proof way I’ve ever found to identify a vampire, and you have to coax a sprout into helping you to do it.”

“Do they like witches?” He stopped the recording on his phone and tucked it away into his pocket.

Beck hummed. “Maybe. They like me, generally speaking. That’s what really matters.”

“I’m starting to think most magical creatures like you.” He chuckled.

“I have a sparkling disposition. Anyway, I’m hungry and I’m going to get something to eat. Are you coming?”

They were no closer to determining if his newest assignment from the Talamasca was or was not a vampire, and the conversation was clearly over. 

He groaned and resigned himself to having to do things the hard way. “I know a good Korean barbeque in the area.”