Soft paws delicately descended unto the sandy ground, his impact with the surface displacing but a humble amount of grains. Moments ago, he had been soaring through the heavens at high speeds on those glorious wings of his, making his usual rounds in the hopes of spotting an injustice he could intervene in. Marco had been operating like this for roughly five decades at this time, spreading good on behalf of the King’s King, while at the same time, in restless pursuance of someone from his past. Once that someone’s whereabouts had been discovered, it was then Marco will need to bring them up to the pearly gates, and get this situation all sorted out. However that was his business, his business alone, and it barely related to the reason why he was currently present - at first, at least. As the lynx glided through the sky, his clairvoyance had begun to wig out, strongly suggesting that he make a pit stop at this specific island before heading off. It gave him a hunch that, if he’d had interact with whatever locals lived within the isle’s reach, then the angel would find himself with great gain. Over the years, Marco had learned to trust his powerful senses, for they were God’s gift to him, and God had a greater intellect than he did.

The sand stung, though only for a moment. The angel’s head swung around, scanning for any enterprise that may be present. Activity was definitely afoot in these grounds, his instincts informed him, so it would not be long before he was found out. If they meant harm, it would not be a difficult task to dish out a serving of equality - though he wished not for that. If push came to shove, he’d simply accept it, there’d be no use to fight now if it got in the way of potential lucre for him. Eyes on the prize. 

Today, Bakugou wasn't patrolling. No, there were plenty of other faces to do so. All he was interested in for now was these strange powers that continued to intrigue him when he was training. He could feel the ground murmur beneath him, trees watching him through unknowable eyes. It felt like an invasion of privacy but the pirates had told him stories of how he was defeated atrociously by a beast and then the earth swallowed him whole, leaving him to regenerate within the depths of darkness and thorny embrace of branches galore. He decided to go climbing, scale the highest tree he could find - pulling and heaving his body upwards as his claws linked into the bark, allowing the male to grasp before sitting at the top of a branch and sighing. It's nice to be alone, to not be bombarded by others. Even when he's on the ground, taking a walk on his own, the Reaver is always bound to notice someone blocking his line of view, tainting his perspective with their wasteful presence.

He doesn't know what instinct tells him to look up but Bakugou looks up, blinking his sanguine hues when he realises there is a figure up ahead in the sky - too big to be a mere bird, too small to be another one of those dragons. And yet his heart sinks for a moment when he realises he's begun walking, sinks even more when he knows he should have fallen to the ground. Bakugou looks immediately to his feet, expecting cartoon physics to suddenly apply where he will plummet to his death because he has no wings to stop him from falling, no air elementals to soften the speed of his fall. There are branches beneath his paws, finally realising the rough texture of the tree. It hadn't been there before, had it? He moves his other paw forward, bringing it to air, daring a branch to appear as if he were trying to see if he was crazy. A branch couldn't have just moved to stop him from falling, could it? Nothing happens. He must have imagined it, furrowing his brows in annoyance, the irritation of the moment breaking his initial calmness as he climbs back down to go address to the stranger.

He is the first one here, quickly assessing the angel to note the other male was a lynx with wings. "Graceful," he utters aloud but there's no particular emotion underlying his words, no reveal of the cycling thoughts within his mind. Perhaps it is because he has no opinions towards the feline. He's still fixated on his own matters, unable to move on from the events that had led to his twelve-day-coma. "Ya wings stopped workin' on ya or somethin'? Well the exit for non-fliers is that-a-way," the Reaver says, half-heartedly pointing towards the edge of the island with a paw. "But, of course, our spineless residents are gonna throw a fit at me for shooin' ya off so quickly." Although it always seems like Bakugou never learns, he does pay attention to the words of others. Apparently they were some kind of bloody motel, a traveler haven, because always someone will say something along the lines of 'I'm lost' and the appropriate answer was evidently not to point them in the right direction but to give them a room and hot dinner. Despite his bitterness towards him, the Reaver has at least noted not to simply tell the foreigner to GTFO. [b]"This is The Typhoon, welcome or don't feel welcomed - I don't care. The fuck do you want here?"

Just as he’d suspected, there existed liveliness on this exotic retreat. In fact, the first face that garnished his presence occurred to be that of a non-feral, a pleasant surprise indeed. Greater amounts of animals these days had adapted to become intelligent beings, though it was less likely to find refined creatures like this ragdoll on islands like these, which was on the surface untouched by human culture. A mild grin grew on his face as the feline loomed closer, which he’d retain ardently throughout the stranger’s colourful wound-up welcoming speech. It was awfully strange to point a guest in the direction of the exit (when that was said, Marco simply hoisted his brows in interest) to immediately bid welcome, after which vulgarly demand the angel’s business. Were these mannerisms common in the Typhoon, it was this one fellow an alien in that aspect? Before he could cleverly respond to the interloper’s rather heated introduction, another Typhoon-er made the scene - an additional feline, one that was indeed of smaller proportions, whom familiarized herself as Linux, “a nice girl”. Beholding the minuscule female to an extent relieved Marco, understanding that not everyone’s an asshole, as she put it.

Analyzing what was said, the lynx figured that The Typhoon is the title of the present group, and by the way Linux muttered everyone, he could tell that these people were not merely a party, but something of a society. A society that held no restraint on foul language, by the sounds of it. Not that it bothered Marco in any way, considering that he himself swore every now and then; he just didn’t see it as a very good first impression, casually cursing at a newcomer.

"Appreciate the welcome," Marco expressed, his controlled pitch reminding of a spirit’s, ”especially his”. With optimism, the surly sap could humour laugh at himself as he had poked fun at Marco, for it would be the birth of an unsteady connection between the two otherwise. ”I am Marco - Marco Dragomir. My gumption told me that this place’d be of interest to me, maybe help me with what I’m trying to find, maybe not. If I don’t need to be here, I’ll happily leave; elseways, if it wouldn’t be too much of a trouble, I’d like to take a break from my duties and stay here for a bit.”. His accent was tickled by a variety of flavours. Romanian had been his first and sole language, prior to joining the ranks of those in heaven and learning English, Hebrew, Greek, and many others, all of which creating a finished product of a songlike dialogue. Luckily for him, these inhabitants spoke a dialect he was quite familiar with.

//legit presses post and saw that a reply was made SECONDS AGO

Out of the corner of an olive bulb, he’d spot a kitsune pressing onward to his locality, changing this little welcome party into a crowd. Introducing herself as Thea, she bombarded him with a deuce of questions, both of which were easily answered. ”Nice t’meet you, too, Thea - and all of you, actually. If you have wings somewhere, I’m sure I could teach you to fly one way or another. That is an ‘if’”. 

He genuinely thought he'd never have to see Linux again. He had, after all, gone an entire day without having to see or even hear her pitched and annoying mewls. This time, however, she hasn't really arrived to have the audacity to try and lecture him. But two things immediately caught his annoyance. The first was the fact that Linux was always trying to talk on behalf on him, as if others would take her seriously. This made Bakugou roll his eyes, clearly agitated to see her. The next was Linux claiming that she was indeed a 'nice girl'. He doesn't think so. She was a vermin, a gremlin of a child. His nose twitches when Thea arrives, yet another bundle of energy arriving to greet the winged lynx. No further comment leaves his maw until the stranger speaks again, attempting to poke humour at his 'welcoming' personality. Well, at least he wasn't taking any offence to what Bakugou was saying, taking the time to be rather cheerful about it. It reminded him of Victor's joining, reacting in a calm manner to his nasty attitude.

Stay here. The foreigner would like to stay here before continuing his journey. He wants to say no. He's never liked the idea of The Typhoon acting as an inn for travelers. It was a waste of their resources to do things so freely, especially considering how lax they had been lately. They were more than open for an attack and that made Bakugou very, very paranoid. Before he can reluctantly allow the male in, Goldenluxury speaks up - hospitable as always. The Reaver sighs, shifting his paws awkwardly before looking back at Marco. "Barracuda Bay is over there," he says, stretching his tail as he gets ready to leave. "Well, if ya have any other questions, don't bother askin' me. Ask one of 'em."

© LEXASPERATED