10-21-2018, 08:36 AM
//thanks 
) i try but movile can be very limiting + and there’s no problem on the aura part! wendell’s would be a stiff red, no darker or lighter, which i’m p sure signifies passion and energy.
Reverberations of bickering equipment parroted midst the air, compelling the male to softly shoot the source a precluding glare of curiosity immediately as the racket met his rounded ears. These sounds had caught the male off guard. Normally, all that was audible in this certain area of Sunhaven’s territory were the crashing of waves and cawing of seabirds, both token factors in every seaside terrace. At intervals, perhaps you’d get an earful of fellow Sunhavenfolk at work, hammering away at nails, or sawing wood, and every now and then there was a blinding shindig or great scuffle; however, over the course of his existence as a ‘Havener, the sunbearer could not recall he’d heard such a ruckus from a single being’s clothing. Hence, he was a tad perturbed by the guest’s disquiet, as it was a foreign sonancy he had not grown accustomed to, but only for a moment. Allowing himself to ease up once more, he’d propel a welcoming smile as the rather large feline encroached. His opposite’s size did not discompose Wendell quite like the cougar’s attire had, for he could see that the goliath gent meant no harm. Kurosaki Ichigo was his apparent title - or in reverse order, if the male was of Japanese descent as his name suggested. He’d learn many facts about many cultures throughout his time of extensive travel, and that naming format was one of them. Another matter that he had discovered was that, in a conversation, it was customary for the local to make the outlander feel at home. Thus, he carefully slide one of the two glasses over, the action compounded with an approachable "Why don’tcha put your feet up for a bit, eh?". The blade-decked feline had also made an inquiry about Wendell’s duration of stay in these parts, to which he’d comply by answering; ”My name’s Wendell, Wendell Harrowsmith, and I’ve been ‘ere for a good month, now, though I’m not sure for how much longer.”. Following that climactic statement, he’d fixate his chocolate gaze on the horizon. One of three things were going to happen to him - he’d grow a pair and endure the hardships of war, he’d leave due to the disturbing state of turmoil, or he’d get killed by some rogue Ascendant. Wendell hoped not for the latter, and wished for the initial, though the future had a track record of not giving results that anyone had thought of beforehand. ”What’s it matter?”, he’d swiftly ask, realizing that Mr. Kurosaki has not inaugurated their conversation with a ”how are you?”, but a ”how long have you lived here?”. From that, the mustelid assumed that Ichigo was wanting to get to a certain somewhere with this.
) i try but movile can be very limiting + and there’s no problem on the aura part! wendell’s would be a stiff red, no darker or lighter, which i’m p sure signifies passion and energy. Reverberations of bickering equipment parroted midst the air, compelling the male to softly shoot the source a precluding glare of curiosity immediately as the racket met his rounded ears. These sounds had caught the male off guard. Normally, all that was audible in this certain area of Sunhaven’s territory were the crashing of waves and cawing of seabirds, both token factors in every seaside terrace. At intervals, perhaps you’d get an earful of fellow Sunhavenfolk at work, hammering away at nails, or sawing wood, and every now and then there was a blinding shindig or great scuffle; however, over the course of his existence as a ‘Havener, the sunbearer could not recall he’d heard such a ruckus from a single being’s clothing. Hence, he was a tad perturbed by the guest’s disquiet, as it was a foreign sonancy he had not grown accustomed to, but only for a moment. Allowing himself to ease up once more, he’d propel a welcoming smile as the rather large feline encroached. His opposite’s size did not discompose Wendell quite like the cougar’s attire had, for he could see that the goliath gent meant no harm. Kurosaki Ichigo was his apparent title - or in reverse order, if the male was of Japanese descent as his name suggested. He’d learn many facts about many cultures throughout his time of extensive travel, and that naming format was one of them. Another matter that he had discovered was that, in a conversation, it was customary for the local to make the outlander feel at home. Thus, he carefully slide one of the two glasses over, the action compounded with an approachable "Why don’tcha put your feet up for a bit, eh?". The blade-decked feline had also made an inquiry about Wendell’s duration of stay in these parts, to which he’d comply by answering; ”My name’s Wendell, Wendell Harrowsmith, and I’ve been ‘ere for a good month, now, though I’m not sure for how much longer.”. Following that climactic statement, he’d fixate his chocolate gaze on the horizon. One of three things were going to happen to him - he’d grow a pair and endure the hardships of war, he’d leave due to the disturbing state of turmoil, or he’d get killed by some rogue Ascendant. Wendell hoped not for the latter, and wished for the initial, though the future had a track record of not giving results that anyone had thought of beforehand. ”What’s it matter?”, he’d swiftly ask, realizing that Mr. Kurosaki has not inaugurated their conversation with a ”how are you?”, but a ”how long have you lived here?”. From that, the mustelid assumed that Ichigo was wanting to get to a certain somewhere with this.