11-06-2018, 09:09 PM
To say that the angel did not enjoy his stay here would have somewhat been a white lie. The receptivity of sand on your paws, tough grains pressed into your pads’ pithy surface, and though not a sensation some took joy from - Marco was fine with it. Being someone who had never taken the time to help himself to a long walk on a beach before, the lynx secured a satisfied pleasure when it came to new experiences; there was not much he had not already done in his existence of circa five-hundred years. The temperature was also an aspect to pay mind to, as the constant state of warmth had released a certain hormone within the male, a little sense known to many as “relaxation”. Adding in the peaceful white noise of the crystalline waves fracturing against the shore, the Typhoon made for a flawless retirement location. And that was what Marco was going through right now, right? Retirement from his holy duties as a warrior of heaven and her wishes. All left to do was sort out his matters with his sibling, and that’s where the trouble began.
The winged feline sat upon his stalwart rump near the outer rim of the group’s territory, his nose the apex of a troubled expression, which faced the watery expanse that lay in the forefront of his large frame. Olive hues scanned the currents pulling themselves inwards, ere pushing out once more. ‘Twas nature’s course, one may note, always falling into a routine which worked. Why couldn’t his life, and the problems which it held, act the same? His gaze that contemplated the ocean’s movements had been one of anguish, as if a nonstop migraine had been disorganizing the habitual events in his mind. Actually, there was, in fact, a nonstop migraine which had disorganized the habitual events in his mind, one caused by none other than his own sense of clairvoyance. It had led him here, to the faint trace of Beck’s supernatural existence, which the lynx would exist alongside in harmony as fate had planned. However, as of late, the scent had vanished entirely; well, it hadn’t vanished entirely per se. There was a lead, a trail, a something that would inevitably lead the angel to the presence of his abnormal sibling. His clairvoyance pounded on his skull, aching for Marco to immediately stand up and fly away, which he would’ve... but he couldn’t.
These people were incredibly kind to the celestial being by allowing him to call these isles his home, and it would be just wrong to leave on an empty note (like his brother apparently had). No, Marco waited, for about twenty minutes now, inhaling the ocean spray and absorbing the beautiful sky, painted in hues of red, orange, and blue. As long as one member of the Typhoon heard his message, which was also an apology, he’d be set to go. However, he was fine with waiting for now.
The winged feline sat upon his stalwart rump near the outer rim of the group’s territory, his nose the apex of a troubled expression, which faced the watery expanse that lay in the forefront of his large frame. Olive hues scanned the currents pulling themselves inwards, ere pushing out once more. ‘Twas nature’s course, one may note, always falling into a routine which worked. Why couldn’t his life, and the problems which it held, act the same? His gaze that contemplated the ocean’s movements had been one of anguish, as if a nonstop migraine had been disorganizing the habitual events in his mind. Actually, there was, in fact, a nonstop migraine which had disorganized the habitual events in his mind, one caused by none other than his own sense of clairvoyance. It had led him here, to the faint trace of Beck’s supernatural existence, which the lynx would exist alongside in harmony as fate had planned. However, as of late, the scent had vanished entirely; well, it hadn’t vanished entirely per se. There was a lead, a trail, a something that would inevitably lead the angel to the presence of his abnormal sibling. His clairvoyance pounded on his skull, aching for Marco to immediately stand up and fly away, which he would’ve... but he couldn’t.
These people were incredibly kind to the celestial being by allowing him to call these isles his home, and it would be just wrong to leave on an empty note (like his brother apparently had). No, Marco waited, for about twenty minutes now, inhaling the ocean spray and absorbing the beautiful sky, painted in hues of red, orange, and blue. As long as one member of the Typhoon heard his message, which was also an apology, he’d be set to go. However, he was fine with waiting for now.