11-16-2018, 08:37 PM
For a local to virtually immediately herald his presence, Marco’s dense cheeks sloped upwards into a smile, marginally pushing his eyes into a position which was barely more than a squint. Not a touch of hostility resided in this fellow, nay, he could see it clearly through those olive hues of his. Instead of exhibiting aggression or a foul attitude, like what was shown by some of those attendant on his first day in the Typhoon, the yellow-ish inhabitant of Tanglewood provided an aura of harmless eagerness. Compared to what he had seen firsthand back at home, if he could call the tropical isles that, the angel heeded the native’s conduct as acts of hospitality. Thus, the lynx happily complied, and without hesitation, he’d answer the feline’s query.
"Hello to you, as well," he’d return in a rather pure tone, ”my name is Marco Dragomir, and I have come to your pleasant little operation here in search of a specific individual, whom I believe is lodging here?”
The large feline had paused, allowing his introducion to sink into the creature’s mind, ere he continued to speak. However, the chance to resume never came; the noggin of none other than his older brother had timidly peered out from the backside of the male that Marco had been previously gabbing with. Riveted by this, as well as being somewhat awestruck, the right brow from his own mug flung up in an enticed manner. Either insatiable luck had been on his side, or that boisterous clairvoyance has been right all along.
Did he follow him? Had the lynx trailed his sibling across land and sea to unite with him? Indeed he had. It would be a lie to reply with a “no”, and he was not a dishonest man. Though, another thing to consider was if Beck would appreciate the truth. Would the ghost welcome the fact, or would he turn up his translucent snout and accuse him of being a creep? He did not know. There was no definitive score in view at the current time, only theories. Deep down, he had faith in Beck, in that, as a brother, he’d embrace the angel’s occupancy.
Shooting a nod to the other male, as if to state that the ”specific individual” was in view, he’d then shift the entirety of his focus unto the poltergeist. ”I do believe that I have followed you here, Beck. The others may not have entirely appreciated my decision (or my existence there in the first place), but I could care less about them right now.” It was true, not everybody in the Typhoon were exactly head-over-heels for an angel; especially the demonic folk, like a certain male at hand on the eve of his departure. If he hadn’t felt that he owed them labour in return for allowing his squatting, Marco likely would not return. Yet, he felt exactly that way, and things were to go as planned. Persisting with a playful shrug, he’d glare at Beck once again to speak. ”I’ve finally found you after decades of searching, and you slip out of my grasp once more. Can I count on you staying here so we could possibly have a conversation? Or are you planning to take yet another trip somewhere?”
"Hello to you, as well," he’d return in a rather pure tone, ”my name is Marco Dragomir, and I have come to your pleasant little operation here in search of a specific individual, whom I believe is lodging here?”
The large feline had paused, allowing his introducion to sink into the creature’s mind, ere he continued to speak. However, the chance to resume never came; the noggin of none other than his older brother had timidly peered out from the backside of the male that Marco had been previously gabbing with. Riveted by this, as well as being somewhat awestruck, the right brow from his own mug flung up in an enticed manner. Either insatiable luck had been on his side, or that boisterous clairvoyance has been right all along.
Did he follow him? Had the lynx trailed his sibling across land and sea to unite with him? Indeed he had. It would be a lie to reply with a “no”, and he was not a dishonest man. Though, another thing to consider was if Beck would appreciate the truth. Would the ghost welcome the fact, or would he turn up his translucent snout and accuse him of being a creep? He did not know. There was no definitive score in view at the current time, only theories. Deep down, he had faith in Beck, in that, as a brother, he’d embrace the angel’s occupancy.
Shooting a nod to the other male, as if to state that the ”specific individual” was in view, he’d then shift the entirety of his focus unto the poltergeist. ”I do believe that I have followed you here, Beck. The others may not have entirely appreciated my decision (or my existence there in the first place), but I could care less about them right now.” It was true, not everybody in the Typhoon were exactly head-over-heels for an angel; especially the demonic folk, like a certain male at hand on the eve of his departure. If he hadn’t felt that he owed them labour in return for allowing his squatting, Marco likely would not return. Yet, he felt exactly that way, and things were to go as planned. Persisting with a playful shrug, he’d glare at Beck once again to speak. ”I’ve finally found you after decades of searching, and you slip out of my grasp once more. Can I count on you staying here so we could possibly have a conversation? Or are you planning to take yet another trip somewhere?”