11-19-2018, 09:06 PM
+ also sticking in his ooc prompt bc why not
Many options lingered out there in the extensive world. Perhaps, Marco could’ve abdicated his inadmissible quarter in the Typhoon for a position in a group which enjoyed his angelic presence, by any chance finding company with those that didn’t have a few which stared down their snout towards him. Additionally, it was possible for the lynx to procure comfort by joining the likes of his brother’s folk in the swamp, tacking on a much-desired sense of family into his routine. Yet, the angel found himself reappearing on the same edge of territory which he had disembarked from weeks ago, the very same site where he had been ridiculed by some for pursuing his own kin, and purely existing as a whole. There was triumph in his voyage, for he had tracked down the phantasmal feline, whom remained his sole family left on Earth after all these years, running with the meek sorts in Tanglewood. Marco was as sure as sunrise to not brag about this -
In fact, the winged feline had sworn to never gloat over anything ever again; both in verbal from and action-wise. It wasn’t that he had ever hotdogged about his status of “mighty holy warrior”, which he had not, though one could merely tell from the way Marco diligently drifted around the camp that he was more-than-proud of his merit. These acts had come with a deuce of consequences to them. Initially, he had only believed his cavalier nature to be the source of the dirty looks his way which that were dropped on the daily, though, as he continued his ways, it was realized that something much more big league was at stake. The halo, a ring of nothing but pure light, that hovered above his hardy noggin purely for decades on end, had faltered. It had been brief, but nothing short of noticeable. Nearly immediately had he discovered the errors of his ways - pride. One of those “seven deadly sins”. In his mind, the sins were outdated, rules of thumb that were maybe appropriate to follow at one time, but not now. Marco was incorrect on this, he now understood, and, if he had remained any longer in the confines of those foul-smelling glades, the angel feared that he’d next fall victim to greed. Why greed? Why, he had never paid those creatures in the Typhoon his visitation fees, of course. A parasite, the lynx had benefited from others’ hard work in keeping the Typhoon shipshape, and provided no effort to speak of. The ring would only flicker more if nothing was done, thus, he’d return - but, he couldn’t think of it that way. No, this was not an attempt to redeem himself out of fear, it was an endeavour done out of the goodness in his soul. ”The ocean ain’t goin’ nowhere”, he could remember the double-negative plagued statement by a particularly unhappy fellow when he confronted Marco. If he had been thinking clearly that day, the angel would have responded, ”neither am I, for I am intent on returning.” Unfortunately, other matters cluttered his mind that day, leaving no room for retorts.
His landing was not graceful. Purposely shoddy. The way his paws cage to a rough, skidding halt upon reaching the dirt’s surface was comparable to that of a car’s failing brakes. It felt... odd. Through the years he’d served his role, he’d gotten so perfect at everything, that it was a foreign experience to actually mess up like that. No, that’s an overbearing way to put it. He wasn’t perfect, he was just able.
If anybody could hear him, especially Bakugou or the savannah, if any of them were still kicking around, he’d announce his presence. "I have returned," he’d remark straightforwardly, his tone ushered along with hints of integrity, ”and I owe the Typhoon my free will. I have not been very assisting in the past, here, and for that I apologize. The group deserves an equal dosage of work from everybody, and I selfishly did not put in my share. So, please, have me at your command.”
This was going to get interesting, to say the least.
Many options lingered out there in the extensive world. Perhaps, Marco could’ve abdicated his inadmissible quarter in the Typhoon for a position in a group which enjoyed his angelic presence, by any chance finding company with those that didn’t have a few which stared down their snout towards him. Additionally, it was possible for the lynx to procure comfort by joining the likes of his brother’s folk in the swamp, tacking on a much-desired sense of family into his routine. Yet, the angel found himself reappearing on the same edge of territory which he had disembarked from weeks ago, the very same site where he had been ridiculed by some for pursuing his own kin, and purely existing as a whole. There was triumph in his voyage, for he had tracked down the phantasmal feline, whom remained his sole family left on Earth after all these years, running with the meek sorts in Tanglewood. Marco was as sure as sunrise to not brag about this -
In fact, the winged feline had sworn to never gloat over anything ever again; both in verbal from and action-wise. It wasn’t that he had ever hotdogged about his status of “mighty holy warrior”, which he had not, though one could merely tell from the way Marco diligently drifted around the camp that he was more-than-proud of his merit. These acts had come with a deuce of consequences to them. Initially, he had only believed his cavalier nature to be the source of the dirty looks his way which that were dropped on the daily, though, as he continued his ways, it was realized that something much more big league was at stake. The halo, a ring of nothing but pure light, that hovered above his hardy noggin purely for decades on end, had faltered. It had been brief, but nothing short of noticeable. Nearly immediately had he discovered the errors of his ways - pride. One of those “seven deadly sins”. In his mind, the sins were outdated, rules of thumb that were maybe appropriate to follow at one time, but not now. Marco was incorrect on this, he now understood, and, if he had remained any longer in the confines of those foul-smelling glades, the angel feared that he’d next fall victim to greed. Why greed? Why, he had never paid those creatures in the Typhoon his visitation fees, of course. A parasite, the lynx had benefited from others’ hard work in keeping the Typhoon shipshape, and provided no effort to speak of. The ring would only flicker more if nothing was done, thus, he’d return - but, he couldn’t think of it that way. No, this was not an attempt to redeem himself out of fear, it was an endeavour done out of the goodness in his soul. ”The ocean ain’t goin’ nowhere”, he could remember the double-negative plagued statement by a particularly unhappy fellow when he confronted Marco. If he had been thinking clearly that day, the angel would have responded, ”neither am I, for I am intent on returning.” Unfortunately, other matters cluttered his mind that day, leaving no room for retorts.
His landing was not graceful. Purposely shoddy. The way his paws cage to a rough, skidding halt upon reaching the dirt’s surface was comparable to that of a car’s failing brakes. It felt... odd. Through the years he’d served his role, he’d gotten so perfect at everything, that it was a foreign experience to actually mess up like that. No, that’s an overbearing way to put it. He wasn’t perfect, he was just able.
If anybody could hear him, especially Bakugou or the savannah, if any of them were still kicking around, he’d announce his presence. "I have returned," he’d remark straightforwardly, his tone ushered along with hints of integrity, ”and I owe the Typhoon my free will. I have not been very assisting in the past, here, and for that I apologize. The group deserves an equal dosage of work from everybody, and I selfishly did not put in my share. So, please, have me at your command.”
This was going to get interesting, to say the least.