YOU'RE A BOTTLED STAR | dual joiners

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]Elijah Rosario has never once thought about why the name of their little party of animals was known as The Typhoon. Perhaps it was a reflection of their strength as a group, perhaps it was to point out the location in which they thrived in. Then again, it is a fruitless question to ponder upon. He doesn't even care for the answer. Nowadays the boy is simply more accepting of things as they came. He'd rather let things be than waste efforts trying to make sense of everything. In terms of his angelic heritage, the ragdoll knows little about the Heavens. Once upon a time, he had thought it to be a place close to him. Now, however, it felt more far away than anything else. His celestial blood had been tainted with the infernal chains of Hades ever since the moment he was conceived. Elijah was never born to be an angel, but he wasn't formed to be a demon either. Even if his rats appeared as a sea of decay, infesting the land they swept upon, he was more of a mortal than anything else. The Heavens, strangely enough, are no more but a fairy tale to him.

His eyes bat gently to the side, twinkling as they are cast towards the chitter of his rats. An angel and an alien, he muses telepathically, relaying the information he saw from his bond with Thirteen. He was intrigued now, but not particularly interested in attempting to befriend the bread-and-butter duo. It has been a while since Elijah last displayed a burning interest in the supernatural. If he were still a child, he would have probably arrived to harass them by now. Harass the poor strangers about their antics, ask a dozen of energised questions, bombard the two with childlike awe. The ragdoll laughs softly to himself. It'd be better if he left the job of attending to the strangers to another. They'd likely show more enthusiasm than he would. Then again, was there really anything else for him to do? Adhuc ego sum officio tenentur typhoon, he rationalises.

Hesitantly, the creature stands. His oversized wing is dragged lazily behind him, leaving a soft trail in the soil behind him as he walks alongside his small friends. Elijah's gaze avoids the sight of the trees above him, feeling the tension in his wingless shoulder blade - the weight of his body unbalanced as consequent of his missing appendage. His rodents disperse in front and around him, scattering and rejoining before the demiangel reaches the railroad that continues towards the border, icy hues perplexed by the two strangers who stood together. Although he had already seen the pair from Thirteen's eyes, he still took a moment to survey them with great interest. They seemed... close? Then again, Elijah isn't particularly sure what closeness looks like.

"Salve," he greets as he approaches speaking distance, politely flicking an ear in acknowledgement of the two. "I am indeed... -" his eyes flutter above him, carefully choosing how to reply to the mutated fem, "- out there..." Whatever that was supposed to mean. Nevertheless, the young feline continues. "This is The Typhoon's border, how can I help you?" It sounded almost like he was taking their fast-food order or something of similar sorts. Maybe he should take it back, find a way to reword it or clarify what he meant. Or, he suddenly thinks, he could just play along with the accidental impression. He presses a shy smile: "But I do have to tell you that the Kid's meal is currently unavailable. We do, however, have a special 2 for 1 offer of fries."