SO PUT YOUR HANDS UP;; open - returning Oleander

[angelembrace]

Well. Oleander was alive and well it seemed, all thanks to...the Typhoon. Angel would be the first to admit he was getting real sick and tired of always hearing of them, catching the scent of them, now owing them, more or less. At the very least, Lutum, but it became very clear very quickly that he wouldn't exactly have any malice towards the guy or a bone to pick with the dragon of any kind, given that, well...he would just say he suddenly understood Lethe to a whole new extent.

Of course, even if he did have something to say to Lutum, it was soon discarded into the void after Aphra's commentary towards Saturn and their obvious lack of sight, which even for her was a low blow. As per usual, Aphra's screeching was what drove him over to the scene, frowning from the familiar scent of the sea, though intrigued by the origins of the dragon clutch's slimy genetics. Ew. "You're alright. She's overcompensating." The jaguar cub said quietly, moving next to the snow leopard to hopefully offer some comfort, but he wasn't sure how much would help. After all, there was no way in hell that didn't sting for them.

But on to other matters, and hopefully a distraction to avoid his ass being on the line should Aphra notice his attempt at emotional comfort. "You are one lucky little dragon, Oleander. How did you not get injured, huh? It's dangerous out there! And you're, well...still small."

your little hands of paradise, give them here and hang on tight

— Reggan