THE FATHER WAS GONE / ooc prompt

[FELIKS]

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/ english is feliks' second language, what is his first and what kind of situation makes him speak his first language?

Spending at least four years communicating in the common tongue, it was difficult to pinpoint where the male's very faint remnants of an accent came from. Sometimes it became more obvious with the complicated words he liked to use, other times he sounded like he'd lived in the Typhoon all of his life and hadn't been well-versed in travel at all. Clan life had made him forget a lot of the culture he'd once tried to live up to, but it was hard to forget the language he'd been brought up on regardless. At times he remembered the frustrations of speaking English, how hard it was to remember what word meant what when his nerves were fried from social anxiety - all of that had changed now. There was never a need to slip back into the mother tongue anymore.

Sometimes to keep prying ears away from horrible swears he'd do it (more so to confuse others as opposed to protecting innocence), but with everyone speaking the exact same words there was literally no point. The individualism he yearned for would've cursed him for allowing himself to be swayed, but with a deepening insecurity that him and his goals were misunderstood, Feliks would be wise not to perplex his clan further. A little mystery here and there would always keep the intrigue going, drawing suspicion however wasn't ideal and there was no doubt someone would get antsy if they thought he was talking shit about them behind their backs... ugh, what was he saying anymore?

Was he even him? Why did he care? "Loki, czy jestem naprawdę zbyt miękki?," he'd mumble to the crow sitting adjacent to him in camp, the black bird giving a tilt of his head in response. Of course, the other wouldn't have the foggiest idea what he was saying. Perhaps that was for the best though, giving predators any hints of weakness or self-doubt would no doubt make him vulnerable. With the Typhoon's current political climate, the only thing he needed to be to safe himself was strong.

[...]

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[div style="width: 60px; font-size: 11px; font-family: nyala; text-align: justify; color: #fff"]HP: 92%

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EXP: 4%

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NAME: ... ¦ GENDER: ? ¦ LEVEL: 2 ¦ ♡: 1
STR: 1 ¦ DEF: 1 ¦ CON: 1 ¦ DEX: 1 ¦ INT: 1
PER: 2 ¦ CHR: 1 ¦ AGL: 1 ¦ WIL: 1 ¦ LCK: 1

Step by step, and step by step, and step by step. Smiling with white shines akin to Stars, despite the soreness that grips around Their limbs. Fragile flesh still burns, yet, They breathes strength. Heart beats curiosity, it drives Them to seek what lives beyond Darkness. Paint Their world from black to gold. Let Them see Life.

Puny paws nearly tripping over each other, They lets the breezes guide Them through the place of rich minds and silver grins. Here and there, They finds a faint green in the air. Ears prickling, simple motions halts, Their mismatched eyes follows after it, only then, it lands on an unfamiliar beast, They approaches to it. Pacing slow, pulls with light cautiousness.

Until They is close to the being, all feathers born from vigor crafted skin, eyes widen, They stops with a gasp. Small, but clear, as surprise remains beneath. "Ffffuuah!," they squeaks. Fore pads gently hits against each other before eager paws reaches towards the wings, awkward from strained limbs, yet, innocent intention holds on through, They tries to touch the appendages as They catches Their success.

[adomania]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; width: 55%; line-height:115%; text-align: justify;font-family: calibri;"]Language was a finicky thing when it came to the lion; he knew a whole slew of languages not because he practiced any of them, but because they all came naturally to him from birth. It was the gift of being a child of two supernatural beings who both transferred their knowledge to him not through teaching but through the fact that they simply caused him to exist. He knew everything from the more common tongues to more obscure ones, to dead ones that nobody spoke except those just like him or similar. He didn't like talking in languages that others didn't understand, though. He was already enough of an outsider without speaking Latin to creatures who barely even understood the common tongue at times. So he limited himself to it, and eventually, it seemed like he couldn't stop talking at all. The speech, just like his smiles, were simply there to hide what he wasn't saying. Des had found that the more you said, the less people thought you were hiding shit, and he had become good at doing just that. Half of what he said and how he said it was a half truth at best, and the other half was nothing more than friendly banter to try and get people to get off of his case in the nicest way possible when you were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

So he understood what Feliks said, but he couldn't even begin to try and understand the context in which it was being said. There was one golden rule that the male went by, however, and that was to not pry into people's lives if they didn't give you explicit permission to do so. It was just basic respect, and the only thing he really commanded from others. He didn't want people all up in his shit, so it was only right he'd give them the same. But the words didn't fail to pique his curiosity, an easy smile unable to mask it in his gaze as he approached, watching the short interaction between the child and Feliks before sliding closer, although far enough to not crowd into the man's space.

"Everythin' alright here?" it was a general question, perhaps just an invitation to talk regardless of what he had been talking about prior, but if he wished to talk about the problems that plagued him, Desperado was more than ready to listen. He couldn't promise he could help (he was shit at giving advice) but he could always lend an ear. Or an easy laugh. Sometimes you just had to banter the pain away, even if it was only a temporary solution.

[ that feel when you're polish and instantly love a character because it's the first representation you've seen ]