The puppy overeager friend in question is quick to add an extra rib-cracking squeeze, before giving Rezo just enough space to get his bearings back, a wing drawing away while the other lingers behind him, almost as a brace. There's still the fan of his tail tickling at the priest's calf, rather like a cat keeping track of him without needing to look, and his arms help keep him steady as Esteban audibly grins, his voice lilting in his abundant happiness.
"It's been a while~" He greets enthusiastically, the rasp of claws clicking against the stone underfoot. The way his wings rustle is so loud, leather snapping and stretching and tap-tapping, a constant movement that overtakes Esteban's own perpetual shuffling about. But not enough, unfortunately, to cover the sound of his voice.
"I mean, I've seen you 'round an' about, but it's not the same, an' it's been a while since we talked." He snickers merrily, words flitting from him like a dam has burst down somewhere and there is no stopping the floods. "Y' have all these tales in your world that are just so fascinatin' an' y'r a good storyteller!" The wings rustle again, a gentle press against Rezo's head, his shoulders, but not enough to make him stumble.
"Not 's much as my grandfather, though," he adds, but the snicker indicates that Esteban more than knows he is biased in that comparison, and it's a bit rude, if he's to be honest-- Melchor has had many years to refine and whittle his stories into works of wonder.
There's a short pause after this, a silence that weighs a little heavier by its sheer presence, by the fact that Esteban is not picking up immediately something to say. Waiting. Waiting for something. But a rustle, a shake, and he's prattling again, the easy chatter that comes to him lingering between them as he goes on.
"It's been fun talkin' to someone else 'bout my own world too~ Stories an' customs and the way the world's shifted about. It's pretty rare that I get t' talk about it!" he mentions off-handed, and there's a lull in his voice. A note of something, a nuance over the words. Embarrassment? Awkwardness? Longing?
"So-- thanks!" It falls... woefully short, Esteban thinks.
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puppyovereager friend in question is quick to add an extra rib-cracking squeeze, before giving Rezo just enough space to get his bearings back, a wing drawing away while the other lingers behind him, almost as a brace. There's still the fan of his tail tickling at the priest's calf, rather like a cat keeping track of him without needing to look, and his arms help keep him steady as Esteban audibly grins, his voice lilting in his abundant happiness."It's been a while~" He greets enthusiastically, the rasp of claws clicking against the stone underfoot. The way his wings rustle is so loud, leather snapping and stretching and tap-tapping, a constant movement that overtakes Esteban's own perpetual shuffling about. But not enough, unfortunately, to cover the sound of his voice.
"I mean, I've seen you 'round an' about, but it's not the same, an' it's been a while since we talked." He snickers merrily, words flitting from him like a dam has burst down somewhere and there is no stopping the floods. "Y' have all these tales in your world that are just so fascinatin' an' y'r a good storyteller!" The wings rustle again, a gentle press against Rezo's head, his shoulders, but not enough to make him stumble.
"Not 's much as my grandfather, though," he adds, but the snicker indicates that Esteban more than knows he is biased in that comparison, and it's a bit rude, if he's to be honest-- Melchor has had many years to refine and whittle his stories into works of wonder.
There's a short pause after this, a silence that weighs a little heavier by its sheer presence, by the fact that Esteban is not picking up immediately something to say. Waiting. Waiting for something. But a rustle, a shake, and he's prattling again, the easy chatter that comes to him lingering between them as he goes on.
"It's been fun talkin' to someone else 'bout my own world too~ Stories an' customs and the way the world's shifted about. It's pretty rare that I get t' talk about it!" he mentions off-handed, and there's a lull in his voice. A note of something, a nuance over the words. Embarrassment? Awkwardness? Longing?
"So-- thanks!" It falls... woefully short, Esteban thinks.