[D4 LN Once Upon a Troubadour, CLOSED]

[Marcus Kendall]

The beast's nostrils flared. "You know what I mean." his finger poked her ribs teasingly. "Or you want me to be all crass?" Marcus added, murmuring softly even as his claw found the base of her skull, gently stroking her feathers.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle blinked, taken aback. Hadn’t she whispered to him how wonderful it had been? sweet murmurings in his ear of happiness and even praise? If that was all he meant... she gave a little shake of her head, movement restricted by how her cheek rest against him, “non, I suppose no’.”

[Marcus Kendall]

"Uh? Babe? What's wrong?" there was a sense of worry in his tone, the same sensation lingering in the air, even as he stroked her back. "I tried to say that..." Then he leaned to whisper her something.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle gasped, burning bright red under her feathers, “beas’!” she exclaimed, playfully bopping him on the nose in reprimand for his crass tongue. Nestling against him once more, “no’ dat you wrong,” she agreed in a more conciliatory tone, enjoying the closeness as they cuddled together.

[Marcus Kendall]

"I am." Marcus smirked, snorting. The warm air brushed against the feathers on the top of her head. "Sorry, not sorry." he chuckled, her head bobbing on his chest. "You didn't run away either." There was a pause as his tone turned more somber. The mirth was replaced with sharp tones of anxiety, smelling like industrial alcohol. "When I saw myself in the mirror the first time." The beast began to explain, awkwardly licking his lips, slobbering saliva on himself. "Well, sure you know yourself. Figured I'd have to live my life alone. No-one ever touching me."

[Chantelle Rossette]

She used her beak to preen his chest fur, thinking about what he said, “I guess, I figure’, dat maybe a mundane huma’ migh’ be willin’ enough.” She shrugged a slender shoulder, “I don’ know ‘ow satisfyin’ dat woul’ of bee’, ‘idin’ behin’ de mas’.”

Chantelle lifted her head, looking at the beast, “mais,I guess dere non accoun’in’ for taste?” she chuckled softly, finding herself almost as equally surprised as him at the attraction.

[Marcus Kendall]

He let her preen, hoping she would not inhale any of the lichen. Despite their awkward shapes, she fit snuggly against him. In many ways Marcus was lije an oversized plushie with claws and bad breath.

"Normie eh. Have you seen my mask?" He asked, his ears perking. "I look like a hobo." The beast snorted. "Aint no-one loving a hobo." He wasn't particularly popular in the city. Most of the people left him alone.

"Dunno about tastes." His clawed paw found its way on her rear, giving it a little squeeze. "But it's damn nice to touch someone like this."

[Chantelle Rossette]

"I li' your company, Marcus," she lay her head down again. "Speakin' of," she segued near-seamlessly, "'ow woul' you feel abou' movin' ou' of dat traila par'? fin' somewhere a lil roomia?" The beast would surely sense the tension in her body, the anxiety flavouring the air around them.

[Marcus Kendall]

"Suppose I could. Don't think that Bob would miss me much. He gets grumpy in winter time. There's nothing to do besides boozing and eh." Killing the drunkard would have drawn attention to him. Attention he didn't want or need. "You have something in your mind babe?" Marcus asked, gently stroking Chantelle's lower back in hopes of soothing her.

[Chantelle Rossette]

"You know dat my place is already burstin'," she replied, reassured when he didn't reject the idea out of hand. "I was to tinking dat, if Tiffani an' Jack be lookin' fo' a place, why no' loo' fo' a big place, a place dat fi' all of us?"