Mon Apr 01, 2024 2:40 am
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It was hard to tell if the White was actually acknowledging, though she did tilt her head slightly when Amaata pieced her name. It was clear, not much really went on in the small firelizard's mind. Despite one human talking to her, and another voice calling out, with approaching steps.
As she righted herself properly on her legs again, the one thing Pussyfoot did acknowledge, was the sight of her ball coming towards her. Once again, eyes hyper focused, the White went low and raised her tiny behind, tail straight up, and with a little wiggle – zoom! She landed upon her ball again, with just as much grace as before, but atleast this time she was able to get proper grip.
Latched with each little limb spread out, Pussyfoot took hold of her prize---only for the ball to slowly roll forward. With her on it. She let out the teeniest peep as she went over, the ball moving over and pinning her flat against the stone floor. This didn't hurt her, of course, with the ball being so light. Now with her ball above, Pussyfoot took to shifting it about her little legs and tail, wrestling it as best she could.
She was having a wonderful time!
Hearing a voice, Marc'oni straightened up, finally abe to look farther down the hallway. Upon seeing Amaata, and something strikingly -white- at her feet, the Bluerider hurried himself over with quick steps. To his relief, there was his little White, which prompted him to let out a sigh in relief.
“There you are, Pussyfoot. Boy, you got really far this time,” he stated, looking down at his flit who was playing with her ball.
Upon hearing the voice of her owner so close, Pussyfoot paused in her roll-playing and let the ball slip by as she rolled off her back. Peeping in acknowledgment, the firelizard frolicked over to the rather tall lad, scurrying up his arm as he crouched to offer it to her.
“You really need to keep closer,” Marc'oni tried to admonish, but Pussyfoot was clearly not listening. She was too busy smooshing herself against her owner's face as he spoke, coiling around and over his shoulders and neck, as if she needed to rub against every section of him she could.
Marc'oni didn't bother to address her much more than he did. It was quite pointless, so instead he turned to Amaata. It seemed she'd been the one to find his little 'wanderer', no worse for wear.
“Hey, thanks for minding my flit for me,” he greeted with a big friendly smile. “She gets lost a bit.” Though, Pussyfoot really didn't ever act like she was lost. In fact, Marc'oni barely reacted as the White continued to rub and push at his features, speaking without pause and even offering out his hand in greeting.
“I'm Marcantho--”
'Marc'oni', blared the internal mind-voice of his dragon, effectively cutting him short.
“Marc'oni,” he flawlessly corrected. “My name is Marc'oni,” he seemed to say in beats, like a mantra of some sort. “Marc'oni of Blue Gawyth,” much more smoothly.