Esteban is... not a fan of the gates. He likes walking better, but with his little chicken scrawny legs that need seven taps when Kaiba only needs one step... they're better off taking the portals. It still amuses him that, for once, he's the one having trouble keeping up with others, even with his impossibly long wings.
"It's not that complicated really. There's two buttons-- one to lower gravity, and one to heighten it. And a directional pad, like for video games!" An easy shrug rolls along both his wings as he taps-taps-taps-taps across to the stone carriage.
He's quick to spot his favourite haunt-- a stone lion with his chin settled on his forepaws, slumbering in a semi-circle that keeps just a small nook of an area discreetly out of sight. Between the half-moon of his paws, Esteban spots his clothes-- left there without much care or worry, and his talons delicately pick at his pockets to find the small tool.
Esteban holds it in a wing-talon while he totters on his way back, leaping on the bench with the grace of a cat, albeit a noodle-sort of cat. His wing is surprisingly flexible when he hands it over to his friend, and the device drops into his palm, buttons well-spaced, but discreet on the tiny device.
"If you don't touch the pad, it's just going to be up or down movement. If you jump in a direction, your momentum isn't lost, but if you want to go in that direction, you have to press both buttons. That's it!" Straightforwards enough. Mastering it is altogether another experience though-- and even Esteban, after months of toying with it, has only ever felt comfortable with up or down-- not directional yet.
(But, he is getting good with those simple commands! Landing as light as a feather when he wants.)
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"It's not that complicated really. There's two buttons-- one to lower gravity, and one to heighten it. And a directional pad, like for video games!" An easy shrug rolls along both his wings as he taps-taps-taps-taps across to the stone carriage.
He's quick to spot his favourite haunt-- a stone lion with his chin settled on his forepaws, slumbering in a semi-circle that keeps just a small nook of an area discreetly out of sight. Between the half-moon of his paws, Esteban spots his clothes-- left there without much care or worry, and his talons delicately pick at his pockets to find the small tool.
Esteban holds it in a wing-talon while he totters on his way back, leaping on the bench with the grace of a cat, albeit a noodle-sort of cat. His wing is surprisingly flexible when he hands it over to his friend, and the device drops into his palm, buttons well-spaced, but discreet on the tiny device.
"If you don't touch the pad, it's just going to be up or down movement. If you jump in a direction, your momentum isn't lost, but if you want to go in that direction, you have to press both buttons. That's it!" Straightforwards enough. Mastering it is altogether another experience though-- and even Esteban, after months of toying with it, has only ever felt comfortable with up or down-- not directional yet.
(But, he is getting good with those simple commands! Landing as light as a feather when he wants.)