In between the trees and the pond, sitting at a quaint little black metal table, sat a Daeva, in a fine black suit, in a very relaxed mood. So often politics were the only thing on Marco's mind and that could get quite exhausting. He leaned back in his chair, his hands laced together behind his head, with his eyes closed and he just...relaxed. He would open them as someone past by, giving them a polite head nod and then back to his relaxing meditation. The break from Kindred politics was absolutely refreshing.
After several deep breaths, none needed of course, he leaned farther back and put his feet up on the chair in front of him. Zen would be the description of how he felt at that moment. A feeling of one with the world. Everything felt like it was going according to plan and if anything went against the stream well he'd just have to adapt.
It seemed that nothing could take him out of 'the zone'...