"Hi Comet!" he chirped.
"Want me to open your orange, James?" He set his down between his feet and produced his chunk of basalt. It was more of a bludgeoning tool than a cutting tool, to be honest, but he was willing to try, even if it probably wouldn't work all that well. At the very least, he could probably get the top open! Though it would take some strength more than anything.
@james @comet
A stranger approached the booth. It seemed to have a lot of trouble walking under the "apparel" it wore. A costume forged of moss, leaves, lots and lots of mud, and the occasional mushroom was what dressed this dwarfish bipedal stranger. It was a decent enough concept for a costume, but one might easily notice the patches of mottled fur peaking through, mostly around the legs and the back. The tail of this stranger was tucked, and yet it couldn't seem to pause its thumping, so what even was the point? A very rudimentary mask made of a large strip of bark was held to the "stranger"'s face with the assistance of tied leaves and a very awkward-looking paw...ish thing. Only the eyes, darkened by shadows and perhaps many other things, peaked through. Oh, also there were nostril holds. Small ones. It was probably terribly uncomfortable.
"May I have one?" The stranger crooned, in a voice that sounded forcibly high-pitched. It didn't wait for a response -- it snatched one with an eager anticipation as it was asking, seeming antsy to get out of there as fast as possible. It then proceeded to head somewhere uncomfortably far from everyone else. There it sat, seeming to fumble with its position, as if trying to cover the chinks in its pseudo-armor with its posture.
It tried to mimic the motions of another handed creature (Talys), but by the grace of the pumpkin was its coordination off. It was almost as if this suspicious stranger. didn't seem to know how its own "hands" worked. It tried to use a claws to slice around the side instead, which resulted in an unfortunate scar in the pumpkin's wall where one had not been intended to go. There came a muffled phrase along the lines of Crap! or Darn! from the stranger's mouth, at a complete different pitch than its talking voice had been.
At this point, the stranger seemed far too antsy to continue. It got back up, and walked away at the pace of thinly veiled fear. It took the pumpkin along in the crook of its arm, a football carry. Maybe it was just off to make some repairs in its costume?
Think "Speak"
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