Oh, no, he told a lie. He knew exactly why he was here. Bluebird, dragging him out of bed at five in the morning, yelling at him to help her finish off her accessories for a 'crafting convention' before kidnapping him as an indentured servant to shift all of her wares to said convention. He had obeyed out of bewildered, groggy confusion, helplessly swept up by Bluebird's manic energy, until he found himself here, in Mih Khetto's Amphitheatre surrounded by various stalls touting a hopeful crafter's wares.
He was still in his pyjamas, for fuck's sake! Thankfully he managed to wrench on a pair of boots as he was being kidnapped by his sister, but the thick, steel-capped boots clashed horrifically with his cutesy, Chocobo patterned pyjamas. He was definitely getting odd looks, and he squirmed uncomfortably from the attention, wishing he could spend the rest of the day hiding under Bluebird's stall until it was all over.
But no, Bluebird ordered him to scope out the competition, or something, so he shuffled off with his hands in his pockets, making a beeline for quietest part of the convention, still trying to blink sleep out of his eyes. He was still so sleepy, and tired, and he burned his fingers when he fumbled the crafting of a bracelet, so they ached painfully, no matter how much he pushed them into his pyjamas' pockets, and...
His gaze listlessly trailed over the stall closest to him, noting the stiff, awkward looking woman manning it. Instead of fashionable 'chic' leather, her stall held sturdily made, solid armour. That, if anything, drew his interest, so he drifted closer with a clear slouch to his shoulders, one ear cocked curiously.
"Hey," he greeted the stall owner absently, "This stuff yours?"
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Oh, no, he told a lie. He knew exactly why he was here. Bluebird, dragging him out of bed at five in the morning, yelling at him to help her finish off her accessories for a 'crafting convention' before kidnapping him as an indentured servant to shift all of her wares to said convention. He had obeyed out of bewildered, groggy confusion, helplessly swept up by Bluebird's manic energy, until he found himself here, in Mih Khetto's Amphitheatre surrounded by various stalls touting a hopeful crafter's wares.
He was still in his pyjamas, for fuck's sake! Thankfully he managed to wrench on a pair of boots as he was being kidnapped by his sister, but the thick, steel-capped boots clashed horrifically with his cutesy, Chocobo patterned pyjamas. He was definitely getting odd looks, and he squirmed uncomfortably from the attention, wishing he could spend the rest of the day hiding under Bluebird's stall until it was all over.
But no, Bluebird ordered him to scope out the competition, or something, so he shuffled off with his hands in his pockets, making a beeline for quietest part of the convention, still trying to blink sleep out of his eyes. He was still so sleepy, and tired, and he burned his fingers when he fumbled the crafting of a bracelet, so they ached painfully, no matter how much he pushed them into his pyjamas' pockets, and...
His gaze listlessly trailed over the stall closest to him, noting the stiff, awkward looking woman manning it. Instead of fashionable 'chic' leather, her stall held sturdily made, solid armour. That, if anything, drew his interest, so he drifted closer with a clear slouch to his shoulders, one ear cocked curiously.
"Hey," he greeted the stall owner absently, "This stuff yours?"