Autor, garbed in a blue and white robe he has managed to trip over not once, but twice already, flits about, having a grand time. He eyes the soldiers, asks the merchants for the price of certain common--and not so common goods, especially magical items--and bounces from them to the family of four in yellow.
"Are those real chocobo feathers?" he asks the youngest, and clearly the happiest to be at a wedding. He's fairly certain they're not real feathers; he would have started sneezing already. But it'll serve as an ice breaker.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Autor.
Date: 2014-12-15 12:14 am (UTC)"Are those real chocobo feathers?" he asks the youngest, and clearly the happiest to be at a wedding. He's fairly certain they're not real feathers; he would have started sneezing already. But it'll serve as an ice breaker.