Being clearly Not Human and also clearly covered in lots of interesting shiny things made Molly a fast favorite of the younger Vulphytes soon after landing. Quick enough that he's got himself a small handful as a shadow as their parents warily explain their plight and nervously negotiate with the rest of the (largely human) crew.
He notices the kits creeping up behind them pretty quickly, but feigns ignorance for a while as they follow. A handful of little aliens, chattering psychically and watching with wide eyes and chasing clumsily at his lashing tail. Whe they spot him watching, he awards them with a wink, and shifts to occupy them by juggling his swords in front of him, whistling a little tune under his breath that manages to be off-key but enjoyable at the same time. Tosses the blades higher and higher to the awe of his audience, catching them a little lower to the ground for a good thrill.
Until, that is, a certain fellow tiefling (named Jester, that tiefling) rounds a corner too fast and stumbles into him and sends him just short of stumbling, himself. Rhythm broken, the sword arcing down from the sky flies a little too far behind him, a little too close to the kids for comfort. He recovers and catches it—but not before the kits can cry out and scatter in rightful alarm at the close shave.
There's a pause. The negotiations have gone silent at the commotion as the Vulphytes hackle at the perceived threat to their children and the audience of children catches its breath...and then gushes in excitement at the show of dexterity that only thumbs can really deliver. Molly carries the arc of his last-minute catch into a flourish, as if it was just a part of the trick all along. Spreads his hands into a proper showman's tada, as he gestures back at Jester with the tips of the blades.
➽ wildcard idk
Being clearly Not Human and also clearly covered in lots of interesting shiny things made Molly a fast favorite of the younger Vulphytes soon after landing. Quick enough that he's got himself a small handful as a shadow as their parents warily explain their plight and nervously negotiate with the rest of the (largely human) crew.
He notices the kits creeping up behind them pretty quickly, but feigns ignorance for a while as they follow. A handful of little aliens, chattering psychically and watching with wide eyes and chasing clumsily at his lashing tail. Whe they spot him watching, he awards them with a wink, and shifts to occupy them by juggling his swords in front of him, whistling a little tune under his breath that manages to be off-key but enjoyable at the same time. Tosses the blades higher and higher to the awe of his audience, catching them a little lower to the ground for a good thrill.
Until, that is, a certain fellow tiefling (named Jester, that tiefling) rounds a corner too fast and stumbles into him and sends him just short of stumbling, himself. Rhythm broken, the sword arcing down from the sky flies a little too far behind him, a little too close to the kids for comfort. He recovers and catches it—but not before the kits can cry out and scatter in rightful alarm at the close shave.
There's a pause. The negotiations have gone silent at the commotion as the Vulphytes hackle at the perceived threat to their children and the audience of children catches its breath...and then gushes in excitement at the show of dexterity that only thumbs can really deliver. Molly carries the arc of his last-minute catch into a flourish, as if it was just a part of the trick all along. Spreads his hands into a proper showman's tada, as he gestures back at Jester with the tips of the blades.
Baldfaced and brightly—]
...my assistant, ladies and gentlemen.
["Assistant."]