As you attempt to find safety near the walls of the party, you hear the frustrated yells and grumbles of another lyte. You glance round and see The Armadillo, furiously attempting to write something in their notebook as the strange flashes of light surround them. Even from this distance, you watch as the ink seemingly vanishes off the page as they write, causing The Armadillo to close the notebook quite angrily and swing it at the lights.
How do you help?
It is up to you to decide how you would like to portray the NPC in your artwork!
The Armadillo instinctively takes a step back, but lowers their journal slightly upon connecting the dots. They give what you assume is supposed to be a weak smile in gratitude, though they still seem very distracted and opt not to step forwards to their original spot.
“Oh, um, yes. Yes, that’s me. Right.” They seem to have nearly forgotten about the name charm. “The… Axolotl? Oh, yes, The Axolotl! Is she alright? I’ve been— well trying— what?” They frustratedly swat away a small flame that had just sprouted on their sleeve and tug the notebook further out of harm’s way. “What is she— um, what does she think is happening? Did you find a way— any way to get to, uh, The Manta Ray?”
The Poison Dart Frog extended her arm to try to assist putting out the flame on the Armadillo's sleeve. Her wings flapped again to try to chase away the magic streaks once again. "Hi, yeah. For the sake of, I'm the Poison Dart Frog. She's okay, I helped her with a burning table. Er, wait, it was completely under control, I realize how that sounds when I say it out loud."
The Frog rubbed her forehead through her mask. "Listen, we *saw* something. When I was putting out the fire - with my magic - we saw shapes, through the glow. We saw something... *watching* us. The Axolotl told me to find you, that you might know how to explain it. It'd make more sense to show you than to tell you."
Fortunately for her, one of the lights turned into a spark that had landed on the edge of her dress. For a split moment, she had the instinct to panic. But she quickly ripped off the lit piece of fabric and held it up. She winced, aware the dress wasn't necessarily hers to rip, but she doubted her grandmother would hold it against her.
The Frog's lamps started to glow orange as she tried to keep the material from burning the rest of material fabric too quickly. She squinted through the glow then promptly realized she probably seemed reckless to the Armadillo. "Uh, you'll have to trust me," she said, slithering to stand next to the Armadillo. "Just try your best to look through the magic glow, then you'll see what we mean."
The Armadillo unsubtly shifts out of your reach and immediately busies themself with straightening their cuff in a weak attempt at playing it off. They glance around warily as you continue, and you get the idea that the only reason they haven’t abandoned this conversation is because of your supposed connection to The Axolotl.
“Right. I’m, um, I’m sure.” They don’t look very sure about anything you’re saying, especially not when they’re scanning the crowd for the lyte you were just with. They do straighten at the mention of seeing “something,” though, and they only watch you with some of their previous caution as they wait for an explanation.
The alarmed expression that flashes across The Armadillo’s face at the burning material is clear as day despite the mask, and they quickly reach out to grab it against your instruction. Their own lamps flicker orange, and the flame dies in their hand. “What are— look, the— I appreciate the demonstration, but we’re inside— in a…” They trail off as their gaze fixes on a few invisible points around the room, presumably catching onto your point.
“Oh. Oh, of course.” They flick through the pages of their journal until they land on one with minimal notes, scribbling a new addition in incomprehensible cursive. Their lamps flicker a brighter orange, and they scan the surrounding floor before locking onto a green light flitting across the remains of an intricately carved chair. They swiftly follow it, sketching in the remaining space on the page as they go and apparently completely forgetting about your conversation as they fail to elaborate.
Astrolytes
im gonna trust you this time armadillo give me your wisdom :3
2 years, 3 months ago
As you attempt to find safety near the walls of the party, you hear the frustrated yells and grumbles of another lyte. You glance round and see The Armadillo, furiously attempting to write something in their notebook as the strange flashes of light surround them. Even from this distance, you watch as the ink seemingly vanishes off the page as they write, causing The Armadillo to close the notebook quite angrily and swing it at the lights.
How do you help?
It is up to you to decide how you would like to portray the NPC in your artwork!
2 years, 3 months ago
2 years, 3 months ago Edited 1:12 pm
The Armadillo instinctively takes a step back, but lowers their journal slightly upon connecting the dots. They give what you assume is supposed to be a weak smile in gratitude, though they still seem very distracted and opt not to step forwards to their original spot.
“Oh, um, yes. Yes, that’s me. Right.” They seem to have nearly forgotten about the name charm. “The… Axolotl? Oh, yes, The Axolotl! Is she alright? I’ve been— well trying— what?” They frustratedly swat away a small flame that had just sprouted on their sleeve and tug the notebook further out of harm’s way. “What is she— um, what does she think is happening? Did you find a way— any way to get to, uh, The Manta Ray?”
2 years, 3 months ago
The Poison Dart Frog extended her arm to try to assist putting out the flame on the Armadillo's sleeve. Her wings flapped again to try to chase away the magic streaks once again. "Hi, yeah. For the sake of, I'm the Poison Dart Frog. She's okay, I helped her with a burning table. Er, wait, it was completely under control, I realize how that sounds when I say it out loud."
The Frog rubbed her forehead through her mask. "Listen, we *saw* something. When I was putting out the fire - with my magic - we saw shapes, through the glow. We saw something... *watching* us. The Axolotl told me to find you, that you might know how to explain it. It'd make more sense to show you than to tell you."
Fortunately for her, one of the lights turned into a spark that had landed on the edge of her dress. For a split moment, she had the instinct to panic. But she quickly ripped off the lit piece of fabric and held it up. She winced, aware the dress wasn't necessarily hers to rip, but she doubted her grandmother would hold it against her.
The Frog's lamps started to glow orange as she tried to keep the material from burning the rest of material fabric too quickly. She squinted through the glow then promptly realized she probably seemed reckless to the Armadillo. "Uh, you'll have to trust me," she said, slithering to stand next to the Armadillo. "Just try your best to look through the magic glow, then you'll see what we mean."
2 years, 3 months ago
The Armadillo unsubtly shifts out of your reach and immediately busies themself with straightening their cuff in a weak attempt at playing it off. They glance around warily as you continue, and you get the idea that the only reason they haven’t abandoned this conversation is because of your supposed connection to The Axolotl.
“Right. I’m, um, I’m sure.” They don’t look very sure about anything you’re saying, especially not when they’re scanning the crowd for the lyte you were just with. They do straighten at the mention of seeing “something,” though, and they only watch you with some of their previous caution as they wait for an explanation.
The alarmed expression that flashes across The Armadillo’s face at the burning material is clear as day despite the mask, and they quickly reach out to grab it against your instruction. Their own lamps flicker orange, and the flame dies in their hand. “What are— look, the— I appreciate the demonstration, but we’re inside— in a…” They trail off as their gaze fixes on a few invisible points around the room, presumably catching onto your point.
“Oh. Oh, of course.” They flick through the pages of their journal until they land on one with minimal notes, scribbling a new addition in incomprehensible cursive. Their lamps flicker a brighter orange, and they scan the surrounding floor before locking onto a green light flitting across the remains of an intricately carved chair. They swiftly follow it, sketching in the remaining space on the page as they go and apparently completely forgetting about your conversation as they fail to elaborate.
2 years, 3 months ago