Welcome to Gaia! ::

This is an open RP

Where: A moderate sized market village in Hearts
What's happening: Malo goes on an errand in Hearts but gets distracted by faces old and new. A chance for a meet and greet or mischief. (All factions welcome, but please state a reason for being there!)


"Now, Malo, are you SURE you can handle this?" Preston asked, tying a black cape around the little spirit's neck.
"Yup!" Malo replied with a few nods of the head, almost headbutting his caretaker.
"You won't wander?"
"Nope."
"Straight there and straight back."
"Yup!"
"And?"
"I won't talk to strangers or cause any trouble! You can count on it!"

Preston sighed again. He was running out of black ink and the blueprint papers for the new field were due tonight. He didn't have time to run out and get more. He hoped Malo was telling the truth for once and really would be right there and back. It was hard to be happy with the Litwick right now. Malo had taken the reserved inkwells and switched the contents with the chef's signature vinaigrette sauce. Preston had been furious when it stained the paper and the guards had a nasty case of stomach cramps afterwards.


It was a rather cool day. A brisk breeze whipped at the trees and forced Malo to keep his hood up, the flame illuminating his face inside it. He shivered as the castle grew smaller and smaller. Not out of sight of it, he came to the market village Preston had taken him to before. Panting from the flight, he drifted down and landed on a hay roof for a rest, his little heart pounding. It was pretty hard weather for floating, but maybe he could go kite surfing later! The prospects of that egged him into landing and meandering to the ground, looking about for the market place and the stationary supply stall.

Malo was getting discouraged. It was crowded and people kept stepping on his cloak or pushing him out of the way with a knee. He was almost trampled at one point when a cart announced the clearance sale for the next five minutes.

He had taken to floating at that point, but landed when he finally saw the cart. Hurrying towards it and trying to dig the shillings from his pouch, he was too focused on the sign to notice where he was running.

The litwick hit the ground with a loud thud, sneezing from the impact pushing dust into his nose. His money flew everywhere and He blinked owlishly, with a startled pout, his mouth easily slipping back into an amused smile when he saw the growlithe.

"Oh wow, that was a big crash!" Without even checking to see if the other was okay, he began to pick up his dropped money. He was sure that was all of it, then turned back to the other and grabbed his hand, shaking it hyperly. "I'm Malo! Do you work here? You know, there's a guy at the castle with a big tail like yours but he's orange and you're all yellow! That's neat! Do you know him?" Fast talking Malo was still shaking his hand, his grip tight and his skin fluctuating from icy cold to hearthside heat. He was peeking cutely from his black cloak, which had miraculously remained over his hair.

Logan found himself incapable of doing much other than staring at the infant with an expression that lay somewhere on the border of repulsed and withdrawn. "No... So there is another growlithe? Maybe you met an Arcanine." Logan's tail swished back and forth slowly, as he was thinking. His silvery eyes scanned the cart, and then back to the infant. Compared to Malo, Logan appeared to be running like molasses: slow moving, slow talking. His replies, if Malo could even ellicit them, would all be fairly curt.

His stormy expression did not improve very much upon the arrival of a third boy, one with blue hair and a very fluffy coat. "I'd rather not," Logan told him, "but if you would like to fight each other, be my guest." Logan, always such a gentleman. He didn't like to fight on the best of days, but he knew that if he got into any trouble today he would never hear the end of it; they were having to go to a party that night, for one, so it would be unpleasant if Logan had roughed up his face or hair. The small boy had far too much of it, in a rather shaggy and formless cut. Briar had no idea how to make his son look managable.

Bigsby gazed up at Malo, shielding his eyes with one tiny hand. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and even though the little litwick was out of reach, Gibsby still hopped and tried to grab hold of the little boy. He grew mildly frustrated after two or three hops failed to bring him close enough to get a handful of the ample material of Malo's clothing, and gave up entirely on the fourth. He'd have to land eventually, anyway, Bigsby would just have to be patient. He kept most of his admittedly limited attention trained on the litwick, but let his eyes wander down to the boy with the fluffy tail.

Bigsby grinned at the growlithe in spite of his gloomy expression and apparent distaste for the whole situation. ”I want to! But I can't reach'im, so's I can't.” He shifted uncomfortably in his jacket, trying in vain to pull on it so it didn't bunch up under his arms and nearly lift them. Oh, how he hated it, his most hated enemy, restrictive clothing. When he grew up, he was going to walk around with nothing but pants and shoes on. But he dared not risk his father's wrath, call him on his threat. Parties were a sore thing to miss.

His wary watching of Malo finally paid off when the little litwick came down for a landing, to yank upon the Growlithe's rather available tail. Bigsby wasted no time as he was preoccupied with the act of yanking to deliver a sound bonk onto the litwick's head, grinning. ”Just bop'im when he bothers ya, see?” Bigsby informed the growlithe. ”It don't hurt'im none! Now,” the phanpy boy said, throwing an arm around both of their shoulders, pulling both boys close to himself, in part to get a little relief from the discomfort of the folded material, ”If ya ain't scrappin', whatch'yez good for?”

Logan yelped as Malo pulled on his tail, tripping forward as he tried to get away in a hurry. His ears flicked backwards and he growled low in his throat. "Don't. Touch. My tail," Logan muttered out through gritted teeth, his silver eyes slightly pained and very stormy. Oh, he was in a poor mood to begin with, but now he was extremely irate. He couldn't help but half-smile at Bigsby smacking the grabby litwick, though; even if it wasn't because the litwick had pulled his tail, Logan could pretend it was.

And he was happy for any distractions, at the moment. As soon as he was able to free his immaculately groomed tail, Logan grabbed hold of it and held it to him as if coddling a wounded child. His poor, poor tail. His poor sensibilities. Why was he out with this crowd? Logan's childhood had, so far, made him quite the loner. However, as Bigsby threw an arm around them both, he couldn't help but feel something positive about the exchange.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...? To get out more. "What'm I good fer?" Logan found himself half-imitating Bigsby's speaking, then laughed suddenly, startled. He seemed surprised the sound had even come out of his mouth.

"I'm not sure." he admitted, quietly, until he saw a very green boy with his arms outstretched, calling out the word Fluffy. Logan's eyes went wide, and he immediately swooped down out from underneath Bigsby's arm and ran as quickly as he could, darting back behind the cart that'd been disturbed and trying to climb up some boxes onto a shop ledge.

Bigsby ratcheted his grip around Malo's neck up a notch, tightening his elbow to squeeze the litwick boy harder in response to his proclamation of just what he was good for. Bigsby grinned just as viciously as he corrected, ”No, the only thing yez good for is gettin' bopped.” The phanpy boy took another uninvested swing at Malo when the boy managed to pull himself free from the headlock, and let him float away. He kept one eye trained on him, though, as before, in case he swooped towards the growlithe boy's tail again. He didn't think he liked seeing people grabbing at the thing, given how protective the growlithe was of it. He certainly hated it when Malo had taken his hat.

”You should know how to give a good bop in case yez--” A flash of green and a call at the edge of Bigsby's senses. The boy barely had time to process, with his slow wits, just what the green blur had called, seemingly directed at the only Fluffy! one amongst them, before the growlithe exploded into motion, scrambling away. He slapped at Malo again, absent-mindedly, as he turned to watch the boy's progress up the cart. Definitely needed to protect that tail.

”'Ey! No!” Bigsby said, this time very consciously slapping Malo on the back of his head, in response to his call to the fleeing growlithe. ”He don't like that name. Don'tchyez let me hear you using it again.”

Bigsby approached the cart, looking up at the boy, already clambered halfway up. The boy was good for climbing, that seemed certain. He shouldn't have to run away, though, Bigsby felt sure of that. The growlithe was there first, plain and simple, and if the newcomer was to chase him away, it'd be through a scrap, not through fear, Bigsby would see to that.

”You should know how to give a good bop in case yez need to give one out,” Bigsby resumed, as if he'd never been interrupted. ”In case you need to knock someone who's tryin'ta grab your tail. Come down, I'll do the boppin' for yez.”

"I'm good at running. Like a rabbit," Logan told the boys once they were close enough to hear him. "It's my name. Rabbit." Of course, it wasn't the name Briar had given him. It was the name that he'd gotten because of the way he was, especially when he was even younger than he was now. With Jace, with Briar, with just about anything that made him feel cornered. When it came down to it, Logan's flight mechanism was pretty sensitive.

As much as Logan had initially disliked Bigsby, the boy was growing on him. It looked like although Logan would continuously make his escape, Bigsby was close behind, barelling his way through. In this particular case, telling them not to call him fluffy. Which was good, because Logan would not have tolerated that. Rabbit was bad enough. At least rabbits had sharp teeth.

"Not worth a fight," Logan said, but what he felt was: thanks, for sticking up for me. Logan, although shaking like his Rabbit namesake, freed himself from the boxes and clasped Bigsby's shoulder. "Hey! You!" he called down to the green boy, getting just a little closer. Logan was very fast, and if the boy moved again he'd be off like a shot once more. "I don't wanna fight you, but if you move to me too fast I'll be mad...! So we're gonna ease our way over, OK, but if you so much as blink at me I'm out of here." He looked at his new friends for support. The boy crouched was either lonely-looking or aggressive and he wasn't really sure which it was.