Chachanji sneezed, kicking up a small powdery cloud of white around him.
The Lalafell moved to wipe at his nose with his forearm, but remembered how doing that had just caused this sneeze to quickly follow after the last one. He stared at his upraised arm, where a light snowy dust still clung here and there along with a more sizable alabaster smear near his wrist, before re-purposing the motion into opening the door to his room instead. This left a faint ivory hand-print on the brass knob, to add to the almost imperceptible same-hue trail that led back down and out of the Hourglass. Chachanji's lower lip jutted out slightly into an unconscious pout as Momodi's laughter about his current state rose unbidden to his mind.
"What happened to you?" she had asked, one corner of her mouth hiked up into a bemused grin. Chachan had done his best to divest himself of his white coating after the accident, but enough had stubbornly clung to him to catch the eye of the Quicksand's owner when he returned. He had looked himself over, noting where the pearly clumps of powder defiantly held on. He had harrumphed and brushed at some of the larger bits with his hand, sending an artificial snow floating gently to the tavern floor. Momodi was not one to let the matter lie, though, continuing with a lighthearted: "Didja get in a fight with a baker?"
Despite his obvious fluster and embarrassment, Chachanji managed to explain why he was suddenly shedding so much alabaster. He had been helping one of the vendors on the Exchange pack up after a day's work. The Hyur woman's wares consisted mostly of culinary supplies like spices and such, including a hefty bag of flour that the Lalafell had wound up toting back to her section of a local warehouse. He had tried to ease it up on top of a crate a fair bit taller than him. It had tipped and, well...
That's when he had learned that there had been a tear in that bag. The sudden flour shower and the white cloud that erupted afterward quickly caught the eye of the vendor, who ended up being more upset over the loss of the flour rather than her helper's well-being. Fortunately, such materialistic concerns were easily rectified with gil, and the apologetic Lalafell had departed with his coin pouch quite a bit lighter than he had entered. And his lovely snowy coating.
With a smile and a laugh, Momodi had sent him off into the Hourglass to clean up, and that was what lead to him trudging into his room trailing sprinkles of flour behind him. His cheeks felt hot with shame, making his freckles stand out even more beneath his unintended blush alternative. The number of visible freckles had always a good sign of how embarrassed Chachanji was, and his constant toil out under the Thanalan sun had added quite a few more to the collection. A vast dusting of self-disappointment that complemented the light dusting of flour quite nicely.
As the Lalafell puttered past the provided bed, Gran looked up lazily from his perch atop the pillow. He gave an inquisitive snort, caught a nose of loose powder, and sneezed once himself. The light pawing at his snout in an attempt to get the tickle out before a second sneeze shook his petite purple person got a small chuckle out of Chachanji, at least. It was in that slightly lightened mood that he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the inn room window.
While most of the flour had been removed through shaking, walking, and brushing, there was still enough hanging on to still be noticeable. Well, that much was obvious considering how quickly Ms. Momodi had picked up on it, but he also noticed that it wasn't just his clothes that had a decent bit of artificial frosting on it. A large amount of flour still clung to his jade-hued hair, giving him a look not unlike a pine tree in winter. And, to the Lalafell's surprise... he kinda liked how it looked.
A few bells later, Chachanji was washed up, cheered up, and sporting a less flour-based change to his hair. How festive!
The Lalafell moved to wipe at his nose with his forearm, but remembered how doing that had just caused this sneeze to quickly follow after the last one. He stared at his upraised arm, where a light snowy dust still clung here and there along with a more sizable alabaster smear near his wrist, before re-purposing the motion into opening the door to his room instead. This left a faint ivory hand-print on the brass knob, to add to the almost imperceptible same-hue trail that led back down and out of the Hourglass. Chachanji's lower lip jutted out slightly into an unconscious pout as Momodi's laughter about his current state rose unbidden to his mind.
"What happened to you?" she had asked, one corner of her mouth hiked up into a bemused grin. Chachan had done his best to divest himself of his white coating after the accident, but enough had stubbornly clung to him to catch the eye of the Quicksand's owner when he returned. He had looked himself over, noting where the pearly clumps of powder defiantly held on. He had harrumphed and brushed at some of the larger bits with his hand, sending an artificial snow floating gently to the tavern floor. Momodi was not one to let the matter lie, though, continuing with a lighthearted: "Didja get in a fight with a baker?"
Despite his obvious fluster and embarrassment, Chachanji managed to explain why he was suddenly shedding so much alabaster. He had been helping one of the vendors on the Exchange pack up after a day's work. The Hyur woman's wares consisted mostly of culinary supplies like spices and such, including a hefty bag of flour that the Lalafell had wound up toting back to her section of a local warehouse. He had tried to ease it up on top of a crate a fair bit taller than him. It had tipped and, well...
That's when he had learned that there had been a tear in that bag. The sudden flour shower and the white cloud that erupted afterward quickly caught the eye of the vendor, who ended up being more upset over the loss of the flour rather than her helper's well-being. Fortunately, such materialistic concerns were easily rectified with gil, and the apologetic Lalafell had departed with his coin pouch quite a bit lighter than he had entered. And his lovely snowy coating.
With a smile and a laugh, Momodi had sent him off into the Hourglass to clean up, and that was what lead to him trudging into his room trailing sprinkles of flour behind him. His cheeks felt hot with shame, making his freckles stand out even more beneath his unintended blush alternative. The number of visible freckles had always a good sign of how embarrassed Chachanji was, and his constant toil out under the Thanalan sun had added quite a few more to the collection. A vast dusting of self-disappointment that complemented the light dusting of flour quite nicely.
As the Lalafell puttered past the provided bed, Gran looked up lazily from his perch atop the pillow. He gave an inquisitive snort, caught a nose of loose powder, and sneezed once himself. The light pawing at his snout in an attempt to get the tickle out before a second sneeze shook his petite purple person got a small chuckle out of Chachanji, at least. It was in that slightly lightened mood that he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the inn room window.
While most of the flour had been removed through shaking, walking, and brushing, there was still enough hanging on to still be noticeable. Well, that much was obvious considering how quickly Ms. Momodi had picked up on it, but he also noticed that it wasn't just his clothes that had a decent bit of artificial frosting on it. A large amount of flour still clung to his jade-hued hair, giving him a look not unlike a pine tree in winter. And, to the Lalafell's surprise... he kinda liked how it looked.
A few bells later, Chachanji was washed up, cheered up, and sporting a less flour-based change to his hair. How festive!
