On fools and loons

[[An rp log of a fantastically amusing random meeting of two like minds.  Or the absence of minds, whichever way you look at it.  Credit to Motlèy, the other roleplayer in this scene]]

Motlèy gently pats Muggles.

You gasp at Motlèy.

[Lylah]: You! Touched…
[Lylah]: Mister Muggles! Ya tryin’ t’ get yer finger taken off or somethin’?

Motlèy bites his lip. “He’s sorry! He couldnt help it, practically begged him, it did! The fur, he means. Needs to be petted, it said and so the humble fool was only too happy to oblige.”

Lylah tilts her head one way, and then the other, blinking, an odd look on her face. She flips forward onto her hands and walks around the man in a circle before popping back to land on her toes where she’d been before.

“Hmm, still, he’s fat. As fat as a cat!  He’ll eat anythin’ ya know. Fingers, toes, even yer nose!”

Lylah nods and giggles. “Mhm!”

Motlèy wiggles his toes and counts his fingers.

“Alas he still has his, though to him that is quite the good fortune, he needs some for running, some for tumbling and the rest for juggling!”He screws up his face, going cross-eyes. “Also his nose seems to be there too, Motlèy never goes about patting with his nose mind you, seemed silly, even for him. However!~ Never say he doesn’t not never try anything once!”

[Lylah]: Not never, not never ever, not ever never unless yer not clever!

Lylah claps her hands together, bouncing on her toes, grinning.

“Ya can juggle, hmm? Are ya some kind o’ carnival elf?”

You peer at Motlèy searchingly.

Motlèy nods.

“Exactly! Ah, nice to meet someone who talks -sense-.” He flashes a grin. “He can juggle, eat fire, pull things from his, and others, ears among a few other humble tricks in his repitoire, humbly fools and fools most humbly, a pleasure to meet you.”

Motlèy doffs an imaginary hat and gives a sweeping bow. “Alas, he never catches the carnival in time.”

Lylah moves forward, taking one step and seeming to fall forward but instead diving into a smooth, perfectly executed forward roll, springing up and landing on her toes with a little bounce. She shrugs her shoulders, crinkles her nose and giggles.

[Lylah]: Ya make more sense’n I do! Pleased t’ meet ya, too! What’s his name, then?”

Motlèy grins, clapping. “Wonderfully executed, if he says so and he does at that.” He nods, still grinning. “He has the good fortune to be both motley in garb and Motley in name.”

Lylah grins, as wide as a cheshire cat, if you can imagine that, were a cheshire cat to exist in a place like that. She shrugs and giggles again, bending at the waist to bow, herself, but bumping into his chest head first. She bounces back a step, giggling.

“Oops! Motley you said, Motley in th’ head too?” She leans forwards and taps the center of his forehead with her finger. –

[Lylah]: OH!
[Lylah]: An’ I’m Lylah. Jus’ don’t never call me a liar.  Not never, not ever, not never ever!


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