RP: I Like Turtles Pt. 3

"I guess not."

"S-so..."

Ysani's hands strayed over the heating coils, the polished metal case, the screws and widgets and the spring-loaded toast-popping mechanism. This she picked up and held up to her face, pushing it into action with a faint sproing. "Neat," she murmured. It didn't take long for her attention to be diverted again by the next table over, which appeared to be papered with various schematics. She pored over them one by one, tilting her head at some, lips moving silently as she read them over.

As Firael was busy fiddling with the pieces of the toaster battery, Mister Gramms came over to an otherwise preoccupied Ysani, extending his long neck and putting it on the table edge. He gave her a look, then began tugging schematics off the table with his mouth. Ysani wasn't quite sure what the turtle was doing, other than making a mess by dragging all the papers off the table. As soon as Firael heard the commotion he jumped up, dropping the piece he was currently holding. "No Mister Gramms, bad!" Mister Gramms gave his master a lazy look and stopped.

The turtle's shuffling of papers had unearthed even more schematics below the surface, and Ysani couldn't help but take in all of those, either. Her darting eyes locked onto a curious drawing and she turned her head slightly. "What's that..?"

"M-mister Gramms is usually very well behaved!" He stood on the other side of the turtle from Ysani. "Th-that?" Ysani was looking at what looked like the schematics for cylindrical object. It was actually his last commission work from Bizzlework's Pains and Pleasures. "I-it's nothing!" He snatched up the paper, trying frantically to figure out what to do with the schematic. At that same moment, Mister Gramms began tugging on the hem of Ysani's skirt.

Unfortunately for her, said skirt was loose; many sleepless days and nights blocked out with potent medicinal tea had also robbed her of her appetite, many meals' worth, and she'd gotten a little too slender in places. All over, really, if you wanted to be honest about it; and as the fabric yanked against her hip there was a tiny tearing sound, followed by a whoosh, then Ysani's skirt lay on the floor in a ring around her feet. Mister Gramms chewed idly on the hem of his prize. Ysani turned a brilliant shade of red and simply stared down at the turtle, too shocked to move.

Firael's jaw near unhitched, his eyes wide, the schematic falling from his hands. The two just stood there for a few moments, awkward silence thick in the room, aside from the quiet noise of Mister Gramms chewing on fine mageweave. Firael was suddenly conflicted with whether he should be looking away or scolding his turtle and trying to take the skirt back from it. As such, he did a series of turning away and then back towards Mister Gramms, only to see a pair of legs and then spin back around. "I'm I uh Umm Mister Gramms I'm very... Ohmygosh Ysani I'm so sorry I... ohdear MISTER GRAMMS GIVE HER HER SKIRT BACK."

After a serious (and largely ineffectual) effort to regain her composure, Ysani was at last able to stoop down and pull her skirt up off the floor, hoisting it over the seat of her decidedly pink underpants. Her face was still glowing red as she tugged at it, trying to pull the fraying hem out of the giant turtle's jaws. Mister Gramms continued to try to tug on her skirt. Firael had taken ahold of the large turtle's shell and was trying to tug him in the opposite direction, mostly in vain. There was a short ripping sound, then a pause and much longer and louder rip as the skirt gave along a seam... then a thud as Ysani landed hard on her backside, skirt ripped into two ragged pieces and flapping off to either side of her bare legs. She whimpered.

Mister Gramms backed into Firael, knocking him back on his rear as well. This was a good time for a turtle to leave the two Sin'dorei and go to his food bowl. Firael blinked as he looked forward, his cheeks now matching Ysani's. "I... uh." This was a bit too much for the Farstrider to handle, and he fell back on the hard floor of the shop.

The redhead scrambled over, skirtless, and gently shook the Farstrider's shoulder. "Firael? Are you okay?"