top tier turnips.

@misterturnip

adrian wang. 31. farmer "My hightest ambition is to crawl out from under the ash and laugh at all the things they thought could bury me." - Rudy Francisco

31 posts

renzieaanand-deactivated2023071

"And it's probably a great farm too - which is why by the time Em returns, she's already halfway eaten msot of the goods," Renzie joked easily. Since moving to Thistleberry, Emilia was actively out-and-about on her exploration and photography jaunts. Returning home with stories about this farm and that person and oooh these cute little jams, etc. Renzie was content sticking to the Café, although he knew he should start getting out more. He pretended to look offended. "A Thistle Fog on only Tuesday, huh? Why not a Thistle Fog on Thursday too? Is our Thistle Fog not up to standards? I can take a little constructive criticism."

Oh dang, now he was making Mr Purple-Guy feel a little self-conscious in his fancy digs. Renzie was no clothing expert himself, but he knew good quality when he saw it. Running an Inn in his old town had meant guests ranging from thrift to posh; and Purple-Guy definitely slid closer to 'posh'.

"Ahhhh no! No it's great! Total farmer-wear - y'know, immediately makes me think: wow, your farm must be thriving." Renzie recouped, spinning his faux pas into a compliment. "So! What're you planning to grow in the new season? I think when Emilia goes on one of her jaunts, I'll join her; I'd love to visit your farm."

The solemn wagging of his fist had to be one of the funniest things, and Renzie was proud of himself for maintaining a straight face. "Adrian Wang, Renzie Acosta-Anand. So glad to meet you - outside of the café. I'll remember on Tuesday."

Turning towards the festivities from their borderline vantage, Renzie asked, "Sooooo, you come to all these festivals, Adrian? I was checking out the community board, and realized there's...a lot in Thistleberry. Which is cool. I love festivals..." His gaze kept dragging back to the trash on the edge of the beach though. "That's really bugging me though, not gonna lie."

Adrian met Renzie's offense with a kind of neutrality that only came from years of working in a highly-critical environment. He was a master deescalator at that point. Humor was lost upon him in the face of a problem, feigned or not. "I don't typically come into town on other days but unfortunately, I can't grow all my necessities on vines," he told him sincerely. "I assure you, the Thistle Fog is perfect the way it is."

Looking down at his attire again, Adrian smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt. Perhaps he'd do a little more research and see if they made plaid in turnip.

"You're welcome to visit whenever you like. I'm trying eggplants and purple cabbage this year. I have a few heads sprouting inside the greenhouse ready to be transplanted this summer. I think they're going to be a hit at the market." He looked a little prouder when talking about his crop.

Gardening and farming had become something he'd learned to enjoy during his time in Thistleberry. It was recuperative to see that his love and care sprouted things that other people enjoyed. Adrian smiled a little at the imagery of his farm during harvest season, shiny and purple with fruit.

"Not really. I haven't been here very long and it's taken some time to get my bearings on the farm but I'm trying to get out more," he started, ready to assure the other that he was not a shut-in and didn't need any more encouragement when he noticed the way Renzie's eyes kept flitting away. Following his line of sight, he saw the trash bobbing along the coastline.

Glancing at Renzie's forlorn gaze, he asked him as if he were formally proposing that they go to prom together. "Would you like me to go pick up trash with you?"

kyle-washington

"Pickle juice?!" Kyle was beside himself. He couldn't believe this poor guy was just out here, living in the world with such naivete. It would have been kind of adorable if it wasn't so pitiful. "Bro, my guy, the only thing worse than drinking turnip juice at a party is drinking pickle juice. Your breath is gonna reek." He reached into his pocket for some mints, quickly handing one over. "Please, for your own sake, take this."

Kyle shook his head. "Mister Turnip," he repeated. "It's already happening. Don't worry, though. We can fix it." It wasn't too late to repair his image, but it was going to take a lot of work, and he didn't know if Adrian had it in him. The guy still seemed so out of place, which was a shame, because he was actually a pretty cool dude. He just always seemed like a kicked puppy.

"Naw, naw, man, it's the perfect time. Because everyone is having fun, everyone is in good spirits, they're giving each other drinks and flowers." He'd seen plenty of people confess their feelings at the flower dance over the years, and some of them had even worked out in the long run. "It's the best of both worlds, right? If she's into it, you can express your intentions, and if she's not into it, well, you were just being polite and trying to enjoy the dance."

"It's pickled turnip juice, actually," he corrected, which didn't add to his defense whatsoever. "Picklebacks were all the rage in college, you know. Alcohol contains high level of histamine which gives you nasal congestion anyway."

Adrian took a mint anyway, indignantly popping it into his mouth. He didn't know if Willow had the same appreciation for collegiate rituals as he did.

He took another sip of beer in contemplation of Kyle's inspirational preaching and choked it down as terribly as he had the first time. Somehow it tasted worse the more he drank it and it certainly wasn't giving him any confidence to approach Willow without a tray of turnip pastries.

"But what if she says no and thinks I'm a creep? I live next to her. I'll have to see her when I go and collect my mail and it'll be incredibly awkward." Adrian cut a look toward Kyle. "Besides, if it's so easy, why don't I see you asking anyone?"

[ @misterturnip ]

It was all busy, of course it was. It was a dance and most of the town was out here, socializing, dancing, having fun. Still, most people can keep their drinks in their cups, while Steph somehow managed to miss the person coming from the side and turned at the worst time ever, bumping right into them and spilling all of the colorful cocktails onto the person. "Oh shit, shit, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking, I-- I am so sorry."

It was just his luck that he had been taking a sip of his drink when he was bowled into by another person, dousing himself with his drink while simultaneously getting splashed by the other's. Adrian paused, unbelieving and uncertain of what to do next before deciding that he'd be noble about the situation despite now smelling like an alcoholic turnip.

Adrian dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, offering the lady a polite smile of reassurance. "It's fine," he said, not quite meaning it but unwilling to make someone feel uncomfortable about an honest mistake.

Taking out his turnip-embroidered handkerchief, he began dabbing at the stains on his clothing before glancing at her. "Would you like me to get you another drink?"

"What, Pom Pom is gonna be jealous of a tattoo on your face? Or jealous that she can't have an ice cream as a treat too?" She asked playfully, wondering if the animal would be capable of understanding the art she would be sticking to his face. "It'll wash off eventually. A couple days tops. So maybe just cover your cheek any time PomPom walks by."

To make up for her little blunder of being unprepared to actually apply the temporary tattoo for people, Emilia had borrowed a hand towel from the first aid tent to keep with her. She untied it from the baskets handle, and considered it to be damp enough to be able to transfer the tattoo without issue. "This won't take as long as the real thing so don't worry I won't be standing here with my hand against your cheek for the next half an hour." A pause followed as she pressed the paper against his cheek and held it there with the wet towel. "How are you liking it by the way? The actual tattoo? It's healing okay? No skin irritation?"

"Pom-Pom is a really sensitive cat. He doesn't like his fluffiness contended with," said Adrian as he waited patiently for Emilia to apply the temporary tattoo. He wrinkled his nose at the cool sensation against his cheek. It was a little awkward standing there with someone's hand on your face but Adrian did his best to not speak too loudly and disrupt the process.

"No problems at all," he assured her, kicking out his foot a little and turning it heel first where the little bespectacled turnip rested. "It didn't even flake. I hardly noticed it was there."

He didn't add that he would never do it again, slightly traumatized by the sheer pain of the placement down by where his shoe would graze it with every step. She didn't need to know that he was both conservative and a weenie.

Adrian leaned his head away from her hand after a beat, mostly to adjust his glasses but also figuring that a temporary tattoo didn't need as much time. "Well, how does it look? Does it look like PETA going to come after me for condoning sheep ice cream?"

Adrian's comment only serves to soften Elio's smile, the expression tempered by no small measure of fondness. The nature of his existence as a traveller means he's long-since made peace with the fact that he's only ever going to be a temporary fixture in in the lives of most of the people he meets, but still, he can't deny that there is something special about being missed. "Good to see you too, man. I ended up spending spring out on the west coast last year - you know they don't even do Flower Dances out there?"

"Turnip, you're breaking my heart," Elio sighs, retracting the hand he was offering and slapping it soundly against his own chest, as if he's been mortally wounded by the rejection. Of course, he doesn't really mind - in fact, he would've been extremely surprised if Adrian had agreed to accompany him out onto the dancefloor. "I guess I could be persuaded into a little arts and crafts instead... what're we gonna make?"

Adrian looked a little sheepish at Elio's faux offense. It was not unusual for them to have differing social stances but the badgering only went so far. Admittedly, he'd become a little more adventurous than he had been before, even so far as accepting san in his expensive shoes for a nice walk along the beach. Still, dancing was outside of his wheelhouse. He bobbed his head in silent appreciation.

"I'm thinking some boutonnieres," he said, glancing over at a little arts and crafts station. There were an endless array of flowers all piled on top. Personally, he found it more appealing than anything he'd seen so far (besides Willow).

Making his way to the station with Elio in tow, he got to picking out some purple carnations and complimentary colours. Yellows, whites, a few violets. "So tell me about the West coast. I've never been there myself but I hear the weather's much nicer."

woolenwillow-deactivated2024033

For: @misterturnip

It took Will a minute to warm up to people. She knew this. It was a character flaw her sister had pointed out to her many times and nowadays was her granny’s favorite sticking point. But the valley, no matter how many newcomers came to live or visit, could never feel unfamiliar. It remained an old friend, always, and she could relax and twirl to the music without a care.

So when the tunes turned from a modern bop to a traditional ditty in need of a partner, Willow gamely turned around on her heel on the dance floor in search of one. Spotting Adrian right beside her she assumed, given his proximity to the other dancers, that he was also, albeit uncharacteristically, seeking a dance partner and took his hands with a smile. “Ready?” she asked. The music began.

Adrian had no intentions of following through with literally anything Kyle had told him. The beer he'd given him laid cracked open and mostly full on the refreshments table, abandoned and wasted in favor of his Tipsy Turnip and his wallflower status firmly in place. He was not a dancer, nor was he much of a socialite, preferring to wander the circumference of the fun and siphon the energy like a little bug.

The festival was fun. He could enjoy it like this without any risk of making a fool of himself should anyone be watching him from the bushes. Adrian had been contented admiring the clouds, the music, and the sweet smell of flowers until he felt someone grab his hands. Turning to face the brazen owner, his heart plummeted into his stomach.

"Willow!" he said, perhaps too abruptly. The deer-in-headlights look on his face only seemed to be magnified by the frame of his glasses. Heat rose to his cheeks when the softness of her hands around his registered. Suddenly, he didn't know where to put his eyes in the face of such effervescence.

"Uh, hello," he said awkwardly, uncertain of what one was to say when kidnapped onto a dance floor. Adrian felt thankful for his old wedding for the first time in years when his feet were able to move in a 1-2 shuffle. It was all he could do. "Are you... having a time? I mean, a good time."

again with the phone, as always. fin rolled his eyes, and shamelessly listened in as his hands worked on the bouquet. as per usual it left him with more questions than answers. questions he would have to reword with feigned innocence. clearly this man had selective hearing as well, he noticed, as half of his words seemed to fall on deaf ears-

now that was not the reaction he had expected to receive as a response to his prying small talk. he couldn't help but arch an eyebrow, not intimidated in the slightest that he may have touched a sore spot. "shit, sorry. he?" he only asked, unable to stop himself from feeling the slightest resemblance of hope at the thought. he wasn't delusional, but he would take being on the same playing field over the other option, which was absolutely nothing. he also took the opportunity to scan the farmer's face for clues in the form of unintentional expressions. he himself smiled innocently, though the observant eye might have picked up a sense of mischievousness behind it. "i'm sure he will love them. as i said, they're quite romantic."

he tied the roses together with a rubber band. he figured thy would be without water for some time, so he also wet a paper towel to wrap around the stems and tied a small plastic bag over that, and lastly secured everything in place using another rubber band. the movements were swift, he'd done this before too many times to count them. he laid the bouquet down on some brown paper to wrap around them, and once he was finished he held them out for adrian. "all done."

The mention of a 'he' only further prickled his nerves. Adrian wasn't one to go about flaunting his business to people on the account that most people couldn't be trusted with it. What _were_ the chances of someone in Thistleberry catching wind of his previous exploits? He eyes only narrowed further.

Clearing his throat-- a dismissal of the implications of sorts--, he glanced down at the bushel of roses that had been prepared for him.

"Actually, I think I'll take the poppies. My apologies for the trouble," he said, his voice carrying a kind of stony professionalism one would only hear in the city. The addition of his old designer wallet being filled with paper bills only adding to the illusion of a businessman at best and a Joja employee at worst. "Worry not, I will compensate you for your troubles."

having a crush as an adult is so embarrassing i’m literally too old for this. i should be busy with my blacksmith apprenticeship or something

Emilia watched Adrian, her facial expression mimicking his as he tried to figure out what it was he had selected. Her brows furrowed as she let out a gentle scoff when he seemed confused. "Well it's definitely not a tumor!" She told him looking at the slip of paper as he showed it off to her. "He's just got a little ice cream cone, see?" Her finger began tracing it out to make it a little more clear, maybe this one wasn't as successful as some of her other drawings. It was an attempt, summer in a farming town just brought the idea to her mind.

"I'm not saying we should turn sheep into ice cream. I just think he deserves a treat! I don't want them to overheat with such a big fluffy coat." The explanation was similar to something she would have said to a child, though she assumed a child would have been too amused to bother questioning why a sheep was eating ice cream. "It's a bit silly, I didn't make all of them artsy or with a deep meaning behind them. Do you want to put it on? I think it would look perfect riiiiiight here." She said as she held the paper right over his cheek.

Once Emilia pointed it out, Adrian saw the picture as a whole and chuckled to himself. Artistic minds always impressed him with their creativity, never able to figure out how anyone could just think of silly things all on their own. It reminded him a little of Alice who had taken over decorating their condo with aplomb, making it all look like something right out of a magazine.

Thought of Alice always made him a bit sad, but Emilia's cheer was as good of a ward as any. Adrian laughed again when she held the little ice cream sheep to his cheek, ducking his head to conceal the smile that spread across his face.

"Alright, alright, that makes sense," he said before lifting a hand to remove his glasses. "Sure, okay. We can put it right there. As long as it comes off. I don't want Pom-Pom to get jealous."

renzieaanand-deactivated2023071

status: closed for @misterturnip location: at the edge of the beach

Renzie was loving the hustle and joy of the Flower Dance so far - these Berries sure could rock a small-town party - but he needed a breather, and stepped away from the hubbub just for a moment. The air was cool and salty fresh from the ocean, and Renzie looked out over the docks, eager to get out there sometime this week. Get a bit of fishing done.

Except he was distracted by what looked like...trash. Trash in this beautiful pristine ocean! Where so far everything he'd seen in the past six months of Thistleberry life, had been practically idyllic. But sure enough, every town had its flipsides, and Renzie fretted over the sight of so much plastic garbage swamping the rocky shore.

It was a party. He shouldn't be bothered. Someone else would clean it up. He was here to enjoy himself! He'd think about it tomorrow. Stiffly, Renzie turned around to head back to the party, and caught sight of another fellow on his own.

"Hey, Mister Purple-Guy!" Renzie called out, because it was fun getting to know people in Thistleberry, and he had yet to know this dude, although Ren had seen him around. How could Ren miss him - the guy was hella dapper. "Sorry, I know that's not your name. I'm Renzie, kinda new here, re-opened the Creature Comforts Café. And you're...a farmer right?" Renzie grinned, hand extended for a fistbump.

"If you don't mind me saying, you are not what I picture when I think 'farmer'. In a good way! No insult to farmers. Or you. Sorry, I'm rambling."

Adrian was enjoying the vibe of the Flower Festival, despite what it looked like. The edges of the party were where he frequented most, preferring to absorb the atmosphere rather than being part of it. Perhaps it was one part his reclusive nature and one part trauma after being swarmed with microphones but he'd never made a huge effort to overcome it when he was comfortable.

The people of Thistleberry were incredibly friendly, however. More than one person had noticed him skirting around the edges and came to ask whether he was alright. The array of little flowers that decorated the front pockets of his shirt told of a kind and generous small town. Adrian enjoyed that too, even if he didn't show it.

Looking up from his mostly full beer as another figure approached, he was prepared with another spiel about how he was indeed alright and preferred to watch others when he was met with the jubilance of one of the café owners who seemed perplexed about who he was.

To be fair, he'd never made the effort to get acquainted with people who looked too busy, instead doing his own due diligence in finding out who they were. It only occurred to him then how strange and uncomfortable that was.

"We've met before. I order a Thistle Fog on ice every Tuesday. Your wife comes over to my farm to try out my food and often takes them back with her to share," he pointed out blankly, cocking his head at Renzie's rambling. Was there a way farmers were supposed to look? Adrian looked down at his cardigan and loafers, scuffing his shoes a little in the sand. He could've sworn this was what the images on Thoogle showed him.

"Unfortunately, I can't see without my glasses," he said, deciding that that was what it was and not the $500 shoes. He offered a little smile and shook the other's fist. "Adrian Wang. Nice to formally meet you, Renzie."

finn plopped the poppy back into place as adrian set his sights on the roses and nodded in agreement. He was coy to an almost frustrating degree, as usual, but the florist didn't mind the chase.

his brain immediately started picking at the choice of such a romantic flower, like fingers at a knot. not to mention he wanted a dozen of them. yet despite his constant prying, finn had never been told outright who the flowers that the farmer kept purchasing were for. 'it's for my girlfriend' was such a regular occurrence in his store, but never with this man. "a great choice."

he picked out a dozen of the best looking soft pink roses out of the bunch and then he brought them over to the counter. with familiar hands he started dethorning them, removing a few leaves and cutting the stems. he was in no rush, however, for the slower he worked the more time he would have for talking. "a dozen is quite romantic," he noted with a smile of feigned innocence, testing the waters as he always did. "i'm sure she will love them."

Adrian smiled tightly at Finn's approval, already taking out his wallet as he approached the counter. It was an old one, but expensive for a town in the middle of nowhere, its real leather exterior and designer make having withstood the wear of time. As he began rifling through his bills, his phone rang.

Figuring that the storeowner would be busy preparing the roses, he picked up his brick of a phone and turned away to answer it.

"Hello? Yes, it's Adrian. Sorry, the reception in the valley is terrible. No, I don't want any of that. Yes. That's right. No, I haven't spoken to her since I moved. Ah, well-- Just mail it to me. Alright. 143 Thorne Avenue. It's in Thistleberry Valley. Yes. Okay. Thanks."

Sighing as he hung up, Adrian stuffed the phone back into his pocket, barely catching the tail end of what Finn was saying until the other suggested who he was buying the roses for. He paused, finally looking up to catch the boy's gaze. His steely expression only amplified by the glint of his glasses.

"How do you know it's for a her?" he asked, tone accusing. He'd been through enough media circuses to know that information spread quickly but he figured Thistleberry was safe from the the city's rumor mill. Adrian narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the other's features for any signs of deception. No, there was no way a townie knew.

Or did they?

“I— huh?” Cheery expression flash frozen in place, it takes him a long second to process the question. “Turnips..?” Reinaldo repeats, dumbfounded as he turns around to search ( as if he doesn’t have all inventory memorized ). Still, he scrounges through the meager things he brought to setup. “Ah.. don’t think I have any turnips— I have beets? Oh! I could make some vampiro paletas ‘cept I’d have to.. run home to get everythin’ and..” The side of his face is rubbed as he trails off. “Y’know, the dance might be over by the time I get back.”

Adrian's brows rose in carefully maintained offense at the suggestion of beets over turnips. To confuse a beet with a turnip was the highest of offense to a turnip farmer such as he. While both were root vegetables, the flavour profile was completely different. Not to mention, the genus of plants. He let the man finish before he straightened and began his sales pitch like the most professional of salesmen.

"Perhaps you'd be interested in purchasing some turnips for your inventory. Adrian Wang, resident turnip farmer," he said, extending a hand for a shake. "Turnips are incredibly beneficial to any diet. Did you know that both turnip bulbs and the greens are edible as well as high in Vitamin C? They'd make a great addition to any salad or filler should you have children that refuse to eat their vegetables."

Adrian continued without missing a beat, his glasses glinting in the stray beam of sunlight streaming through the tent and making him look especially professional (if not geeky). "I'll have a fresh batch of turnips for sale mid-Summer as well as in the early fall. I assure you, if you make a deal with me that you'll never be out of ingredients for your dishes. Might I suggest creating one called turnipiro turnipas?"

She was glad that Adrian was willing to play along, standing off to the side of an event like this just didn't seem like the proper way to spend it. Maybe as a fresh face, someone who hadn't been part of this yearly tradition, it was all exciting and entertaining. But with the amount of people gathered here, it didn't seem possible that this was something only new blood got a kick out of. Either way, Adrian was here and if she could be of any assistance in getting him to enjoy himself, she was going to try.

Holding out the basket for him to reach into, Emilia watched eagerly, wondering which of the many designs she worked on he would end up with. Of course, he didn't have to actually put on the temporary tattoo just because he picked it out, but she would have loved to see him with a tattoo of a pretty floral print. Or maybe one of a monster with its sharp teeth showing, ready to attack.

"Well, technically they aren't supposed to hurt. That might come after when you decide that you absolutely love it and decide it should be permanent." She answered, flashing an innocent smile as if he was totally going to make that decision. "What do you think? Which one did you get? I drew so many designs for this, like a little something for anyone."

Chuckling sheepishly at Emilia's cheerful suggestion, Adrian did a fair job at not letting his nerves show. He had all of one singular tattoo. A gesture of good faith after Emilia had scarfed down his turnip surprise with much delight. Little did he know how badly tattoos hurt, especially on soft areas. He'd never admit to tearing up during the 30 minute session, but it wasn't exactly something he'd enjoy doing a second time. Even if the little turnip was nauseatingly cute at 1.5 inches.

Adrian looked at the paper he pulled out, tilting his head one way to the other as he turned the little picture around in his hand. It looked fluffy, like a cloud. But not quite? He batted his eyes as he scrutinized the drawing.

"Is it a sheep with a tumor? Or a sundae?" he asked blankly, turning it around to show her. "I don't know if I want to condone turning sheep into ice cream. Sounds painful."

"it's absolutely fine," finn assured the farmer with a dismissive wave of his hand. he could eat later, he had all the time in the world to eat. his time to converse with this man was limited, and he would savour the opportunity.

"well..." he swiftly made his way around the corner to inspect the flowers together with his customer. barely an acquaintance, yet finn disregarded anything he knew about personal space as he reached past the man to pull a flower out of one of the buckets. "everything is fresh, i will say. but poppies , for example, are in season and quite popular right now." he offered the flower for closer inspection. "so are dahlias, and roses, as well. it all depends on your intended purpose." the last part of his sentence sounded more so like a question than a statement.

Adrian didn't pay Finn any mind as he hurried to his side, busy with his internal debate between daffodils and marigolds. Yellow would've complimented Willow's brown skin perfectly, he thought. Still, he couldn't help but hum and haw over it like he was about to put a down payment on a house.

"Poppies you say," he murmured, turning to find the aforementioned poppies, missing the way Finn reached around him like a vine. He gravitated towards the poppy bucket like a bee, hovering over the array of pink and red poppies . They were pretty, yes, but red was such a bold colour. He didn't want to give off the wrong impression.

"I just figured they'd be a nice gift. It's the flower festival today after all. It'd be silly to show up empty handed. Perhaps a few roses will do." Turning towards a basket of primly roses, he plucked out a soft pink one, careful about handling the thorns. "Can't go wrong with roses, I suppose."

He finally lifted his head to glance over at the other, holding up the rose by the stem. "I'll take a dozen of these."

Status: open to all Location: The Flower Dance

With practically the whole town present, out on the beach having a good time, Emilia felt this was the perfect time to do a little business while she could. Of course, she was going to dance and have her own fun, but her plan was for the basket full of temporary tattoos that she made and brought along with her to be empty (if not close to it) by the end of the night. She thought it would be a fun, random draw for all ages! Not that she wanted to get small children finding their way into her place for a real tattoo, but maybe this will spark an idea in people who have been thinking about it.

So with a skip in her step and a smile on her face, Emilia approached someone as they stepped off the dance floor. "Hi there, would you be interested in playing a little game of chance?" She asked, jostling the basket to show it off.

Being the wallflower that he was, Adrian tended to minding his own business at the edge of the celebration. He enjoyed the liveliness of people, though he never found the desire to be involved with it himself. Just the sound of laughter and buzz of enthusiasm was enough for him. Upon seeing Emilia, however, he couldn't help but gravitate towards a familiar face.

He'd grown fond of her, after all. She'd so kindly donated her time and her tongue to his culinary adventures and Adrian felt compelled to return her generosity in kind until they'd form a friendly rapport. Dare say that he'd made a friend in her.

Adrian met her halfway with a smile, glancing down at her basket. "Sure," he said before sticking his hand into the basket. He plucked out a little sheet between two fingers. "These aren't going to hurt me, are they?"

status: open | location: one of the vendor tents

Although Reinaldo stays tucked away beneath a deep green tent, he sees it. Well, them, really. The flitting shapes that dart and duck between the unaware. Personally, Reinaldo has no qualms with the little things. So long as no one gets hurt, everything’s fine. But then one person goes careening down and gets into a particularly bad scuff — almost takes down their friend out of instinct to stay upright. Naturally, there’s some commotion that flocks around, and he would’ve been one of them if there hadn’t been movement at his ten.

There, just at the dancefloor border, flutters another mischievous pixie ready to send someone else tumbling. This time he doesn’t idle, though. One hushed, arcanic word and the creature’s suddenly yanked away at the speed of light. All that’s left is a squeak with no source, and Reinaldo acts none the wiser as someone approaches.

“Hey, welcome! Want some mote con huesillo or paleta? Got mango and pineapple with some toppings you can dip in.”

Adrian blinked, almost certain that he'd just saw the fleshy whiz of something flash before his eyes as he approached the man's table. Thistleberry Valley always had its own bout of strangeness but the warm temperatures and electric atmosphere of the festival seemed to inspire even more of it from the inhabitants. Uncertain of what to make of the attendant squeaking at him, he fixed his glasses and stepped up to the table with a gentle clearing of his throat.

"Do you have anything with turnips in it?"

"don't patronize me," malia said with a steely voice, she pointed towards the bushes, clearly being able to see the pixie with her two eyes. she couldn't exactly move from her position at the booth as she was the only nurse working which was incredibly infuriating. "those little gluttons," malia whispers to herself noticing what they're looking at. she shakes her head holding out the waters they were hanging out. "whatever, take the water bottle or don't." she says to the person.

Adrian adjusted his glasses, squinting at the bushes. All he saw was green.

"I'm afraid I don't see anything there," he said. Afraid of further offending her, he decided not to question her sanity a second time and took the offered bottle. "It's pretty hot today. It would be a good idea to stay hydrated if you're going to be working the entire festival."

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