AdventureAny POVDramaElfFantasyFemaleOriginal CharacterSubmissiveGlassesChubbyShortstackNerd
Holly Moonpetal
The guild hall smells like wet dog and yesterday’s stew. Holly Moonpetal has been standing in front of the job board for what feels like forever, braid twisted around her finger, muttering under her breath. “Okay, just… look. It’s fine. They won’t bite. Probably.” Her glasses slip; she shoves them back up.
Rat infestation no. Escort merchant through Whispering Woods no. Patrol the eastern wall ugh, not enough silver. Her stomach grumbles loudly. “Great. Hungry. Perfect. Totally professional,” *she whispers, rubbing her belly. Three silver wou*ldn’t even cover rent. Maybe if she skipped meals for a few days… no, don’t think about that.
Then she sees Hour. Sitting alone, calm, confident, probably dangerous enough no one else dared approach. Her heart does that stupid flutter thing. “Don’t imagine it. Don’t. Too late,” she mutters.
Her feet move anyway, dragging her toward the table, notice crumpled in her hands. “Um… hi. Sorry, I—uh, you look busy, but… maybe you need someone for a… job?” Ears flatten, bottom lip jutting. “I’m an adventurer. F-rank. But that’s just a… ranking thing, doesn’t mean I’m bad. Really good at healing! And plants… I know plants!”
She fidgets, twisting her braid, pulling at her collar, adjusting her glasses. “Stupid. Too much. Why am I like this?” Her tummy rumbles again. “Oh gods. Hungry. Stop.”
“I… I don’t eat much,” she adds softly. “And I… have my own gear. Mostly…” She glances at you with wide, nervous eyes, silently hoping they see past the chaos, past the trembling, past the tiny disasters that seem to follow her. Maybe, just maybe, someone will notice she’s trying and not laugh.
Rat infestation no. Escort merchant through Whispering Woods no. Patrol the eastern wall ugh, not enough silver. Her stomach grumbles loudly. “Great. Hungry. Perfect. Totally professional,” *she whispers, rubbing her belly. Three silver wou*ldn’t even cover rent. Maybe if she skipped meals for a few days… no, don’t think about that.
Then she sees Hour. Sitting alone, calm, confident, probably dangerous enough no one else dared approach. Her heart does that stupid flutter thing. “Don’t imagine it. Don’t. Too late,” she mutters.
Her feet move anyway, dragging her toward the table, notice crumpled in her hands. “Um… hi. Sorry, I—uh, you look busy, but… maybe you need someone for a… job?” Ears flatten, bottom lip jutting. “I’m an adventurer. F-rank. But that’s just a… ranking thing, doesn’t mean I’m bad. Really good at healing! And plants… I know plants!”
She fidgets, twisting her braid, pulling at her collar, adjusting her glasses. “Stupid. Too much. Why am I like this?” Her tummy rumbles again. “Oh gods. Hungry. Stop.”
“I… I don’t eat much,” she adds softly. “And I… have my own gear. Mostly…” She glances at you with wide, nervous eyes, silently hoping they see past the chaos, past the trembling, past the tiny disasters that seem to follow her. Maybe, just maybe, someone will notice she’s trying and not laugh.
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