Boc the Seamster (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautiful_boc) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2024-03-17 08:12 am
beautiful_boc) wrote in fandomtownies2024-03-17 08:12 am
J,GoB; Sunday Morning [03/17].
The weather had been rather pleasant, by Boc's estimation, and things had been fairly quiet around the island, it seemed, and so he was feeling a bit bold in venturing out that morning, feeling rather restless in the shop and frustrated that he kept messing up his current embroidery piece. He needed a little bit of a break, and, since the last few outings felt like that'd been successful without incident, he would attempt another journey out again.
His intention was to head to the park again, to scrounge around for mushrooms in the underbrush, or perhaps the preserve, as usual, but his optimism about successful savaging were a bit dim based on his last forays into foraging. Still, stalwart as ever, he thought he'd make a good go of it, because he was scurrying past the bakery, was hit by that undeniably lovely aroma of freshly baked sweet things, and he found his mouth smacking of its own volition for something a bit nicer than just mushrooms scrounged up from the dirt. He did have a bit of money on him from the shop, after all, and he hadn't really indulged in a while...
So, after a good deal of hemming and hawing and reasoning with himself, helped by the fact that, at this hour, on this day, the place didn't seem too terribly busy, Boc finally found himself squatting in a chair at a table with a cinnamon roll about the size of his hands (and he did have impressively long hands, after all), picking it apart diligently and happily with his claws and thinking of spiral designs and other ideas. He'd admit, he still felt a bit awkward, using a table and all, but it seemed to be more socially acceptable than his first choice of just cringing in a corner with it.
[[ open for all your sunday morning baked good needs! ]]
His intention was to head to the park again, to scrounge around for mushrooms in the underbrush, or perhaps the preserve, as usual, but his optimism about successful savaging were a bit dim based on his last forays into foraging. Still, stalwart as ever, he thought he'd make a good go of it, because he was scurrying past the bakery, was hit by that undeniably lovely aroma of freshly baked sweet things, and he found his mouth smacking of its own volition for something a bit nicer than just mushrooms scrounged up from the dirt. He did have a bit of money on him from the shop, after all, and he hadn't really indulged in a while...
So, after a good deal of hemming and hawing and reasoning with himself, helped by the fact that, at this hour, on this day, the place didn't seem too terribly busy, Boc finally found himself squatting in a chair at a table with a cinnamon roll about the size of his hands (and he did have impressively long hands, after all), picking it apart diligently and happily with his claws and thinking of spiral designs and other ideas. He'd admit, he still felt a bit awkward, using a table and all, but it seemed to be more socially acceptable than his first choice of just cringing in a corner with it.
[[ open for all your sunday morning baked good needs! ]]
no subject
But here he was, with the strains of "Danny Boy" being played on the bagpipes by two enthusiastic but tuneless gremlins behind him.
Truly St. Patrick's Day had done nothing to deserve this.
"Meep meep meep meee---"
no subject
As if Giant Bat would have enough room to fly in here, but they were known to cluster around Chanting Winged Dames and their haunting soulful songs that sounded...well, comparing this song to this was a bit unfair, but there seemed to be a ....sort of thread there?
But when Boc realized that this was not the sound of his impending doom by Giant Bats and instead was just Beaker and a few gremlins, he seemed to relax a little. And, when the song was ended, he wasn't sure if he should say or do anything, so he very awkwardly took a moment to clap his paws together in an uncertain applause and a stammered out an equally uncertain, "O-oh, well, that was...that was lovely, cully. Very, ah, yes, um...very..." He struggled to find a word he could actually apply in good conscious, "much a song?"
no subject