“Excuse me,” the museum guard asks, “are you lost, little girl? Do you need help finding your parents?”
All things considered, Pela can’t exactly take offence to being called ‘little.’ She is indeed that. Still, she’s not going to let this pass without comment.
“Girl?” she exclaims indignantly. “How old do you think I am? I’m eighteen!”
In Pela’s opinion, that isn’t any better.
“Ma’am? That makes me sound like an old lady!”
“I, uh, I, well,” the guard stammers. “That is to say, do you require any assistance, Miss?”
That’s better, Pela decides.
“No,” she says tersely, “I’m fine.”
Before the guard can say anything to offend her sensibilities any further, Pela strides off down the museum hall towards the Rotunda of Big Hats.
Nolan thought it would be a good team-building exercise and educational experience for the Lyte Brigade to visit the Porthaven Civic Museum. After making their way through the ground floor of the museum as a group, the members of the Lyte Brigade have split up to explore the wings of museum on their own.
Falcata and Tancred hurried off to the Hall of Swords. Amara headed off to the Baroness Meyrick Textile Gallery, whereupon Nolan pretended to be excited by textiles so he could go with her. Matilda headed outside to the Statuary Garden. Pela decided to head for the Gallery of Dwarven History. Since Dwarven History is her history — or at least half of her history — it seemed like the thing to do.
In hindsight, she probably should have decided to stick with one of the other members of the Lyte Brigade. Winding her way through the halls of the museum alone, people keep mistaking her for a lost child.
What is with these tall people?
It’s like they’ve never seen a Goblin before. Of course, given how frequently taller people seem to step on and trip over her, it’s possible that they haven’t. They certainly don’t ever seem to see her.
Pela sighs. She wishes she could be tall.
She jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder from behind.
“No,” she says. “I don’t need help finding my parents. I am not a lost kid. I’m just short, okay?” She wheels toward whoever it is sneaking up on her. “Matilda?”
She looks up to see her guildmate smiling down on her.
“Lost kid? You been getting that a lot?” Matilda asks.
Pela nods. “All the time. It’s the worst.” She smiles weakly and quickly changes the subject. “So, how were the statues?”
Matilda shrugs. “Statue-y, I guess. There was one cool one of a dude stabbing a dragon in the mouth.”
“Want to come check out the Dwarven History wing with me?” Pela offers. “I think I’m related to some of the people in there.”
Matilda grins. “I don’t know, some people might think I’m trying to kidnap you,” she notes.
Pela glowers up at her friend until she feels a grin of her own breaking out on her face. “Or they might think you’re my Mom,” she counters. “If they think I’m a kid, what’ll that make you?”
The colour drains from Matilda’s face and then she blushes furiously.
“I’m three years older than you!”
There, presented for you consideration, a story about a short character written by an author in nowise insecure about his own height and who is, incidentally, exactly as tall as Tom Cruise is, which is a perfectly respectable height for an adult man, okay?
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