[After nearly two weeks and no weirdness on his part, Sigmund was starting to think he was going to escape for... however long this was going to last. After all, two weeks seemed to be a long time in Luceti terms. Unfortunately for him, it was not to be.
He just stepped out for a moment -- just to get things for breakfast while Capell and Katie were (maybe... hopefully... please) still asleep. It shouldn't have been a long trip, a half-hour at most. So, in true Liberator's luck fashion, he has to be right in the middle of the plaza when this weirdness catches up to him. Groceries, journal; everything that he was holding falls to the ground. This can happen when one suddenly finds themselves about four feet shorter and with flippers instead of hands.
Not being accustomed to suddenly turning into flightless feathered wildlife, it takes him a few moments of standing completely still to realize exactly what just happened to him. And then...]
EDWARD! [...!] No! Nevermind. Stay there. Don't touch me.
[And that's how there came to be an angry little penguin in the plaza that morning, alternately trying to kick and nudge scattered groceries back into a bag so that it can drag it home (nevermind that the bag weighs twice what it does) or futilely struggling to turn the damn journal off with a pen clutched in its beak. Mostly this is causing lots of scribbling and squawking and the odd shot of angry penguin.
So, so angry.]
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notsoaringblade, for angry penguin justice
He just stepped out for a moment -- just to get things for breakfast while Capell and Katie were (maybe... hopefully... please) still asleep. It shouldn't have been a long trip, a half-hour at most. So, in true Liberator's luck fashion, he has to be right in the middle of the plaza when this weirdness catches up to him. Groceries, journal; everything that he was holding falls to the ground. This can happen when one suddenly finds themselves about four feet shorter and with flippers instead of hands.
Not being accustomed to suddenly turning into flightless feathered wildlife, it takes him a few moments of standing completely still to realize exactly what just happened to him. And then...]
EDWARD! [...!] No! Nevermind. Stay there. Don't touch me.
[And that's how there came to be an angry little penguin in the plaza that morning, alternately trying to kick and nudge scattered groceries back into a bag so that it can drag it home (nevermind that the bag weighs twice what it does) or futilely struggling to turn the damn journal off with a pen clutched in its beak. Mostly this is causing lots of scribbling and squawking and the odd shot of angry penguin.
So, so angry.]
((Replies from
notsoaringblade, for angry penguin justice
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chasethestars
chasethestars
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Lord... Sigmund...?
[PLEASE, PLEASE LET HIM BE SAFE]
I told you to stay.
...my lord?
Sigmund hops off the couch and tries to get Edward away from anything important... by hopping and flapping at the back of his legs.]
Yes. Don't touch things.
My apologies, my lord... I...
[....3...2...1...]
Why are you a bird!?
Why is our doorframe candy?
...The experiment, I suppose...