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Owner Pose
Fern     It's early in the afternoon and it feels pretty good outside. It's warm, and though it's dusty, it still beats sandstorms and rain. Fern is sitting on a bench beneath one of the large metal trees, and as she rests there she sits up straight like she might hop up at any second.

    Fern's looking about, but her focus is mainly on the way in and out of the area. Anyone who walks in makes her perk up, only to be disappointed when they aren't who she must be waiting for. The kid crosses her arms over her chest and pups n ankle up onto her other knee, scooting down to slouch where she sits now.
Ashur "I wonder how the little rascal is," Ashur had mentioned earlier that morning to sweet, farm-bound Celeste, lazily enjoying a morning breakfast together. "I'd been working on a present for her.. that glowing armor, remember? It's the strangest thing -- after they cured the mutation, I didn't feel like wearing it anymore. I think I got used to being without it."


Here comes the brute, then, in all his royal finery: the feathered Roman helmet of his white-and-gold power armor, the lustrous wife-made cloak that drapes over an arm and trails behind him, the skirt of red leather. The ground still shivers when he walks, even if he isn't a thousand pounds these days, and in his hands is a shimmering bit of chest armor, cut down to a size more befitting you. It is warm to the touch and made of some sort of pock-marked leather, almost scaled, a dark red and black in molten mixture. Asking about town led him to this forest, where you'd been sighted running off to earlier.

"Fern," he calls, and his voice has a robotic filter through his helmet's rebreather. "Come, child. I've another present for you."
Fern     Fern can feel the rumbling, and as she hears the voice she sits up on the bench. "Ashur?" she calls before, "Ash!?" The kid hops up off the bench an starts heading towards the voice, and when she sees the normal you there she stops in her track. "Awww mannnnn, no way!!! Tell me the rumors weren't true!" she says in a dramatic way, shaking her fists up towards the heavens as she lets out a Vaderlike, "Nooooooo!" She whimpers, finds a rock to kick, then turns back to you, shaking her head.

    "Why'd you have to go and fix yourself!? You were freaking amazing all tall n' shit!" She sulks.. but hey, did you say present?

    Fern perks up and looks. "What'd you get? Horns this time?" She peers curiously, eyeing the chest piece she can see parts of. Eyes widen and a brow twitches.
Ashur It is Ashur! How many other giants are there who look like Roman superheroes? And even when projected through the rebreather, the voice is distinctly his. He takes to a knee and those heavy plates rustle and creak, cloak settling around him like a blanket, reaching with a metal hand to muss your hair and spares the kicked rock and melodramatic theater a little laugh.

"Forgive me, Domina," the metal man intones, bowing his head low. "I should have sought your permission. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but perhaps tribute will soften your heart."

That shining bit of armor, like something out of a fairy tale, is handed over to you. You saw him wearing it once before the expedition. It's the same shape, it's missing some material, but flexible and still large enough for you to grow into over time. And so pretty!

He removes his helmet, and you can see a fatherly smile, hand falling away from your head. "You know, most people still think I'm pretty tall."
Fern     Fern gets up close when you kneel down, and just for good measure she gives a hard kick to your shin! Probably hurts her foot more than your armor-clad leg, but it's done and she's able to move on. The kid grins qide as the armor is shown, and she gasps, "For me!? Wicked cool!!" Fern yanks the armor away and holds it up to herself like she was imagining what it would be like to wear it. She turns this way and that like some girls might do when trying on a dress, but for her? It's armor all the way!

    "It's awesome! So cool!" She's grinning wide as ever, and soon she's jumping up to give an awkward hug over that armor. "Thank you! You found one my size or.. was it yours?" she asks, brow arching. "Is it cursed!?"
Ashur "It is cursed to only be worn by a pipsqueak," he solemnly informs you, head bowed apologetically. "Whosoever bears that armor will become a great warlord, but never more than five feet tall." The giant leans down and gives the top of your head an affectionate kiss -- it might actually be the first time he's ever done that, and it lasts for but a moment, and then he smiles down and stands back up to his full height. "That was mine, Fern. I decided it would suit you better, and so had the excess material removed, and had it refitted; in return, I let the armorer keep the material to study it. He had never worked with deathclaw hide before, let alone a hellclaw."

The giant reaches up and plucks a blade-shaped scrap leaf from the iron tree it hung by a thread off. It must have been damaged in the siege, twisted and blackened by a long-extinguished fire.

"Here, put it on like a sweater," he suggests, "and then tighten it with the straps at your waist until it feels good. It might be a little loose, but you're still growing."
Fern     Fern gives another kick in the covered shin when you go on teasing her height, but she has a grin on while she does it. The kid doesn't seem to mind your teasing at all, or the fatherly peck to her head, which makes her smile up to you.

    Fern hugs the chest piece again, then tosses her backpack off so she can tug the armor on, putting it on just as you describe until she's tugging the straps to pull it tighter. Her eyes light up and she gives a loud growling roar. "It feels.. INCREDIBLEEEEEEE!!!" She growls again lik a deathclaw, then curls her fingers to make them like claws as she slaches at the air, then gives it a few healthy punches for fun. "Huh! huh! Hy-yah!" She kicks the air, too, looking more like a dork than the badasss she must see herself as. "Sweet!! Fuckin cool!" she cheers.