Prism, the Hopplume Pufflet
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Work in progress!
Slightly NSFW!
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A Hopplume Pufflet looks like a downy ball of mint-green fur with two springy hind-legs, a tiny platypus bill, and a peacock-tail of bioluminescent feathers that unfurl whenever it’s excited (which is often). Each hop leaves a swirl of harmless, sparkling motes that fade after a heartbeat. One particular pufflet - nick-named "Prism" for the shifting pastel hues in its tail - has chosen to roam Hoppsala’s market square. Word of its antics spread so quickly that people now travel for days just to catch a glimpse of the little celebrity.
Prism’s fame began on a market day three summers ago, when the little pufflet bounced down the main thoroughfare with all the blithe confidence of royalty. Wherever those springy hind legs landed, a faint shower of opalescent motes drifted through the air, catching the sunlight like blown glass. Shoppers swore their purses felt suddenly heavier, stallholders sold out of spiced crab cakes before noon, and the town’s lone moneylender closed his ledgers with an unaccustomed smile. It did not take long for folk to decide that the creature’s presence brought fortune as surely as rain brings flowers, and soon every vendor kept a saucer of sweet-berry crumbs out in hopes the pufflet would pause and bless the wares.
Yet mere luck would not have sustained the mania that followed. Each evening at the turn of dusk, Prism performs what villagers now call the Rainbow Curtain. The pufflet settles in the centre of Hoppsala Square, fans its bioluminescent tail, and begins a whirling hop that seems to paint ribbons of liquid light across the cobblestones. Children squeal and chase the gleams; artists attempt - always imperfectly - to capture the shifting hues on canvas; travelling minstrels time their ballads to the rhythm of the creature’s tiny feet. Visitors swear the display rivals any courtly firework, and unlike pyrotechnics, it leaves neither smoke nor scorch - only delighted faces and a lingering scent of sea salt and spring blossoms.
Children
I love Prism. What a cute little fluff. I wouldn't stroke him, though, for secret reasons.
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