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Petpet Name: Jacques
Pet Name: Morgenite
Breed: Christmas Rock
We were late leaving Kreludor.
Blame the Orange Grundo who used me in a game of Spacerocked while my owner was busy talking to her favourite intergalactic cobbler.
I'll admit I rather enjoyed soaring through the air (given my mobility issues), but the angle at which I was launched had me bouncing off two green meteors, sending me clear over Sloth's ship.
My owner was searching the meteorite-littered moon for hours upon hours before she found me, mirroring an incident from last week, wherein a Neovian villager threw me at Bruno while my owner was stuffing her face with scones from the Crumpetmonger's shop.
“Other Neopets wouldn’t mistake you for a regular rock if you were brightly coloured,” my owner says through gritted teeth while dusting me off.
Not this again.
She thinks I should be painted Pink because she’s a Pink Kyrii. Or rather, it’s her classmates at Brightvale University and their matching petpets who think this... that Yellow Chia and his Yellow Flosset, that Plushie Ogrin and her Plushie Ona, and so on.
My owner asks the Shop Wiz to search for a Pink Petpet Paint Brush.
“I did not find anything,” the Wiz frowns. “Please try again and I will search elsewhere!”
She tries a few more times before looking the brush up at the Trading Post. She stares at the asking prices in silence.
I am secretly glad it’s more than she is willing to pay, but at the same time I don’t want her feeling unhappy with me.
So I make myself as useful as possible the next day at Brightvale U.
I keep watch of her carrel in the library while she refills her water bottle outside, I act as a paperweight for the stack of readings she has to review during lunch, and I venture off to wake the Turmaculus while she’s busy in a lecture.
My a cappella rendition of the Spacerocked theme (don’t ask me how I can sing!) does not wake the giant, but my owner doesn’t mind that I’ve returned empty-handed. She’s too busy patting herself on the back for coming up with the solution of decorating me in place of painting me.
We’re off to a craft store in Brightvale’s garment district after her classes conclude. I am bracing myself for a night of Moon and Star Stickies and Fake Sloth Tattoos when she veers off into the ribbon aisle.
She's instantly drawn to a spool of hurt-your-eyes pink, but thankfully the width is too narrow for her liking.
“Hmm, why not red?” she asks upon noticing she is only a side-step away from the rich, bold tones. It won’t match her hair or her fur, but it will match the inner rage she likes to keep under wraps. It’s like a joke just for us. And you can’t buy that on the Trading Post.
The nicks and chips I’ve amassed from being chucked around Neopia keep the ribbon from slipping off as it’s wrapped around me longitudinally before being knotted in a bow.
Instead of sticking me in her pocket or placing me on the ground afterwards, my owner slides her wrist through one of the loops so I can swing around with each step she takes.
I’m flying again, like on Kreludor, only this time my owner -- my best friend -- won’t have any trouble finding me.
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