- Pine watched as the group settled down to rest, idle chatter filling the quiet that would otherwise have lingered. There had been little silence or stillness in his life ever since he had joined them. "And what about you, Pine?" came the question, involving him in their discussion without his say-so, reminding him that they considered him part of their group despite his differences. "What is your favourite childhood memory?"His idle growing time hadn't lasted nearly as long as he thought they were used to, especially not the longer races. There were always things to do in a roaming tabaxi camp, and his early years were filled with learning of that sort, rather than play. Still, there was an enduring memory that he looked back upon with fondness. There had been little time to consider such things in recent times. Little time for anything except the desperate attempt at survival and their current tasks, but he supposed in this short time of rest, there was time. It was a distraction, he knew, for the group to remember things in the world they enjoyed, things to keep fighting to preserve. "The first time I met a dwarf," he said after that moment of contemplation. That was the simplest explanation, but they were still looking at him, questions poised on those lips, despite the fact that he did not wish to share such things casually. "I had never seen any of the furless races before."
- He still remembered those hands; large as he had been small. They had been rough from a long lifetime of toil, but smooth in a way that had been fascinating to him, only the scantest of hairs seen anywhere, and certainly nothing like his people. They had gone there to trade, but had become trapped by the weather that had made travel from it too treacherous. A whole winter they had stayed and been welcomed, each of the clan's young sent to different of the dwarves to learn what they could and to keep them occupied while unable to roam in outside as they were used to.
He'd been given to her, still so young that he struggled with balance at times, because he was small and because out of all of the young in his clan he was the quietest. He realized that now, because she had been old for a dwarf, her greying years well under way. She would have struggled with keeping track of the more rambunctious of the clan's young. Hours she spent talking to him each day, oftentimes stroking over his fur, or combing it using a finely crafted comb made of gemstone that glittered in a way that had fascinated him. On her lap he learned dwarvish, he learned of the dwarven clans and their history, he learned of the ways people interacted and why, because she was happy to just talk and talk about what she saw while he listened. He grew in the months that they stayed there, and he learned from the wisdom of one that had walked the earth for hundreds of years. He liked to think that some of that wisdom stuck with him, as her words often had. But it was the largeness of those furless hands that he remembered the most. How they were warm, and kind, and had cradled him in their gentle care. Of the scent of her skin and the patina of the dwarven hold they were staying in, and that lilt of her voice as she murmured to him in his sleepy rest on her lap. - He looked up and over to the rest of the group to find that their conversation and attention had moved on. It was better that way. He had no wish to recount the tale to others more than he had.
As Effie gets the question, she thinks for a long moment before finally answering with a smirk on her lips "The first time I didn't need the Baron saving my ass."
If pushed for more details, she'd describe a very young Effie, watching a wealthy nobleman strolling through the circus grounds. Her heart pounding with excitement as she plots her next move.
She'd decided to attempt a daring theft against this egocentric lord-of-something, hoping to slip the coin pouch from his pocket.
As he passes by, Effie moves with practiced grace, her body language suggesting she's merely admiring the spectacle. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against the nobleman's coat. But at the last moment, her hand falters, the fear of being caught taking over. Just as she's about to give up, the nobleman turns to look at her. Effie freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. The nobleman, however, is not oblivious to her attempt. His face contorts with anger as he catches her red-handed. "How dare you!?" he exclaims, his voice filled with fury. "How dare you try to steal from me, a noble of the realm!?"