His shell was splotched dull red and black with age, marked with scratches and dents from previous fights and accidents. He didn’t normally wear anything over himself and he felt somewhat constricted in the flowing white and green robes but this was an event that called for formality. His thick shell didn’t allow him to appreciate the soft and luxurious material.
#TORIBASH BEST MOVE FREE#
The hulking Oyroy stroked the fabric of the decorative robe draped over his shell with his free claw as Gavros did her work. Very big.” Wuktish agreed in his slow, guttural tone. She told him his decrepit old exoskeleton had “character” and made him look, if anything, more respectable. The little Pedinoid had done her job to the best of her ability and succeeded in making Wuktish more appealing for the cameras.
#TORIBASH BEST MOVE PROFESSIONAL#
Wuktish’s employer, an incredibly wealthy and philanthropic Zezik by the name of Ensset, had offered him an entire team of professional cosmetologists to help him prepare but he did not like the idea of entrusting himself to the hands of strangers and had tasked Gavros with making him presentable. Two large, green eyes focused intently on Wuktish’s claw as she worked and her tail whipped back and forth mindlessly, the once razor-sharp bone protruding from the tip dulled with age and use. Dark brown fur used to cover everywhere but her palms, the soles of her feet, and her face, but the fur had grown grey with age. A black leather satchel hung around her shoulder. She wore an all blue jumpsuit with holes for her head, hands, feet and tail to stick through. “Big day, huh?” Gavros tried to make small talk as she furiously polished the splotchy, red and black shell. For the first time in a long time, Wuktish felt self-conscious about how others perceived him. On the other side of the curtain, the crowd chattered with itself, and there were spotlights that would glare in his eyes and cameras to drink in every bit of his image for the galaxy to see. They were standing alone behind thick purple curtains, the only light shining from a sole vanity mirror in which Wuktish could see his lacklustre reflection. The little ape was close by his side and scurried over with a cloth in hand to fix her handiwork.
His servant and assistant, Gavros, had already polished his old carapace to a dull gleam and he only managed to sully it with his saliva. Wuktish nervously groomed one large, clawed arm with his mandibles.
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