But after prodding with the Power Pole a fair bit, she feels a twitch. The butt sinks beneath the water, then after a second, the water erupts! A form somersaults through the air, water catapulting off of it like a wet dog’s shake, and the “corpse” lands in front of Peppa.
https://youtu.be/cdQ-He2mwBMHaving taken a stance to guard against any attack, a newly drenched Peppa wipes some river water off her face.
A boy who doesn’t look older than ten stands before her… drying his hair with a blow dryer. There aren’t any outlets out in the middle of nowhere, so upon closer inspection she sees that the blow dryer is attached to the boy’s arm, where a hand should be. The boy is also wearing a pink jacket with words on the back, “<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-s">SON OF A PEACH</span></span>.”
She also notes that he’s been drying off for the past minute at this point. Peppa scratches her cheek, “Uhhh…”
“One sec,” the boy tells her, gale force winds distorting his features. When he’s finally dry, he licks his human hand, and slicks his blonde hair up. Then, he holds a palm up, stomps the ground in a wide stance, then whips his head around. His mechanical arm sprouts a paper fan. It opens with a DUN-DUN. His gaze meets Peppa’s eyes. “...Yo!”
Peppa quickly blows away a sweatdrop that formed on her bangs, and gives him a little wave. “...Yo?”
The boy nods with a grin, and his hand sprouts a yo-yo which he starts playing with.
Peppa lets out a little puff of air from her nose. Still, she scolds the boy, “Don't play-drown!" She turns away, and marches home.
“Hah, I can hold my breath the longest in the- ey, ey, ey, wait up!” the boy shouts at her. “This youngster has a question- ack!”
Peppa hears the boy tripping, and falling to the ground with a loud THUD. She pauses her stride, and shakes her head. “And pull your pants up!”
“Huh? My pants are… oh dang!” Some quick rustling later, and the boy follows after Peppa once more, now properly wearing a pair of yellow pants. “Uh, this youngster was wanting to ask you if you’ve seen this monster?” He holds up a drawing for Peppa to see.
Peppa sees that the paper is soggy, the sketch lines non-existent, and whatever color there was is now faded away. “Can’t say I have?”
The boy’s eyes narrow, then he looks at the drawing himself, and grimaces. Crumpling it into a ball, he asks her, “Well, the monster is big, red, and evil.”
“Uh huh?”
“Yuh huh! With two red, pointy…” he raises two fingers to his forehead, “Horns!”
Peppa quirks an eyebrow. “...does the monster have a tail?”
The boys nods, giving her a glance-over. “Yeah, not like yours though. This youngster would say it’s more of a warthog’s.”
“I see… does the monster have butterfly wings and tusks?”
“No?”
It’s Basilea.
