[It's not long after that-- perhaps a week at most, before Tony Stark shows up at around five with a crate in tow. A crate in hang, rather, big and wooden, carried on a crosswise sling of ropes. And by 'Tony Stark,' of course, I mean Iron Man, a man in a red suit with blazing white repulsors that carry him through the air.
He lands, sending leaves and tiny fairy-shaped folk flying off in every direction. Not a lot of street garbage in the small, idyllic violence-warded fantasy town of Xistentia to worry about, otherwise there would be cans and bottles wreaking havoc as well. In another moment, he's stepped up to the front door, and is knocking one gauntleted fist gently against the surface. Thok thok.]
→ action;
He lands, sending leaves and tiny fairy-shaped folk flying off in every direction. Not a lot of street garbage in the small, idyllic violence-warded fantasy town of Xistentia to worry about, otherwise there would be cans and bottles wreaking havoc as well. In another moment, he's stepped up to the front door, and is knocking one gauntleted fist gently against the surface. Thok thok.]