[That is maybe the most horrifying thing she's seen in all of her fourteen years. Swallowing back a startled sound, she turns and starts making a dramatic run for anything she can crawl into or through. There's a thick pile of hay nearby that the chocobo must feed from — not ideal, but better than getting stomped into the floor by the strange robot-toy-man.
Or, well, she's doing her best to run toward the hay. Every step he takes feels like a small quake, and she nearly loses her footing on more than one occasion as she sprints for her life toward this temporary safety!
... If she falls down nearly on her face, you didn't see it.]
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Or, well, she's doing her best to run toward the hay. Every step he takes feels like a small quake, and she nearly loses her footing on more than one occasion as she sprints for her life toward this temporary safety!
... If she falls down nearly on her face, you didn't see it.]