I guess it shouldn't have really surprised me the way it did. I mean, everyone has a house-Moogle these days. Well, everyone except for a farming family on the outskirts of the Konschtat Highlands. I had heard of Moogles before, but had never seen one up close before.
It wasn't nearly as big as I thought it would be. Even hovering off the floor, his head was about level with my chest.
A Moogle is one of the inhabitants of Vana'diel. They are an intelligent, hardworking race that, for some reason, absolutely loves to take care of other people's homes and belongings. You give a Moogle a place to sleep, and he'll keep it sparkling clean for you. It's odd.
I was actually alright with having a Moogle in my new home. Truth be told, I'm sure I can be a bit of a slob sometimes. Having someone else around to help take care of that would probably be really nice.
"Hello," I said, inclining my head slightly to the Moogle. "My name is Aspen. I'm moving into this home, so I guess you're my house-Moogle." I smiled, attempting to put him at ease. Was it even a 'him'? How do you tell these things?
"Good evening, kupo!" the Moogle said, bobbing its head back at me. The pom on top of his head waved back and forth comically, and I had to struggle to keep from laughing. "They told me you were coming today, so I cleaned up and kept the fire nice and hot for you." He waved his hand toward the fireplace, where a large fire burned brightly.
"Thank you," I said with another smile, even though the weather was hardly appropriate for a fire. "That was very nice of you." It felt a bit odd to be making small-talk with a house-Moogle, and I briefly wondered if other people talked to theirs.
"So do you have a name?" I inquired, determined to stop thinking of him as 'the house-Moogle'. I turned to look him over, getting my first close look at a Moogle.
His body was actually covered by a fine white fur, and his facial features resembled that of a cat. The pom in the middle of his forehead was bright red, and didn't seem to serve any other purpose than to gauge his emotions. On his back was a pair of shiny purple wings, which was currently letting him hover.
"My..my last owner called me 'Mog'," he said, not meeting my gaze. "But I was named Moguri by my mother." His pom drooped a bit as he spoke, revealing his feelings about his given nickname.
"Well, I think I can call you Moguri, if you like," I said slowly, watching his pom to gauge his reaction. It stopped its drooping almost immediately, and Moguri's bobbing grew a little more enthusiastic.
"That would be great, kupo!" Moguri chirped. "Moogles have never been happy with nicknames. Especially not such a generic one." His energy level seemed to double, and he flitted over to me. "Can I take your pack? You must have come a long ways."
I nodded, shrugging the pack from my shoulders. Moguri took it, and, with some difficulty, moved it over to a small closet by the entrance door, hanging it over a peg. I took the opportunity to look around the room.
As I had expected, it was sparsely furnished. The best feature of the room was the fieldstone fireplace, in which Moguri had kept a nice, big fire going, as promised. There was a small, rough-looking bed in one corner, and a wobbly wooden chair in front of the fire. A door in the far wall led into what I assume was the privy, and there was a small cubby near the front door. Otherwise, the room was bare.
"We'll have to do something about that soon," I muttered, making a mental note to myself. First priority would be to find steady work, and then the furniture could come later.
I walked over and sat in the chair, looking into the fire as ideas for furnishing my new home raced through my mind.
"Is something wrong, kupo?" came the soft voice from somewhere near my elbow.
"No," I replied, "everything is just fine. Happy to be home, is all."
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