Cohost writing prompt: @make-up-a-wizard — wizard who keeps adding legs to items so they don't have to be carried
"Vitzlav," the elf says, arching her brow. "This is all rather...mmm, interesting. Hardly the way we used to do things."
The wizard looks up from his book. ""Oh!" he says. "Didn't realise we're already here. Well met, old friend!" Closing the leather-bound tome, he perches it on the arm of his comfortably upholstered chair, and peremptorily taps the wooden scrollwork on the end of the arm.
The chair — moving along the road in a gentle quadrupedal walk, legs wooden but shaped like person's — smoothly crouches to a height that allows him to stand from it.
"Too wizardly to do your own walking, these days?" the elf says.
"Laugh if you like," the wizard says cheerily, "but I can save myself the toil, and use the time for study or even simply sleep. So why not?"
The elf looks at the little row of luggage trunks, roped together fore handle to aft handle, each in a squat waddle on only one set of legs, as it catches up to the chair; followed by some kind of bipedal barrel, and a tall bundle something like a furled sail on a spar and something like a stalking heron, which the elf suspects is a tent.
"The legs, Vitzlav," she says, "the legs I understand, even if I laugh a little in a friendly way; what perturbs me is how shapely all the legs are. And the little trousers on them all. Why does your baggage train require trousers, Vitzlav?"
The wizard fumbles for his book in a dignified show of not having eye contact for perfectly good reasons unrelated to the conversation. "I have no idea what you could mean," he says.
"Oh, I think you might," the elf says, reaching out to pointedly pluck at a waistband.