Carnasaur
Nazqua
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Eventually Ohmen forces his mind into quiet consciousness once again, He stands. Stretching aching, cold legs he paces, or rather steps (Considering the cabins small size) toward a cluttered desk. With one motion the changeling shifts all the items to one side before uncloaking.
Smothered in the clinging, almost shifting cloak the desk becomes a blackened sky soon to be covered with all manor of bead bauble, jar, trinket and ingredient taken from its pockets. Having organised the items into small piles and rows Ohmen reaches for a small, subtle bag, its dyed leather worn and frayed. Placing it on the desk Ohmens hand slowly reaches into its shadowy interior. Withdrawing it surfaces with a palm-full of glimmering gold, some coins slipping through fingers and falling back into the lightless void below where they would make no noise.
Carefully Ohmen shovels the coins into a small pile, a sharp, satisfying metallic ring emanating throughout the room until the coins became still. Taking a deep breath Ohmen reaches into the pile, picking out a singular golden coin before neatly placing it to the side with a singular word ‘One.’
----
Meanwhile, Wisdom strangely did not return to the ship with the rest of the group, for the raven had split off upon their arrival, instead looping towards the bustle of the market.
Gliding above stalls and a streets smaller birds scattered in Wisdoms wake, their wings beating as fast as their heart in a scramble. Wisdom however had no interest in them, She instead hungered for something else.
Slowly the bird lands onto an all too familiar rooftop, a grimey moss-covered surface waiting to cushion its landing.
Having tucked in their wings Wisdom looks around before jabbing downwards, a black beak disappearing into the sludge and filth of the gutter and gaps between tiles.
As it returns time and time again small objects are held tightly within. The fruit of Wisdoms previous curiosity and scavenging before such a ring had grasped the ravens attention… Every name. Every item, being or object held value. Even dust.
Wisdom hops over toward the small mound of rubble, placing the previously found spherical green stone within. its coarse surface etched with enough scratches and marks to tell a history of times past.
Without Stone no kingdom would stand. Stone is patience. Stone has endured for millenia uncountable. Stone is strength. This pebble, however scratched and worn held value.
Next the raven retrieves a rusted keychain and a grimy copper coin, neatly placing it at the stones side.
Without metal no weapon of war would sting. Metal is cold, confident and accountable. Metal is unwavering. This key chain, however rusted, held value.
And within metals children are coins, Glimmering gold, copper and silver, The blood of trade, exchange and all that is commerce. This coin, however grimey and forgotten, held value.
Once again Wisdoms shadow, one which made the most of an evening sun, glided through the market, this time returning with full talon n' claw.
Smothered in the clinging, almost shifting cloak the desk becomes a blackened sky soon to be covered with all manor of bead bauble, jar, trinket and ingredient taken from its pockets. Having organised the items into small piles and rows Ohmen reaches for a small, subtle bag, its dyed leather worn and frayed. Placing it on the desk Ohmens hand slowly reaches into its shadowy interior. Withdrawing it surfaces with a palm-full of glimmering gold, some coins slipping through fingers and falling back into the lightless void below where they would make no noise.
Carefully Ohmen shovels the coins into a small pile, a sharp, satisfying metallic ring emanating throughout the room until the coins became still. Taking a deep breath Ohmen reaches into the pile, picking out a singular golden coin before neatly placing it to the side with a singular word ‘One.’
----
Meanwhile, Wisdom strangely did not return to the ship with the rest of the group, for the raven had split off upon their arrival, instead looping towards the bustle of the market.
Gliding above stalls and a streets smaller birds scattered in Wisdoms wake, their wings beating as fast as their heart in a scramble. Wisdom however had no interest in them, She instead hungered for something else.
Slowly the bird lands onto an all too familiar rooftop, a grimey moss-covered surface waiting to cushion its landing.
Having tucked in their wings Wisdom looks around before jabbing downwards, a black beak disappearing into the sludge and filth of the gutter and gaps between tiles.
As it returns time and time again small objects are held tightly within. The fruit of Wisdoms previous curiosity and scavenging before such a ring had grasped the ravens attention… Every name. Every item, being or object held value. Even dust.
Wisdom hops over toward the small mound of rubble, placing the previously found spherical green stone within. its coarse surface etched with enough scratches and marks to tell a history of times past.
Without Stone no kingdom would stand. Stone is patience. Stone has endured for millenia uncountable. Stone is strength. This pebble, however scratched and worn held value.
Next the raven retrieves a rusted keychain and a grimy copper coin, neatly placing it at the stones side.
Without metal no weapon of war would sting. Metal is cold, confident and accountable. Metal is unwavering. This key chain, however rusted, held value.
And within metals children are coins, Glimmering gold, copper and silver, The blood of trade, exchange and all that is commerce. This coin, however grimey and forgotten, held value.
Once again Wisdoms shadow, one which made the most of an evening sun, glided through the market, this time returning with full talon n' claw.
