Completed It was Just Sitting There

[Cabochon]

8th of Summer, 517 AV Three days time since he'd returned to his little shelter. A pain that was; his meandering and glimpses towards landmarks and established shelters put a load on his mind. It was hard enough having to make a day's trip for food. Returning? Forget he asked. His only comfort was in the fact that his sack had enough to store some significantly sized rations before making the trek back home. Alvadas, a whimsical city of headaches and nausea, not to mention other metaphorical calamities. Hills and stepped valleys shifted to agitated flatland while the peoples inside maintained their sanity. Some were far better at it than others, and the little clay creature would be the first to admit his eager impatience. The lonely, hobbling thing made it's way down a newly formed hill only there for that day. Back leg, then front, as usual; his front arm far more accustomed now to the heavy journeys and the awkward position of his frame. His motions involved leaning forward and picking up his back leg simultaneously. His double-jointed leg would then curl up and in, bringing his balance into the core of his body. Then, with sudden collision, his back leg would strike the earth, and in those quick moments of time, his front arm would shift dramatically in front of him to catch himself. Such was the pattern, and he hoped it wouldn't be so for long. There was weariness in his eyes, for sure. The heaving and contorting of his torso proved that, obvious with reflection of humane response. His mouth hung open lazily, and when he strained to close it, the energy it took to do so seemed to weaken the rest of him. He eventually decided against it, not caring for what looks he would receive as he made his way home. The gem adorning his chest, however, was staunch, stagnant, the only thing on his body to remain still. He seemed to learn, by this point, how to work and shift his malleable frame around it, allowing for easier movement. Eventually, he rounded a corner, not realizing the relation to his claimed living space. He stopped to take a break, nearly collapsing. Three pounds of red clay, on top of everything else, should not have weighed him down so much. However, should he have eaten it and then returned back, his acclimation would have steeped too heavily, and his body would have surely wilted under the pressure. He wasn't sure which idea was correct or more practical, so he chose the safer one instead. Whatever would have him home quicker. When he finally took the time to look up, disbelieving joy altered his composure. He almost stood up straighter at seeing his little gardening shelf, the one by the boutique store in, wherever this was. He looked around to make some sort of idea of his placement, but couldn't find it. All he knew was that he found the shop, and his makeshift home. As he began to make his way over, he wondered if he should have registered his garden shelf with the Sanity Center. The kind lady he lived next to allowed him to stay there as long as he didn't cause any trouble. However, she didn't ask for rent, so maybe that was an indication of his homelessness. Regardless, he sidled up next to it, slipping his coin purse off and shoving it underneath before making his way under himself. The shuffling of pedestrians and the clopping of hooves began to soothe him, a soft, repetitious drum blurring out the other sounds. Slumber sounded delightful, and he was readily inclined to take it. As he pushed himself up onto the stuffed coin purse, his head didn't even hit the bag before his eyes sealed shut and he drifted off to sleep. Four hours passed, and Cabochon stirred uncomfortably. Something was wrong, indefinitely. His lower body tingled with cold interaction while his upper body remained rosy from the warmth of the summer day. Eventually, his head twinged, and he bolted awake. Looking around, he hastily processed what was going on. His coin purse was gone! Missing! He himself was strewn out on top of the lush dirt mound littering the second shelf. Someone moved him up there and took his backpack! Pushing himself up onto his hands, he looked about frantically. No one in particular caught his attention, and he tried his best to look around what edges he could! It was then that the lady who owned the shop walked his direction, and when she saw his new position on the gardening shelf, her steps quickened. "What are you doing up there?" she demanded, clearly frustrated. Cabochon tried to explain. "I swear, ma'am! I didn't clamber up here when I returned! Either someone or something had taken my back pack, because they would've had to take me off of it!" He hoped his defense was good, and the lady returned a derisive stare. "Fine, I'll take your word for it this time, clay man," she threatened. "Should you do it again, however, I will not be so forgiving next time." "No, no, I understand!" He waved his smaller hand in reassurance. "But I need to go after it! Please, could you let me down?" Silently she grabbed his torso, and with a little more gusto than he was prepared for. She bent over, lightly tossing him onto the ground. He staggered, toying with his arm and leg before he found stability, and after thanking her, he took off down the street hastily, a newfound energy surging his frame.

[Cabochon]

The whole of his frame swung aside wildly as he rounded the corner! His back leg stretched out to keep himself from tumbling over and losing control! Clutching the ground with his left hand, his muscles tensed and braced his arm to shoot himself forward, gaining the ground he believed he lost. Legs and modes of transport were merely obstacles as he opposed the flow of traffic. Weaving and dodging became the primary advancements now, Cabochon making what apologies he could as his eyes danced over each and every hand he could fix his eyes on. It wasn't anywhere to be found, and every time he thought he saw it, something about it's material would tell him otherwise. He eventually had to slow to a modified canter. He was out of breath again, like before. He still looked about him worriedly, his face conforming to fear and suppressed disappointment. How could someone be so thoughtless and inconsiderate? Did they not realize a living thing slept among that cloth purse? Wasn't Alvadas' pride reminiscent in other things and not pettiness? He realized his luck was quickly running out as his mind and eyes wandered. As he deduced everything on his mind, his arm slipped upon something smooth and soft. Lurching forward, his head collided with the ground as his body followed, feet over head as he tumbled to the ground. His neck twisted uncomfortably backwards, and when his body finally came to a stop, he pushed himself up with his arm. His face seized up with immediate pain as he dared to touch his head. It was stuck sideways from the awkward collapse, and after finding the least painful areas on his temples, a sharp feeling trickled down his spine as he adjusted it back into place. He really was weaker than he initially believed, and his body tingled with soreness as his vision warped and fixed itself. When his eyes could re-focus, their attention was immediately grabbed by what lay in front of him. His face reflected both shock and disbelief! It was the clay from his backpack; the clay he spent nearly half a day collecting before returning back to the garden shelf! All three pounds lay there, firmly cemented there by the soles of pedestrian's shoes and the heat of the day! All that beautiful, red clay gone and destroyed! He now wished more than ever that he'd eaten it prior! Angrily, he rolled his shoulders and picked himself back up! Added insult to intended injury, this was. Whoever took that purse knew exactly what they were throwing away! They had to! Turning face, he saw an elderly merchant who was selling confection snacks. He could tell by the tanning of his arms and the empty lunch bag that he'd been there since morning. Hobbling over, the Pycon grabbed his attention with a little more intensity than he originally planned. "Pardon me!" the Pycon began. "Did you happen to see anyone throw that clay there upon the ground sometime today?" He indicated to the clay with his smaller arm, frustration lining his frame. The older man peeked out from behind a makeshift stand to see what he spoke of. When he made contact, he replied. "I'm sorry to tell you, little one, but I didn't see anyone throw that on the ground as carelessly as it is strewn there. However, a middle-aged man did stop by my stand some bells ago. He didn't buy anything, but he did round that corner after analyzing all the small markets here. He held a bag with remnants of that clay on it." With a grateful nod, Cabochon thanked the old man for his time before heading that very direction. Alvadas hadn't shifted around yet, so the layout was still the same. If he followed the path, he'd be sure to find something. He was not going to give up that easily. An hour and a half, nothing. Every older gentleman fit the elder's description, and no "purse covered in red clay" was to be found. This intensely bothered Cabochon. It was one thing he had to his name, among two other things. He anxiously rubbed his fingers along the smooth contours of his gemstone. Distressed doubts filled his mind as his eyes trailed upward. He studied the details of the masonry in the old buildings. His anguish lined suppressed wonder as he admired the handiwork of the builder's style. On more normal days, their abilities to scale to those heights and create those beautiful, tall buildings would mesmerize him. Then, his face subtly changed! There was an idea!

[Cabochon]

He studied the contents of the building with with specificity. His eyes traveled the intertwining lines of the constructed edifice, looking for spots and areas along the wall that could be used to scale its height. Why hadn't he thought of the idea earlier? It only seemed stupidly logical now! When he found the lowest brick to start on, he created trails with his gaze from one to the next. He went as far as he could in one direction, and if it proved faulty or it couldn't be taken to the top, he'd start again and look for another. The whitewashed stone jutted out in places, some farther removed from their moldings than others. Some had fractures, hairline cracks and deformations. Others were completely untrustworthy from simply being observed. The spaces driven between the broken bricks could crumble under the sun's stare, and those were the paths that Cabochon's eyes avoided. He hoped to find something soon, quickly! For all he knew, the perpetrator could be halfway across the city by now! Or worse, he could have left the city entirely! That would have surely boiled the creature's anger, bent his frustration. Of all the people in the city, why him? Eventually, he found the path. A diagonal climb of every fourth or fifth brick just far enough to clasp onto. Double checking the certainty of it twice and three times over, he turned to another vendor sitting along the streets. She, far unlike the old man, was a younger woman, mid twenties. Her dark, braided hair was fashioned to the side, draping over her breast in elegant manner. Her soft, gentle eyes tenderly followed the craft of her hands. Woven bracelets she sold, and when her attention was taken by the little clay creature, her kind face turned with utmost respect and regard. "Can I help you?" she inquired. "Yes! I was wondering if you'd seen a middle-aged man walk by some time today. All I know of him is that he was carrying a coin purse with residual red-clay on it! Had you seen a man carrying one?" "I did, in fact," she replied, disbelief lining her sweet tone of voice. "Whatever do you need to know for?" "Was he around long enough for you to describe him? If so, could you? I need to find him as soon as I possibly can!" Cabochon's urgency resonated through his body language. He would hobble and teeter as he spoke, the itch of action ready to spring from his limbs. Meanwhile, his small hand would curve, wave, point, shake as he spoke, giving more emphasis to his words. He hoped, prayed then, that she could describe him. "He did happen to stop by for some time. I'll do the best I can," she admitted. Sitting back upon her stool, she processed her thoughts, a hand to her lip. Finally, she had something, and turned back to Cabochon. "He stood ye tall, probably around five-foot-nine. Svefra, for sure; I saw Laviku in his eyes. His skin was a dark caramel, worn down by age, most likely. His hair was a dusty brown, disheveled, and hung down in front of his face. He wore a long, grey coat, and it was tattered. It hung down just before his ankles." As she spoke, the creature's eyes brightened and widened with relief! Bless Ionu; not everything in Alvadas had to be so illusory! He was so thankful for her, he longingly looked to the glass jar, with "donations" written in front. Oh, should he find his belongings and have them returned, she'd be the first to be thanked in unrelenting gratitude! Graciously, he nodded his head before turning back to the building, finding his chosen path one last time before pursuing the climb. He hobbled over and set his larger arm upon the first brick, bracing himself. Was he ready for this? He wasn't sure that he could manage such a thing. He'd never practiced something like this prior; how was he going to get up there in a decent amount of time? Nonetheless, he had to try! Crouching, he adjusted himself on the first brick, his left arm ready to reach up and grab the second one. He felt the frame of his body tighten and firm up. Then, up he jumped! It wasn't far, but his arm stretched out and hastily clung onto the second brick in the wall. Kicking fervently, he pulled himself up onto it, his smaller arm being able to aid once his larger one gained enough ground. That was difficult! He already felt the energy begin to drain from his body in one fell swoop. Looking up, the climb up seemed so much farther away. He sighed with anguish. This was going to take forever. Re-positioning himself, he balanced against the wall and readied for his next leap. His back leg shivered with the thoughts of redoing what he'd last done, but he shook it off. Twisting his core as he turned, he used the direction he fell towards to get a better angle on the next brick. It was three blocks shifted right, and Cabochon scrunched down low, pushing himself off with all he could muster! Leaping, he stretched his long arm out again, and it barely caught on! Swinging forward, the momentum from the jump carried him a little too far, and he felt his grip loosen from the brick! He gasped in that realization, and as he tried to swing himself back, the block crumbled under the pressure. It sent him down to the ground, tumbling and spinning before landing on his stomach. He let out a disgruntled, sore groan. What a pain today was! There was no way he was going to get up there in time to see anything! He blew out an angry sigh before pushing himself up on his hands, and eventually into a sitting position. Fixing his leg in front of him, his body slumped from disappointment and sadness. What was he to do now?

[Cabochon]

As he sat there, he took the time to allow his body to heal. Why did clay have to be as weak and susceptible to fault as flesh? Wasn't there supposed to be an obvious difference between his race and theirs? It made no sense to him how inanimate object made animate could experience anything similar to what an actual living thing did. There seemed no correlation whatsoever. That must've been the price to pay for emulating life with magic; something had to give. That was the only explanation he could render possible. Disappointed, he huffed. He pondered whether he should try again or continue on with a more logical approach. He knew having a higher point of view would greatly benefit and aid his search for his coin purse. It was his size and his weakened limbs, however, that persuaded him otherwise. He'd already traveled so far, for what -to be robbed? By this point in his processes, he'd thought himself into a fouled mood. His vision became oblivious to those who walked around him and stared him down. He was too far gone in his thoughts to be worried with public embarrassment. Oh, if only he'd looked upward! Some quieter, kinder faces inquired of his melancholy, but he was deaf to their frail voices. Suddenly, he felt his body being lifted off the ground. He struggled a little bit, due to his awakening from his trance. However, once he realized what was happening, he arched his head behind him. It was the merchant lady! Bewildered, he addressed her. "Wh-what are you doing?" he asked. She returned a sympathetic smile. "You'll see," she replied. Supporting his backside with her right hand, she walked over to the brick wall the Pycon attempted to climb earlier. She studied it for herself before glancing at the creature, who's eyes longingly trailed upward. Then, she stepped back, as if to measure herself up against it. Unknowingly to Cabochon, she was doing just that. He clutched her left hand as she stepped back, wary of what she had planned. His eyes seemed to widen, and when she began to test his weight with swinging of her arms, he froze. Was she going to throw him up onto the roof? Ionu had not been prayed to more fervently than in those moments! "No, no, please, it's fine! I don't really need to be up there to find this man! I don't-! neeee~EEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDD-!" His words died out as his body flew upwards! He felt himself rolling weightlessly in the air as he scrambled for something firm! What an odd feeling, flying, or floating in this manner. It was only a brief few seconds before he spiraled back down to earth! Going up was a far easier endeavor, and coming down felt like a brick was placed upon him. As he flailed and clambered for anything familiar, a sudden and irrelevant point crossed his mind: Is this how birds feel when they've been struck by lightning? Subtly, he felt his body slow down immensely! Someone or something caught him, and their weight shifted with his to ease his momentum to a stop. He'd curled up into a ball ad this point, and shivered with fear before a familiar voice coaxed him out. Damn that woman! Damn her crazy incentive! He nearly shook with petrified fury after collecting himself! Heavy question was written upon his face with his backlash. "What in Ionu's name was that!" he demanded. "I wanted to make sure I could clear the height before I attempted your volley!" she explained. The defense seemed illogical to the Pycon, and his face contorted into frustrated confusion. "That means nothing! You could've killed me!" "I apologize for that," she answered. "But you'll thank me later." "Don't you dare! dooo~OOOOOOONNNN'TTTTTT-!" Again, he was flung into the air, his voice dissipating with shock once again. He never saw where he ended up landing due to blacking out in fear. Moments later he awoke, shaking his head when he came to. His vision was still quite blurry, but one thing was for sure: he hadn't landed on his head. That was a miracle and a relief on its own! Turning over, he felt the soreness of the collision course throughout his frame. Rolling onto his side was hard enough, his head and his legs twitching with pain as he maneuvered. It was getting up that rekindled drained adrenaline! As he positioned himself to sit up, his larger arm adjusted to find grip. It found firm ground, immediately slipping and losing stability afterward. Cabochon's body shot awake from the stimuli! Jolting up, the scare of the slip forced his body backwards, and he landed on his smaller arm, his chest pounding and heaving with visible tension! When he discovered that he was in no danger of falling elsewhere, he calmed himself. What a trip that was! Newfound energy surging, he clambered onto his hand and his leg, taking inventory of his surroundings. There was depth to his vision; he was on the roof! Disbelief crowded his thoughts before the merchant's voice brought him back. Hobbling over, he stopped and peered over the edge, where the woman had cupped hands to her mouth. When she saw her success, she raised clenched fists in the air with glee. "You're up! I got you up there!" she exclaimed. Cabochon's smile only came out of recovering wonder. "You did indeed! Thank you!" he called back. "I hope you find this man!" she encouragingly replied. Cabochon nodded gratefully. "As do I! Thank you again!" he responded. She returned to her post while the Pycon found his on the stone patio. Looking around, he eventually found a small stack of wooden crates left abandoned. Clambering on top of them, he staked out his position, eyes ever keen on catching the culprit.

[Cabochon]

An hour passed, and nothing fitting the thief's description crossed Cabochon's vision. His eyes would strain from time to time, and often when he believed he'd seen the man, he was eager to clamber down and confront them. However, if he was wrong, he would have readily regretted it. This is what proved him wary on many occasion, and the Pycon absolutely wanted to make sure that he knew his person when he saw him. More than once, he'd lean a little too far off the edge of the crate with anticipation. When he felt himself begin to teeter, he'd straighten and readjust himself. It did no one any good to rush into things, and he experienced this firsthand. In light of the urgency, he knew the sun would be setting soon, and he had to make a choice. The dark threatened his time frame, and the creature decided on the next closest match. That person would be his target, whether successful or not. He had to do something! He couldn't sit lamely and hope all evening! Perching himself for his next move, he waited, scanning the crowd once more. Then, it almost seemed, Ionu willing, he appeared! The shaggy hair, the tattered, worn, grey cloak -it was all there! The Pycon's chest fluttered upon seeing him, ready to spring into action and confront the man. As he clambered down and followed him along the rooftop, he studied him with intense precision. The man's gate was shady, hesitant, as if he waited for trouble. Likely not a harbinger, but rather, an instigator. One wrong look and he could be involved in a number of things. The creature didn't like that about him at all, not a bit. Eventually, the man stopped at a street corner to take a short rest, and Cabochon found his opportunity. He made his way down onto the top of a poised wooden latter, back leg carefully placed before trying his balance with his hands. His shorter arm, naturally, followed in suit with his torso as it adjusted and held itself. Very carefully, he swung down his longer, heavier arm. Once he found his balance, he looked about to see his relativity to the man. It wasn't until he looked downward that he found him. His head was just underneath him, and within his left arm's reach also. How fortunate for the clay man! It was almost comical how easily he could have been noticed. There was a sudden brush of the man's coarse hair from his dirt-smudged hand; he must've had some sort of notion and waved it away. Haphazardly, Cabochon took his mitten hand and, curling it around as best he could, he tapped on the human's head with decent pressure. The man's tick came again, and this time he looked up in the direction the tapping came from. He turned and staggered backward upon noticing the Pycon! There was visible surprise on his aged face, and his thick eyebrows twisted with shock. As he turned and continued backward, the coin purse he was holding slipped from his grip, hitting the ground and spilling its contents! How in Laviku's sacred name did that thing get up there! And was he hallucinating, on that front? With the dropping of the purse, Cabochon looked down. By all the luck in the world, there it was, emptied and shifting under the soft winds. The red clay covering it was the only thing keeping it in place, and Cabochon quickly shifted from relief to anger! He waited well enough, all right! Was this Ionu's reward for patience? Nonetheless, he clambered down as the older man addressed him. "What in Laviku's name-?" he was cut off by the Pycon's own questioning. "Who do you dare think you are, thief!" Cabochon readily threw out that insult, and the confrontation began to draw a small crowd as he leapt off the ladder. The Svefra's eyes narrowed with confusion as he slightly turned his head. "I'm afraid I don't know what you speak of," he replied. The creature huffed contemptuously. "Don't know what I speak of," he mocked, his head swaying as he announced his disbelief. He hobbled towards him, and something about the way the Pycon carried himself brought a hint of intimidation. The human only backed up when Cabochon came dangerously close. The sun's setting was much more visible now, and the crowd quickly dissipated to their homes under the night. Only the Pycon and the Svefra seemed to remain at that point.

[Cabochon]

"Look, you must be confused," the Svefra waved his hands with sincerity. "This was given to me; I have no relations to thievery whatsoever!" Cabochon's lids narrowed with eager suspicion. Dropping his frame, he swept his shorter arm down and snatched up the bag, his eyes burning holes into the suspect. What a lousy way to begin a defense, and with no proof to back up his claims. How reliable was the Svefra's word supposed to be when he couldn't provide the evidence? The Pycon slowly made his way to the littered coins, taking his time to place each one inside with growing disappointment. Where was the decency his parents had always talked of? When the man started speaking again, he inevitably was making his case worse. "This character of a person simply walked up to me and handed it off. Said it was of "good measure", whatever that means. I was disturbed but also grateful, I'll admit. After all, doesn't everyone share everything in the end?" Cabochon was about to retaliate when his words sparked a thought. His parents had warned of people's who did not understand the significance of ownership. They were of the sea, by the sea, for the sea, and that was all Cabochon knew of them. Was this man one of them? The lady merchant mentioned Svefra all that time ago. Could that have possibly have alluded to their kind, their relations? Were they one in the same? The Pycon gained a notion that the aforementioned information needed to be clarified. Why not now, of all times? He had the opportunity in his grasp, therefore he took it. While his mind wandered, his frame had slowed to a crawl, his retrieval of the currency more methodical and lined by deep mental processes. By the time he'd asked the question, he was nearly frozen in place. His leg and arm were perfectly poised to hold the position, and he felt his head recede into his collarbones when he asked the question. The Svefra's upheld arms had lowered by then, his gaze more entranced by the way the clay man lost himself in thought. The older man's head would slowly careen to one side in curiosity, and he would have to pull himself by force out of the trance. They merely stood there now, as objects, living statues in their own little world. The stars and moon opened underneath the veil of clouds, Leth giving way. The Pycon's words brought them both back to reality. "Are you a..." he paused to watch his pronunciation, "Seee-phra?" His makeshift brows fluctuated and curved as he sounded out the race's name, unsure whether his pronunciation was correct or not. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Cabochon waited for an answer. Finally, with heavy sigh, he replied. "Yes, I am. It's pronounced "Seh-phra". You were close." Cabochon had to catch himself every time the man spoke. His deep, guttural tone was lined with monotony, and the lack of expression on his face added another layer of solemness. What a worn figure, at least, to the creature. There was nothing about his composure that hinted excitement, passion or emotion of any kind. He simply stood and spoke his piece. What sort of things entailed that reaction? Hadn't he lived? Wasn't he still curious of things he'd yet to know? Didn't anything catch his eye? Then again, Cabochon had to ask himself his own questions. Was he looking far too much into his expression? Was he expecting too much of a man who was probably tired, confused and old? It simply seemed sad to find no vitality in his drooping eyes, no smile or look of any kind on his aged face. It was the perfect, pursed line of indifference, and his slumped look suggested something other than weariness. His arms hung loosely at his sides, and his disheveled, coarse hair swept across his face haphazardly, the wind picking up the lighter strands. It was then, the Pycon realized, that he truly was a tired-looking, ragged-feeling thing, an aura of anguish around a sad frame. He began to feel some sort of pity, and decided to change the course of the conversation. "Listen, uhm," he paused to think while the Svefra's head raised. "It's late, I know that. You're tired, and I'm more than indefinitely tired, so how about this? If you can at least help me find my things that were carelessly scattered before the town shifts and help me home, I'll think nothing of your involvement. Is that a fair trade?" The pause came again, and he nervously rubbed his free hand along his gemstone. Was that a fair trade? He believed so. Then, the man spoke up. "That seems fair to me," he replied. "I'll take you up on that offer." As he spoke he made his way over, starting to bend down. Lowering to one knee, he reached down in as wide a radius as possible and collected what currency was in his reach. When he grabbed what he could, he'd slowly adjust himself and reach out again. They eventually made a path towards each other, and by holding the other end open, the Svefra dropped what coin he collected into the Pycon's coin purse. "Thank you," he spoke. The Svefra nodded, his face changing very little. "Of course," the man answered. "Did you happen to see the direction which the person was walking in when they handed my coin purse to you?" "I don't know for sure," he admitted, "but I can say that I remember the landmarks and the alleyway they appeared from. If we follow that, maybe we can find your things." Cabochon was impressed with the man's objectiveness, and began to confide a little hope in him. Maybe he wasn't as base as the Pycon had come to believe. "We should hurry, then!" he pleaded. "I've never witnessed a town change so subtly, and I'd rather be asleep so I won't have to. It would rack my brain too intensely. Could I possibly get a ride?" "I was about to offer that," the Svefra replied. An audible sigh of relief came from the creature. With outstretched arm, he clambered on, and after settling into the man's shoulder, they took off, Cabochon's arm bracing his balance.

[Cabochon]

Their stroll down the walkways and the alleys of Alvadas were significantly different during the nighttime. An eerie, tense feeling filled the air, at least, for them. The urgency of their dilemma drove the Svefra to hasten his steps and the Pycon to scout the ground with precise focus. They agreed, indefinitely, through their body language; neither of them wanted to witness the changing and altering of the city. How were they supposed to know its inner workings if they'd never witnessed it prior? This was the predominant thought that hiked up their heartbeats and their breathing, if it was present. Would it be a very physical change that would cause them to find shelter and wait for it to cease? Would it be an illusory kind of change that became reality once one turned a corner or looked behind them? They anxiously waited and tested both those theories, simultaneously and subconsciously. While they spent their time scouring the cobblestone, an urge to converse oddly rose between them, to take their minds off of the stringency of their case. "What's your name?" the Svefra asked. Of course, he'd forgotten to mention his name yet again. When was he going to take that initiative and remember for himself? Shaking off the condemning thoughts, he replied. "My name is Cabochon." "As in another name for a gemstone?" The man glanced at the Pycon before returning his vision downward. "Yes, you're correct," Cabochon replied. He then returned the question. "What about you? What's your name?" "Thaddeus," he answered. There was an indicative pause to his speech, and the clay creature was smart to wait. "Thaddeus Moorwater." Ah, yes, that was entirely Svefra, no question. The name paired with the man was completely logical now, an entirely perfect representation of a kind of people. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Moorwater," Cabochon added, a hint of vexation conjoining to his words. Moorwater attempted to console the Pycon the best way he knew possible. "We can't focus on the inevitability of the city's change. However it occurs, we may have to face it. If we do, we'll simply have to take it for what it is and work with it." He wasn't exactly the sugar-coating type, as much as Cabochon would have appreciated it then. At the same time, the Pycon was grateful that the man was at least trying to aid him. It proved to him that the man had some dignity and understanding of peoples. Their eyes continued to scan the ground, their steps interchanging between a slow and fast pace. Sometimes, Cabochon would point enthusiastically, believing he'd seen his belongings. With their arrival, however, it would often lead to a pile of rocks or a scattering of mice, and they would sigh with a kind of anguish. The hours of the night faded away as they searched, and Cabochon was becoming very worried. Forget the city's personal adjustment! He'd felt they'd been walking in circles! Everything started to look the same to him! His shorter arm scratched his head in anticipation, hoping that Ionu would bless them one last time. It was then that Thaddeus put forward a question. "What are we looking for, anyhow? We have the money, and I understand that is a lot? I've been searching for red clay but I see none. Was there anything else in the bag besides those things?" "Oh, yes, there was!" Curses! How could he have forgotten to mention something so necessary? But he wasn't thinking about that. "A waterskin, an eating knife and a flint and steel! We can't-!" Cabochon was suddenly cut off by the sudden turning of his frame. The Svefra had stopped in his tracks and turned around, nearly immediately. Had they really walked past it some time ago? Why didn't he see it? "I wish you'd said something," Thaddeus commented, a glint of irritation lining his voice. His arms and legs swung tensely to hasten their speed. Rounding the corner, he stopped, having to catch himself and the Pycon. The city shifted, quietly, unforgivably, and under their noses. Between them and the street now stood a rift, a steep, intimidating chasm that implied danger. Looking up, they scanned what lied before them on the other side. After a moment of silence, Cabochon pointed with complete accuracy, a shivering joy overtaking him. "There!" he shouted. His voice, if any louder and scratchier, would have woken up sleeping residents. "There it is! I see it!" "Great! Good-." Thaddeus added. His relief was overshadowed by pensiveness. It was all swell that the things were found, collected and in one place. The issue, on that note, was getting over to that side of the street. While the Svefra pondered what to do next, Cabochon climbed down the man's arm and cloak onto the ground. Cementing his back leg, he twisted around to land on his left arm, hobbling over to the edge. He looked down with caution, and the chasm's depth frightened him. He inched his way back in response, his body sagging into his shoulders. What a predicament, if ever. Eventually, after a short period of time, the Svefra made a decision. Walking up behind the Pycon, he bent down and picked him up. Cabochon stiffened! He prayed feverishly that he was not going to be thrown again! "No! No, no please!" Cabochon begged. Clutching to Thaddeus' hand, he wrapped himself around his wrist. "I've already dealt with this once today! Please-!" "I can't risk possible injury when it's easier for me to throw you over. It's not a long distance, and I'll be careful!" The man spoke as he readied himself to toss Cabochon over. He held the creature surprisingly gently, his large, callused hands gingerly caressing the Pycon's soft torso. "That's what that vendor lady said to me also!" "I'm sorry, Cabochon. There's no other way to safely do this." Without waiting for a response, he tossed him over, and Cabochon tumbled to a stop after colliding with the other side. Shaking his head, he wobbled back onto his hand and leg, collecting himself. A clinking thud landed next to him, startling him, and he jumped back. The Pycon discovered, once opening his eyes, that it was nothing more than his coin purse. Gratefully, he swung it onto his back and secured it. "Thank you!" Cabochon called out. The Svefra saluted respectfully. "You're welcome! Take care, little one." They turned and began to part ways, and Cabochon began to feel remorse. Turning himself around, he called out once more. "Wait!" Thaddeus stopped, turning back himself. "Yes?" he asked. "Will I ever see you again?" Cabochon asked, concern revealing itself in his inquiry. For a moment, their eyes reflected some kind of small bond, and for the first time, the Pycon saw a new expression on the man's wrinkled face. "I hope so," Moorwater replied. He turned back to the Alvad alleyways, a hesitant step pervading his gait. After Cabochon watched him disappear into the night, he too gathered his things and took his steps home, an odd feeling filling his chest. For some reason, he had an idea that was not going to be his last encounter with that man.

[Madeira Dusk]

Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!

Cabochon

Skills

• Endurance: 1XP
• Climbing: 3XP
• Persuasion: 1XP
• Running: 1XP
• Investigation: 2XP
• Observation: 4XP
• Planning: 1XP
• Intimidation: 1XP
• Socialization: 3XP

Lores

• Intuition: sensing when something is amiss
• Recovering from a fall
• Alvadas: changing layout
• Climbing: planning your route
• Investigation: finding witnesses
• Getting tossed: duck and roll!
• Svefra: no sense of ownership
• It's pronounced Seh-Phra
• People: Thaddius Moonwater

Awards & Retribution


Notes
What a great first thread! Your writing is very clear and expressive, and I had a little giggle when Cabochon was thrown onto the roof.

As a tip for your next solo: write shorter posts! We can award one XP of any skill per post, so if you chop up your story into bite sized pieces we can award you more things. Though as it were I found oodles of skills points in your very descriptive writing.

And one more thing before I go. There were a couple times in your posts where you used 'indefinitely' incorrectly. As in:

Something was wrong, indefinitely

They agreed, indefinitely, through their body language

Indefinitely means an ‘indeterminate length of time'. So watch out for that!

All in all an enjoyable read from an enjoyable character.