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+--- Thread: [PRP] No Grave But The Sea [Solomon] (/thread-1662.html)
No Grave But The Sea [Solomon] - Triteia (Trout) - October 22, 2017
OOC: more crossposting old threads
Triteia could not scramble out of the cave quickly enough. With fumbling paws, she snatched the flask at her side and scooped as much water as it could carry, almost spilling its contents. She wasn't anywhere close to sufficiently hydrated, but in her desperation to escape Baal's probing stare (that single word, GO, haunting her, ringing in her ears, the shade of the cave might as well have been smothering her), she was all too willing to brave the scorching heat. She nudged Solomon hard in an attempt to rouse him, muttering in his ear, "'ey old man. I'm goin' out." The invitation hung in the air, and though she hoped he would accept it, it was his choice to decide whether or not to follow.
Panic was a horribly torturous feeling to endure, especially in solitude. Her hammering heart instilled a contradictory need for simultaneous distance and closeness; the want to have someone to cling to, but the need to reject everyone around her.
Triteia hastily departed the cave, resisting the urge to glance behind her. She heard movement -- the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and against better judgment, she looked behind her. She was glad to see that instead of Baal, Aysu, or to a lesser extent, Raikov prowling in her shadow, there stood Solomon, looking haggard but nevertheless prepared. Triteia grinned as she was flooded with relief, the look edging too closely into her eyes, and led him away from their headquarters. Her plan was not to venture too deeply into the desert. Too great a likelihood to get lost and bumble about this neverending, unconquerable land for eternity. Protection was in numbers.
As the pair wandered, Triteia jabbered endlessly, voice hitching too quickly in places, sounding nigh incoherent as she tripped between tangents. She tried to play off her stumbling as just a minor quirk, but perhaps Solomon was perceptive enough to notice the fault in her charisma. After ten minutes of this endless barrage, Triteia obtained some semblance of self-awareness. "Uh, listen ta me ramble on and on and on," Triteia laughed sheepishly. "I sound like a fuckin' cra--bleh! Maniac, huh?"
More time passed. As Triteia trudged down this weathered desert road, flanked by looming stone walls, she noticed something lurking behind the heat haze. Irrationally, her nerves bristled. She proceeded down the leviathan's great throat and into its gullet, feeling those walls constrict around her like she was a nugget of raw meat, and as she advanced, she realized that instead of whatever oddity she had suspected, it was-- a collapsed human relic, half-submerged in the sands. Triteia blinked, and with renewed fascination, she sprinted for the wagon. One of its wheels was reduced to tinder, and mounds of sand accumulated in the wagon's crevices, trapping it like a rhino half-eaten by quicksand.
If Triteia knew much of humans, she would have correctly assumed that this was a lost piece of a larger procession, which was abandoned after being broken. Wandering nomads occasionally traversed the desert as they drifted from place to place, selling their wares, and this wagon was used to transport those goods. The wagon's former drivers had been sure to strip the wagon of most of its valuables, but as Triteia began to unearth the wagon, she discovered that not all of its treasures had been snapped up.
The fabrics had been dirtied by continuous exposure to the buffeting desert storms, but they were still intact, so she bundled them up. Beads and fragments of crystals were clustered in hidden shelves. She did not recognize most of the stones, but the great variety of colors intrigued her. Some of them had been carved into little shapes: turtles, birds and fish. Animal teeth and leather strips -- Triteia took those too. Maybe Albatross or Eremiel could fashion those into something suitable. Right now, Triteia was very much like a vulture, picking a carcass clean. She circled the wagon, eager to delve deeper into its innards.
"Wow," Triteia giggled, "Look at this thing. We've really hit the jackpot."
Too bad there wasn't any booze hiding in the remains.
triteia's inventory:
gold nuggets
water flask
gained:
- beads aplenty
- fabric
- obsidian owl statuette
- jade seahorse carving
- yellow agate turtle carving
- turquoise bear carving
- moonstone moon carving
- 5 sardonyx chunks
- 4 rose quartz chunks
- 5 river agate
- 3 pearls
- 2 moonstones
- 4 turquoise chunks
- 4 malachite chunks
- leather cords
- unknown bones
gee, that bag is starting to feel awfully heavy. good thing they're not far from camp.
Triteia could not scramble out of the cave quickly enough. With fumbling paws, she snatched the flask at her side and scooped as much water as it could carry, almost spilling its contents. She wasn't anywhere close to sufficiently hydrated, but in her desperation to escape Baal's probing stare (that single word, GO, haunting her, ringing in her ears, the shade of the cave might as well have been smothering her), she was all too willing to brave the scorching heat. She nudged Solomon hard in an attempt to rouse him, muttering in his ear, "'ey old man. I'm goin' out." The invitation hung in the air, and though she hoped he would accept it, it was his choice to decide whether or not to follow.
Panic was a horribly torturous feeling to endure, especially in solitude. Her hammering heart instilled a contradictory need for simultaneous distance and closeness; the want to have someone to cling to, but the need to reject everyone around her.
Triteia hastily departed the cave, resisting the urge to glance behind her. She heard movement -- the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and against better judgment, she looked behind her. She was glad to see that instead of Baal, Aysu, or to a lesser extent, Raikov prowling in her shadow, there stood Solomon, looking haggard but nevertheless prepared. Triteia grinned as she was flooded with relief, the look edging too closely into her eyes, and led him away from their headquarters. Her plan was not to venture too deeply into the desert. Too great a likelihood to get lost and bumble about this neverending, unconquerable land for eternity. Protection was in numbers.
As the pair wandered, Triteia jabbered endlessly, voice hitching too quickly in places, sounding nigh incoherent as she tripped between tangents. She tried to play off her stumbling as just a minor quirk, but perhaps Solomon was perceptive enough to notice the fault in her charisma. After ten minutes of this endless barrage, Triteia obtained some semblance of self-awareness. "Uh, listen ta me ramble on and on and on," Triteia laughed sheepishly. "I sound like a fuckin' cra--bleh! Maniac, huh?"
More time passed. As Triteia trudged down this weathered desert road, flanked by looming stone walls, she noticed something lurking behind the heat haze. Irrationally, her nerves bristled. She proceeded down the leviathan's great throat and into its gullet, feeling those walls constrict around her like she was a nugget of raw meat, and as she advanced, she realized that instead of whatever oddity she had suspected, it was-- a collapsed human relic, half-submerged in the sands. Triteia blinked, and with renewed fascination, she sprinted for the wagon. One of its wheels was reduced to tinder, and mounds of sand accumulated in the wagon's crevices, trapping it like a rhino half-eaten by quicksand.
If Triteia knew much of humans, she would have correctly assumed that this was a lost piece of a larger procession, which was abandoned after being broken. Wandering nomads occasionally traversed the desert as they drifted from place to place, selling their wares, and this wagon was used to transport those goods. The wagon's former drivers had been sure to strip the wagon of most of its valuables, but as Triteia began to unearth the wagon, she discovered that not all of its treasures had been snapped up.
The fabrics had been dirtied by continuous exposure to the buffeting desert storms, but they were still intact, so she bundled them up. Beads and fragments of crystals were clustered in hidden shelves. She did not recognize most of the stones, but the great variety of colors intrigued her. Some of them had been carved into little shapes: turtles, birds and fish. Animal teeth and leather strips -- Triteia took those too. Maybe Albatross or Eremiel could fashion those into something suitable. Right now, Triteia was very much like a vulture, picking a carcass clean. She circled the wagon, eager to delve deeper into its innards.
"Wow," Triteia giggled, "Look at this thing. We've really hit the jackpot."
Too bad there wasn't any booze hiding in the remains.
triteia's inventory:
gold nuggets
water flask
gained:
- beads aplenty
- fabric
- obsidian owl statuette
- jade seahorse carving
- yellow agate turtle carving
- turquoise bear carving
- moonstone moon carving
- 5 sardonyx chunks
- 4 rose quartz chunks
- 5 river agate
- 3 pearls
- 2 moonstones
- 4 turquoise chunks
- 4 malachite chunks
- leather cords
- unknown bones
gee, that bag is starting to feel awfully heavy. good thing they're not far from camp.