06-28-2023, 23:49:36 PM
> welcome home.
You enter the jewelry store, opening the door. It once was stained in colors, to entice the above-average person into coming in. spending their money for rings that could shine even when the smog clouded the city on its darkest days. The cheap stuff still laid upon the floor: diamonds, sapphires, little rocks tied together with silver and gold wire. There was a time where even that could sell for thousands, but when Man got high enough to touch the stars, to hold in their hands the gods that they were told were made of precious metals with gems for eyes, they realized just how...common, such materials were. Mission got a lot of its initial earnings from space mining, squeezing every last drop they could get out of the Creator before realizing they had so much, it was worthless, wasn't it?
The precious stuff, well, that stuff must have been looted long ago. Probably didn't last a day or so after that raid. The stuff made of petrified branches, tying together amber and coral in little capsules. Shame. Those would have funded your little ragtag rebellion effort easily.
Not to say that there wasn't anything in this place. People lived in this alleyway, reclaiming a place that was lost to time, not out of idealism or romanticism, but for practicality. Titania is a city that reaches to the sky, dense, tangled, trapped on an island among islands, where you're just begging to find space to breathe at times. People flock here like a grass peaks through the sidewalks, despite itself. It's a chance to have a place to sleep, to breathe.
The jewelry store's likely no exception. A broken chandelier, in pieces on the ground, makes the floors dangerous to step on, but that wouldn't stop the few from sleeping upon it. The vault would likely have no people, on account of no one else seeming to know the password, if you all desire privacy. Entering, you see a portable AC in a corner, and a couple of abandoned blankets laying all across the floor. Empty bottles, abandoned here for who knows how long. No other signs of life, though. Who knows how long ago these desperate people may have lived.
And you hear footsteps from outside. Not heavy ones, but footsteps nonetheless.
You enter the jewelry store, opening the door. It once was stained in colors, to entice the above-average person into coming in. spending their money for rings that could shine even when the smog clouded the city on its darkest days. The cheap stuff still laid upon the floor: diamonds, sapphires, little rocks tied together with silver and gold wire. There was a time where even that could sell for thousands, but when Man got high enough to touch the stars, to hold in their hands the gods that they were told were made of precious metals with gems for eyes, they realized just how...common, such materials were. Mission got a lot of its initial earnings from space mining, squeezing every last drop they could get out of the Creator before realizing they had so much, it was worthless, wasn't it?
The precious stuff, well, that stuff must have been looted long ago. Probably didn't last a day or so after that raid. The stuff made of petrified branches, tying together amber and coral in little capsules. Shame. Those would have funded your little ragtag rebellion effort easily.
Not to say that there wasn't anything in this place. People lived in this alleyway, reclaiming a place that was lost to time, not out of idealism or romanticism, but for practicality. Titania is a city that reaches to the sky, dense, tangled, trapped on an island among islands, where you're just begging to find space to breathe at times. People flock here like a grass peaks through the sidewalks, despite itself. It's a chance to have a place to sleep, to breathe.
The jewelry store's likely no exception. A broken chandelier, in pieces on the ground, makes the floors dangerous to step on, but that wouldn't stop the few from sleeping upon it. The vault would likely have no people, on account of no one else seeming to know the password, if you all desire privacy. Entering, you see a portable AC in a corner, and a couple of abandoned blankets laying all across the floor. Empty bottles, abandoned here for who knows how long. No other signs of life, though. Who knows how long ago these desperate people may have lived.
And you hear footsteps from outside. Not heavy ones, but footsteps nonetheless.