So far, this cave has been simply wonderful! The sheep spent ages wandering between the reflective crystals, watching her face distort in the reflections. Those reflections usually grinned back at her, as she found them all equally amusing. Jester, the name she'd dubbed herself, very much loved this room.
Her little hands reached out to each new crystal and sparked a little nugget of curiosity. Why did they show her face? Why did she look like this? She had to push the fleece out of her eyes to peep back at herself. She decided she liked her fleece; it was cute and fluffy! Not to mention warm when some of the caves billowed her with cold air and hot winds in equal force.
Fingers played across the pearl atop her head; she didn't know its purpose, but it didn't feel like it was supposed to be part of her design. Yet, it was so solidly attached she couldn't hope to remove it. 'tck, tck, tck' as her fingernails tapped across the stone, her eyes observing it in her reflection. What could it be for?
Maybe that was its purpose, she sniggered to herself, turning away from the reflection. Then continued her way, trotting down the rocky paths. Leaping over patches of odd-looking fungi. It was a fun game, travelling and seeing everything; if not a lonely one. What she would give for another friend.
All thoughts of loneliness came to an abrupt halt as she turned the corner, spotting the odd rift, much too far away for her to reach even if she wanted to.
Smoothing her thumb over the pebble, she shuffled front and centre the rift. Then, tossed the pebble upwards into the air. It arced neatly before beginning its descent- where it landed directly on Jester's forehead, as opposed to her open mouth. Then clattered unceremoniously to the floor while Jester remained gaping upwards like some sort of landed fish.
"Ah, good day to you, fine knights! What have you brought for me this time?" In the corner of a bustling marketplace, a rather greasy looking man leans over his marketstall to look at the two black-armored soldiers standing before him with interest. Other patrons nearby notice the warriors and quickly veer away, fearful eyes staring at the hard, pointed edges of their armor.
They take no mind. Wordlessly, one of them procures a satchel of goods and begins to dump them out onto the table. The man flinches back with a frown. "Ah, no need to damage-" too late, though, as one piece, a wooden carving of some kind, rolls onto the cobblestone ground and breaks.
The man sighs. "No matter. Hm, interesting finds this time," he mumbles to himself, shifting through the mess. Over the next 20 or so minutes, he appraises each item, gives them an offer, and count out the coins. He eventually pulls out what looked to be a moss-covered stick with some holes in it. "Ah...um, I only take valuables? This is...well, it's a nice stick, but..." He looked at it closer, eyeing the holes and the shape - not natural, but carefully sanded until straight. He strokes his chin. "Hm, on second though, I think I know someone who may be able to do something with this. Clean it up a bit, perhaps add some flair..." Just to test that it works, he finds the largest hole and blows in it, producing an ethereal warbling sound that causes both soldiers to flinch and hiss.
"Put that awful thing away," one of them snarls. The other spits. "Witch filth."
The salesman blinks and quickly stashes it away, putting the smile back on his face. "Of course, of course, we'll have to fix it up of course, but my guy is quite good-"
The soldier rolls his eyes. "I don't care. What's it worth?"
The coins are counted and handed over.
Later that day, as the man is sorting through his new acquisitions, he comes across the flute again, looking at the thing and turning it over in his hand. It really is a strange thing - easily mistaken for an old branch of tree. But it was well-kept, well-loved - he could see the wear around the many holes where fingers once gripped it - and well crafted.
He did not know of the witch child that once held it, a gift from her father. He did not know the beautiful music she played for her people. The hope she brought them, in these times of darkness. He did not know of her fear as Verinen soldiers chased her down, gripping the instrument tight. He did not know where her body lay now.
He simply knew that the flute needed fixing if it was going to make it anywhere in this market. He knew just the person to make that happen...
The flute can be played to create a clear, beautiful sound, but occasionally it sounds a little different, like an ethereal warbling, but its difficult to say what, exactly, causes it to sound that way.
@Jester
A squawked 'eep' escapes Jester's lips before she can muffle it, startling her as the rift spat something out. With her hands clasped over her mouth still, she leans forward to eye the case wearily.
Whilst idly toying with the case, her fingers ran across a sort of button or was it a tie? Or a clasp? She wasn't certain, but when pushed, the case popped open! Jester yelps, as if struck, and dives for cover behind a crystal. Clutching her fleece where her little heart thunders against her chest, she dares another peek at the case. And, much to her surprise, it hadn't continued attacking her. It also looked as if it had something in its mouth.
On unsteady hooves, Jester trots back to the case, squatting down next to it. Inspecting its contents...
Naturally, the rift (presumably) doesn't answer. Yet she looks up expectantly regardless.
With slightly wobblier steps, Jester heads back the way she came. Still hopping over those pesky patches of fungi.
What a strange day.
;;exit