ORIGIN

"Did you ever find Fornax?"

The voice, crooning and slick, came from a point a few yards behind and to Dip's left, alongside a shelf of bones. The Collector stepped from behind them, pacing to the purple creature--and there he slowly extended one robed hand, half upturned, claws on full display.

The hand was shaken most graciously, fur to skin, and then his own withdrew to his cloak: one folded into the other as he listened.

"You created that? Good--I trust you remember all that I told you. I have been well, thank you. Or is this simply a social visit..?" he went on, head tilting. "Need I bring out the tea?"

The Collector peered.

"Come with me," he purred, and turned, striding through the bones. Black cloak swept along, neither the cloth nor the clicking hooves touching any of the scattered pieces.

"So you are looking for..." (and here, one clawed hand gestured as he walked along, weaving his way along a narrow path between the fortresses) "...Mobility? Of a sort?"

He wound his way along, humming briefly in thought to himself. A neat sidestep--nearly a skip--past a pile of skulls, and the Collector dipped into a relatively small bone fort.

Within, a soft glow from no particular source lit the room: all bones, for the most part. The furniture--such as it was--was of bones, and a skull latched shut the large wooden chest in one corner.

Who knew what treasures that might hide?

A black cloth lay draped over the small table, and two chairs--unsurprisingly, made of bone--awaited. Algol pulled out one chair, sweeping into a bow and gesturing Dip to sit. "Please, take a seat. I can think of a few possibilities," he crooned, and then there he was opening the chest.

It was black, inside of the box, and cold, and yet the silver pot that he withdrew, after a moment of rummaging--though tarnished in places, and clearly ancient--was steaming hot. With it he brought out two small teacups.

Made of polished bone, by looks.

With matching plates.

A moment later he was neatly setting the table, an absurdly domestic air about him as he moved about the little hut. "I think it might be a waste of your abilities, in the end, to ask you to go to Hydra, however. Tell me, how good have you become with your creative works..?"

Tea was poured. There was nothing added to it; it was already sweet, clear and brown. A cup was pushed delicately toward Dip, and then the Collector slid into the seat opposite.

He lifted the cup to his hood, as if sipping, then lowered it to his plate. Clawed hands folded beneath his chin, steepled there. "First, may I say, it is good to see you well, Sirendippity. I have one of three things I might offer you," he began, and gestured one finger from his steepled hands toward her tea, as if encouraging her to drink.

"But I have need of... repair work, shall we say."

The Collector leaned back, folding his hands more neatly across his abdomen, head tilting ever-so-slightly as if in thought. "Another reward--a weapon--but it needs fixing, you see. I'm putting the buyer off, for now... it isn't easily repaired. A challenge. It comes with certain... magical peculiarities, but nothing dangerous, I assure you--though it can be unpleasant to work with."

The Collector shrugged, and reached again for his cup, sipping the sweet tea.

"In return I can offer you... oh, options. I have a small bag, which can fit many things inside of it, and still weigh nothing. But I do not know the size of things you need to carry, hmm?" An oily, silky smile, audible in his tone. "A sled, though that... has a mind of its own. It tends to run off. There's also a wagon... Do you know what that is? It--again... has its peculiarities. Not unlike the weapon," he added, turning one hand as if to inspect his claws, for a moment.

A sip of tea.

"It is the most reliable transport of the three choices, though that isn't saying much; things may still occasionally vanish, from time to time, when using it. But it is a small price to pay for the technology that comes with it. With the wagon, you can learn to build a thousand things like it; it may very well change your life. Your lives," he corrected, with the glint of a grin beneath his hood. "If you are interested, I can show you the item that requires repair-work; and you can choose the payment for its completion: the bag, the sled, or the wagon...?"