There were rumors, of course, floating all over the land under the ceilings. That the Collector was a powerful man. That he could grant your greatest wish, with only a few occasional drawbacks. That he was a trader. That he liked dramatic entrances.

Mosaic could do a few things with that information.

First, the dramatic entrance. She wasn't gonna let the Collector appearing out of thin air top her entrance. She could do that too! And make it EVEN BETTER. Concentrating, she felt a wash of magic pour over her fur, leaving her pale ivory and brown to match the bones around her. It wasn't perfect. In fact, if one looked closely, they would probably be able to notice an orange splotch of fur floating in a pile of bones—a dog-shaped pile of bones—with a small citrine nestled within.

But WHATEVER. Mosaic had MULTIPLE LAYERS to this plan. ONE LITTLE IMPERFECTION WASN'T GONNA STOP HER.

Next, to take care of the trading part. Mosaic sniffed around, though the original scents of the rebel corpses (god, wasn't that a morbid thought) had gone stale already. Her eyes were more of a help in this task, as she caught a glint of color peeking out from underneath a pile of bones.

She trotted toward it and took it in her teeth, dragging out what turned out to be a leg bone, about a foot and a half in length, with a green crystal spike growing out of it. She set this behind another pile of bones, and continued the search.

It took her a while of searching and doubling back on areas she'd already looked just to make sure before she had her second discovery. This one looked like some kind of foot with really long toes, except one of them was a pale sliver of opal. The gem was the only light thing in it. The rest was charred and blackened. Must have been a painful death, Mosaic thought with a wince.

But she would avoid it. She would not die like they had. She set the foot beside the leg. A toe broke off when she dropped it, Mosaic winced again, and tossed it away from her.

Color was beginning to bleed back into her fur. Despite her efforts to keep an invisible set of jaws grasped tight around her magic, it slipped from between her figurative teeth. Mosaic swore quietly as she started to look less and less like a pile of bones and more and more like a dog. It would not do to ruin her dramatic entrance.

She was quite terribly camouflaged by now, with only her natural coloring helping her case. Growling, Mosaic redoubled her concentration. Disappear!!! she willed her fur, and disappear it did, fading into ivories and browns once more. It was an even better job than the first time—now she actually might be mistaken for a pile of dirt and bones.

Grinning proudly, Mosaic returned to her search.

This time, it was a skull, maybe the length of a cave rat.

It had looked like an old bloodstain at first, in color at least. But the shape hadn't been quite right, and upon a second glance, it revealed itself to be a thick cluster of cube-shaped crystals growing on someone's forehead. Maybe it could have been used to ram someone, but Mosaic couldn't imagine risking her gem like that. You'd have to be pretty stupid to think hitting someone with your gem is a good idea.

But it was only a hypothesis, and not a likely one. Anyway, Mosaic guessed it didn't matter too much now. They were all dead anyway. She deposited the vanadinite skull next to the green-spiked leg and the charred toes, then drew in a deep breath.

"OI! COLLECTOR!!!" she hollered. "GET YOUR STUPID SELF OVER HERE!" She immediately dove behind the pile of bones beside the gems, holding still and hoping her camouflage was good enough.

There was nothing: only silence, and the quiet rattle of a breeze over bones.

Mosaic will not be answered by the Collector in this thread, or at any time within the next in-character week.

@Mosaic

Content Warning
This post contains potentially sensitive material:

strong language

lots of poop. disgusting. i hate (love) her

The prudent thing to do would be to give up, instead of continuing to insult a powerful entity. But, Mosaic thought, either the Collector wasn't here or she hadn't been rude enough to get his attention. If it was the latter, she could just keep on doing what she was doing. If it was the former, well, she could keep going anyway, since it wasn't like he could hear her if he wasn't here.

Thankfully, magic didn't require her to listen with her physical ears. Heavens knew she probably couldn't hear anything over her own voice. "DID YA HEAR ME, YOU GREAT BIG BOOMBLEFUSS? OR HAVE YOU GOT BOOGERS IN YOUR EARS?! I BET YOU HAVE A WHOLE NEST OF ROTTING BONE MOTHS IN THERE, YOU DAWDLING BONE-SUCKER! YOU MOVE SO SLOWLY I BET ALL THE BODIES HERE DECAYED IN THE TIME IT TOOK YOU TO BLINK AN EYE! YOU DROWN IN A PUDDLE OF OIL OR SOMETHING? WOULDN'T SURPRISE ME; YOUR LAZY BUMBLING BEHIND COULDN'T CLIMB OUT OF AN INCH OF LIQUID IF IT TRIED!"

"CAN YOU EVEN MOVE IN THAT BLACK CLOAK OF YOURS? OR ARE YOUR PATHETIC MUSCLES TOO NONEXISTENT EVEN FOR THAT?! I BET YOUR POOP STICKS TO THE INSIDE AND YOU CAN'T EVEN REACH AROUND TO CLEAN IT OFF! I BET YOUR POOP STINKS WORSE THAN A CAT'S! CAVE RATS WOULD VOMIT FROM A MILE AWAY! MAYBE THAT'S WHY YOU'RE TOO SCARED TO SHOW YOUR FACE!"

"YOU KNOW WHAT, I KNOW WHY YOU'RE HIDING FROM ME! YOUR STUFF ISN'T EVEN THAT GOOD ANYWAY, AND YOU'RE SCARED OF SOMEONE WITH ACTUAL TASTE CALLING YOU OUT ON YOUR SHIT! LITERAL SHIT! YOU'RE A GARBAGE COLLECTOR, AND YOUR 'tReAsUrEs' ARE TRASH! AS IF ANYONE WOULD HAND OVER ANYTHING WORTH HAVING TO A CLOWN LIKE YOU! ALL YOUR ITEMS GOTTA HAVE DRAWBACKS, HUH?! YOU AIN'T EVEN GOOD ENOUGH TO DEFECATE WITHOUT THE SHIT BEING CURSED!

"AND YOU KNOW WHAT? 'dRaWbACkS' ARE FUCKING BULLSHIT ANYWAY! YOU GET ALL THESE GEMBOUND TO PUT A FUCKING DELUSION ON A PEDESTAL. ONLY PEOPLE WITH TRASHY FUCKING TASTE COLLECT ITEMS WITH DRAWBACKS. IF YOU'RE SO POWERFUL WHY DON'T YOU MAKE SOMETHING ACTUALLY GOOD FOR ONCE, HUH? OH YEAH YOU CAN'T, BECAUSE YOU'RE LITERAL TRASH! A STEAMING PILE OF SANDWORM FECES HAS MORE MAGICAL POTENTIAL THAN YOU DO! A FUCKING PLAGUE RAT HAS FEWER DRAWBACKS THAN YOUR WORTHLESS LITTLE TRINKETS! PLUCK OUT YOUR EYES AND GET A NEW PAIR, BECAUSE YOUR FASHION IS PATHETIC! FEED YOUR TONGUE TO A PIG, BECAUSE A PIG HAS BETTER TASTE THAN YOU!"

Not far off, the Collector was listening. He wasn't visible, of course, but he was counting in silence, ticking off each insult on his fingers. Now and again his head would tilt, as he tried to quickly gauge if something-or-other counted as a new insult or simply a continuation of the old one.

The number he ended up with--and, in fairness, he wasn't entirely confident it was precise, given the admirable rancidity with which Mosaic worked--was twenty-five. When it was over, he reached into his robe, drew out a little notebook and a fancy quill pen, and made a little note.

The Collector will not respond to Mosaic until May 20th.

@Mosaic

Mosaic waited for a while longer, in silence this time. Oh, don't get her wrong: she would have loved to continue, probably somewhere along the lines of comparing the Collector's molecular structure to poop. Or trash. Maybe both. But, unfortunately, her throat was starting to hurt from all that shouting, and she really needed a drink, but she really didn't want to drink out of Canis' water pools after that frankly disgusting rant. Really, Mosaic was impressed with herself.

So she stayed behind the pile of bones, trying not to think about how sore her throat was. And when it became clear the Collector wasn't appearing--maybe he was somewhere else after all, ha!--she simply stood up and swaggered out of Canis, dropping her camouflage. What was there to hide from, after all? The Collector wasn't home, and she doubted anyone cared enough about him to avenge his honor from a few harmless insults.

--exit