a rough draft
trying something new here. i'm posting a draft because it's fun to see where the end product lies. this will be chopped up later on...
[UNTILTED]
SILVER-CROSS
Covered in dirt and moss is a tarnished silver cross. The scholars of eld once wore such pendants. The cross, though small, feels heavy to hold; burdened by time and memory, but this comes as no surprise. Silver is not like gold — it is not deemed precious, nor does it corrupt hearts with greed. True silver, the scholars claim, is measured by devotion and sacrifice.
It is curious, however, to find such pendants this far east. The scholars did not roam far from the citadel. What secrets does this pendant hold, you wonder? Was it stolen, perhaps, by a good-for-nothing thief? Or was it a cherished an heirloom, blessed by the exiled goddess? Best hold onto it, then. One would be a fool to roam these lands without such protection.
CHARRED LEATHER GARB
A well-charred leather garb. It may not offer much in the way of protection, but perhaps a new look is in order.
STRANGE ELIXIR
Deep, crimson liquid, sealed in a ceremonial jar.
TEAR-STONE
An iridescent stone, warm to the touch. It looks almost edible. Smoke fills your lungs, though the stone itself is odorless. You recall an old fable about a dragon who fell in love with a man. Blasphemy, they shouted, banishing the man from his village. Heresy, they cried to the gods, demanding punishment. There was no greater sin than for a man to lie with a dragon.
Banished by kinfolk, the pair wandered the realm a great many years. But a dragon's lifespan far eclipses that of a man. Still, their love did prevail, knowing the man would return to The Goddess someday. The man passed on his sixtieth nam. Blinded by grief, the dragon devoured his lover's heart, binding their souls for eternity.
It is said the dragon shed a single, perfect tear: a most priceless jewel no gold could match, for it was forged by true love. His sorrowful lament was heard far and wide for a millenium, until one day, the dragon sang no more. What became of the dragon, no scholars could yet say. He vanished without a trace, and over time, magic gave way to coal and steel.
Of course, it is nothing more than a children's fable. Dragons did not cry; they were heartless creatures, born of fire and blood.
MASTER KEY
A large, rusty key. Who knows what it shall unlock?
Some doors, however, are best left unopened.
GOLD CHAIN
The golden chain appears to have once been a necklace, though it has long since lost its shine. On the broken clasp is a small, initial engraving, impossible to decipher. Golden chains this fine could only ever have belonged to a magnificent beauty.
FLESH SHARD
A flesh-coloured ceramic shard that once belonged to a priceless relic.
Worthless junk.
PLANISPHÈRE
Commonly used for celestial navigation and surveying distant landscapes, Planisphères are the most favoured scientific instrument used by diviners. This model appears to be highly ornamental, suggesting wealth and prestige. Upon further inspection, however, poses a most curious, yet deliberate contradiction in design.
There was once an ancient sect of diviners, mind-healers, who sought to cure those afflicted with madness. Such diviners used Planisphères in conjunction with divination cards, but what they knew of celestial bodies, is now lost to time.
Such arcane knowlege and practice is now strictly forbidden.
PAINTING
This remarkable oil painting was discovered in late Spring, 1163. The restoration project is meticulous and ongoing, as per the request of the private collector. He claims to have purchased the painting at a private auction, no further questions allowed.
The painting is candid study of two men, standing in a candle-lit study. The pair, unbothered by their surroundings, are lost in their thoughts. Their proximity, and their body language, however, implies they have an intimate understanding of one another.
One man is tall, broad-shouldered, with a thick mop of curly grey hair and a well-trimmed beard. He is leaning over a wooden desk, where a map of the old continent is splayed in front of them. From this angle, it is difficult to ascertain the exact appearance of his facial features. His visible eye, milky-hazel, is creased with laughter. He wears a black coat, made of fine-leather, and upon close inspection, there is a large belt around his waist. Attached to the belt, is an assortment of pouches and vials. In the palm of his hand is a silver cross.
…a scholar, perhaps?
Gentlemanly, in stature, evidently learned. Men born into wealth do not make themselves vulnerable in the presence of another. This man is sturdy, weather-worn, shrinking with age and knowledge. His age, by modern standards, would be considered shocking. The man's jovial, yet withering appearance, evokes a sense of sorrow. An educated guess would suggest the man is in his late forties.
The world was harsher, then.
Beside him stands is an ethereal beauty with shiny, long, raven hair that flows past his waist. His hair is styled in a complex braid, with a few loose strands, desperate to escape their decorative shackles. This man is almost regal, though a king he is not. It would be difficult to ascertain whether or not he is a noble; there are no identifiable crests indicating his lineage.
The raven beauty is finely dressed in deep, emerald robes made of velvet, with ornate golden trim. His eyes, grounding honey-brown, betray a penchant for mischief. His arm is outstretched, where his hand rests upon the small of his companion's back. There is naught a single scratch, nor blemish on the man's olive skin; light of the nearby hearth shines upon his sharp cheekbones, revealing is a bronze, scale-like sheen to him. Peeking through the curtain of hair, are a pair of ears, almost pointy at the tips.
…must be a trick of the light. It is unwise to spend so much time in these archives, even at the behest of a wealthy collector.
Blessed with an eternal, boyish-charm, the man's age is impossible to ascertain. Behind those twinkling eyes, is a world-weary man with a chip on his shoulder. Concern, perhaps, for his ailing companion? Thought it is not clear what the nature of their relationship is, one would be a fool to miss the sheer domesticity of the scene: nearby, an array of perfume bottles, divination tools, wax-sealed letters, expensive trinkets, vials of arcane liquids and preserved organs. The room is shared, lived-in.
The artist, sadly, remains unknown. They were, however, meticulous in capturing the raven-haired man's beauty. Was he the muse? Perhaps, even tragically so, an unrequited love? Curioser still, there is a remarkably odd sense of familiarity about him. But that is a mystery for another day.
WILTED FLOWER
A pertrified flower specimen encased in amber.
Immortalised decay.
JUNO
A large wind instrument, carved from hollowed dragon-bone.
Brilliant-ivory is priceless, for it knows only sorrow.