Skeleton City // PSL

[birdsbirdsbirds]

They call it the "Market", and it's always buzzing like a hive. The vast caverns are warmed by the hundreds of bodies all hauling, shouting, pitching, laughing, exchanging things from one hand to another. Even more people stroll up above, their voices lost in the tangle of bridges made of stone and wood and metal. The place is lit by dozens of electric signs, spilling brightwarm colors where the hanging lanterns cannot reach.

There is a lot to look at. One person seems to trade a bolt of rich red cloth for some nails and hinges. One man is trying very hard to convince another that the chicken he is holding is worth at least three bags of grainmeal. And then there is whatever Phalanx is holding, which they most certainly did not trade for, and it most certainly leads to someone reaching out over their stall table and grabbing them harshly by the arm.

"Hey, you little theif!" Says an irate, heavy-set woman, "What do you think you're doing?"