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?"

Comments

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Robin had been watching this all thoughtfully from just a foot or two away--but watching Phalanx try to put the partly-dismantled shirt on around all the other clothing they already have on just cuts right to his sense of humor. His laugh is sudden, the kind that makes him scrunch his shoulders up and cover part of his face.

"Really," he grins through his fingers, "You'll sew half the house onto yourself, if I'm not careful."

[pileofspirits]

Phalanx looks... lost over this remark. Instead of just blindly mimicking Robin's expression, they seem to have actually caught the fact that they're doing something that Robin finds funny. They look down at themself to try and figure out what it could be, but just don't see it.

"Sew half of it...?"

At least how they'd managed to tie themself into such an impenetrable fortress of rags is made clear, now.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

"You don't think so?"

He tilts his head as he asks this, smiling past Phalanx's confusion. "I just think it's funny that you're trying to add a shirt on top of a coat, you see. It normally goes the other way around."

At about this time, Vincent wanders back out of the room, now with clothes on, a very large case strapped to their back. His next stop is the bag of food, or what's left of it, which he scoops into his arms with a crunching sound.

"I'll be back. Don't... I dunno, do anything I wouldn't do."