It has been so long since Soraka had set her foot on Demacia border. Its exclusive usage of the magic seeping stone in its structures, its high ceiling and an excess of white struck her. The winged stones figure watch vigilantly across the inhabitants as the Winged and its Sword flag displayed proudly on every corner of the city. And despite the recent discord caused by the imprisoned mages, the people’s faith is still very adamant in their leader.
It resembled Nashramae so much, Soraka thinks while traveling along the streams of merchants entering and exiting the great city, uncertain of what she might encounter on her path. She would gradually glance at the nearby stalls, taking a glimpse of what the goods they offer. There were items from Ionian, said to be able to connect the living to the past. There were the carpets from the Shurima's desert that were filled with the sand of time and the glory of the old ways. Then the Plitover's and their magical lamp. The Zaunite with their chem rats...
Then came the Rakkor priests with his heavy basket, seeking to spread the Solari Way from Mount Targon. There came the shepherds from Bel’zhun, looking to trade the mwatis wool for other exquisite items from other regions of the Sand Empire. And then, the Ascended would walk among the common, their godly figure against the canvas of lesser miniature figures. The Sand Empire would soar, just as their Disc basked in the everlasting sun.
But all that had buried quietly beneath the Shurima’s sand, falling prey to the gravesdigger and whoever wishes to see a glimpse of the past.
Still, it is not to say that Demacia is without its own individuality , Soraka thinks while examining an angelic statue being sold by a nearby vendor. It’s golden wings and fiery gaze pierced Soraka’s soul, seeking to purge the unjust and imperfection that had accumulated during her stay.
The Aspect of Justice...
“Are you going to buy it?” A voice came in front of Soraka, cutting her train of thought and forcing her to look at its owner. In front of her stood a boy about thirteen or so. He has freckles all across his face and unkempt brown burned hair.
“Are you going to buy it?” The boy asked while scratching his back, his eyes focused on the Vastaya.
“Do you accept Zaunite cogs?” Soraka replies as her attention shifted back to the statue, her purple hand dug inside the satchel for the cogs.
“It would be one silver gears and seven washers .” The boy said, extending his hand toward the pinkish woman, distorted whisper escaped his crooked teeth.
"Here you go." The Vastaya before him smiled cheerily before placing the miniature in her basket and proceed to disappear into the crowd.
Another successful trade , the boy smiled as the silver coinage travels between his palm. He always likes dealing with the Vastaya. Their stupidity about coinage spared no one in those tribes except for those of the wisest. And the wisest would often think themselves too smart to be tricked by a boy... Anyhow, he hoped there would be more for today. The recent uprising had stalled the usual trade, ceasing the usual operation within the city to a halt for the past few weeks in dealing with its aftermath. But, with trade recently open to normal, he hoped to earn more than a few silver. Trading, after all, is based upon nothing more but a desire for acquisition.
It took Soraka a while longer before she was able to reach the gate of the Adventuring Guild or what she can decipher with her old Demaician language. And there were many people inside of this gold-petricite mixed building. The clerks with their blue and white uniforms charismatically answering questions from the travelers and farmers for its purpose. The guards stand proud and straight against the gate's frames. A girl who is waiting for someone while playing a kunai, and a pair of dragon and fox vastayans.
What a peculiar pair , Soraka smiled before sauntered toward the couples. She had never seen a dragon vastayan before, and asking her may provide some interesting stories for the girl at home.