<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/236x/57/a7/b7/57a7b741ee43ca3d3831764197ae8513.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Echo (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=316128.msg15265341#msg15265341)<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Dunn Vale<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Content:</strong><br/>The destruction of the golem controller bothered him. It had to have been worth a lot of money. If they had gotten it, sold it--think of all the experts he could hire. Scavengers to salvage the old tech, Aeon Priests and Scholarchs to use it--he could have brought A-9 back with his share of the wealth. He was sure of it. Not because he knew for certain, but rather, because he wished he could. And now, it seemed, like everything else-- no easy solutions. Nothing for it, but to plod.<br/><br/>Still, the thanks of the people were a balm; both to his literal and metaphorical wounds. Early morning saw the Jack up and about, drifting listlessly, lost in thought. He was a pensive person, so this wasn't too uncommon, especially for Qiyanna, who was perhaps the first real, flesh and blood person, he had truly met. But when the time came for the group to receive a more tangible reward than the festivities of the last night, he was there. He might wander, but he rarely got lost--never let his head get so far into the clouds.<br/><br/>He wore dark clothes, not quite black; more suited to the gloaming hours than the darkness of night. Over top of the light, warm cloth was a layer of tanned animal hides, lined with fur, dyed to match the rest of the suit. Accustomed to the dark as he was, such attire may make him stand out in the light of day, but helped him blend into the gloom, where he excelled.<br/><br/>He felt slightly envious as he regarded the, in his mind, 'simple' automaton that hung around Eliza. He shared a paler coloration with its operator, since he had spent most of his formative years under the glow of artificial sun. "I wonder what we'll find." He mused to himself, aloud. "Hopefully no creft." As he jabbered quietly to himself, his eyes kept sweeping around. He always stood out, maybe menacing, maybe just odd, or even silly; he wore 'contacts' that gave him four eyes--purely cosmetic, mind you, no benefits--like the cat-descended ceturl.<br/><br/>"Iadace!" he greeted, loudly, and waved at Ios, as if the hodgepodge group needed any advertisement to their presence.