"You're...leaving?"
Seph stared in shock. "To...do what?"
"To attend to my own business," replied Gavra in a gravely voice, and indeed it sounded gravely-er than usual, and Seph sat back in his chair, soothed. Well, yeah, of course he would have to leave eventually. Not of his own will or desire, of course -- but most likely to meet that elusive master of his, the true owner of The Libra. Sounded like the golem needed maintenance.
Seph adjusted a dust cloth around his neck. "How long are you gonna be out?"
"Not long."
Not a definite answer. The golem was bustling around, picking up books, storing them in his stomach-pouch, which was beginning to bulge in angles where the books were sticking into the elastic skin.
"How about if a customer..." Seph began, and then stopped, frowning, as the golem set clawed digits to its own brow, began to dig in. Energies sparked as the clay skin was broken.
"Wh -- what are you --"
Crack! Seph jumped and stared in shock as the golem tore out the left side of its head, then handed it out. Slightly horrified, Seph reached out and took it, slowly. The clay was soft and wet and warm, like a slab of brown-gray flesh; the red gleaming orb of the golem's eye rolled around, and he felt the friction if it revolving in the mud socket, was close enough to see the faintest neon green film on it, keeping it slippery and keen.
There was an ear too. It flicked, slowly, a cord of muscle. Seph struggled to keep holding on to it.
"Should anyone...use for...find," Gavra began, and then looked confused; he shook his head.
"I must leave," he repeated, "to attend to my own business," and without further ado he rolled and tumbled out the door.
"To attend to my own business," replied Gavra in a gravely voice, and indeed it sounded gravely-er than usual, and Seph sat back in his chair, soothed. Well, yeah, of course he would have to leave eventually. Not of his own will or desire, of course -- but most likely to meet that elusive master of his, the true owner of The Libra. Sounded like the golem needed maintenance.
Seph adjusted a dust cloth around his neck. "How long are you gonna be out?"
"Not long."
Not a definite answer. The golem was bustling around, picking up books, storing them in his stomach-pouch, which was beginning to bulge in angles where the books were sticking into the elastic skin.
"How about if a customer..." Seph began, and then stopped, frowning, as the golem set clawed digits to its own brow, began to dig in. Energies sparked as the clay skin was broken.
"Wh -- what are you --"
Crack! Seph jumped and stared in shock as the golem tore out the left side of its head, then handed it out. Slightly horrified, Seph reached out and took it, slowly. The clay was soft and wet and warm, like a slab of brown-gray flesh; the red gleaming orb of the golem's eye rolled around, and he felt the friction if it revolving in the mud socket, was close enough to see the faintest neon green film on it, keeping it slippery and keen.
There was an ear too. It flicked, slowly, a cord of muscle. Seph struggled to keep holding on to it.
"Should anyone...use for...find," Gavra began, and then looked confused; he shook his head.
"I must leave," he repeated, "to attend to my own business," and without further ado he rolled and tumbled out the door.
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