#monadogod

The jewelry store is lavish, although it’s hardly a surprise when the storefront boasted “the highest prices in all of Sector 1!”. Why anyone would willingly shop at a location with that sort of a calling card is less a surprise and more a twisted experiment in reverse psychology.

Or, perhaps, its target audience was the magnanimously pretentious, and its primary clientele were the clinically snooty.

Whatever the case, it’s always a bit awkward when you find yourself eyeing the same jeweled bracelet as someone else. Diamond encrusted and plated gold, it all but screams ‘a thief would cut off your hand to get at this baby’.

— [ ❖ ] — The differences in religions that ran amok in this city are rather incredible. Faiths he's never heard of before mingle with those that are, to him, commonplace. Not even a block away stands a mighty mosque, yet here he now stands, looking down upon a modest shrine of an unknown origin.

Footsteps hail the arrival of a magnificently clad figure. Decked in gold, if the newcomer were to claim himself as a god, followers would surely come. N. Tropy isn't the sort to hold blind faith; knowing a sort of god himself put an end to that. Regardless, he nods -- perhaps a little more respectfully than usual -- in acknowledgement.