T
he woman did not seem to understand what he spoke of. Benedict waited patiently until she did, her eyes flashing with realization as she moved closer. Solterra was mentioned, even if she did not smell of the Day Court. Or rather, the scent was very faint. He could pluck a few strands, like sand, from her coat. She might be a new arrival. He gives an encouraging nod before moving off.His gold hooves hit more sand. Benedict is aware of the uncomfortable nature this silky beach holds. He is not one for water - only fire and metal. Though the man knows how to swim, he does not like fighting the elements. He'd rather mold them, and water is a constant struggle. It cannot be contained so easily. He has placed a sack further up the beach, already half-full with shells and other items of value. He approaches it now, lowering his nose to rummage through the items.
Deeming them acceptable.
He lifts, spotting a shiny shell. The iridescent green would fetch a fair price with collectors. If not, he could fashion a necklace out of it and sell it this way. "I make" he tries to fill the silence and also tries to make it simpler for her to understand from his words "and sell" Benedict adds "things. I collect, make new. Into other things." The man approaches the same shell, grabbing it from the ground and tossing it into the bag delicately.
