Charity Benefit 3
The Charity Benefit (3) - Now is as good of a time as any to examine one of the many tables displaying items for the auction. The table is full of donations, both new and old, and something catches your eye. It’s only when you get closer to the item that you have some sort of fierce, emotional response. It might be nostalgia or happiness, or sadness, or fear, or anger--any emotion is possible. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to feel this way; the item can be any that you choose. Though the emotion doesn’t linger for long, there’s no clear reason as to why it inspired such feelings. Is the item worth bidding on? Or running away from?
The wisest thing to do would be to stay by the volunteer first aid table, which was the whole reason Basyl had come to the charity event. He didn't have any business sticking his nose into any of the auction's offerings. For one, he couldn't afford it, he was sure. And for another he really didn't need more stuff. He didn't need to spend money he didn't have on stuff that wasn't of use to him.
Basyl kept himself firmly rooted in front of the first aid table. If he didn't move from here, he wouldn't be as tempted, surely. His table was at the back, out of the way of most browsing people. It wasn't meant to be a focal point of interest as the other tables were. It was only there as a precaution. And so Basyl couldn't see as much of what was going on as he might have liked. So long as he stayed here, out of the way, that was probably for the best.
But his eyes couldn't help but wander.
It was silly, he knew, but Basyl loved stuff: old stuff, shiny stuff, stuff that most people found uninteresting, stuff that didn't serve any other function besides being a paperweight. All stuff was good stuff. But not all stuff needed to take up the precariously limited space in his home. He tried to temper his curiosity over what the most interesting items at the auction could be. That would be where all the people crowded...
He cleared his throat and pulled his focus away from the center of the room, where most of the action was happening, and back to the stalls nearest him. There were patrons ogling the wares everywhere, though, so the most he could do was catch glimpses between the people that walked by.
The glint of something colorful and ceramic was the first thing to make him crane his head forward to try and get a better view. Basyl still dared not move from where he stood. It was way too risky to try and get a good luck at anything. When he wanted something- or even had interest in something- he could barely keep himself from not trying to claim it. But in the well-lit room, the slick, dark blue paint of a pretty vase practically gleamed at him from where he stood.
Vases and other pottery didn't usually tempt him too much. Though he did care for plants, he only kept what could live comfortably in his aquaponics tank, meaning that flower pots and vases would just remain empty if he had them. And ceramics of that nature were only liable to be broken in the clutter of his home. It wasn't really an investment he could afford.
But that one with the pretty navy blue paint whispered things to him.
Basyl felt oddly possessive of something that wasn't even his, and though it wasn't a foreign feeling, it was usually one reserved for things that he already owned, not for random things that caught his eye in an auction house.
He moved closer. The vase wasn't just blue, but it was swirled through like a galaxy, with deep purples and ranging up to light pinks and speckled through with a very fine dusting of stars. The vase was empty, save for an illegible stamp at the very bottom. Basyl peered over the rim, then glanced quickly to the elderly woman manning the stall. She gave him the same kindly smile and a nod of greeting that she gave to all her patrons before turning back to the couple she'd been speaking with before he approached.
He really shouldn't make any bids here... He'd told himself he wasn't going to before he'd even arrived. But he should be able to take home what was his- his, his, his-
Basyl blinked, swallowed thickly, and scratched down a number in his illegible doctor's script, before sliding the page to the woman and scurrying abruptly away before she could say a word to him. Why was his heart beating in such a frenzy? It was just a silly vase! He shouldn't feel anything for it!
But he had, and Basyl watched the vase from his place at the first aid table for the rest of the evening.
[716]
