Waves lapped up onto the rocky shore, moving in and out in a never ending cycle of comforting sameness. Shells scraped against smooth stones and Khanh bent to pick up a conical pink shell. Its vibrant coral color had attracted his notice because it stood out so plainly against the rounded black and charcoal rocks. To his left, the rocky beach gave way to softer sand that sometimes dipped itself into the ocean in undulating curves along the coast, so that sometimes he was walking over large pebbles and other times his toes sank into pristine white sand. Beyond the sand rose the high, jagged cliffs Colchis was known for in shades of umber, cinnamon, carmel, and gold. The colors shifted and faded with the changes in the clouds above.

His bright eyes lifted skyward, checking the faint orange of the clouds, rimmed with hues of crimson and amber against what was left of the blue cerulean the sky had been all day. Far out into the water, the sun, now ancient due to its journey, slowly died at the edge of the world. He smiled faintly, looked down at one of the pebbles in his hand, and flung it along the beach, watching it skitter and tumble over its brethren. He did not love Greece like he loved his native homeland, with its seas of gold and its mountains blue in the distance. But this place was beautiful in its own way. He was not sorry the Sariqas had sent him and his fellows here.

His path along this beach was not strictly to do with the group’s business. Yes, he was scouting, but this far from the platform levels of Midas, the houses were more sparse and sometimes abandoned entirely. No, this wouldn’t gain the group much wealth at all, but it might be a good place for Somra to practice breaking in. The last two places had been a little too populated and he detested being mistaken - especially when that was not his norm. Fate simply had been against him these last few times and he was determined not to make another mistake.

The first of the little hovels he came to was obviously long since empty. White strips of whitewash peeled away from the constant wear of salty wind and unkind sunlight. The door stood yawning open and half bent off its hinges. Khanh approached, his mouth twisting into a grim line as he leaned his hulking frame down, hands braced on either side of the doorway, peering into the gloom. Bit of pottery lay smashed on the floor, a table of graying wood stood while its chairs lay on their sides and a pitifully ratty bed frame with a mattress that had exploded with mice were the only pieces of furniture left. Sad.

He did not linger in the depressing little hovel and moved on in quick strides up the beach. His purpose was to satisfy his curiosity, yes, but also to see if there was anything valuable down here. As he walked, his strides long and sure, he ran his thumb along the smooth ridges of the shell, occasionally pressing the point of the shell’s end into the pad of this thumb. He’d been right that there was nothing much down here, this far out, but the closer he came back to Midas, the better the houses got and he finally spied one that looked lived in.

It was a little further back from the shore, flanked by a few springs of long, fluttering grass, but like most of this part of Colchis, there wasn’t a whole lot of flora or fauna. He circled the house once, unsure if anyone was home, but then, when he didn’t see movement, approached one of the windows and peered in, hands cupped on either side of his face. Inside was, for lack of a better word, a disaster of what he assumed were art supplies. Khanh had never touched a paintbrush in his life but he’d raided an artist’s studio once; it looked a lot like this. Sensing some movement within, or what he thought was movement, he pushed back from the window and onto the sand, crouching as though to pick up the shell he already had in his hand.