Submission (#6589) Approved

The delighted shrieks of Kittoms at play drifted through the open window of a small bedroom, accompanied by the howl of a cold, rather intense breeze. It rattled a collection of disparate rock samples scattered across the etched surface of a wooden desk, billowing up a red-gray cloud of clay particles and fine, stinging dust. 

A black and white piebald Kittom, his fur heavily speckled with periwinkle markings resembling the flecks on some of his finer rock samples, scowled against the dirt kicked up into his eyes by the disingenuous gust. Banging his window shut against the stiff winds, all likely promising a harsh miasma season to come, he settled back to far more delicate tasks.

Dabbing a little polish onto a well-worn rag, Donaar studied the rough agate he scooped into his other paw, tilting the banded tan stone to catch the flickering rays from the candle on his desk. Even now, he spotted faded crimson and golden hues in the mineral's wavy bands, qualities he hoped a little care would coax to the surface. 

He had spent most of the afternoon scouring this sample with finer and finer grades of sandpaper, mineral oil polishes, and a deft, experienced paw, grinding away impurities and unwanted edges. Donaar often wished he had access to a dedicated rock tumbler, like some of the mages who studied the magical properties in anima and other crystal samples. But sometimes simpler ways were best.

Agates were such charismatic stones. They deserved a more one-on-one approach.

Donaar's golden eyes narrowed as he inspected his efforts, gliding a fresh cloth across the now deep amber-brown stone to clean up leftover polish, checking closely for any possible missed flaws. Some of the other Kittoms, even his siblings, mistook his usual expression for perpetual gruff and grouchiness, and perhaps oftentimes they were right. But now, he was merely *very* intent on his handiwork.

He finally gave a small sniff and nodded to himself, satisfied. The polished cabochon agate in his paws glistened and gleamed. If one didn't know better, the stone could have been mistaken for one freshly plucked from a cool, babbling stream. A treasure that should have immediately caught the eye, rather than some odd brown pebble from the side of an equally well-worn footpath. 

Donaar set the freshly finished agate into his keepsake box, stretched his aching neck and shoulders, then pondered the rapidly waning sunset outside his bedroom window. He knew he really ought to think about sleep soon... but instead, he grabbed up another stone into his waiting paw. A dusty gray lump, with dull, jagged edges. It didn't look like much. 

Donaar smiled to himself, an unusual sight for those who didn't know him well. Starlight obsidian, and a decent sized specimen for such a rare mineral too. With the right care, this beauty would sparkle like the grand Silveil night sky. Sleep could wait until later.