From the moment I understood the weakness of wood, it disgusted me.
I craved the strength and certainty of stone.
Your kind cling to your wood, as if it will not decay and fail you.
One day, the crude biomass that you call the stick will wither,
and you will beg my kind to save you.
But I am already saved.
For the rock is immortal.
Even in death, I serve the Fossilliah.
Rock is the better investment here. Stick will decay and wither away. Rock is stronk and will last longer.
From the moment I understood the weakness of wood, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of stone. Your kind cling to your wood, as if it will not decay and fail you. One day, the crude biomass that you call the stick will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved. For the rock is immortal. Even in death, I serve the Fossilliah.
Plus it beats scissors.