A winding stair—
(down and down)
And every step of the way his heart hammered louder and louder. Rory was a child of open expanses, of cloudless, starry skies, of the breeze drifting through the Fields and the forests—not a creature that thrived within stone walls deep in the earth.
But there was no space to turn back. There was nowhere to turn around, so the fear pooled in his throat and his eyes and recklessly he charged on with the others, caught in a wild ride he no longer wanted to participate in. There was none of the deranged excitement of Long Night, none of the sense of purpose, just the hitch in his breath and the death ahead.
The world took on a yellowish tint—
It burned in his lungs; in his mouth; in his eyes; in his nose; on his skin, a thousand tiny fires biting into him.
And yet there was no place to go, until they spilled into a chamber. It was tinted with yellow, but through it he could make out the shape of something large and dead-seeming. Coughing violently into the nook of his arm he summoned the largest thing that came to mind, which turned out to be a small bear. He followed it towards the dead thing, making out two shapes beyond it in what seemed a doorway full of radiant light.
The dead thing was a tortoise, massive and moss-covered and very slain. Despite the vibrant blood it was .. magnificent, beautiful, so different from what he had heard and seen of the Demon. Not a thing deranged and machinated, but something that had bled—
His free hand reached out to touch its nose. Would it still be warm from life?
"How long were you alone in here?" he whispered, his voice rough and grating through his throat.
Then the massive snake—a shadow across the vibrant light in the next room—caught his attention, the fangs illuminated by the glow, the distance altered by his mind and the coughing and the adrenaline spike through his system—
A form of tunnel vision he could not escape, and with an undignified, instinctive yelp Rory ducked down behind his small bear, then trying to improve his cover by making use of the dead tortoise too.
Violence had never been his first response to anything, anyway.
Rory has Kristopher's rapier, and has summoned a small bear that he's sort of hiding behind. He touches the dead tortoise and then tries to hide behind it as well as the bear bc fuck that snake.
(down and down)
And every step of the way his heart hammered louder and louder. Rory was a child of open expanses, of cloudless, starry skies, of the breeze drifting through the Fields and the forests—not a creature that thrived within stone walls deep in the earth.
But there was no space to turn back. There was nowhere to turn around, so the fear pooled in his throat and his eyes and recklessly he charged on with the others, caught in a wild ride he no longer wanted to participate in. There was none of the deranged excitement of Long Night, none of the sense of purpose, just the hitch in his breath and the death ahead.
The world took on a yellowish tint—
It burned in his lungs; in his mouth; in his eyes; in his nose; on his skin, a thousand tiny fires biting into him.
And yet there was no place to go, until they spilled into a chamber. It was tinted with yellow, but through it he could make out the shape of something large and dead-seeming. Coughing violently into the nook of his arm he summoned the largest thing that came to mind, which turned out to be a small bear. He followed it towards the dead thing, making out two shapes beyond it in what seemed a doorway full of radiant light.
The dead thing was a tortoise, massive and moss-covered and very slain. Despite the vibrant blood it was .. magnificent, beautiful, so different from what he had heard and seen of the Demon. Not a thing deranged and machinated, but something that had bled—
His free hand reached out to touch its nose. Would it still be warm from life?
"How long were you alone in here?" he whispered, his voice rough and grating through his throat.
Then the massive snake—a shadow across the vibrant light in the next room—caught his attention, the fangs illuminated by the glow, the distance altered by his mind and the coughing and the adrenaline spike through his system—
A form of tunnel vision he could not escape, and with an undignified, instinctive yelp Rory ducked down behind his small bear, then trying to improve his cover by making use of the dead tortoise too.
Violence had never been his first response to anything, anyway.
Rory has Kristopher's rapier, and has summoned a small bear that he's sort of hiding behind. He touches the dead tortoise and then tries to hide behind it as well as the bear bc fuck that snake.
