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Molotov wouldn't call their happenstance second meeting a 'smiling' coincidence, but he knew well and better not to try arguing with the shorter Reosean. The two didn't exactly see eye to eye on one another's positions, and Mol had long accepted that it was easier to merely leave well enough alone. Flemyng's motioning to the cave's entrance was indeed met with another sigh -- they'd both been tasked, and there was but one cave; there was little choice other than working with one another. Perhaps with the two of them paired, this uncovering of secrets would go more quickly. *One can hope.* Mol wished little more than to be back in his graveyard where the air was still and silent. He was glad that Flemyng didn't attempt conversation as they made their way through the tunnels; the puller's few comments required little effort to acknowledge, a nod, perhaps a grunt. His own voice grated on his ears, and he was glad for the excuse not to use it. Eventually, they walked in silence uninterrupted save for the drip of water on stone, or the scurry of small paws. Rats, likely. What else could survive in these depths, where the sun hadn't laid its eyes in a millennium? He shook his head periodically, though the throbbing eased with each step, lulled by the heavy, stagnant air. The quiet was broken by steps, and Molotov stilled, glancing at his companion to gauge whether he'd also heard. Heavy pads on the stone, vastly different than the small paws of a rodent. He cocked his head, ears straining in the darkness, blown pupils doing nothing for him in this darkness. A few turns back the tunnels had still been laden with crystals that glowed and provided them light enough to see, but since then they had faded. It felt ominous, their lack here-- like they dared not venture to this portion of the labyrinth. A sudden crackle of fire made him flinch, followed by a blinding flash. He hissed, eyes squeezed shut, seeking refuge in the cool stone. It took precious seconds for his vision to adjust, and when it did, the source of the light emerged. His eyes widened as a figure stepped forward, long-toed feet coming into view. He slowly raised his gaze, tracking the creature's form with growing awe. A sleek body, perfect for navigating the narrowest of tunnels; slender limbs, a sinuous neck that seemed to stretch indefinitely. A face mirroring his own. Molotov heard the creature speak, Flemyng's reply a mere blur. His own gaze darted across the cavern, searching for more of these beings. There were none, at least not yet. None, at least in the near vicinity. **"What is this?"** he interrupted, the pain in his ear reduced to a dull pulse. **"What are *you?*"** His question hung heavy in the air, a demand for answers in this unsettling new chapter of their journey.

2024-02-11 20:00:45 (Edited 2024-02-11 20:05:45)