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Pranks and jokes weren't exactly frequents in Molotov's vocabulary. He thrived on solitude, finding comfort in the quiet routine of his graveyard duties. The thought of lighthearted interactions, of injecting humor into his otherwise serious existence, made him bristle a bit. Yet, here he stood, playing reluctant participant to Flemyng's pranks. They needed safe passage, and if this was the way to do it... well. The only way forward was forward, he supposed. Flemyng, however, seemed to be thriving. He begrudgingly agreed to help, mostly out of a sense of obligation. Seeing these weary faces, etched with worry and exhaustion, a flicker of empathy sparked within him, a warmth he wasn't accustomed to. So, he forged onwards, a silent guardian navigating the familiar paths etched between the weathered headstones. Molotov, despite himself, found a corner of his mouth twitch. He couldn't deny the absurdity of it all as he watched a haedian grab a doorknob and yelp in surprise as his paw became hopelessly slick with grease. The tension that had initially gripped him began to loosen, replaced by a grudging amusement. He watched with dry humor as the creature frantically rubbed his paw against his fur, leaving a greasy streak. The haedian's unexpected grin sparked a mischievous ember within Molotov. While far from a prankster by nature, the flicker of amusement intrigued him. He craved a response, a subtle return in his own dry wit. Melting back into the cavern's inky shadows, the damp air clung to his fur as he shuffled towards a twisting crevice that snaked upwards, meeting the uneven ceiling. In a low murmur, barely louder than dripping water, he spoke into the darkness. The words, seasoned with playful intent, echoed back, bouncing off the cavern walls. Across the vast chamber, a jolt ripped through another haedian. It yelped, a sound that echoed like a stone skipping across the still cavern lake, and whipped its head around, eyes widening like luminous moons. Confusion etched itself across its features as it scanned the cavern, searching for the source of the disembodied voice. Molotov nudged Flemyng and they watched, silent observers, savoring the blooming bewilderment on their victim's face. He let the suspense linger for a few moments before, with a flourish, he stepped out from the shadows, the cavern's dim light highlighting his playful grin. Understanding flooded the haedian's face, morphing his confusion into a joyous, full-bellied laugh that resonated through the cavern, the sound echoing off the dripping stalactites like chimes. It shook its head, a playful nudge at their shared amusement, before trotting towards Molotov, ready for the next round of their silent banter. The solemn gravekeeper, alongside his companion and against all odds, found himself returning the giggle with a low rumble in his chest, a sound that surprised even himself. The air, once heavy with tension and uncertainty, now held a hint of camaraderie, a shared experience that transcended their differences. By the time they reached the heart of the Forgotten's territory, a sense of trust forged through shared laughter had blossomed.

2024-02-29 19:37:06 (Edited 2024-02-29 19:56:44)