Post by Deilakrion on Aug 12, 2008 17:38:46 GMT -5
Deilakrion entered the tavern with ruddy skin and windblown, tangled hair. She scented the air with a slight swooning step, blanching as she smelled traces of old blood covered with cleaning agents. She sent a look to Steadman and Urghdak, blinking thoughtfully before pushing past it and in. A moment of brief camradarie was aimed towards the bartender with a nod, and she questioned with quick, cold clarity. "Seen those two?" He'd know what she spoke of, and he shook his head quietly. She chewed on her lower lip, and advanced to the bartop, where she slapped her hand down with a low curse.
Serious today. Steadman served her up a platter of meat before she asked, but she shoved it away. It was dirty; Steadman's retribution for her ever so bad table manners. She shot him a glare, but his back had turned away. She tapped her fingers over the bartop, and for once did not leave greasy smudges. No. She was prepared for something, and she stared morosely at the countertop in sullen consideration. She needed to fly, and soon. She could ill afford a sustained trip, but the frown marring her features spoke of a decision made. She stood up.
Deilakrion cursed again, the inventive inflection in her tone marred only by her wrinkled nose. Clan members. She hadn't been there for it, and she could -smell- the warring emotions lingering just underneath the mop's musk. She drew a hand over her features, nearly surprised to find sweat upon the expanse of her skin. "Maggoty. . ." her invective remained unfinished, and she passed around and behind the bar to rummage underneath for a few seconds. She lifted with a light loop of leather and a small bag tucked there, and arraged it around her hips with easy deftness. "You--" Steadman, acquainted with that tone of voice, turned with a flat stare, "Get the food." He moved without blinking, and Deilakrion bent again to lift two loops of rope, which she secured about herself in a sort of harness. She was shivering as she did so, flinching from the rough touch upon her skin.
Next, two stillettos. She fastened those into the rig, wiping her forehead with a mumbled phrase surely meant to shore up her bravado. She hated the touch of anything clinging to her skin, strangling her, weighing her down; sliding under and -- "No." She whispered it, and shook her mind from its wavering path. Rivulets were forming: never a good sign. She brushed her fingers over dampened skin, and resolved to get over it. Steadman returned, eyeing her with a sort of apprehension, and she scowled at him. She rotated her shoulders to ease up the tension that had creeped up on her, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Steadman held out a pack, and she snatched it from him. Then he hefted another pack, and she stared at it. He smiled at her wryly. "You owe me." They stared at each other for a long time, and then she took it with a short nod. She'd clean up her own mess, next time.
Deilakrion stood by the bar, heavily burdened and still as Steadman made his rounds about the sour drunks leftover from the nigh previous. Otherwise the bar was empty and clean, bristling with old, lingering emotions. And blood. She shook herself again. Since the last time she'd seen Audrielle and Talisia, she hadn't seen them. She'd gotten the food, and then had stepped out, and then the two women had vanished. A few days of other errands, and the gold she had spent was wasted. She had precious little gold. Steadman had acquired a few things, though, and she poked through the second bag. She was well pleased with the man's efficiency; maybe that was why she had to keep the tavern dirty for him. She turned, and looked once more over the Tavern--she was going to be gone for a bit of time. She wished the two women were around, as she didn't particularly wish to go alone.
Turel enters the tavern, at a slow pace, the look of tiredness clearly etched into the features of the vampiric avian. Running a hand through platinum locks, Turel's eyes land 'pon the woman, whom was searching through several bags at the time; though he paid little attention as he always did. Calculating footsteps take Turel towards the message board, index finger 'pon his right hand quickly skimming over the new additions, and of course, a slight chuckle followed after reading about the death. Turning on his heel, cold sapphire eyes land on the woman yet again, brow raised as he soaked up her appearance; she looked a little dirty, too dirty, but he didn't mind. He now moved towards the bar, settling his frame into a free seat, as the sound of a relaxed sigh moves past his parted, and cracked dry lips.
Drops of sweat stood out on Deilakrion's forehead, while streaks of it fled down her arms, chest and back. She held a bag in either hand, and the shakes that trembled her limbs were slowly diminishing at the wave of fresh air that circulated around the tavern. The lycanthrope that had turned her into something else had been swallowed, and roved somewhere beneath her skin in the quick, feral movements of her eyes. Steadman moved to serve the man who'd entered with that gust of fresh air, but Deilakrion had dropped her packs and was there first with the eerie quickness of nervousness. "Pay you for a service." She was invading his personal space as she leaned close, hovering with the full intent to pull back the moment any portion of him got too near.
Turel quickly glanced at he menu, shaking his head slightly. "Just a water..." He'd say towards the patch wearing Steadman, as his hand burrows deep within his pocket, as he retrieves the several copper coins needed. The sound of packs being dropped made Turel spin in his seat, his face mere inches away from this woman, whom he did not know, and yet, she had asked him a question. Clearing his throat somewhat, he'd stratch his bare chest, before shrugging his shoulders. "Whatcha need, woman?" The words left his lips quite quickly, as he moved to face the bar, fingers grasping around the cold glass of water he had just ordered moments ago. Again, the smell; sweat, blood, body oder, all hit him in one foul swoop, and it seemed to emit from this....rather strange woman.
Deilakrion flicked sweaty, tangled hair from her face, but did not retreat. "Carry." She pointed back towards the packs. "Help climb down the rent in the ground." This time she was pointing somewhere to the east. Her pupils had dilated, leaving the mass of yellow-tinted grey iris to gleam in the bright candlelight. Her eyes were far too huge, and adrenaline spiked through her shallow aura. Rope had been fastened about her nude form in a sort of harness, in which two stillettos had been rigged. Abruptly, before he could respond, she had walked briskly around the bar and disappeared behind it, lifting with another oddly jointed coil of metal-twined rope, which she dropped on the bartop near to Turel.
Turel blinked several times, the word 'carry' reverberating around his head, and yet, he sighed a little as he downed the glass of water, placing the now empty glass on the bar. "Carry, those, down into the ground?" The naked woman, made no sense to him, her lack of speech, and probably interlect proved otherwise. He eyed the harness strapped to her naked body, before cold sapphire met yellow-tinted grey. The coli of rope that was dropped in front of him, smashing the glass he has just emptied into small tiny shards. Shaking his head, he'd move to take the rope in his grasp, before moving to his feet. He had only one question. "Why do you need to go into the ground?"
Deilakrion didn't know him. "I'm cursed." She said, opening the purse of coins and flipping a few heavy ones his way. He could abandon her, stab her in the back, figure out some way to separate the strange metal-twined rope and send her hurtling to her death. He could rob her and leave her, or shove her down while she was sleeping. She didn't know him. She was placing her trust in him anyways, for the insistant pulse of the Chasm that drew her towards it one snarling step at a time. She was right to be sweating. She'd go with or without him, that was evidenced enough in her eyes, but a drop in the tension of her back was proof enough that she'd be glad for the company. She moved towards the dropped packs and picked up the one filled with food. The other, filled with other supplies, was left for Turel.
Turel cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his platinum hair as the gold coins was landed on his lap. Sighing slightly, the avian got to his feet, and moved toward the other pack, though he still had no clue what, or why he was doing this. "Cursed? Fair enough." That was all he said, hoping those few words lifted whatever tension was held within her.Bending down, he'd pick up the pack that was left laying on the ground, his wings tucking neatly behind him now. Though, the amount of sweat that was leaving her body, made him wonder somewhat. "Whats down this place anyways?" He'd ask, muscle's 'pon his right arm, the arm used to pick up tha pack, tensed as he stood up.
Deilakrion moved towards the door, mouth working as she considered the question. A larger body, kept to the background of the tavern, made itself known. Deilakrion faced Urghdak with wariness, but the half orc merely threw something dark and weighty at her. She caught it easily, and held it in her hands to discover a few pairs of solid, lightweight gloves. Handy for sheer expanses of stone. She did not question the gift; Urghdak only wanted her to come back so he could take pleasure in throwing her out of the tavern when she started a fight. She opened the door. "A chasm." There was power in names, and in naming the gigantic rip of the earth its presence was made known. "A secret." Then she was through the door.
Outside, the brisk morning air started to cool the sweat that glistened over Deilakrion's body. She breathed it deeply, and gradually her jittery mood inflamed by the contagion of old emotions in the Tavern lessened. She glanced behind once to see that Turel was yet following, and then she was striding off with a hurried pace that belied the simple task she'd asked the avian to accomplish.
Overlooking Gorge
Turel stopped for several moments, moments in which he had to catch his breath - this woman was moving much quicker than himself. "A chasm? A secret?" He asked, using his left arm, an appendage much stranger than anything. A black swirling mist was always there, as the avian took several more strides toward Deilakrion. "Now where?" He sucked in the cool crisp air, air that filled dead lungs, something he did no longer need; for air was for the living, was it not? The arm that was lofted earlier was used to dap at his forehead, several beads of sweat covering it.
Sheer, infinite and a sure death if one were to fall: the crack in the earth was only slightly intimidating. Mist hung about it from the early morning, loathe to disperse to the casual glance. A weighty presence hung about it, almost beckoning in its stillness. There was no sound rising from its depths, but between the wind and the mist the gash almost seemed to breathe. Deilakrion was blanching as they approached, and sweat broke out anew. There was fear in the lycan, and it rolled from her in waves. "Down." She didn't flinch from the edge as she approached, moving towards the Cenril bridge and the sure anchorage that would provide for their first handholds. "Climbed before?" She didn't discount the avian's wings, but neither did she trust the chasm to provide friendly to a flier. Birds did not nest in the sides, and that was proof enough to the woman that wings would be more of a hindrance than a help. She eyed Turel's wings dubiously as she waited for reply.
Turel inched closer to where Deilakrion was standing, at the foot of the chasm. He was slightly intimidated by the crack, noting that the mist was more intimidating than the crack itself. Turel looked to Deilakrion now, kneeling down on all fours, as he looked over; sapphire hues glimming. "No...I always use my wings...But...This won't be the case today." Slowly rising to his feet, Turel placed the pack onto the ground, and pulled out of his pocket a simple harness of his own - one that he would no doubt need, though it wasn't for climbing, this was for the protection of his most possessed thing; his wings. Stapping it to his chest, then his back, the leather harness seemed to hold his wings in place, and now he tighted the leather straps to his back, holding everything in place. "Okay, lead the way."
Deilakrion tossed Turel a one-fits-all pair of gloves that would do much to protect even calloused skin from the arduous contact to both rock and rope. She was playing the thing by ear, being used to crawling like a monkey down lesser holes. Without warning she delved into the pack he carried, careful not to brush him, and pulled out a few heavy-duty spikes that would serve should handholds become scarce. She handed him two. Then she gestured to the rope she'd given him in the tavern: "Put that on." Another length she'd had coiled about her was lifted. The fear was likely to be smelled by the vampire, though she apparently cared little enough to dampen it from her own sensitive nose. Vampire and lycan, working together. Too bad it wouldn't make any children's night-time stories. "This creature goes first." And then she held the coil of rope like it was a curse, one end flipped towards Turel and one kept to herself. She tied it securely to her own harness, knowing well enough that both had the strength to support the other should one fall. But did the rock face? That was the question that kept her sweating. She stood on the edge, waiting for Turel.
Turel slipped on the gloves that he was just given, clentching his hands into fists, making sure they were a good fit; and they were. Watching Deilakrion delve into the pack he had just dropped, and took the two spikes also; though he had a faint clue what they were for. The rope was handed to him next, as he treaded it though the harness he wore, making sure it was securely fastened. Fear. It riddled from his own body, about to venture into the unknown, a place he loathed most of the time, but today, he had to swallow that down. "You go, I'll support." Words were uttered quickly, as his right foot moved in front of his left, making sure he would not slip under Deilakrion's weight. The piece of flipping rope was handed to him, as he gripped tightly onto it, as he slowly walked back towards the ledge of the chasm. "Ladies first." He gestered toward the chasm now, a rather nervous look plastered upon his features.
Deilakrion tried not to let the echoing fear drive her into bristling with an automatic last-ditch-fight response and put on her own gloves, tucking the spikes into her harness, before slipping down to put herself over. The first toe hold was easy, as was the second. She realized that before the end of this her feet would be bruised and bleeding, but dismissed the thought with a concentrated burst of energy. Next was a handhold, and then another. The rockface was strong and steady, holding without crumbling or cracking. For now. She knew this area was secure, as otherwise the bridge would not have been built where it was. Further down, that might not be the case. "Tie that to you before coming over." She told him, before her own head disappeared from his view. She was grateful for Steadman's timely assistance with the packs, for the precious supplies contained within --such as hammocks to wrap around and sleep in -- would be well worth their weight before the trip was over. Then she was moving down with an easy grace, as she had climbed bareback many times before. Just. . .not quite on this grand scale. She gripped a steady piece of rock when the rope's slack lessened, looking up to know when Turel made his own way over and down. "This creature hopes the flesh can fight." She muttered to herself in uneasy foreboding.
Turel watched Deilakrion move towards the rock face, as he slowly tightened his hold on the rope in hand. And then, in a blink of an eye, the woman had slipped over the rockface, and was gone from his view. As the rope nimbly went past his hands ever so often, he grip would loosen and tighten, this of course making sure Deilakrion had enough to climb down with. He heard the faint voice, as he slowly nodded his head to himself, a soft billow of wind causing his hair to sway around his head and face, as he sighed to himself. Moving toward a good place he could anchor his own rope. "Coming now..." He shouted, as his feet moved toward the sheer longitude of the rock face. Looking over, he'd sigh to himself. he was getting too old for this. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Turel carefully turned round, and was gone. The first footing proved difficult for him, his foot bumping and sliding over small indegious pieces before finding it, the second was again easy enough. Now, Turel was starting to get the hang of this. Slowly, he made his way down, and more often than not, his bare arms would connect with loose granite, causing several small strikes along his flesh.
So they climbed. The sun tracked their time ahead, and below the darkness was rising up to greet them. Minutes and hours passed slowly for Deilakrion. The gloves on her hands, the rope and pack on her skin: it was conspiring to drive her from her wits. She was, in the end, afraid of nearly anything upon her skin (but for the random belt, which was acknowledged as not so bad), masking it often with annoyance and anger. It rubbed against her, chafed her, until she wanted to just let go of the rock face and tear it off. Rip it to shreds, and set it on fire until only a pile of sorry ash remained. She kept going. Turel above her kept going with nary a whisper of complaint, and for that alone the creature was grateful. The time for lunch had come and gone, but without a solid enough patch of rock, Deilakrion wasn't going to risk dropping anything. Then they passed into the darker part, unseen from above, and the pocky rock turned into caves of varying depth. Her skin prickled. Fear slammed into her from somewhere, and she choked on it before clamping down with the iron self control it had taken her years to gain. She gritted her teeth. "Food break." She called above, wincing as her voice echoed. She trusted this place not, and edged down and over to slip into the shallow cave without putting all of her weight upon the rope attached to Turel. Quickly within she unpacked a first small ration of dried meat and fruit, as well as a single water skin to be passed between them. Her eyes had adjusted well to the growing darkness, but she feared herself unable to see in the depths they would eventually pass through.
Turel continued his descent into the unknown, a little higher up than Deilakrion herself. Clearing his throat a little, looking down toward the abyss that awaited the pair, moaning to himself also, several more scraches appeared on his skin, some deep, some not, each drop of vitae not making a single echo as it reached the bottom, if it did reach the bottom that is. Turel could sense the growing fear within Deilakrion, and truth be told he was scared that little bit. At this moment, he wanted nothing more but to let his wings take control, each one itching to be released from the leather prison they were bound to, and Turel just shook his head to himself as he continued downwards. The voice he heard, echoed around him, as he shouts back. "Okay." Before reaching Deilakrion's place of 'comfort' he had slipped a little, causing several loud curses to pass his lips. As he got there, his arms battred slightly, he gladly accepted whatever was thrown his way, for he too was a hungry one, and blood, in which he needed, would have to wait till they surfaced.
Deilakrion watched Turel as he ate. It dawned upon her what those fangs were for, and the odd musk that hung about him. Vampire smell. "When did the flesh last feed?" Her tone dismissed the food he was holding, or any food other than the blood vampires would need to survive. She'd send him up and continue alone if she so much as tasted bloodlust on the breath he kept mimicring the need for.
Turel shook his head as he ate, followed by a simple shrug of his shoulders. "It bothers me little...Though I have only been given this gift...For a second time now...But I have some bloodwine around, that shall do, for now." He'd offer Deilakrion a small smile for now, as he ate. "You have the lingering smell on being a Lycan, that is one thing I never thought I'd see, both a vampiric avian, and a lycan working together. Ironic no?"
Deilakrion shrugged, tearing through a piece of meat with ease. "Fleshes." She grunted. Truth was, the woman didn't have her cursed brethren's disdain for vamps, likely due to the fact that her closest kin had been vamps long before she'd been bitten by a lycan. Just a very healthy wariness and unease about the strange ones she didn't know. She eyed Turel. Dismissed the thought. Kept eating. "Likely trouble below." It was an afterthought, a slim stab at friendliness. She was not the friendly type, never had been, but even one such as she needed more comfort than food could provide in a hellhole such as this.
Turel 's smile remained upon his lips, watching the woman speak, though she spoke very little. Trouble. How he loved it most of the time. Rolling his shoulders into another shrug, he bit into a piece of meat, letting the sagurine juices dribble from his mouth and down his chin, as he spoke now. "Trouble? What kind of trouble we will be getting into? One last question, what is your name?" Something he did not know, and something he wanted to know. Most of the time, Turel seemed to be such a reclusive sort of fellow, bi-polar at times, though it all seemed to disappear when he gor roped into this...Dark hell-hole of a place.
"Creature. I am creature." She said, not bothering to ask for his. Each breath, the chasm was calling her. She twitched. It was a familiar sort of call, one that made her unbelievably uncertain and, well, rather scared. But she had to do it. Didn't know why. The depths of the place was sliding up into her, testing her, making her want to climb screaming and never set foot near the place again. Emotions ranged before her face in a comical display, not at all related to the conversation at hand. She looked at the fruit she had unpacked, and hesitantly ate that too. Steadman had not packed enough meat for either to survive on it alone, that bastard. She swung a few gulps of water, and handed the water skin to Turel. Did vampires drink water? She'd find out. "Trouble. Maybe this creature and the flesh can fight it. Maybe not. Find out later."
Turel smiled somewhat. 'Creature' That was her name? Thinking to himself, a strange name to call one's self, and he noticed the twitch. Though, he thought it was kinda cold, and that he thought that was the case, being naked probably had that effect here. Next, he gratefully took the water she had handed him, and gulped it down, no flavour, though he didn't care for much truth be told. Handing the water back to Deilakrion, letting his eyes wander from place to place. Rocks. That was all he saw down here. He wouldn't mind flying right now, flying to unbelievable hieghts, right next to heavens door if he could. Fight. He lived for that single purpose, and his head slowly moves towards Deilakrion's direction, abrow lofted in the air somewhat. "Well...I am a decent fighter...If that counts for anything..." He'd mumble under his breath, loud enough for her to listen to. A breathless sigh moves past his parted lips, as he nods his head now. "Ready to continue down this hellhole?"
Deilakrion nodded to both statements, eyes assessing him with a practiced eye. She had a feeling things would get bloody. Her toes for one. Skin was already blistering despite hard callouses and thick skin. She was a forest-dweller, not some wall spider. She sighed, and jerked on the rope affixed to her harness. "Lots of caves." She gestured down below. "See anything, call out." She packed the carry-sack and secured it to her person. She hesitated as she neared the edge, and looked at Turel. "There is. . .something here." It was the best she could do, and she grimaced. Then she was climbing over, moving the slack rope to the side so it wouldn't snag on anything. It was going to be a long climb.
Turel too, nodded his head at the statements given to him. Leaning his head forward against the cool damp wall, he licked his lips, then his vampiric canines. This was gong to be a long day then. The last thing she said, sent a cold, tingling shiver down his spine, as if someone just walked over his own grave. "Always something...Somewhere..." He'd say, gripping tightly onto the rope yet again, any slackness left to hang at his side. This, indeed, was going to be a long day for the two of them.
The further down they climbed in the repressive silence, the darker it got. Deilakrion was beginning to become quite nervous before a soft glow started to emanate from the pock-marked walls. It was a difficult climb, weaving between the caves dotting the chasm's walls, but both vampire and lycan were fit and strong. She edged further down, and discovered veins of glowing stones dotting the rock. She grunted. They'd have to avoid the glowing stone, which was set into weaker rock, but at least they could see, though the way the lighting barely turned back the darkness turned up the hairs at the back of her neck. They continued downwards. Her muscles were protesting her repetitive movements, her legs longing to move as proper upright individuals should. Her wolf, suppressed beneath her skin, begged to be let loose and run. Run where? She took a moment to look downwards into the pearl-soft glow. Yeah, no. She gulped air, careful not to hyperventilate. The lower they got, the warmer it became, and the heavier the air was. She shifted, foothold to handhold, clinging like moss to the rock. She wondered to herself how Turel was faring above. They'd have to stop again, soon.
Further and further the pair climbed down the wall, the only sound heard was breathing, breathing as if the walls would collide with their very bodies, crushing each limb like dust. That was the feeling Turel had, as they passed several patches of light, glowing stones. A slight chuckle left his lips, as he thinks back to when he mined, and then, it started to race. Glowing stones...Set in rock...Weak...Turel started to panic, his breathing becoming raged and fast coming, as he clings to the wall like it was nothing more than a child holding onto its mother. As he shut's his lids, the feeling started to ebb away, but not completely. Looking down, beads of sweat alined his features, even several beads dropped, hitting piece of rock, or probably even Deilakrion herself. Though it made little or no use, as they continued to scale the wall, then he felt it. The strange warm feeling. Were they close? He thought, close to the bottom of this neverending climb. Thse were his thoughts, and could be his last.
Around the two, the faint half-light from the threads of glowing stones was cast beautifully over the craggy rock face. It extended side to side, and up and down, as if the two were trespassing into some wayward fairy's playground. The stone was not grey or black as might one surmise, but some off shade of pink, and blue, and green. . .perhaps it was the stones that caused this oddity, but it gave the area an ethereal quality. There was no warmth in the looks of the place, despite the thermal updrafts, and it even seemed to Deilakrion that the whole of it was unnatural. The odd caves had diminished some, until they could climb down nearly straight. The stone. . .she swore. It had gone from rough to smooth since she'd last paid attention, the knobs in the rock no longer painful to her toes, but a balming smoothness that almost felt good. She almost lost her resolve right there, but then her foot touched something she hadn't expected. A floor? Not the cave floor. "Maggot spawn." She breathed, stepping from the wall onto an ancient staircase that stretched downwards into oblivion. Cut from the very multi-hued stone they'd been climbing on, cultures of the glowing stone were growing on the outward side of the staircase, as if lighting the pathway down. She shivered, speechless. Hell had opened its bloody arms in welcome.
Up and away from the descent into darkness, the day had passed into night.
Turel continued his descent, sometimes looking downwards, upwards, side-to-side. The glowing stones were amazing to gaze upon. Licking his dry lips, he continued downwards, waiting for the feel of ground beneath his feet, the jagged rocks were already cutting into the soft leather boots he wore on his feet, after clearing his throat, he heard that familair voice. "Maggot spawn?" He said, confusion evident in his voice. And as he followed her with his eyes and ears, sometimes thankful he was indeed vampiric for giving these senses, he noticed she had stepped away from the rock face, and appeared to be walking upon a staircase. As he reached the bottom, he pushed off himself, feet touching the ground! At long last, the hellish climb down was harder, though the climb up later, would be even harder. Slowly, he followed Deilakrion, wiping his forehead with the palm of his hands, and slowly he'd pant. "Where to?"
Deilakrion looked at Turel. His face was likely as her own: dirty, dusty, sweaty. . .but she couldn't tell in the surreal twilight. He looked as a carved, winged god, and that was something that turned her stomach. She shivered again. Looked at him. Looked at the staircase. "I--" She had flattened herself against the rock face. "What is this?" She hissed, not bothering to gesture to the staircase.
Turel didn't need a second invite, the halying in her first word was enough. His right hand slipped towards the jewel encrusted hilt of his katana, as the swirling black mass went on a rampage, twisting and turning around his left arm crazily, as if possessed by some wicked demon. Turel's eyes looked back toward Deilakrion, before he too, found himself up against he rock face. "What is what?" The words left his lips in a whispered fashion, as he slowly, edged that little more forward, partly unsheathing the weapon, its cold silver blade shimmering slightly from the dense lighting conditions.
Deilakrion barked a laugh, the sound almost a giggle. She was close to losing what remained of her nerve. "That. . .stairs?" That they had been made by a civilized hand, there was no mistaking. That they appeared to be cared for was a detail that was in part what was keeping Deilakrion so jumpy. Then, she took a visible effort to calm herself, and without waiting for a reply she spoke again: "What is the flesh's name?"
Turel re-sheathed his weapon, and allowed a small chuckle to rise from the back of his throat. "Aye..I think it is stairs.." He says, as his feet carry him forward, aiming for these 'stairs'. Slowly, he turns his head to face Deilakrion, and a nod was sent her way. "The names Turel...The fallen one." The words left on a breathless sigh, as he continued to timidly take several steps closer toward the staircase, though his hand remained upon the hilt of his chosen weapon.
"Turel." It would likely be the only time the creature spoke his real name. "Brave hunter." It was a compliment to his own relative calm in such a situation, and a name that she would call him by. She edged after him, and then her eyes rounded. "Chaos." She hissed, the first lax tendrils of choas' magic consciously felt. She cursed fluidly and jerked to the wall. Chaos was what hounded the Eldritch Cabal, the Chaos Lords having taken heavy penalties for the creation of the Cabal's HQ. She had felt its touch, the touch of a Chaos Lord, in the Labyrinth. It was all she could do to not turn into a pile of gibbering uselessness. "Back!" She cried, crouching, and cowered into herself. Without seeing if Turel had taken her warning, she turned her face away as a blast of hot air growled up the chasm, passing the staircase in a roar of wind. She'd spoken the name of what prowled in this dark place, and it had acknowledged her. They were in shit now, if they hadn't been before.
Turel smiled at her words, 'brave hunter'. Nodding his head toward Deilakrion, then another word caught his attention, 'chaos'. Her sudden jerking toward the wall made him spin on his heel, the magic was not felt by him, as he was one of the few anti-mages that walked the lands of Hollow. Quickly, his feet carried him toward Deilakrion, his weapon fully unsheathed from its leather housing, the katana clipping against a silver ring around the sheath itself, as his eyes narrowed as the blast of hot air was shot up from the chasm, and now, his eyes widened. "What the..." Was he could say, as Deilakrion crouched and cowered into the wall, or rather herself. He turned to face the woman, as he too, took to a croching position. "Creature...What is this...This place? What is choas?" Too many questions shifted in and around his head, as he started to feel that unknown presence.
Deilakrion whimpered. "Trouble." She whispered. She was fighting hard not to lose herself to the fear that threatened to swallow her. "Bad." Another tiny word. Abruptly, as the air-flow ceased, Deilakrion lurched to her feet and moved a few steps away from Turel. There was a ledge that extended quite a ways back, and it was along this ledge that Deilakrion relieved herself. Once finished, she was calmer, and approached Turel. "It seeks to destroy all order. This creature's pack fights it." The faint touch of it had vanished from her awareness. A weapon? She knew of the weapons from overheard snatches of conversation from Tenebrae. Had attempted to help find one, a few years back. Was that what had drawn her here? She was afraid. She had to get word of this back, but did she dare scout further? She was the Cabal's tracker, after all. She -could- track down the faint traces of Chaos, with Turel's help. She didn't want to make the decision. "Keep going? Go back? This creature will have to tell the pack." Her face was pale in the soft rockglow.
Turel heard the whimpered words, both of them in fact. His grip upon the own weapon tightened, he didn't have no clue what was going on, what could happen to the two. She spoke again, talk about fighting it. This was when Turel turned round to face Deilakrion, once she had relieved herself that is. "You fight this...This madness?" Slowly, his arm came upwards towards the back of his head, as he straches slightly. Turel didn't notice that it possibly had left the area, as he looks downwards, before letting his eyes meet yellow-tinted grey once more. "Go back...Or keep on going..." He said to himself, drawn to these 'Choas' lords'. He swallowed what seemed to be that ball of fate, one he had swallowed many a time before. "If we stay, how long till we get back up to the surface, to tell your pack of this?"
Deilakrion shrugged miserably. She wasn't so good at fighting it any more, likely better at running from it. The thought, surfaced from her traitorous mind, made her spine straighten. "Soon enough." Inch by inch she made her muscles unlock. She stood, and took a very deep breath. "Eat now." It had been quite a few hours since their last meal, and who knew when they'd get another chance? She took off her pack and sat again with her back to the wall. She took out another portion of meat and fruit, as well as the water skin they'd drunk from the first meal break they'd had. Resolutely she took big bites, forcing herself to swallow despite a queasy stomach.
Turel nods his head at her answer, and slowly, he inches away from Deilakrion and moves to where she once relieved herself. Zipping down his pants, the 'Ahhhhhhhhhh' finally escapes his lips. That was something he needed. Zipping back up, he makes his way back toward the woman, and sat down. "Yes....Eating sounds good right about now." He offered Deilakrion a small smile, as he plucked up one of the fruits, taking small mouthful's, though his katana still remained in his hand. Licking his lips, he'd take one more piece of fruit, as he ate silently. His stomach was doing somersaults, this was his first encounter with these unknown things, and he hoped silently they would be his last. In a strange world, not knowing too many people, who knows what turns around each and every corner.
Deilakrion ate about as much as she could without desiring to heave it back up from anxiety, and she finished it with several swigs from the water skin. It would be set near to Turel, so the man could take a drink when he desired. "There'll be blood." She said quietly, into the aching silence of the chasm. "Before this is ended." She gave an uneasy glance towards Turel, almost as if she was ashamed of saying it. She'd known it, in a premonition sort of way, before they'd started down. Now was as good a time as any to tell him. She took out her own slim stillettos and tested the edges with apparent satisfaction. Once out, she wouldn't put them back unless she needed her hands for another task, but for now she laid them carefully across her lap. "This creature will guard the brave hunter's back." That was an oath and promise, all in one, as she stared down the staircase and into mortality.
Turel 's eyes darted from one place to the next, every sound made within the confines of this place and his eyes were there. Even the placement of the water skin made him jump an inch or two, as he gladly took it. "Thank you..." He breathed, taking it and bringing it upwards toward his lips, were several swigs were indeed taken, before handing it back to Deilakrion. "Blood...Is everywhere, Creature...." This is what he had said to the first comment, as his gaze shifted towards the woman. "Will it end?" His usually cold sapphire eyes float back towards the staircase, before his head dropped. He didn't take note of the stilletto's, his mind already buzzed with so much infomation. Once he heard her words, he smiled some. "Thank you. This hunter, shall have the Creature's back also." He states, streching out wih his left hand, as the once swirling mass of black seems to create a ball like object; then his hand cletches as it remains back to its swirling state. "Can these...Things be killed?"
Deilakrion took the proffered skin, and packed it and the rest into her pack. She then stood, stillettos in one hand, and deftly secured her pack. Her toes and balls of her feet were stinging in raw misery, but she ignored it for the now. She was good at ignoring pain. At his first question, she'd remained silent. She had no way of knowing if Chaos could be stopped, or even what would happen if they did. She wasn't one to ponder philosophy: when there was a task, she did it. At the second question, something along the lines of what she -did- for the Cabal, she had a better idea. "The Chaos Lords can be. . .stopped." She wasn't really sure if any had been killed. She did know their hold was capable of being lessened. "No Lord down here." If there was one, the Lord would already have begun fucking with their minds. "Chaos, though." The after thought. The stillettos gleamed in the half-light of the stones. Deilakrion looked like some psychotic lunatic out for a binge of mayhem. Maybe, before the night was through, that'd be true. She turned, and eased down the first step. Then the second. She moved with her back to the wall so she could easily see left, right, and forward.
Turel stood up, and wiped any crumbs or bits of rubble that found their way on his being. Tilting his head to one side, cracking his neck a little, the vampiric avian strides forward, matching Deilakrion's stride. When the first of his questions were answered, he'd wipe his forehead, the beads of sweat had remained there. "Well. At least they -can- be stopped." He said half-heartedly, and has she spoke up once more, the mere mention of one being here sent a single cold shiver shooting down his spine. He continued to walk behind the woman, katana held even more tightly in his hand, before he slowly sheathed his weapon; Shattered Dream would have to do now. "Choas? As in...One of them? Or magic?" Turel followed the woman, as she started to move with her back up against the wall. He too, did this, hugging the wall as his eyes remained focused behind the. No-one likes any one being sneaky, and Turel was always on guard. This place, this hellhole, certainly creeped him out.
The staircase was long. The heat and nervousness both conspired to make Deilakrion really sweat, and a few times she wiped her brow with the back of a gloved hand, occasionally looking back to make sure Turel hadn't turned back or been grabbed out of the dark. The ghostly light of the stones plunged down the staircase, down into darkness. They hadn't finished their descent, though the matter of how one climbed had changed. Her thighs and calves were burning, her toes and the balls of her feet aching with punctual stabs of pain every time she set a foot down. Yet, for every step they took she was mentally preparing herself for, well, anything. Yet, when 'anything' confronted her in the form of a giant, carved statue of . . .something, she didn't quite know what to do. So she stopped, and stared at it for a few seconds, and then looked at Turel. The thing had been carved out of the side of the staircase nearest to the chasm, and rose up to arch over the stairway. It was vaguely humanoid, with clubbed, three fingered hands. Its feet were gripping the edge of the staircase, two-toed with round ends and, if one leaned, a vicious looking dewclaw was on the side opposite. Its eyes were bulged out and blank in the way of statues, and its mouth. . .Deilakrion swallowed. The gaping hole that could be considered a mouth was rimmed with teeth. Lots of teeth. It protruded from the face slightly, and a long. . .tongue? A tongue, was protruding from the mouth. The statue was curved downward on the wall, one hand upon the wall, and the head lowered towards the staircase. The tip of the razored tongue was near enough that Deilakrion could touch it were she to rise on tiptoe. She had no intention of touching it. She stared.
Turel kept his eyes behind him, making sure not a thing was following the unlikely duo made their down the stairs, each one more fatiguing than the last. Turel didn't show fear normally, though his eyes, they were what most could tell from him. The ghostly light had caught his attention however, and for that single second, he followed it as it disappeared into the darkness of the cavern. Licking his already dry lips, the two continued down the staircase. The only pain Turel felt was in his feet for the most part, the climb down was the worst for it. Turel didn't prepare himself, always a last minute man, always was and always will be, and Turel suddenly found himself almost tripping over Deilakrion, whom had remained silently standing there. As his eyes trail upward, he had to take a step back. The 'thing' that was in front of them was too real, teeth, razor sharp tongue, the three fingered hands, its bulging eyes. Everything seemed so....Real...And yet, not real. Turel simply remained there, behind Deilakrion, staring at the stone, if it were made from stone like figure. Slowly, his right hand shifted to his hilt, ready, waiting for it to move, even his left hand moved toward the harness that encased his wings. Turel, was slowly preparing himself for the unexpected, preparing himself to give flight, for him and Deilakrion's sake.
Deilakrion rotated her stillettos in her hands. "Ah." It was a small sound. "May be. . .that's what's here." Could the architects of the solid stone stairway look like that? She didn't know. With Turel uncomfortably close, she edged down the stairs, and under the statue. She too thought it looked entirely too realistic, and had no intention of letting it decide to suddenly be alive without her being ready for it. Still, she passed under it without mishap and they were able to continue on. As they descended, Deilakrion's breathing grew heavier. They'd been moving for the majority of the day, and nearly all night, and it was starting to show. Her muscles were spasming too. Another statue came into focus up ahead, gently lit by the ghostly light of the stones. She stopped and turned to look back at Turel. "I need rest." She looked uneasily towards the twisted, grotesque statue further down, and looked back. "One keeps guard while the other sleeps. Does the brave hunter want first watch or second?"
Turel watched, in amazment if anything, as Deilakrion walked past the huge stoney humaniod, and he too followed suit, though his hand still remained 'pon the hilt of his katana. His eyes were everywhere now, every direction known to man, his eyes darted there every couple of seconds. He was already starting to lose his cool. His ears perked in his strange behaviour, the heavy breathing growing and growing. He too, was tired, just one to never show how exhausted he was. Something caught his attention, up ahead, the gentle ghostly lights, sending yet another shiver up his spine. "I need rest." The words she had spoke finally registered, as he shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of the image of these stone-like men. Nodding his head, he listened to her speak, though his eyes wasn't trained upon her, just the figures in the distance. "You get rest. Sounds like you need it more than I."
Deilakrion gestured to the pack Turel held. Despite her ability to sleep nigh anywhere, she doubted she'd be able to take five whilst on stairs without some cushion.
Turel handed over the pack that Deilakrion had gestured to. The shoulder in which it was carried on was hurting, but it was a pain he could bear, for now. Slowly, he remained poised, standing like some gaurdian angel, waiting for that exact moment that the duo would be attacked, if they were going to.
Deilakrion dropped her own pack near to Turel, and burrowed through the pack to find the hammocks. Made out of stout. . .silk? Deilakrion was too tired to tell. It was thick and sturdy, made to withstand the weight of an individual. She bunched it on the ground and curled up on it, still gripping the stillettos. The air was too warm down here for her to wrap herself in it, and she went to sleep without much effort: she'd learned how to take sleep when she could a long time ago.
Serious today. Steadman served her up a platter of meat before she asked, but she shoved it away. It was dirty; Steadman's retribution for her ever so bad table manners. She shot him a glare, but his back had turned away. She tapped her fingers over the bartop, and for once did not leave greasy smudges. No. She was prepared for something, and she stared morosely at the countertop in sullen consideration. She needed to fly, and soon. She could ill afford a sustained trip, but the frown marring her features spoke of a decision made. She stood up.
Deilakrion cursed again, the inventive inflection in her tone marred only by her wrinkled nose. Clan members. She hadn't been there for it, and she could -smell- the warring emotions lingering just underneath the mop's musk. She drew a hand over her features, nearly surprised to find sweat upon the expanse of her skin. "Maggoty. . ." her invective remained unfinished, and she passed around and behind the bar to rummage underneath for a few seconds. She lifted with a light loop of leather and a small bag tucked there, and arraged it around her hips with easy deftness. "You--" Steadman, acquainted with that tone of voice, turned with a flat stare, "Get the food." He moved without blinking, and Deilakrion bent again to lift two loops of rope, which she secured about herself in a sort of harness. She was shivering as she did so, flinching from the rough touch upon her skin.
Next, two stillettos. She fastened those into the rig, wiping her forehead with a mumbled phrase surely meant to shore up her bravado. She hated the touch of anything clinging to her skin, strangling her, weighing her down; sliding under and -- "No." She whispered it, and shook her mind from its wavering path. Rivulets were forming: never a good sign. She brushed her fingers over dampened skin, and resolved to get over it. Steadman returned, eyeing her with a sort of apprehension, and she scowled at him. She rotated her shoulders to ease up the tension that had creeped up on her, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Steadman held out a pack, and she snatched it from him. Then he hefted another pack, and she stared at it. He smiled at her wryly. "You owe me." They stared at each other for a long time, and then she took it with a short nod. She'd clean up her own mess, next time.
Deilakrion stood by the bar, heavily burdened and still as Steadman made his rounds about the sour drunks leftover from the nigh previous. Otherwise the bar was empty and clean, bristling with old, lingering emotions. And blood. She shook herself again. Since the last time she'd seen Audrielle and Talisia, she hadn't seen them. She'd gotten the food, and then had stepped out, and then the two women had vanished. A few days of other errands, and the gold she had spent was wasted. She had precious little gold. Steadman had acquired a few things, though, and she poked through the second bag. She was well pleased with the man's efficiency; maybe that was why she had to keep the tavern dirty for him. She turned, and looked once more over the Tavern--she was going to be gone for a bit of time. She wished the two women were around, as she didn't particularly wish to go alone.
Turel enters the tavern, at a slow pace, the look of tiredness clearly etched into the features of the vampiric avian. Running a hand through platinum locks, Turel's eyes land 'pon the woman, whom was searching through several bags at the time; though he paid little attention as he always did. Calculating footsteps take Turel towards the message board, index finger 'pon his right hand quickly skimming over the new additions, and of course, a slight chuckle followed after reading about the death. Turning on his heel, cold sapphire eyes land on the woman yet again, brow raised as he soaked up her appearance; she looked a little dirty, too dirty, but he didn't mind. He now moved towards the bar, settling his frame into a free seat, as the sound of a relaxed sigh moves past his parted, and cracked dry lips.
Drops of sweat stood out on Deilakrion's forehead, while streaks of it fled down her arms, chest and back. She held a bag in either hand, and the shakes that trembled her limbs were slowly diminishing at the wave of fresh air that circulated around the tavern. The lycanthrope that had turned her into something else had been swallowed, and roved somewhere beneath her skin in the quick, feral movements of her eyes. Steadman moved to serve the man who'd entered with that gust of fresh air, but Deilakrion had dropped her packs and was there first with the eerie quickness of nervousness. "Pay you for a service." She was invading his personal space as she leaned close, hovering with the full intent to pull back the moment any portion of him got too near.
Turel quickly glanced at he menu, shaking his head slightly. "Just a water..." He'd say towards the patch wearing Steadman, as his hand burrows deep within his pocket, as he retrieves the several copper coins needed. The sound of packs being dropped made Turel spin in his seat, his face mere inches away from this woman, whom he did not know, and yet, she had asked him a question. Clearing his throat somewhat, he'd stratch his bare chest, before shrugging his shoulders. "Whatcha need, woman?" The words left his lips quite quickly, as he moved to face the bar, fingers grasping around the cold glass of water he had just ordered moments ago. Again, the smell; sweat, blood, body oder, all hit him in one foul swoop, and it seemed to emit from this....rather strange woman.
Deilakrion flicked sweaty, tangled hair from her face, but did not retreat. "Carry." She pointed back towards the packs. "Help climb down the rent in the ground." This time she was pointing somewhere to the east. Her pupils had dilated, leaving the mass of yellow-tinted grey iris to gleam in the bright candlelight. Her eyes were far too huge, and adrenaline spiked through her shallow aura. Rope had been fastened about her nude form in a sort of harness, in which two stillettos had been rigged. Abruptly, before he could respond, she had walked briskly around the bar and disappeared behind it, lifting with another oddly jointed coil of metal-twined rope, which she dropped on the bartop near to Turel.
Turel blinked several times, the word 'carry' reverberating around his head, and yet, he sighed a little as he downed the glass of water, placing the now empty glass on the bar. "Carry, those, down into the ground?" The naked woman, made no sense to him, her lack of speech, and probably interlect proved otherwise. He eyed the harness strapped to her naked body, before cold sapphire met yellow-tinted grey. The coli of rope that was dropped in front of him, smashing the glass he has just emptied into small tiny shards. Shaking his head, he'd move to take the rope in his grasp, before moving to his feet. He had only one question. "Why do you need to go into the ground?"
Deilakrion didn't know him. "I'm cursed." She said, opening the purse of coins and flipping a few heavy ones his way. He could abandon her, stab her in the back, figure out some way to separate the strange metal-twined rope and send her hurtling to her death. He could rob her and leave her, or shove her down while she was sleeping. She didn't know him. She was placing her trust in him anyways, for the insistant pulse of the Chasm that drew her towards it one snarling step at a time. She was right to be sweating. She'd go with or without him, that was evidenced enough in her eyes, but a drop in the tension of her back was proof enough that she'd be glad for the company. She moved towards the dropped packs and picked up the one filled with food. The other, filled with other supplies, was left for Turel.
Turel cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his platinum hair as the gold coins was landed on his lap. Sighing slightly, the avian got to his feet, and moved toward the other pack, though he still had no clue what, or why he was doing this. "Cursed? Fair enough." That was all he said, hoping those few words lifted whatever tension was held within her.Bending down, he'd pick up the pack that was left laying on the ground, his wings tucking neatly behind him now. Though, the amount of sweat that was leaving her body, made him wonder somewhat. "Whats down this place anyways?" He'd ask, muscle's 'pon his right arm, the arm used to pick up tha pack, tensed as he stood up.
Deilakrion moved towards the door, mouth working as she considered the question. A larger body, kept to the background of the tavern, made itself known. Deilakrion faced Urghdak with wariness, but the half orc merely threw something dark and weighty at her. She caught it easily, and held it in her hands to discover a few pairs of solid, lightweight gloves. Handy for sheer expanses of stone. She did not question the gift; Urghdak only wanted her to come back so he could take pleasure in throwing her out of the tavern when she started a fight. She opened the door. "A chasm." There was power in names, and in naming the gigantic rip of the earth its presence was made known. "A secret." Then she was through the door.
Outside, the brisk morning air started to cool the sweat that glistened over Deilakrion's body. She breathed it deeply, and gradually her jittery mood inflamed by the contagion of old emotions in the Tavern lessened. She glanced behind once to see that Turel was yet following, and then she was striding off with a hurried pace that belied the simple task she'd asked the avian to accomplish.
Overlooking Gorge
Turel stopped for several moments, moments in which he had to catch his breath - this woman was moving much quicker than himself. "A chasm? A secret?" He asked, using his left arm, an appendage much stranger than anything. A black swirling mist was always there, as the avian took several more strides toward Deilakrion. "Now where?" He sucked in the cool crisp air, air that filled dead lungs, something he did no longer need; for air was for the living, was it not? The arm that was lofted earlier was used to dap at his forehead, several beads of sweat covering it.
Sheer, infinite and a sure death if one were to fall: the crack in the earth was only slightly intimidating. Mist hung about it from the early morning, loathe to disperse to the casual glance. A weighty presence hung about it, almost beckoning in its stillness. There was no sound rising from its depths, but between the wind and the mist the gash almost seemed to breathe. Deilakrion was blanching as they approached, and sweat broke out anew. There was fear in the lycan, and it rolled from her in waves. "Down." She didn't flinch from the edge as she approached, moving towards the Cenril bridge and the sure anchorage that would provide for their first handholds. "Climbed before?" She didn't discount the avian's wings, but neither did she trust the chasm to provide friendly to a flier. Birds did not nest in the sides, and that was proof enough to the woman that wings would be more of a hindrance than a help. She eyed Turel's wings dubiously as she waited for reply.
Turel inched closer to where Deilakrion was standing, at the foot of the chasm. He was slightly intimidated by the crack, noting that the mist was more intimidating than the crack itself. Turel looked to Deilakrion now, kneeling down on all fours, as he looked over; sapphire hues glimming. "No...I always use my wings...But...This won't be the case today." Slowly rising to his feet, Turel placed the pack onto the ground, and pulled out of his pocket a simple harness of his own - one that he would no doubt need, though it wasn't for climbing, this was for the protection of his most possessed thing; his wings. Stapping it to his chest, then his back, the leather harness seemed to hold his wings in place, and now he tighted the leather straps to his back, holding everything in place. "Okay, lead the way."
Deilakrion tossed Turel a one-fits-all pair of gloves that would do much to protect even calloused skin from the arduous contact to both rock and rope. She was playing the thing by ear, being used to crawling like a monkey down lesser holes. Without warning she delved into the pack he carried, careful not to brush him, and pulled out a few heavy-duty spikes that would serve should handholds become scarce. She handed him two. Then she gestured to the rope she'd given him in the tavern: "Put that on." Another length she'd had coiled about her was lifted. The fear was likely to be smelled by the vampire, though she apparently cared little enough to dampen it from her own sensitive nose. Vampire and lycan, working together. Too bad it wouldn't make any children's night-time stories. "This creature goes first." And then she held the coil of rope like it was a curse, one end flipped towards Turel and one kept to herself. She tied it securely to her own harness, knowing well enough that both had the strength to support the other should one fall. But did the rock face? That was the question that kept her sweating. She stood on the edge, waiting for Turel.
Turel slipped on the gloves that he was just given, clentching his hands into fists, making sure they were a good fit; and they were. Watching Deilakrion delve into the pack he had just dropped, and took the two spikes also; though he had a faint clue what they were for. The rope was handed to him next, as he treaded it though the harness he wore, making sure it was securely fastened. Fear. It riddled from his own body, about to venture into the unknown, a place he loathed most of the time, but today, he had to swallow that down. "You go, I'll support." Words were uttered quickly, as his right foot moved in front of his left, making sure he would not slip under Deilakrion's weight. The piece of flipping rope was handed to him, as he gripped tightly onto it, as he slowly walked back towards the ledge of the chasm. "Ladies first." He gestered toward the chasm now, a rather nervous look plastered upon his features.
Deilakrion tried not to let the echoing fear drive her into bristling with an automatic last-ditch-fight response and put on her own gloves, tucking the spikes into her harness, before slipping down to put herself over. The first toe hold was easy, as was the second. She realized that before the end of this her feet would be bruised and bleeding, but dismissed the thought with a concentrated burst of energy. Next was a handhold, and then another. The rockface was strong and steady, holding without crumbling or cracking. For now. She knew this area was secure, as otherwise the bridge would not have been built where it was. Further down, that might not be the case. "Tie that to you before coming over." She told him, before her own head disappeared from his view. She was grateful for Steadman's timely assistance with the packs, for the precious supplies contained within --such as hammocks to wrap around and sleep in -- would be well worth their weight before the trip was over. Then she was moving down with an easy grace, as she had climbed bareback many times before. Just. . .not quite on this grand scale. She gripped a steady piece of rock when the rope's slack lessened, looking up to know when Turel made his own way over and down. "This creature hopes the flesh can fight." She muttered to herself in uneasy foreboding.
Turel watched Deilakrion move towards the rock face, as he slowly tightened his hold on the rope in hand. And then, in a blink of an eye, the woman had slipped over the rockface, and was gone from his view. As the rope nimbly went past his hands ever so often, he grip would loosen and tighten, this of course making sure Deilakrion had enough to climb down with. He heard the faint voice, as he slowly nodded his head to himself, a soft billow of wind causing his hair to sway around his head and face, as he sighed to himself. Moving toward a good place he could anchor his own rope. "Coming now..." He shouted, as his feet moved toward the sheer longitude of the rock face. Looking over, he'd sigh to himself. he was getting too old for this. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, Turel carefully turned round, and was gone. The first footing proved difficult for him, his foot bumping and sliding over small indegious pieces before finding it, the second was again easy enough. Now, Turel was starting to get the hang of this. Slowly, he made his way down, and more often than not, his bare arms would connect with loose granite, causing several small strikes along his flesh.
So they climbed. The sun tracked their time ahead, and below the darkness was rising up to greet them. Minutes and hours passed slowly for Deilakrion. The gloves on her hands, the rope and pack on her skin: it was conspiring to drive her from her wits. She was, in the end, afraid of nearly anything upon her skin (but for the random belt, which was acknowledged as not so bad), masking it often with annoyance and anger. It rubbed against her, chafed her, until she wanted to just let go of the rock face and tear it off. Rip it to shreds, and set it on fire until only a pile of sorry ash remained. She kept going. Turel above her kept going with nary a whisper of complaint, and for that alone the creature was grateful. The time for lunch had come and gone, but without a solid enough patch of rock, Deilakrion wasn't going to risk dropping anything. Then they passed into the darker part, unseen from above, and the pocky rock turned into caves of varying depth. Her skin prickled. Fear slammed into her from somewhere, and she choked on it before clamping down with the iron self control it had taken her years to gain. She gritted her teeth. "Food break." She called above, wincing as her voice echoed. She trusted this place not, and edged down and over to slip into the shallow cave without putting all of her weight upon the rope attached to Turel. Quickly within she unpacked a first small ration of dried meat and fruit, as well as a single water skin to be passed between them. Her eyes had adjusted well to the growing darkness, but she feared herself unable to see in the depths they would eventually pass through.
Turel continued his descent into the unknown, a little higher up than Deilakrion herself. Clearing his throat a little, looking down toward the abyss that awaited the pair, moaning to himself also, several more scraches appeared on his skin, some deep, some not, each drop of vitae not making a single echo as it reached the bottom, if it did reach the bottom that is. Turel could sense the growing fear within Deilakrion, and truth be told he was scared that little bit. At this moment, he wanted nothing more but to let his wings take control, each one itching to be released from the leather prison they were bound to, and Turel just shook his head to himself as he continued downwards. The voice he heard, echoed around him, as he shouts back. "Okay." Before reaching Deilakrion's place of 'comfort' he had slipped a little, causing several loud curses to pass his lips. As he got there, his arms battred slightly, he gladly accepted whatever was thrown his way, for he too was a hungry one, and blood, in which he needed, would have to wait till they surfaced.
Deilakrion watched Turel as he ate. It dawned upon her what those fangs were for, and the odd musk that hung about him. Vampire smell. "When did the flesh last feed?" Her tone dismissed the food he was holding, or any food other than the blood vampires would need to survive. She'd send him up and continue alone if she so much as tasted bloodlust on the breath he kept mimicring the need for.
Turel shook his head as he ate, followed by a simple shrug of his shoulders. "It bothers me little...Though I have only been given this gift...For a second time now...But I have some bloodwine around, that shall do, for now." He'd offer Deilakrion a small smile for now, as he ate. "You have the lingering smell on being a Lycan, that is one thing I never thought I'd see, both a vampiric avian, and a lycan working together. Ironic no?"
Deilakrion shrugged, tearing through a piece of meat with ease. "Fleshes." She grunted. Truth was, the woman didn't have her cursed brethren's disdain for vamps, likely due to the fact that her closest kin had been vamps long before she'd been bitten by a lycan. Just a very healthy wariness and unease about the strange ones she didn't know. She eyed Turel. Dismissed the thought. Kept eating. "Likely trouble below." It was an afterthought, a slim stab at friendliness. She was not the friendly type, never had been, but even one such as she needed more comfort than food could provide in a hellhole such as this.
Turel 's smile remained upon his lips, watching the woman speak, though she spoke very little. Trouble. How he loved it most of the time. Rolling his shoulders into another shrug, he bit into a piece of meat, letting the sagurine juices dribble from his mouth and down his chin, as he spoke now. "Trouble? What kind of trouble we will be getting into? One last question, what is your name?" Something he did not know, and something he wanted to know. Most of the time, Turel seemed to be such a reclusive sort of fellow, bi-polar at times, though it all seemed to disappear when he gor roped into this...Dark hell-hole of a place.
"Creature. I am creature." She said, not bothering to ask for his. Each breath, the chasm was calling her. She twitched. It was a familiar sort of call, one that made her unbelievably uncertain and, well, rather scared. But she had to do it. Didn't know why. The depths of the place was sliding up into her, testing her, making her want to climb screaming and never set foot near the place again. Emotions ranged before her face in a comical display, not at all related to the conversation at hand. She looked at the fruit she had unpacked, and hesitantly ate that too. Steadman had not packed enough meat for either to survive on it alone, that bastard. She swung a few gulps of water, and handed the water skin to Turel. Did vampires drink water? She'd find out. "Trouble. Maybe this creature and the flesh can fight it. Maybe not. Find out later."
Turel smiled somewhat. 'Creature' That was her name? Thinking to himself, a strange name to call one's self, and he noticed the twitch. Though, he thought it was kinda cold, and that he thought that was the case, being naked probably had that effect here. Next, he gratefully took the water she had handed him, and gulped it down, no flavour, though he didn't care for much truth be told. Handing the water back to Deilakrion, letting his eyes wander from place to place. Rocks. That was all he saw down here. He wouldn't mind flying right now, flying to unbelievable hieghts, right next to heavens door if he could. Fight. He lived for that single purpose, and his head slowly moves towards Deilakrion's direction, abrow lofted in the air somewhat. "Well...I am a decent fighter...If that counts for anything..." He'd mumble under his breath, loud enough for her to listen to. A breathless sigh moves past his parted lips, as he nods his head now. "Ready to continue down this hellhole?"
Deilakrion nodded to both statements, eyes assessing him with a practiced eye. She had a feeling things would get bloody. Her toes for one. Skin was already blistering despite hard callouses and thick skin. She was a forest-dweller, not some wall spider. She sighed, and jerked on the rope affixed to her harness. "Lots of caves." She gestured down below. "See anything, call out." She packed the carry-sack and secured it to her person. She hesitated as she neared the edge, and looked at Turel. "There is. . .something here." It was the best she could do, and she grimaced. Then she was climbing over, moving the slack rope to the side so it wouldn't snag on anything. It was going to be a long climb.
Turel too, nodded his head at the statements given to him. Leaning his head forward against the cool damp wall, he licked his lips, then his vampiric canines. This was gong to be a long day then. The last thing she said, sent a cold, tingling shiver down his spine, as if someone just walked over his own grave. "Always something...Somewhere..." He'd say, gripping tightly onto the rope yet again, any slackness left to hang at his side. This, indeed, was going to be a long day for the two of them.
The further down they climbed in the repressive silence, the darker it got. Deilakrion was beginning to become quite nervous before a soft glow started to emanate from the pock-marked walls. It was a difficult climb, weaving between the caves dotting the chasm's walls, but both vampire and lycan were fit and strong. She edged further down, and discovered veins of glowing stones dotting the rock. She grunted. They'd have to avoid the glowing stone, which was set into weaker rock, but at least they could see, though the way the lighting barely turned back the darkness turned up the hairs at the back of her neck. They continued downwards. Her muscles were protesting her repetitive movements, her legs longing to move as proper upright individuals should. Her wolf, suppressed beneath her skin, begged to be let loose and run. Run where? She took a moment to look downwards into the pearl-soft glow. Yeah, no. She gulped air, careful not to hyperventilate. The lower they got, the warmer it became, and the heavier the air was. She shifted, foothold to handhold, clinging like moss to the rock. She wondered to herself how Turel was faring above. They'd have to stop again, soon.
Further and further the pair climbed down the wall, the only sound heard was breathing, breathing as if the walls would collide with their very bodies, crushing each limb like dust. That was the feeling Turel had, as they passed several patches of light, glowing stones. A slight chuckle left his lips, as he thinks back to when he mined, and then, it started to race. Glowing stones...Set in rock...Weak...Turel started to panic, his breathing becoming raged and fast coming, as he clings to the wall like it was nothing more than a child holding onto its mother. As he shut's his lids, the feeling started to ebb away, but not completely. Looking down, beads of sweat alined his features, even several beads dropped, hitting piece of rock, or probably even Deilakrion herself. Though it made little or no use, as they continued to scale the wall, then he felt it. The strange warm feeling. Were they close? He thought, close to the bottom of this neverending climb. Thse were his thoughts, and could be his last.
Around the two, the faint half-light from the threads of glowing stones was cast beautifully over the craggy rock face. It extended side to side, and up and down, as if the two were trespassing into some wayward fairy's playground. The stone was not grey or black as might one surmise, but some off shade of pink, and blue, and green. . .perhaps it was the stones that caused this oddity, but it gave the area an ethereal quality. There was no warmth in the looks of the place, despite the thermal updrafts, and it even seemed to Deilakrion that the whole of it was unnatural. The odd caves had diminished some, until they could climb down nearly straight. The stone. . .she swore. It had gone from rough to smooth since she'd last paid attention, the knobs in the rock no longer painful to her toes, but a balming smoothness that almost felt good. She almost lost her resolve right there, but then her foot touched something she hadn't expected. A floor? Not the cave floor. "Maggot spawn." She breathed, stepping from the wall onto an ancient staircase that stretched downwards into oblivion. Cut from the very multi-hued stone they'd been climbing on, cultures of the glowing stone were growing on the outward side of the staircase, as if lighting the pathway down. She shivered, speechless. Hell had opened its bloody arms in welcome.
Up and away from the descent into darkness, the day had passed into night.
Turel continued his descent, sometimes looking downwards, upwards, side-to-side. The glowing stones were amazing to gaze upon. Licking his dry lips, he continued downwards, waiting for the feel of ground beneath his feet, the jagged rocks were already cutting into the soft leather boots he wore on his feet, after clearing his throat, he heard that familair voice. "Maggot spawn?" He said, confusion evident in his voice. And as he followed her with his eyes and ears, sometimes thankful he was indeed vampiric for giving these senses, he noticed she had stepped away from the rock face, and appeared to be walking upon a staircase. As he reached the bottom, he pushed off himself, feet touching the ground! At long last, the hellish climb down was harder, though the climb up later, would be even harder. Slowly, he followed Deilakrion, wiping his forehead with the palm of his hands, and slowly he'd pant. "Where to?"
Deilakrion looked at Turel. His face was likely as her own: dirty, dusty, sweaty. . .but she couldn't tell in the surreal twilight. He looked as a carved, winged god, and that was something that turned her stomach. She shivered again. Looked at him. Looked at the staircase. "I--" She had flattened herself against the rock face. "What is this?" She hissed, not bothering to gesture to the staircase.
Turel didn't need a second invite, the halying in her first word was enough. His right hand slipped towards the jewel encrusted hilt of his katana, as the swirling black mass went on a rampage, twisting and turning around his left arm crazily, as if possessed by some wicked demon. Turel's eyes looked back toward Deilakrion, before he too, found himself up against he rock face. "What is what?" The words left his lips in a whispered fashion, as he slowly, edged that little more forward, partly unsheathing the weapon, its cold silver blade shimmering slightly from the dense lighting conditions.
Deilakrion barked a laugh, the sound almost a giggle. She was close to losing what remained of her nerve. "That. . .stairs?" That they had been made by a civilized hand, there was no mistaking. That they appeared to be cared for was a detail that was in part what was keeping Deilakrion so jumpy. Then, she took a visible effort to calm herself, and without waiting for a reply she spoke again: "What is the flesh's name?"
Turel re-sheathed his weapon, and allowed a small chuckle to rise from the back of his throat. "Aye..I think it is stairs.." He says, as his feet carry him forward, aiming for these 'stairs'. Slowly, he turns his head to face Deilakrion, and a nod was sent her way. "The names Turel...The fallen one." The words left on a breathless sigh, as he continued to timidly take several steps closer toward the staircase, though his hand remained upon the hilt of his chosen weapon.
"Turel." It would likely be the only time the creature spoke his real name. "Brave hunter." It was a compliment to his own relative calm in such a situation, and a name that she would call him by. She edged after him, and then her eyes rounded. "Chaos." She hissed, the first lax tendrils of choas' magic consciously felt. She cursed fluidly and jerked to the wall. Chaos was what hounded the Eldritch Cabal, the Chaos Lords having taken heavy penalties for the creation of the Cabal's HQ. She had felt its touch, the touch of a Chaos Lord, in the Labyrinth. It was all she could do to not turn into a pile of gibbering uselessness. "Back!" She cried, crouching, and cowered into herself. Without seeing if Turel had taken her warning, she turned her face away as a blast of hot air growled up the chasm, passing the staircase in a roar of wind. She'd spoken the name of what prowled in this dark place, and it had acknowledged her. They were in shit now, if they hadn't been before.
Turel smiled at her words, 'brave hunter'. Nodding his head toward Deilakrion, then another word caught his attention, 'chaos'. Her sudden jerking toward the wall made him spin on his heel, the magic was not felt by him, as he was one of the few anti-mages that walked the lands of Hollow. Quickly, his feet carried him toward Deilakrion, his weapon fully unsheathed from its leather housing, the katana clipping against a silver ring around the sheath itself, as his eyes narrowed as the blast of hot air was shot up from the chasm, and now, his eyes widened. "What the..." Was he could say, as Deilakrion crouched and cowered into the wall, or rather herself. He turned to face the woman, as he too, took to a croching position. "Creature...What is this...This place? What is choas?" Too many questions shifted in and around his head, as he started to feel that unknown presence.
Deilakrion whimpered. "Trouble." She whispered. She was fighting hard not to lose herself to the fear that threatened to swallow her. "Bad." Another tiny word. Abruptly, as the air-flow ceased, Deilakrion lurched to her feet and moved a few steps away from Turel. There was a ledge that extended quite a ways back, and it was along this ledge that Deilakrion relieved herself. Once finished, she was calmer, and approached Turel. "It seeks to destroy all order. This creature's pack fights it." The faint touch of it had vanished from her awareness. A weapon? She knew of the weapons from overheard snatches of conversation from Tenebrae. Had attempted to help find one, a few years back. Was that what had drawn her here? She was afraid. She had to get word of this back, but did she dare scout further? She was the Cabal's tracker, after all. She -could- track down the faint traces of Chaos, with Turel's help. She didn't want to make the decision. "Keep going? Go back? This creature will have to tell the pack." Her face was pale in the soft rockglow.
Turel heard the whimpered words, both of them in fact. His grip upon the own weapon tightened, he didn't have no clue what was going on, what could happen to the two. She spoke again, talk about fighting it. This was when Turel turned round to face Deilakrion, once she had relieved herself that is. "You fight this...This madness?" Slowly, his arm came upwards towards the back of his head, as he straches slightly. Turel didn't notice that it possibly had left the area, as he looks downwards, before letting his eyes meet yellow-tinted grey once more. "Go back...Or keep on going..." He said to himself, drawn to these 'Choas' lords'. He swallowed what seemed to be that ball of fate, one he had swallowed many a time before. "If we stay, how long till we get back up to the surface, to tell your pack of this?"
Deilakrion shrugged miserably. She wasn't so good at fighting it any more, likely better at running from it. The thought, surfaced from her traitorous mind, made her spine straighten. "Soon enough." Inch by inch she made her muscles unlock. She stood, and took a very deep breath. "Eat now." It had been quite a few hours since their last meal, and who knew when they'd get another chance? She took off her pack and sat again with her back to the wall. She took out another portion of meat and fruit, as well as the water skin they'd drunk from the first meal break they'd had. Resolutely she took big bites, forcing herself to swallow despite a queasy stomach.
Turel nods his head at her answer, and slowly, he inches away from Deilakrion and moves to where she once relieved herself. Zipping down his pants, the 'Ahhhhhhhhhh' finally escapes his lips. That was something he needed. Zipping back up, he makes his way back toward the woman, and sat down. "Yes....Eating sounds good right about now." He offered Deilakrion a small smile, as he plucked up one of the fruits, taking small mouthful's, though his katana still remained in his hand. Licking his lips, he'd take one more piece of fruit, as he ate silently. His stomach was doing somersaults, this was his first encounter with these unknown things, and he hoped silently they would be his last. In a strange world, not knowing too many people, who knows what turns around each and every corner.
Deilakrion ate about as much as she could without desiring to heave it back up from anxiety, and she finished it with several swigs from the water skin. It would be set near to Turel, so the man could take a drink when he desired. "There'll be blood." She said quietly, into the aching silence of the chasm. "Before this is ended." She gave an uneasy glance towards Turel, almost as if she was ashamed of saying it. She'd known it, in a premonition sort of way, before they'd started down. Now was as good a time as any to tell him. She took out her own slim stillettos and tested the edges with apparent satisfaction. Once out, she wouldn't put them back unless she needed her hands for another task, but for now she laid them carefully across her lap. "This creature will guard the brave hunter's back." That was an oath and promise, all in one, as she stared down the staircase and into mortality.
Turel 's eyes darted from one place to the next, every sound made within the confines of this place and his eyes were there. Even the placement of the water skin made him jump an inch or two, as he gladly took it. "Thank you..." He breathed, taking it and bringing it upwards toward his lips, were several swigs were indeed taken, before handing it back to Deilakrion. "Blood...Is everywhere, Creature...." This is what he had said to the first comment, as his gaze shifted towards the woman. "Will it end?" His usually cold sapphire eyes float back towards the staircase, before his head dropped. He didn't take note of the stilletto's, his mind already buzzed with so much infomation. Once he heard her words, he smiled some. "Thank you. This hunter, shall have the Creature's back also." He states, streching out wih his left hand, as the once swirling mass of black seems to create a ball like object; then his hand cletches as it remains back to its swirling state. "Can these...Things be killed?"
Deilakrion took the proffered skin, and packed it and the rest into her pack. She then stood, stillettos in one hand, and deftly secured her pack. Her toes and balls of her feet were stinging in raw misery, but she ignored it for the now. She was good at ignoring pain. At his first question, she'd remained silent. She had no way of knowing if Chaos could be stopped, or even what would happen if they did. She wasn't one to ponder philosophy: when there was a task, she did it. At the second question, something along the lines of what she -did- for the Cabal, she had a better idea. "The Chaos Lords can be. . .stopped." She wasn't really sure if any had been killed. She did know their hold was capable of being lessened. "No Lord down here." If there was one, the Lord would already have begun fucking with their minds. "Chaos, though." The after thought. The stillettos gleamed in the half-light of the stones. Deilakrion looked like some psychotic lunatic out for a binge of mayhem. Maybe, before the night was through, that'd be true. She turned, and eased down the first step. Then the second. She moved with her back to the wall so she could easily see left, right, and forward.
Turel stood up, and wiped any crumbs or bits of rubble that found their way on his being. Tilting his head to one side, cracking his neck a little, the vampiric avian strides forward, matching Deilakrion's stride. When the first of his questions were answered, he'd wipe his forehead, the beads of sweat had remained there. "Well. At least they -can- be stopped." He said half-heartedly, and has she spoke up once more, the mere mention of one being here sent a single cold shiver shooting down his spine. He continued to walk behind the woman, katana held even more tightly in his hand, before he slowly sheathed his weapon; Shattered Dream would have to do now. "Choas? As in...One of them? Or magic?" Turel followed the woman, as she started to move with her back up against the wall. He too, did this, hugging the wall as his eyes remained focused behind the. No-one likes any one being sneaky, and Turel was always on guard. This place, this hellhole, certainly creeped him out.
The staircase was long. The heat and nervousness both conspired to make Deilakrion really sweat, and a few times she wiped her brow with the back of a gloved hand, occasionally looking back to make sure Turel hadn't turned back or been grabbed out of the dark. The ghostly light of the stones plunged down the staircase, down into darkness. They hadn't finished their descent, though the matter of how one climbed had changed. Her thighs and calves were burning, her toes and the balls of her feet aching with punctual stabs of pain every time she set a foot down. Yet, for every step they took she was mentally preparing herself for, well, anything. Yet, when 'anything' confronted her in the form of a giant, carved statue of . . .something, she didn't quite know what to do. So she stopped, and stared at it for a few seconds, and then looked at Turel. The thing had been carved out of the side of the staircase nearest to the chasm, and rose up to arch over the stairway. It was vaguely humanoid, with clubbed, three fingered hands. Its feet were gripping the edge of the staircase, two-toed with round ends and, if one leaned, a vicious looking dewclaw was on the side opposite. Its eyes were bulged out and blank in the way of statues, and its mouth. . .Deilakrion swallowed. The gaping hole that could be considered a mouth was rimmed with teeth. Lots of teeth. It protruded from the face slightly, and a long. . .tongue? A tongue, was protruding from the mouth. The statue was curved downward on the wall, one hand upon the wall, and the head lowered towards the staircase. The tip of the razored tongue was near enough that Deilakrion could touch it were she to rise on tiptoe. She had no intention of touching it. She stared.
Turel kept his eyes behind him, making sure not a thing was following the unlikely duo made their down the stairs, each one more fatiguing than the last. Turel didn't show fear normally, though his eyes, they were what most could tell from him. The ghostly light had caught his attention however, and for that single second, he followed it as it disappeared into the darkness of the cavern. Licking his already dry lips, the two continued down the staircase. The only pain Turel felt was in his feet for the most part, the climb down was the worst for it. Turel didn't prepare himself, always a last minute man, always was and always will be, and Turel suddenly found himself almost tripping over Deilakrion, whom had remained silently standing there. As his eyes trail upward, he had to take a step back. The 'thing' that was in front of them was too real, teeth, razor sharp tongue, the three fingered hands, its bulging eyes. Everything seemed so....Real...And yet, not real. Turel simply remained there, behind Deilakrion, staring at the stone, if it were made from stone like figure. Slowly, his right hand shifted to his hilt, ready, waiting for it to move, even his left hand moved toward the harness that encased his wings. Turel, was slowly preparing himself for the unexpected, preparing himself to give flight, for him and Deilakrion's sake.
Deilakrion rotated her stillettos in her hands. "Ah." It was a small sound. "May be. . .that's what's here." Could the architects of the solid stone stairway look like that? She didn't know. With Turel uncomfortably close, she edged down the stairs, and under the statue. She too thought it looked entirely too realistic, and had no intention of letting it decide to suddenly be alive without her being ready for it. Still, she passed under it without mishap and they were able to continue on. As they descended, Deilakrion's breathing grew heavier. They'd been moving for the majority of the day, and nearly all night, and it was starting to show. Her muscles were spasming too. Another statue came into focus up ahead, gently lit by the ghostly light of the stones. She stopped and turned to look back at Turel. "I need rest." She looked uneasily towards the twisted, grotesque statue further down, and looked back. "One keeps guard while the other sleeps. Does the brave hunter want first watch or second?"
Turel watched, in amazment if anything, as Deilakrion walked past the huge stoney humaniod, and he too followed suit, though his hand still remained 'pon the hilt of his katana. His eyes were everywhere now, every direction known to man, his eyes darted there every couple of seconds. He was already starting to lose his cool. His ears perked in his strange behaviour, the heavy breathing growing and growing. He too, was tired, just one to never show how exhausted he was. Something caught his attention, up ahead, the gentle ghostly lights, sending yet another shiver up his spine. "I need rest." The words she had spoke finally registered, as he shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of the image of these stone-like men. Nodding his head, he listened to her speak, though his eyes wasn't trained upon her, just the figures in the distance. "You get rest. Sounds like you need it more than I."
Deilakrion gestured to the pack Turel held. Despite her ability to sleep nigh anywhere, she doubted she'd be able to take five whilst on stairs without some cushion.
Turel handed over the pack that Deilakrion had gestured to. The shoulder in which it was carried on was hurting, but it was a pain he could bear, for now. Slowly, he remained poised, standing like some gaurdian angel, waiting for that exact moment that the duo would be attacked, if they were going to.
Deilakrion dropped her own pack near to Turel, and burrowed through the pack to find the hammocks. Made out of stout. . .silk? Deilakrion was too tired to tell. It was thick and sturdy, made to withstand the weight of an individual. She bunched it on the ground and curled up on it, still gripping the stillettos. The air was too warm down here for her to wrap herself in it, and she went to sleep without much effort: she'd learned how to take sleep when she could a long time ago.