Day 1 - Descent
After what felt like hours of running, plunging through an ever-confusing maze of branching tunnels, they lost the nochnyr. Once the clattering sounds of their pursuers faded behind them, the three gratefully slowed to a trot.
Rosehip was not proud to admit that he was wheezing, a little. He covered up his exhaustion as best he could, turning his focus to examining their surroundings. As a shadowborn, the darkness was easy for him to navigate; but, luckily for his companions, who were not, there was fungus dotting the craggy stone walls; quite a fair number of them glowed like a Shadowshroom would. Some did not, however, and upon passing into a section of tunnel that was completely deviod of light, Rosehip discovered that Hotline glowed. The fuchsia lines and patches upon his body were bioluminescent in their entirety, and capable of casting ample light on their surroundings. In hindsight, it made perfect sense; Hotline belonged to the breed of guardians who dwelled far, far below the waves, those who lurked within the depths of the Leviathan’s Trench. Still, it was quite shocking to go from a dark space to that which was faintly lit; when he had glanced up to find the source of the light, Hotline’s glowing throat had nearly blinded his eyes, adjusted to the dim conditions as they were. Rosehip spent the better part of a few minutes blinking roseate spots out of his vision as a result.
Besides the fauna, as they journeyed, Rosehip did spot flashes of what could have been lizards, or other sundry creatures; everything shied from the party as they passed by. At one point, they came across a cavern that played host to a flock of bats. Hotline had gleefully snapped them up, and Rosehip cringed at the sound of their squeals as the guardian devoured them. Wisely, the cloud of bats swirled upwards and away, pouring into a narrow crack in the ceiling where the dragons could not follow.
“Honestly! I thought you would be gorged on nochnyr, the way you chomped that lot up,” Rosehip huffed, glaring up at the dark shape above him.
Hotline tilted his head down to regard the tundra. The guardian scowled, his red eyes (also faintly luminous) looking daggers at Rosehip.
“I spat their bones out; nochnyr are sickly, and not food, stupid.” Hotline retorted with a snort, and Rosehip gagged as his fur was ruffled by luke-warm air. Indignant, he stuck up his nose and tail.
“Well!” He exclaimed, glaring right back at Hotline. “Are you not a diseased plague-thing yourself? I’ve never seen one of the brood mother’s shrink away from a few germs.“
Hotline stopped dead in his tracks. He swung his head all the way down, getting on eye level with Rosehip. Intimidated, but determined not to show it, Rosehip stood his ground, locking sights with the guardian.
“I could snap you in half, you preening, puny little son of a-“ Hotline began in a growl.
“Icewarden, give me patience.”
Both Hotline and Rosehip jerked around in surprise. Staring them both down, with more steel in his eyes than Rosehip had ever seen, was Lush. He stalked forward, tail tip twitching.
“That is enough,” Lush snapped, and Hotline closed his hanging jaws. “You will wake the dead if you keep this up. I know nothing of there being any sort of cave along this route, let alone a whole system, and that is beginning to strike me as signalling that that may be for a reason. We need to stay alert, and tread carefully, and I will thank you two to cooperate!”
Piece said, the cerulean tundra whirled around, and continued off down the cave, tail flicking. Suitably chastised, Hotline and Rosehip eyed each other for a second or two more, and then continued after Lush.
They walked, and walked, and walked. It was dreadfully dull; there seemed nothing more interesting in the tunnels than bats and lizards and moss. It was getting colder, too; though no biting wind blew, as it did above-ground, the lack of sun brought a chill that was beginning to settle into Rosehip’s bones. It was unpleasant and uncomfortable, and the tundra near about wished that they were still trekking through the mountain pass. The only points of interest he found were the few brief moments he managed to antagonise Hotline; the typical exchange went thusly.
First, they would come across a branch in the way ahead. Rosehip would opine that they go left, and Hotline that they go the opposite way. Inevitably the disagreement would escalate, Rosehip would get a few choice insults in, and Lush would stop them both with a stare that was as commanding as any sharp words might have been.
Then his boyfriend would pick whichever passage he preferred, and off they would all go again. Not incredibly exciting, but better than eyeballing mushrooms all day.
They were in a wide passage when Rosehip noticed that Lush was acting in what could only be described as a, well, strange manner. He was… mincing along, placing his feet gingerly upon the ground, as if the rocks below his feet were sharp or rough. Rosehip picked up his pace, intending to reach his boyfriend’s side to ask what was wrong. Halfway towards the blue tundra, however, Rosehip tripped, hitting his paw upon a loose stone.
“Blasted thing,” Rosehip muttered at the offending rock, kicking it away. It skittered down the tunnel until it disappeared from his view with a 'plink!'. Rosehip looked back up, intending to continue his journey towards Lush.
But Lush was standing, silent and very, very still, a few paces before him. The fur along his spine was raised, and, as Rosehip opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Lush raised his wings and unfurled them.
This wing gesture was universally regarded by all dragons as a bad sign, namely because it meant halt. Go no further, it said, for here be danger. Stretching his wings to almost their full size, Lush was warning them of something up ahead, and calling a halt because of it.
“Why are we stopping,” Hotline grumbled, stomping over to the tundra. Lush turned, keeping his wings raised in an effort to block the guardian’s progress.
“The ground is unstable,” Lush replied, ear c.ocked as he listened to something, “I think we should turn around, pick a different path. I don’t want it to give out beneath us.”
Hotline rolled his eyes. “Cowards go backwards,” he replied, predictable as always, and Rosehip bristled.
“Listen here, you great hulking lump, Lush is no coward,” he retorted, and took a step towards the guardian. The nerve! To insult him was one thing, but Rosehip would never suffer an insult towards Lush.
As he took a step, however, he felt the ground below him shiver. Rosehip's brows shot up in alarm, and he glanced around him in fright. Both Hotline and Lush stared at him, and then, without another sound, the three turned tail and ran.
It turned out that the tunnel’s floor had indeed been unstable, when the party came to great trench just down from their previous position. The hole in the rock face was all the confirmation they needed; Lush had been right. Rosehip barely managed to keep his smugness to himself.
“Looks deep,” Hotline rumbled. He stood on the precipice of the trench, peering down into the abyss.
Rosehip rolled his eyes. What, really? The drop didn’t seem far at all. If the dark-scaled guardian wasn’t so big, Rosehip would have been tempted to ‘playfully’ bump him. Unfortunately, Hotline was simply too big to be even be phased. He’d just chuck Rosehip off the edge, and, well, it was such a long way down. The tundra didn’t fancy climbing all the way back up.
Climbing. He could scale the sides of the trench!
“Lush, I can climb down there,” Rosehip declared, striding forwards. Sure, it looked deep, and maybe he couldn’t actually catch a glimpse of the bottom, but, well. There seemed to be plenty of footholds, and there were pillars of ice he could jump onto down near the bottom of his vision. Didn’t seem that bad…
Lush swung his head up, faintly perturbed, and stared at his boyfriend. “Are you sure?” He questioned, switching his gaze from Rosehip, to the trench, to back at Rosehip. “It looks… deep.”
Rosehip grinned, showing altogether too many teeth in an attempt to cover his own uncertainty.
“Oh, don’t you worry about lil ol’ me, dear. I will be absolutely, positively fine. I’ve, ah, scaled worse in my day. Did I ever tell you about that mansion in the Everbloom?” Rosehip replied conversationally, chattering away in a manner that he hoped was reassuring, “They were locked down behind walls the size of three imperials stacked upon one another! Not to mention, they were covered head-to-toe in these nasty briars. Those had thorns as thick as your leg, and each oozed a paralysing venom.” As he talked, Rosehip swung himself over the edge. The chestnut tundra took a breath as he finished his last sentence, glancing down apprehensively. Oh, but it was a long way down.
He exhaled, let go of the trench’s edge, and began his descent.
It was hard going, at first. He hadn’t done anything this athletic in quite some time, and it took him a few terrifying near-misses before he got into the swing of things. Soon enough, however, he was descending with practiced ease, using his tail and wings as feelers for new footholds. He navigated patches of iced rock, and slippery moss, going slow and careful so as not to lose his precarious hold on the trench wall.
He reached the first of the ice pillars in a few minutes, and hung there for a second, considering his options. He could continue climbing, but the pillars seemed like the easiest way down. If he could get himself onto one, he should have perfect vision of the rest of chasm, and he might be able to guide the others down without having them do any climbing themselves. Yes, that seemed easiest. He didn't fancy trying to get Hotline to scale a rock face any day of the week (especially not if he stood at the bottom!).
Mind made up, he prepared himself to leap across. Closing his eyes, Rosehip breathed deep, attempting to calm his thudding heart.
Then he leapt from the rock face, powerful legs propelling himself into space. For a heart-stopping beat he hung there, too far from the wall to reach out and touch it, unable to see the pillar he’d aimed for. Rosehip twisted mid-air, thanking the Eleven for his supple spine, and snapped his wings open. His target was hurtling towards him, but he was going to smash into the ice if he continued his trajectory. With a mighty beat of his wings, Rosehip heaved himself up, snagging his fore-claws onto the lip of the pillar. His body hit the ice with an ‘oof!’, and the breath was knocked out of him, but he kept his grip. And so, grunting with effort, he pulled himself onto the top of the pillar.
“Rosehip!” Lush called from above him, worry etched into every syllable of his name. Rosehip raised his head, squinting up at the edge of the trench, attempting to spot the tiny dot of his partner.
“I’m okay!” He bellowed back, hoping his voice would carry that far. That done, he scanned his surroundings. Yes! He could finally see the bottom of the trench. And there, there, and there! Several pillars, wide enough to provide platforms onto which the three could glide and make their descent.
“There’s pillars you can fly onto down here! Lush, if you two take a running jump, you should be able to make it just by gliding,” Rosehip called, gesturing as best he could with his wings to a second pillar, nearby. He didn’t hear either Hotline or Lush respond, but he did see the guardian dip his head – or he guessed Hotline did, as the glowing throat patch had disappeared – as if to talk to the tundra who would be standing beside him.
Heart in his throat, Rosehip watched a bright blue speck leap into trench above him.
Lush dived down, peach wings held tightly closed. Anxiously, Rosehip willed his boyfriend to open them, and start his glide. If they unfurled too late, Lush could smack into a pillar or one of the walls,or, Eleven forbid, the ground.
But Lush’s wings flared out, and, without flapping them once, he made it safely onto the pillar. Lush waved his tail once, motioning to Rosehip that he would continue his descent, who nodded back with relief. With a sigh, he turned his gaze back upwards as a lurid pink shape hurled itself into the abyss.
After Hotline had thudded his way down every pillar (Rosehip had honestly thought a few might have splintered a little under his weight), the tundra cracked open his own wings, and glided his way down to the trench floor. Not a second later than he had touched down and landed, a furry shape collided with him.
Lush buried his muzzle into Rosehip’s mane, wings half raised as if to embrace his lover. Through a mouthful of fur, the blue tundra murmured. “Gods, I was so… don’t scare me like that ever again.”
Rosehip shoved his nose into his lover’s mane, closing his eyes and drinking in the tundra’s familiar scent; the sharp note of salt against water and sand. There was moisture welling in his eyelids as he responded.
“I won’t, I promise.”
tl;dr: Lush manages to hold the party together, saves them all from death, and Rosehip puts his ill-gotten thief skills to good use. Hotline does nothing; gg buddy, very useful you are. Honestly, I'm very chuffed with how this day played out; all of them behaved exactly as I imagined they would.
But yes, three cheers for Lush, the poor sod who has to lead this band of merry idiots and keep them all alive. Doin' good so far, bud!
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After what felt like hours of running, plunging through an ever-confusing maze of branching tunnels, they lost the nochnyr. Once the clattering sounds of their pursuers faded behind them, the three gratefully slowed to a trot.
Rosehip was not proud to admit that he was wheezing, a little. He covered up his exhaustion as best he could, turning his focus to examining their surroundings. As a shadowborn, the darkness was easy for him to navigate; but, luckily for his companions, who were not, there was fungus dotting the craggy stone walls; quite a fair number of them glowed like a Shadowshroom would. Some did not, however, and upon passing into a section of tunnel that was completely deviod of light, Rosehip discovered that Hotline glowed. The fuchsia lines and patches upon his body were bioluminescent in their entirety, and capable of casting ample light on their surroundings. In hindsight, it made perfect sense; Hotline belonged to the breed of guardians who dwelled far, far below the waves, those who lurked within the depths of the Leviathan’s Trench. Still, it was quite shocking to go from a dark space to that which was faintly lit; when he had glanced up to find the source of the light, Hotline’s glowing throat had nearly blinded his eyes, adjusted to the dim conditions as they were. Rosehip spent the better part of a few minutes blinking roseate spots out of his vision as a result.
Besides the fauna, as they journeyed, Rosehip did spot flashes of what could have been lizards, or other sundry creatures; everything shied from the party as they passed by. At one point, they came across a cavern that played host to a flock of bats. Hotline had gleefully snapped them up, and Rosehip cringed at the sound of their squeals as the guardian devoured them. Wisely, the cloud of bats swirled upwards and away, pouring into a narrow crack in the ceiling where the dragons could not follow.
“Honestly! I thought you would be gorged on nochnyr, the way you chomped that lot up,” Rosehip huffed, glaring up at the dark shape above him.
Hotline tilted his head down to regard the tundra. The guardian scowled, his red eyes (also faintly luminous) looking daggers at Rosehip.
“I spat their bones out; nochnyr are sickly, and not food, stupid.” Hotline retorted with a snort, and Rosehip gagged as his fur was ruffled by luke-warm air. Indignant, he stuck up his nose and tail.
“Well!” He exclaimed, glaring right back at Hotline. “Are you not a diseased plague-thing yourself? I’ve never seen one of the brood mother’s shrink away from a few germs.“
Hotline stopped dead in his tracks. He swung his head all the way down, getting on eye level with Rosehip. Intimidated, but determined not to show it, Rosehip stood his ground, locking sights with the guardian.
“I could snap you in half, you preening, puny little son of a-“ Hotline began in a growl.
“Icewarden, give me patience.”
Both Hotline and Rosehip jerked around in surprise. Staring them both down, with more steel in his eyes than Rosehip had ever seen, was Lush. He stalked forward, tail tip twitching.
“That is enough,” Lush snapped, and Hotline closed his hanging jaws. “You will wake the dead if you keep this up. I know nothing of there being any sort of cave along this route, let alone a whole system, and that is beginning to strike me as signalling that that may be for a reason. We need to stay alert, and tread carefully, and I will thank you two to cooperate!”
Piece said, the cerulean tundra whirled around, and continued off down the cave, tail flicking. Suitably chastised, Hotline and Rosehip eyed each other for a second or two more, and then continued after Lush.
They walked, and walked, and walked. It was dreadfully dull; there seemed nothing more interesting in the tunnels than bats and lizards and moss. It was getting colder, too; though no biting wind blew, as it did above-ground, the lack of sun brought a chill that was beginning to settle into Rosehip’s bones. It was unpleasant and uncomfortable, and the tundra near about wished that they were still trekking through the mountain pass. The only points of interest he found were the few brief moments he managed to antagonise Hotline; the typical exchange went thusly.
First, they would come across a branch in the way ahead. Rosehip would opine that they go left, and Hotline that they go the opposite way. Inevitably the disagreement would escalate, Rosehip would get a few choice insults in, and Lush would stop them both with a stare that was as commanding as any sharp words might have been.
Then his boyfriend would pick whichever passage he preferred, and off they would all go again. Not incredibly exciting, but better than eyeballing mushrooms all day.
They were in a wide passage when Rosehip noticed that Lush was acting in what could only be described as a, well, strange manner. He was… mincing along, placing his feet gingerly upon the ground, as if the rocks below his feet were sharp or rough. Rosehip picked up his pace, intending to reach his boyfriend’s side to ask what was wrong. Halfway towards the blue tundra, however, Rosehip tripped, hitting his paw upon a loose stone.
“Blasted thing,” Rosehip muttered at the offending rock, kicking it away. It skittered down the tunnel until it disappeared from his view with a 'plink!'. Rosehip looked back up, intending to continue his journey towards Lush.
But Lush was standing, silent and very, very still, a few paces before him. The fur along his spine was raised, and, as Rosehip opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Lush raised his wings and unfurled them.
This wing gesture was universally regarded by all dragons as a bad sign, namely because it meant halt. Go no further, it said, for here be danger. Stretching his wings to almost their full size, Lush was warning them of something up ahead, and calling a halt because of it.
“Why are we stopping,” Hotline grumbled, stomping over to the tundra. Lush turned, keeping his wings raised in an effort to block the guardian’s progress.
“The ground is unstable,” Lush replied, ear c.ocked as he listened to something, “I think we should turn around, pick a different path. I don’t want it to give out beneath us.”
Hotline rolled his eyes. “Cowards go backwards,” he replied, predictable as always, and Rosehip bristled.
“Listen here, you great hulking lump, Lush is no coward,” he retorted, and took a step towards the guardian. The nerve! To insult him was one thing, but Rosehip would never suffer an insult towards Lush.
As he took a step, however, he felt the ground below him shiver. Rosehip's brows shot up in alarm, and he glanced around him in fright. Both Hotline and Lush stared at him, and then, without another sound, the three turned tail and ran.
It turned out that the tunnel’s floor had indeed been unstable, when the party came to great trench just down from their previous position. The hole in the rock face was all the confirmation they needed; Lush had been right. Rosehip barely managed to keep his smugness to himself.
“Looks deep,” Hotline rumbled. He stood on the precipice of the trench, peering down into the abyss.
Rosehip rolled his eyes. What, really? The drop didn’t seem far at all. If the dark-scaled guardian wasn’t so big, Rosehip would have been tempted to ‘playfully’ bump him. Unfortunately, Hotline was simply too big to be even be phased. He’d just chuck Rosehip off the edge, and, well, it was such a long way down. The tundra didn’t fancy climbing all the way back up.
Climbing. He could scale the sides of the trench!
“Lush, I can climb down there,” Rosehip declared, striding forwards. Sure, it looked deep, and maybe he couldn’t actually catch a glimpse of the bottom, but, well. There seemed to be plenty of footholds, and there were pillars of ice he could jump onto down near the bottom of his vision. Didn’t seem that bad…
Lush swung his head up, faintly perturbed, and stared at his boyfriend. “Are you sure?” He questioned, switching his gaze from Rosehip, to the trench, to back at Rosehip. “It looks… deep.”
Rosehip grinned, showing altogether too many teeth in an attempt to cover his own uncertainty.
“Oh, don’t you worry about lil ol’ me, dear. I will be absolutely, positively fine. I’ve, ah, scaled worse in my day. Did I ever tell you about that mansion in the Everbloom?” Rosehip replied conversationally, chattering away in a manner that he hoped was reassuring, “They were locked down behind walls the size of three imperials stacked upon one another! Not to mention, they were covered head-to-toe in these nasty briars. Those had thorns as thick as your leg, and each oozed a paralysing venom.” As he talked, Rosehip swung himself over the edge. The chestnut tundra took a breath as he finished his last sentence, glancing down apprehensively. Oh, but it was a long way down.
He exhaled, let go of the trench’s edge, and began his descent.
It was hard going, at first. He hadn’t done anything this athletic in quite some time, and it took him a few terrifying near-misses before he got into the swing of things. Soon enough, however, he was descending with practiced ease, using his tail and wings as feelers for new footholds. He navigated patches of iced rock, and slippery moss, going slow and careful so as not to lose his precarious hold on the trench wall.
He reached the first of the ice pillars in a few minutes, and hung there for a second, considering his options. He could continue climbing, but the pillars seemed like the easiest way down. If he could get himself onto one, he should have perfect vision of the rest of chasm, and he might be able to guide the others down without having them do any climbing themselves. Yes, that seemed easiest. He didn't fancy trying to get Hotline to scale a rock face any day of the week (especially not if he stood at the bottom!).
Mind made up, he prepared himself to leap across. Closing his eyes, Rosehip breathed deep, attempting to calm his thudding heart.
Then he leapt from the rock face, powerful legs propelling himself into space. For a heart-stopping beat he hung there, too far from the wall to reach out and touch it, unable to see the pillar he’d aimed for. Rosehip twisted mid-air, thanking the Eleven for his supple spine, and snapped his wings open. His target was hurtling towards him, but he was going to smash into the ice if he continued his trajectory. With a mighty beat of his wings, Rosehip heaved himself up, snagging his fore-claws onto the lip of the pillar. His body hit the ice with an ‘oof!’, and the breath was knocked out of him, but he kept his grip. And so, grunting with effort, he pulled himself onto the top of the pillar.
“Rosehip!” Lush called from above him, worry etched into every syllable of his name. Rosehip raised his head, squinting up at the edge of the trench, attempting to spot the tiny dot of his partner.
“I’m okay!” He bellowed back, hoping his voice would carry that far. That done, he scanned his surroundings. Yes! He could finally see the bottom of the trench. And there, there, and there! Several pillars, wide enough to provide platforms onto which the three could glide and make their descent.
“There’s pillars you can fly onto down here! Lush, if you two take a running jump, you should be able to make it just by gliding,” Rosehip called, gesturing as best he could with his wings to a second pillar, nearby. He didn’t hear either Hotline or Lush respond, but he did see the guardian dip his head – or he guessed Hotline did, as the glowing throat patch had disappeared – as if to talk to the tundra who would be standing beside him.
Heart in his throat, Rosehip watched a bright blue speck leap into trench above him.
Lush dived down, peach wings held tightly closed. Anxiously, Rosehip willed his boyfriend to open them, and start his glide. If they unfurled too late, Lush could smack into a pillar or one of the walls,
But Lush’s wings flared out, and, without flapping them once, he made it safely onto the pillar. Lush waved his tail once, motioning to Rosehip that he would continue his descent, who nodded back with relief. With a sigh, he turned his gaze back upwards as a lurid pink shape hurled itself into the abyss.
After Hotline had thudded his way down every pillar (Rosehip had honestly thought a few might have splintered a little under his weight), the tundra cracked open his own wings, and glided his way down to the trench floor. Not a second later than he had touched down and landed, a furry shape collided with him.
Lush buried his muzzle into Rosehip’s mane, wings half raised as if to embrace his lover. Through a mouthful of fur, the blue tundra murmured. “Gods, I was so… don’t scare me like that ever again.”
Rosehip shoved his nose into his lover’s mane, closing his eyes and drinking in the tundra’s familiar scent; the sharp note of salt against water and sand. There was moisture welling in his eyelids as he responded.
“I won’t, I promise.”
tl;dr: Lush manages to hold the party together, saves them all from death, and Rosehip puts his ill-gotten thief skills to good use. Hotline does nothing; gg buddy, very useful you are. Honestly, I'm very chuffed with how this day played out; all of them behaved exactly as I imagined they would.
But yes, three cheers for Lush, the poor sod who has to lead this band of merry idiots and keep them all alive. Doin' good so far, bud!
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remus
they/xe
fr +9
