Tomb of the Lost

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau gets rid of the foxfire hoping that will dissuade whatever he's sensing from getting closer. Then he grabs the figure from the alter. If nothing goes wrong with that, he'll head for the door.]

Was it his imagination or had the shadows gotten deeper around him? It would be natural for them to seem so in contrast to the foxfire's light but this felt beyond that. Like the shadows had gathered themselves together, condensed at the fringes of the room, or maybe something within them had. The faces of the clay figures were still visible but now they all appeared to be turned towards him. Staring. Targeting. He felt like a cub abandoned in the woods, ignorant of the details but not unaware of the torture that lay in wait at the jaws of predators circling just outside his senses.

On reflex, he banished the flame, trying to make himself less visible, less worthy of focus. There was something here, it was watching him, and its intentions couldn't be good. He'd have to be wary.

Of course, now without that additional light, it was near impossible to see more than a few feet. But the altar was still in front of him. The figure sat on top, staring indifferently, but at the same time it was far less intimidating than its larger cousins which were now relegated to vague ghosts in the shroud of darkness. He shouldn't touch it, he didn't have any practical use for it, but he still felt compelled to take the little statue. It had seemed... a beacon just a moment ago. Maybe something like this, something that was in opposition to the gathering gloom, would be useful. Hau grabbed the figure, hoping it wasn't somehow affixed to the altar. Then he'd return to his original plan and head towards the doorway.

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge takes the knife and attempts to circle around the man, putting as much distance between himself and the man’s sword as possible. He walks towards the two doors at the other end of the room. Edge remains alert of the others movements, and ready to defend himself all throughout.]

Edge wanted to swallow his words the moment the man rose and his smile disappeared. Still the other’s face was a mask of neutrality, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking, what he wanted and what he was trying to do. No matter what it was, Edge doubted that it was good.
For a moment, Edge considers shifting, wondering if his sudden change in appearance might give him an advantage or otherwise catch the scarred man oof guard. He ended up deciding against it though, when he remembered that he’d be even more exposed in that case, more vulnerable than he already was.

Then, strangely enough, the scarred man lifted his hand, offering the knife to Edge. Strange, offering a weapon like that. No matter the intentions of the scarred man, it struck Edge as odd that he never spoke to explain himself or his actions. But then again, perhaps he was incapable of speaking. Carefully, Edge reached out to take the knife, just in case the scarred man took back the offer. Any weapon was better than no weapon, even if he barely knew how to use it. By Eda he wished he had listened more carefully when Jack had gushed about his knifes and how to use them.

With the knife now in had, Edge now began circling around the scarred man again, in the opposite direction of the others sword arm, putting as much distance between himself and the others weapon as possible. The Darai still didn’t trust that the other wouldn’t suddenly lash out at him, and didn’t want to make himself an easy target. Still he figured that the two doors at the opposite end of the room was his best bet, the heavy stone door, although closer, would be too much of a gamble for him, so he began making his way across the room, not taking his eyes off the scarred man.

[Pearl Dragon]

[Kira is startled and backs out of reach on the ledge. She then proceeds to pull and throw mud weed stuffs with one foot at the whatever it is/doorway to either distract it or maybe cause a slip hazard.]

Kira edged closer and closer, one step at a time and careful to grip the spongey ledge firmly before inching further on. Progress was slow going, but eventually Kira began to approach the door until she was nearly on top of it. In fact, she could even reach over to it if she'd wanted to.

If...she wanted to.

But she didn't.
In the near silent space as she paused, aside from the pinging drip of water, there was another sound that reached her ears. They perked and twitched at the sound of the door moving slightly open with a whisper. She watched, eyes wide, as the dark interior revealed itself bit by bit. Another sound caught her attention too, one that made her heart begin to race all over again and she struggled to keep her own panting breath quiet. There was something there, huffing hungrily somewhere in the unknown and darkness began to seep through the opening. Kira shuffled back a few steps the way she'd come on the ledge to get out of reach, terrified that it might stretch out to her or that the panting something might come bursting from the door. Thinking quickly, she did the only thing she could imagine to do at that point in time. Using one foot to balance, she gripped at the spongey growths with the other and made to pull a clump of it off the stone. If it came easily, she would lift it and toss the clump towards the doorway in a kick, aiming for the opening that had appeared as whatever was behind it began to come out.

What she hoped to accomplish by doing this, she wasn't sure. Maybe cause a distraction, get it to react to the clump instead of her, or perhaps even create a slippery hazard for the thing to slide on if it was moving quick. Then, at least, it might stumble over the edge and into the murky water below. All the while, she continued to pull at the dark growths, tossing more in if she could.

[Marshmallow]

[OOC summary: Marche calls out for Ari and Dragon-son, but does not enter the flooded hall/room. He then moves to the Right Door, once again opening it to check the path before making a decision. ]


The wall proved to be useless. The light, the damned searing light, made discerning any details all but impossible. Marchelute had to resort to touch to make out anything more than faint outlines. He had hoped to find lettering of a kind, something to name this place perhaps, or maybe a map - something to give him a sense of scale or direction. Anything would have been more helpful than the jumble of senseless shapes his claws traced in the stone. The ifrit turned his attention to the doors with an impatient huff, idly dusting the grit and grime from his palm as he padded across the room.


Ancient mold crumbled away as he cautiously pressed the slab of a door open. The darkness beyond the gap remained strangely deep and impermeable. Somehow, in spite of its intensity and brilliance, the light seemed unable to pass the threshold. But even without its aid, Marchelute could make out a ripple of liquid and a flash of movement. The reek of mildew and damp wafted through the opening to greet him.

Marchelute took a step backwards. That was water beyond the door, he didn't need the light to see as much, and he dared not get any closer. No, so far as he was concerned, that door was a dead end.

'But what if they are this way?' some part of his mind worried. The ifrit set his jaw. The Pact remained numb, and he could scent nothing above the mold and wet smells of the hallway. They... they surely wouldn't be down a flooded path, would they? He should check the other door. They would be through the other door, had to be.

Without getting any closer, he called out into the darkness. "Ari..? Boy? Is there anyone there?"

He waited a moment for an answer. When all he received was silence and the drip of condensation, the ifrit turned and hurried the other door in the right wall. He was cautious as before, pressing the slab to see if it would open, and - should it slide as easily as the first - examining what lie beyond before making any moves to proceed.

[beastly]

Ooc: Grace is super grossed out but presses on. She is gonna take a torch.
--------

She gags, the smell has gotten worse. She has to be careful on her descent, she doesnt want to fall down the heap of rubble. She has some experience in this, and manages not to slide face first into the unknown. It smells so bad here, maybe she should've... done something different. When her foot meets the floor, she gives a startled squeak. Mold?!

... no... more stone. The hairy lady is sure that what she is standing on is just rubble. Rock and stone. She would breathe a sigh of relief, but honestly wasnt intrested in taking some big gulps of this putrid air.

Grace starts walking ahead, hugging a wall as she goes. She pauses, and will try and take an unlit torch. Maybe she can find a way to light it...?

[MP]

Ari:
Items: hunting horn
The horn slips from the statue’s hand without a struggle. It’s not much longer than Ari’s palm - perhaps a goat horn, or the end of a tusk. The length is curved by delicate carvings, and still glossy, the insides clear of dust. Aside from chips of faded paint , it’s in remarkably good condition.

Most of the room’s other contents have been less fortunate. Ari sifts through what appears to be a hunter’s trove, moving old skulls and heaps of pelts still sporting upper jaws and claws. Many are from animals he recognizes - wolves and ermine, bears and even great snakes - while some are unfamiliar, such as a bristling white pelt and a maned and blunt-faced beast he is unable to identify. None of them match a consistent region, and only the white and the maned pelt are in good condition. The white, uppermost, is stained by an unpleasant brown crust.

Aside from pelts, Ari finds several ivory boxes, some sealed jars, and a box of ancient hunting knives. Most of the knives look more rust than metal, ready to disintegrate with age. But two look somewhat usable, as long as they’re handled gently. 

A sudden feeling comes to him as he rummages, the pact resurfacing. Ari can sense his bond partner again. Marchelute is distant still, but there's no echo of pain or combat. The awareness points Ari somewhere between and beyond the two doors.



Cassius: The dirt and grave dust soon coats Cassius’ skin with an unpleasant, gummy texture. But between the man’s catlike movements and the thick layer of filth on his feet, his movements are muffled and cause no more disturbance. The grit at his feet lies undisturbed. The sloshing slows and fades.

He’s in easy reach of the door now. It’s identical to the other - a heavy, featureless slab of stone. But for some reason, Cassius has a good feeling about this one. Perhaps a superstitious sense of luck. Faint grooves in the floor indicate that it can be pushed in either direction. 



Jedidiah:
Standing before the more ornate of the half buried doors, Jedidiah is struck with a sudden inexplicable feeling - a sense of rest and quiet. Of absence. For a moment, despite the stress of his unknown surroundings, he feels somewhat safer. There is a tinge of reprieve to the feeling, the way a mouse might feel peering from its hole and seeing nothing.

It’s gone in another moment, his normal senses returning, and he’s left with only the treasure and the carved visage of the door for company. The stone depicts a gruesome face, fanged and with round, wild eyes. It matches no style or culture Jedidiah can recognize, but at a stretch, it looks a bit like a dragon. A bit like an oni. If there’s anything more to the door, it’s buried under several inches of treasure.



Sara:
Urine trickles down the wall and pools between the bricks, threading its way toward the nearest chariot. There is no response as Sara puts her eye to the keyhole. No sign of light at the other end. When Sara drops back to all fours, the puddle has reached one of the wheels, staining the very edge. There is no response to this either. 

It's only when the shift ripples over Sara's skin, creeping back into human shape, that anything changes. The air seems lighter to her human eyes. More than that - a thread of tension, a chill barely noticeable until it's gone, eases from Sara's shoulders. The dark still hangs above her. The chariots still loom at her back. But the room feels somehow diminished - a mere collection of dust and stone rather than a watchful presence. 



Faolan:
Items: unlit torch, flint necklace
The stench of decay strikes Faolan like a physical blow as the lid creaks wide. There is a corpse in the chest - not the leathery husk of a mummy,  but a decaying mass of bloated, torn, and insect-bitten flesh. The corpse is lying on its side, limbs tucked close and arms over its face as if to hide from Faolan's scrutiny. The surrounding wood is smeared with crusted blood and putrefying meat. More of the black beetles burrow at the flesh, gnawing busy highways in and out of the chest cavity.

As if the smell is a trigger, there's a sudden sting at Faolan's heel. A beetle has latched onto his heel, leg waving as its mandibles twist at the bare skin. It's hard to make out the insect compared to mere moments ago. The room has begun to grow darker. And though it takes a moment to see through the waning light, the door by the ivory chests is slightly ajar. The opening seems to darken as Faolan stares. It seems a strain to breathe. And there is a muffled sound behind him, behind the chests, behind the door. A clink and rasp. The sound of something metallic dragging closer.   



Hau:
Items: human effigy
As the foxfire goes dark, the darkness lifts. It makes no sense in a logical world. The room is brighter without the flame, reverting to its former lifeless state. The walls are silent. The statues stare straight ahead. The terrible sense of eyes in the distance, of the creeping, circling something, passes Hau by and fades. Hau is alone, left with nothing. With a dim sense of frustration.

But this makes no sense either. Hau still has the figurine on its altar, and as he turns back to it, the odd frustration fades. The object is smooth and stylized, a bowling pin shape that only suggests a human figure. Carved etchings in its surface suggest the face, the hands, the lines of the arms and legs. But there are other details, less human. A wide gash of a mouth. A trio of slashes where hands and feet should be. The curving lines of wings at its back. 

As Hau plucks the figurine from its slot, he feels a sudden warmth in his chest. Power. An inner fire, so present that he feels he could summon it to his fingertips with a thought. At the same time, as a separate notion, he feels an inexplicable awareness of something past the far right wall. It's distant still, but it lingers in the back of his mind, a constant backdrop.



Edge:
Items: simple knife
The man shakes his head when Edge tries to move around him. He lifts the sword - not to strike, but in a staying gesture. He beckons once. Backs away. Edge has several body lengths of distance now, and a knife with which to defend himself. The man lowers his sword. Beckons again, more urgently now. He turns and begins walking, several long strides toward the doors at the opposite corner of the room, and glances back. Either the man is unwilling or unable to speak. He beckons a final time, and this time there is a hint of urgency in his eyes.



Kira: The mold peels from the wall with a wet sucking sound. It feels slimy and gelatinous in Kira's palm, more blob than concrete shape, and makes for a poor missile. When she flings it at the door, it sails off center, bounces off with a squelch, and slides down the stone, leaving a black smear. 

The panting behind the door remains unchanged. Not gone. Not moving closer either. But after a brief moment, the dark begins to recede, and the door drifts shut. The moment it does, the thickness of the air clears. It's easier to breathe - albeit still dusty with mold - and the color returns to the stones. The room is once again silent, save for the slow, oozing drip of Kira's flung mold. 



Marchelute: 
Nothing moves in the watery room beyond. However, no one answers either. The smell of mold and damp closes off as Marchelute shuts the door. Stone grinds and judders over stone as if reluctant to close.  

The second door shows signs of neither water nor pale, creeping bodies. The room, from the angled sliver Marchelute can see through the gap, is drab but quite empty. He can see the distinct shapes of wall torches, and lower down the wall, the edge of a darkwood chest. Oddly, none of these rooms seem as dark as the one the ifrit and his family first stumbled into. If they're gloomy, it's only a drab, indoor kind of gloom as opposed to true dark. He can even make out the finer details of color - enough to see that the wood of the chest looks like some variety of cherry, and that it's darkened with age and dotted with tiny holes. 



Grace:
Items: unlit torch
The torch pulls easily from its holder, shedding rust and old splinters. Without the tools to start a fire, however, it offers nothing in the way of light. A light could have been useful, because as Grace reaches the edge the collapse, something squishes underfoot - not mold this time. The surface is soft and oily, slickness gumming between the toes.

There is a set of jaws beneath the rubble, slightly parted, each tooth a finger’s length. Its head has been caved in by heavy debris, but the features Grace can make out are disturbingly humanoid. Dust and stickiness pools beneath it. Something glints at the far back of its throat.

[kilnarak]

[ Ari searches around a bit more in the boxes, then takes the two knives and the maned pelt to use as a wrap/belt. He exits through the door that had been behind him when he appeared in the room and intends to try to follow the Pact to Marchelute. ]

The horn slipped free surprisingly easily - he had expected it to be well stuck, given the grip of the other hand. He wondered if he should sound it? But quickly, he decided that he would not do so here and now - perhaps not at all - but would instead wait until it seemed appropriate. He did wish it had come with a... holder or a string to be worn around the neck or... something. He didn't really have a good way to carry it and keep his hands free.

He became a little more sure as he looked through the rest of the clutter in the room. The mummified dogs did not move, the statue had not moved, everything seemed calm for now. As he looked for a tool to chip or pry the stone fingers with, he also decided to look for a satchel or bag of some sort.

The pelts were interesting - perhaps lacking something more suitable, he could use one of them to carry the things he needed. The white and maned pelts were especially interesting as he couldn't quite recognize either of them. The maned one was perhaps some sort of lion? But it's head seemed oddly short and something about it was off. He touched the furs lightly, worried that they might fall apart - but they seemed to hold together better than he would have expected for something ancient. He wondered at the bloodstain on the white fur - it must have been acquired after the beast was dead, after the hunter was dead, because wouldn't it have been cleaned for the burial? He didn't like that thought much.

The other things he found... well if the boxes opened easily he could check inside those, but he left the jars well alone. They probably contained organs or... things that needed to be kept moist. He didn't like that thought much better than the thought of that dried bloodstain and what might have caused it.

A sudden sense of Marchelute's presence brought an abrupt end to his searching. His head jerked up and he peered in the direction his heart pulled in... and he found himself staring at a wall. He gave a small shake of his head, biting his lip, then snatched up the two useable-looking knives and stood. He didn't have time to prize whatever-it-was from the statue's grip, he needed to follow the Pact-link before it vanished again. Still he hesitated a moment before setting out, glancing back to the pile of pelts... Then he snatched up the maned pelt too, using it as a makeshift wrap about his waist, where he could tuck away the horn and the knives.

Now he only needed to pick a door... After a moment he decided upon the door that had been behind him when he had appeared here. Neither of the exits seemed to go in the exact direction he needed but... Well, he just had a hunch that the door he chose would lead more toward the center than along the outside of... wherever this was. He hoped so, anyway.

[qhostqrowls]

[OOC: Faolan bitch slaps the beetle off his heel, and decides staying in the room is a Bad Idea. He attempts to open the door between the two corpses]

Faolan recoiled at the stench and the sight of the chest's contents. The beetle-ridden corpse stunk, and he slammed the lid down immediately, feeling sick to the stomach. It was fresh - not like the bone-dry things curled on the other side of the room. There was no way he was risking opening the other chests. He needed to get out, now, unless he wanted to become the next gruesome discovery.

There was a sharp pain at his heel, and he whirled with a stifled squeak of pain to look at what had attcked him. A beetle was firmly latched to his skin, and he smacked it, hard, aiming to bat it off rather than squish it in a panicked, flailing motion. The room was darker, suddenly, and his gaze fixated on the door between the ivory chests. It was open. There seemed to be less oxygen in the room, each breath he drew thin and wavering as he backed away from the impossibly dark opening. But then there was noise behind him - behind the closed door. The metallic scraping sent a stab of dread to his core, and his eyes flickered to the door on the other side of the room. It was obscured partly by the swarming, haphazardous swarm of beetles, was hard to make out in the darkened room. There was a moment of hesitation from the man, frozen by his fear - neither of the doors between the chests were viable for him to leave through, but he didn't want to go through the beetles, either.

But it was that or get eaten alive, and so, Faolan steeled his nerves and bolted to the other side of the room. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and he half ducked as he ran through the midst of the swam, hoping the avoid the majority of the beetles, one hand held in front of his face to hopefully deflect any from hitting his face. Regardless of any bites he might have sustained, and trying his best to ignore the mummies either side of the door, he immediately set to work in trying to open the door. It was massive, and heavy, but he put his full bodyweight into the action, trying to exit the insect plauged room as quickly as possibly - and before anything else came in through the other doors.

[NightshadeVII]

[OOC: Edge decides to follow the scarred man’s beckoning and asks what they’re gonna do now.]

For a moment, Edge thought he was in the clear, that the scarred man would not react to his movement. But then the blade was lifted, forcing the Darai to a halt. Strangely enough, it wasn’t a swinging motion, it wasn’t an attack. All it meant to do was stop the Darai, which worked. Edge now stood still, watching the scarred man.

A soft, inquisitive noise pushed past Edge’s lips at the other’s gesture. An eyebrow was raised, and for a moment, he just watched, as if waiting for the scarred man to explain his actions. No explanation came, but the man beckoned Edge, as if wishing him to follow, before backing away. Strange. The sword was soon lowered, and it seemed that the scarred man wasn’t about to make any attempt at hurting Edge. At least that was what the Darai hoped.

Another beckoning movement, and the man began to walk towards the two doors that Edge had been approaching, turning his back on the Darai. What was this man trying to say or do with this? Edge had no idea, and was, quite frankly, surprised that things were unfolding this way at the moment. Then, when the man beckoned once more, Edge saw the urgency in the other’s eyes.
He had a decision to make, he could follow the scarred man or not. The Darai didn’t know where he was or what was going on, the scarred man most likely knew more. On top of that he hadn’t actively tried to hurt or attack Edge even though he had had ample opportunity, instead he had given him a weapon with which to defend himself. While Edge wasn’t about to trust him fully, he hoped that the fact that he hadn’t been attacked yet was a good sign.
On top of that, the other seemed to be going in the direction Edge was already planning to go, and the urgency in his eyes seemed genuine.

What even was his alternative? The stone doors at the other end seemed like they’d take ages to open, and if the scarred man didn’t like that attempt, he could easily stop the Darai. So Edge took a deep breath, looked the scarred man in the eyes and nodded, trying to communicate that he would follow. A few moments later, he walking up to the scarred figure.
By Eda he hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

”So... What now?” He asked, keeping his voice low and soft. Hopefully the scarred man understood him.

[okami1reeka333]

Jedidiah:

[OOC: intrigued by the inlay of the door, and the potential warning they had, he chooses to try and carefully dig out more of the doorway to see what further information he could find. all the while leaving the gold immediately burying the actual doors.he chooses to try and be as careful and quiet as possible, not knowing if whatever the monster is was either on the other side of this door or inside with him somewhere within the room. . .]

When he noticed the inlay of oriented door, he was intrigued and yet concerned about what it depicted. . . He not only did not understand what it said, but he did not want to guess and see how big the potential Dragon or Oni was. . .so he glanced towards where it continued- where the gold and jewels buried the rest of the potential omen. . .

He then carefully crouched down and set to trying to dig it out as carefully and quietly as possible. . .trying to keep his movements slow as to not accidentally cause a scene or an advantage of riches. . . Then there was the prospect of alerting something either in the same room as him or on the other side of the door. . . .neither which he wanted to do. . . .he was scared- yes. He did not know if this was even real life or a mere dream. . . he wasn't ready to die yet, if he was honest. The thought of leaving when he wasn't ready yet, or leaving behind those who might still need him terrified him.

He did not want to do that to the people he has come to known or meet. He hasn't even made a family yet, even.

[Pearl Dragon]

[OOC:  Kira listens for the whatever it is before moving once again to the door.  When she reaches it, she grabs one last clump of growth and then moves to go through the door slowly and quietly.]

Kira waited stiffly, listening intently at the strange panting sounds which seemed to have paused just behind the door.  She had been shaking much too terribly to properly aim the tossed growths, all of which missed the door only to splash down into the water below.  Instead, she pressed herself to the wall and held her breath.

Still the thing stayed where it was and Kira looked back the way she'd come in a decisive manner.  Then, just as she'd nearly moved to return, the darkness receded and the panting thing began to fade.  Kira waited just a little longer, ears pricked forward to catch any little nuanace of sound she could and was met with nothing.  A sense of familiarity crossed her mind, how this entire situation felt so much like the countless times shed hidden in the shadows of the factories to keep from getting caught in areas she wasn't supposed to be in.  Curiosity was not what got her stuck here, but the way she dealt with it was the same.

Finally, when she was absolutely sure that whatever had been in the door had perhaps moved on, Kira began to move again.  Her limbs were still trembling, but she eventually reached for the door to open it and go inside.  On the way, she grabbed one last clump of growth for good measure, perhaps it would come in handy later on....All of this she did with careful slowness, not wanting to make too much sound and alert anything that might still be nearby.

[tsukikoko]

[OOC: Sara sasses the tomb, then climbs a chariot.]

When her shift finally completed and the oppressive weight - literally and metaphorically - lifted, Sara put both hands on her bare hips and cast her gaze around at the shrouded ceiling, as though she might see some kind of hovering spectre there. Even though she didn't see anything and figured the negativity around her shapeshifting was a manifestation of some form of self-loathing, the naked woman (oh yes, nakedness and vulnerability, she supposed her brain was pulling that old chestnut too) still rolled her eyes and raised her voice.
"Looker man, wind ya bloody neck in, alreet?! Ah'd rather nowt be 'ere, an' if ya divvint like me bloody shapeshiftin' let us wake up, gan 'ome an' gerrowt ya daft get. 'Ad a bloody 'nuff this shite."

With that, she threw her hands into the air, tail slapping the floor behind her. Now that Sara's brief, incomprehensible to anyone outside North East England, rant at nothing was over, the shifter turned her attention to one of the chariots and approached it. She walked back and forth around it for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed as she mapped the best route, before she began to climb. Who knew? There might be something in the cart, or she could at least get a better look at one of those spears. A thought had occurred to her that maybe the chariots needed blood to activate, hence the staining on the various parallel lines. Wouldn't that just be genre-fitting?

[Vaitris]

[OOC: Hau picks up the effigy and feels something in the distance beyond the right wall. Without anything better to do, he decides to go find it, checking both doors for which will take him in the correct direction. If there isn't a door already facing that direction, he's going to check the right wall for any hidden passages, just in case.]

As the blue flame guttered the malice seemed to wash out of the room as well, taking those imposing shadows with it. Now the room was as it was before, and how it should have been. Dark, dusty, and quiet as a grave but more visible than it had been in the foxfire's light. Hau gave a snort. Dream logic. It wouldn't make sense. He wondered, though, would the same thing happen with the flashlight on his phone. Or did this place only respond to magic? In the end he decided not to try, for now he could see well enough.

The statuette came free of the altar easily and Hau rolled it over in his hands, spotting the curves on the back that suggested wings. An angel? That was a curious thing to find in a tomb. He'd expect something more Egyptian, Anubis maybe, or Osiris. But here he was again, trying to impose logic onto this place. Regardless of its source or its meaning, the figure felt good in his hand, felt right. The cold clay warmed quickly under his palm and the heat of it seemed to travel through the rest of him.

There was something else now, too, something that pricked at the back of his brain. Hau could sense some unknown in the distance. Instantly curious and emboldened by the figurine, he gave each of the doors a quick appraisal. Which way would take him in the direction of what he was feeling? And if there wasn't a door in the far right wall, he'd inspect that as well for any sort of concealed passage. It wasn't like he had any other pressing tasks at the moment.

[Marshmallow]

[OOC Summary: Marche looks for a way to keep the door open just in case he needs to backtrack, and enters the chest room to look around. He moves toward the weird chest, tries to get an idea for what it was used for, and then attempts to open it.]

The second door seemed, at first glance, far more promising. Once forced ajar, there was no wafting scent of mold or stagnant pools. Still no hints of his lost family, but the lack of water was encouraging.

Marchelute shouldered the door open fully, and briefly examined the area around the threshold for signs of a catch in the floor or a wall latch that would keep it from closing behind him. The doors seemed simple enough in design, so even if he failed to find a catch, hopefully it would be just as easy to open from this side if he had to backtrack... For now, at least, he intended to leave it open.

His talons clicked against the dusty stone as he left the blinding light of the main room and stepped into the dark. It was strange, he found himself thinking, how despite the lack of a light source the room was not in total darkness. It was more dim than truly dark, like a room with all of its curtains drawn, layered with shadow but not the pitch blackness one would have expected. The ifrit turned slowly, examining the walls and ceiling. He had faint memories of stone halls and... and traps. Just because there was no water did not make it safe. He eyed the unlit torches that dotted the walls, though considering how distant his flame had felt, he wondered if he shouldn't conserve his strength for darker passages. Once more he called out for his mate and the boy, though it seemed he was still alone.

Marchelute's gaze came back around to the cherrywood chest he had glimpsed from the door. It looked aged and worn, riddled with small holes. What could be the point of keeping a chest that was full of holes? Were they intentional, or did they occur naturally? Perhaps some kind of termite infestation had crept into... whatever this place was. Maybe it was made to keep an animal, the holes drilled into the planks to keep a pet from suffocating. Maybe it held some chemical, or was part of some ritual... The possibilities were many.
Marchelute approached it, sniffing the stale air for hints of what might lie within. He eyed it for a long moment, curiosity warring with rationality. It was not outside the realm of possibility that it held some clue to his location, or a helpful tool. It could also be a trap... or just be entirely pointless. He ran a hand across the lid, and looked for a latch or handle that would allow him to open it.

[beastly]

Ooc: Grace nopes out, then keeps walking.

--

Nope! Nope nope nope. She jumps about a foot back. Gross. Gross gross gross! Grace scrambles back onto the rubble heap. No.

She clutches her chest. Breathe. It's just a dream. It's a scary dream. But its just a dream. She steels herself, clenches her own jaw, and pretends she's not here. Shes not walking through- she cant even bring herself to think about it. She keeps walking. She'll wake up soon, it'll be fine.