Wet Ceiling

01

> Dossier
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GEVERII - Flesh 70/70 - Will 50/50
Invocations: Luminous Feathers
Things: Carbon Spade
LEDSUMNE - Flesh 90/90 - Will 30/30
Invocations: Tumult
Things: None
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A nonremittal survey beacons.
Decorative clamor bears dignity within the guilt-crossing.
Different jaw rotates a algebric space, verily.
Meanwhile, inbexwixt surface and central void, a dyad of beings roam the half-way marking, probing for forgone remants...
Thus, their story begins.

The first to descend through the aperture, a spacious and uncanny sinkhole clad in sliding wedges and chain-linked barbs of biotic material, floats to the sunless cold ground that mushes beneath her sharp stability tendrils. The two limbs, not uncommon of a bipod, pierce the pulpy litic ground and hold her anatomy stable, allowing her to erect her spinal struture and raise her tetrahedronic head. She pressurizes her internal mucus, and her ligaments tense around her skeleton, her veiny knees writhing and sliding her skewering leg-limb from the gash she cut into the meaty, pastel earth. Then, mere seconds later, she plants it again in the ground, (with a lot more care this time, mind you,) and uses it to pull her body along, moving herself and casting a hostile judgement over the surrounding terrain. Large obelisks originating from the be'low fluid reseviors distribute moistening mist throughout, keeping the bowels of the cave humid and sufficently wet. To her back, a dark expanse of blue and purple formations beckon to a lightless orafice in the wall.

She lifts one of her four fine manipulation limbs, tendrils that originate from her torso with a pair of fleshy nubs on each end, and uses it to adjust her loose and draping body cloths. She desists momentarily, then hunches down low to the ground. Flakes of light peel off of her skin, tenderly toppling off of her, before firing out rapidly and bursting into light against the enclosing faces of the structure. [-10 Will] The pit becomes illuminated, for just a moment, before returning to imperceivable dimness.

"It is innocuous here. Come; gather 'round."

With that, the second follows their companion through the aperture and onto the malleable floor, diviots still freshly cut in from the first's legspines. Their green head, a bulb of tendrils, perks up slightly and takes a long, stagnant whiff of the dusty air.

This zone had been a location for executions at one point. Capured individuals would be brought here to be pierced on the obelisks and filled with the normally benign moisture, which would oversaturate and melt their bodies. However, there is no way that either of these explorers can know about this; it is not relevant to them at the moment.

The second, Ledsumne, feels against a pillar with their hand, one of six fingers and yellow pleather armor. (their hand, not the pillar; though it did bear a striking resemblance to their arm... one so tall and yellow with cracks of green, almost fortelling their arrival... It was simply a pillar, though, which cannot think to make itself resemble an individual being. Regardless, the thoughts of fate and expectant inanimate objects really gets you processin'.)

"Is there purpose to your alerting gesticulation? My race have a poorly understanding of this waste, and risky deportment is unbeffitting of the survival of you and I."

Geverii responds to her companion, in a non-verbal sort of manner that involves signalling Ledsumne in no specific way and just sort of anticipating that they appreciate the connotation. Ledsumne sulks to the ground, examining flakes of cartilage that flicker at the base of the pillar. They run the particles through their hands, duly logging the freefalling speed of each shell.

Ledsumne, like others of their creed, counts by the twitching of their head-tendrils. Each time they move, even a minute distance, Ledsumne counts "one" of whatever they are observing. These particular objects log 6 twitches to fall from waist height.

"Hearty possibility of violence?"

Ledsumne peers at their vocal companion. Geverii is using a carbon Spade to take samples of the crumbling obelisks. Ledsumne sarcastically engages in lung expelling, deliberately pulling themself to their legs and entering Geverii's personal space. Geverii takes one of the small shells in their grasp, nods, and wanders back to the center of the space.

"Distant danger can be disregarded."

"Regardless, is prudence such an amateurish concept?"

Once again, Geverii goes silent, honed in on the walls. She drifts towards the edges of the chamber, running a tuning fork along the cobbled giblets.

"Prudence has its moments; as does celerity."

The fork chimes. She backs away from the wall.

"Assistance, 'Led"

Ledsumne stands next to her, and the two raise their arms. They raise their hand-structures together and harmonize the rhythms of their bodies. Then, in unison, they snap their fingers, and the loose wall bursts open. The slabby stone breaks into round shards that spark and fall, piling up. The cracks bleed colorless light from the other side, and a lantern is barely visible in the interior of the newly discovered tunnel.

The tunnel systems are something of an oddity: presubably formed by a breed of hive-bug or fluid erosions and yet... they have always been here. Neither Ledsumne nor Geverii truly understand how far these tunnels go, but asking each to estimate would result in the former taking a seat with a chalkboard and abacus, and the latter being already halfway through.

"Ill be it to act rashly now, most of all spouting nonsense before you do-"

"It is the tunneling hour."

And leaving nought but that passing statement, Geverii leaps shoulders first into what remains of the wall, forcing her way through and taking up the lantern. Ledsumne hastily follows her, fearing what they will do without her more that what she might get them into.

They wander into the tunnel as the mist behind them thickens.

[Chapter over.
Found SCUTE.
Found LANTERN.]