A Hunting We Shall Go {Stare, Closed}

There it was, a confirmation! The book that he had seen the reference in had been old and quite faded, and he had barely been able to make out the name of the place and the fact that the entire forest had a connection to blood. But Avis’ words confirmed it - the forest did exist, recently enough for her to know it, and it did have an active tie to blood of some kind! She seemed hesitant to talk about it though, much like everyone else he had tried talking to about the place.

No, he would not force her to join him on his exploration. But he felt a pull there, an urge to go there and explore what was happening. When he'd first read the text - and that had been strange, as he was fairly certain he didn't know the language it was written in, a thought that disappeared into the back of his mind as soon as he had it without his control - there had been a strange reticence. But then, one of the miners had told him, when he brought it up at the tavern one night, that ‘even though the Witch is dead, is still a right unnatural place. An’ that's all Ah’ll say on th’ matter, Alchemist.’. When he heard that, the apprehension about traveling there had been replaced for a moment by glee, which faded and then the pull came.

Nevin’s eyes shot downwards when she presented her arms to him to check to see if her metal cuff was still there, and he felt his eyebrows raise in shock. It wasn't - it had been replaced by manacles and a faded leather wrap. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he processed that fact, the connection could be removed by removing her cuff. That was important to know.

“No, it's been… Removed and replaced. " He had thought the cuff just a symbol of her still being… subjected to that man’s whims, but that it was actually what kept them in contact… His eyes widened. Vitruvion seemed like a possessive individual, and he was probably going to be pissed that Avis had been missing for who knows how long. That was when she dragged one claw along her arm, bright red blood welling up behind the tip.

Nevin suppressed a shiver as his magic began to sing to him, sweet sweet exultation and promises of everything he could do with her blood, all the possibilities that he knew of and the hidden secrets sure to lie trapped inside the scarlet life fluid. Of all the blood that he had worked with since becoming what he was, hers made his skin sing the most enticing melody.

He ruthlessly squashed that, focusing on the fact that getting out of here meant one step towards finding out just where the person that had placed a bounty on him was, and one step closer to Lindequalme. With a grimace he waited until Avid had bled enough to form a dagger - the smaller of the tools needed for this. When there was enough - just barely enough - he reached out and twisted his magic around her blood, ignoring the way the lines on his outstretched hand began to glow brighter, a warm cherry red in the dark of the cell.

The blood that had collected on her arm and on the floor beneath it flowed into the air under Nevin’s hand, shaping under the guidance of his will into a short, stout dagger with a thick blade and a hilt with almost no cross guard to speak of. He grasped the dark red hilt as soon as it had finished forming, ignoring the jolt of satisfaction that ran through him as he touched the blood-crafted object, and swiftly gripped the bottom of his cut shirt. With one smooth motion he sliced upwards, separating a long strip of the fabric that he then cut loose.

“Avis, I'm binding your wound first. You're the better fighter of the two of us, can't have you getting weak due to too much bloodloss.” Moving quickly he went to wrap up her arm to stifle the blood falling from her.

F*ck.

Removed and replaced. By some other thing digging pressure into her wrist. Either simply the manacles holding her in position, or another thing of a similar sort. Either way it was a good sign. The craft work that had gone into making the cuff was of Ansaldo's design also - that Vitruvion had told her. "I communed with my father for three days," he had said. That meant the skill gone into making the thing that had been laced with magical, unbreakable metal thread, and created in some otherworldly metal itself, was forged with the magic of two gods. Though it had not allowed Vitruvion to see her whole mind at once, at least that was what he had told her, it has allowed to see and hear what she did, observe and speak to her from afar, and send her the jolts of punishing pain that had been necessary at the start of their working relationship.

As far as she knew about the cuff it meant that Vitruvion could not contact her at all. It was if the line then had been snapped closed, and it was likely that he was frantically searching. It also meant that in this place was a powerful mage of some kind, potentially dark, who had either equal divine or celestial powers ... Or sufficient demonic powers that could be compared. That thought made her go still with apprehension, suddenly aware of what it could mean. Vitruvion, now, perhaps at his wits end would find a use of his deceleration of official ownership over her - that was something that she wouldn't be telling Nevin soon. Who knew who he might react. Vitruvion had agreed to keep that new part of their relationship silent, at her bequest.

But would he now? That was unknown. Did he possibly think that she had somehow taken off the cuff herself and ... Escaped? Now that was going to be an interesting conversation.

But then the thought struck her as she allowed Nevin to wrap her new, self-given wound. Could she use this as her final ability to escape his clutches and never look back? Yes, those who knew of the international Hernsford slavery laws might find out that someone was looking for a singularly kenku slave, and offering a very likely high reward. But she could get out of this, and then run away, to a distant land. Keribas, Melnach ... She could truly possibly get away. It would mean leaving so many people behind, her friends she had made: Nevin, for one; Matriarch Lady Philomel; even Raevin, Vitruvion's captain. Yet it might give her a new opportunity. It would mean leaving behind a whole life of high respectability, skills learnt and admirable amounts of money.

But that was a decision she could make. That she could try.

Sucking in her breath she angled her head as if to look where Nevin was just tying the last knot on her hand. Though he was a new friend she felt for this human greatly. He was a good man, with good intentions, despite his background. He and her had sort of swapped lives - she had had the easier start, he the easier now. That connection made her heart beat and in that moment she knew that a decision to leave him behind could be incredibly hard. Especially as now she longed to meet him in Raiaera and take him to the Red Forest. Vitruvion's vast godly knowledge would surely help.

Ugh. Stop thinking.

Furiously she shook her head and held her hands up higher for the young man to percieve the locks.

"How much can you undo?" She asked. "If you can, I need my eyes. If my cuff is off then that means there is an incredibly powerful mage here of some sort, possibly with demonic connections. So I need my eyes if possible." She paused.

"You'll like my eyes. They do new things since we last met."

Swift, gentle movements finished binding the wound, and strangely for the first time Nevin wished he could heal without needing to resort to a potion. But that wasn't possible, not yet, so tying off the bandage around her thin arm would have to suffice. Then he frowned as she spoke, and began studying the locks scattered across her body. Only a part of his attention were on her words, so what she said after wanting her eyes most didn't register to him right away.

The locks on her manacles were visually the same, probably due to similar construction. The lock on the chain around her head was different though, of a finer make that didn't match the rusty chain it hung on. He could…yes. That would work. Nevin was about to make a cut when what she had said percolated past his attention on her cuffs, and his back went ramrod stiff.

“I… See.” Well. If he hadn't been fairly certain that getting her free of these abominable bindings was necessary before, he was definitely at that decision now. Nevin gritted his teeth against what he knew was coming, peeled off his glove which ended up flying off somewhere in his haste, and slid the edge of the blade along his palm. His blood began to well up and he took a deep breath.

“Avis. I’m going to touch the back of your head where the lock is. I need you to not flinch away, OK?” His voice was soft both with concern and the need to keep hidden from any guards that might be in the hall. Bloody skin touched metal, and Nevin paused a moment to make sure that Stare didn't flinch away before he began working.

Held semi-solid by his magic, Nevin’s blood flowed into the padlock, oozing out of his body and into the cold hard metal under his palm. This was difficult - his magic wanted to surge forth, pulling more and more blood from everywhere to satisfy the singing choir of his skin, and it wanted to flow forth and fill every crevasse of the lock. Nevin could not let it do either - one would kill him, and the other would be useless in this situation. He had to maintain a steady concentration on his magic, forcing it to obey him when it wanted to do so much more than he let it.

With a sudden jerk he felt that it had been enough, enough blood had fallen under the force of his magic to create several small lengths of metal. A steady twist, and the redhead felt the strangest sensation like a part of him was stuck - and then, with a click, the lock sprang open. Nevin let out a sigh of relief and quickly dropped the dagger to one side and pulled the now loose chain and the blindfold off of his friend.

“I can have the cuffs off in a moment. Ah. Hang on.” Well, he hadn't thought of this. Nevin looked down at his hands - one empty, but one with a red key looking like it was growing from his palm.

She did not flinch.

The only real reason she had before was the shock of having someone touch her. There were few moments in her life when someone had been kind with their hands on her body, and she had not expected one of the times to be here, in this cell. True, Vitruvion now had his moments, where he ran his hands through her feathers like a proud father would a child. In those times he had a soft smile placed on his face that spoke of utter delight and satisfaction. Before then, there had been no contact between Stare and her dwarf baker master. And living with the kenku, in a society that was fueled by honour, there was little to no physical contact except for fighting practise. Though loving Stare's mother and father had still been the traditional type and treated her with respect more than anything. Allowing her the chance to initiate physical contact at all times. But never presuming it. Which meant Stare, as Avis, had never sought it, because she had not truly known it.

And now - now his gentle hand was laid over the chain at the back of her head. A tingle of grating and fine metal and the lock that had held the chain so forceably tightly over her eyes fell away. As soon as that was done the kenku furiously rubbed her head against her shoulder, longing the fabric away. Her eyes blinked, hungrily, searching for the light and waiting for it to come. Bit by bit it arrived, feeding the thirsty eyes like a well, allowing them to drink to their heart's content. Furiously she rubbed harder - the millimetres of the reveal slowly coming into her eyes as a thin line of dull light hitting her. But to her it was the bright sun of a midsummer's day and even more desperately she struggled for it, pulling herself a small distance from Nevin.

Ready to buck her head and fling the whole thing up and off.

Eagerly, her eyes drank in the sight.

They were still in the same room as before. About ten foot by ten foot, at the smallest of guesses, with half the room shrouded in a deep shadow. That part she had hidden in for the last few days. The rest, where she was now, was given illumination by a high, barred window set in a stone wall. On three sides of their room there was stone - the fourth having iron railings to stop them from approaching any further. Beyond that was an empty, dark room, possibly another cell, but shrouded mostly in dark also. Stare had not heard anything from that room in the past five days, and she saw a broken door hanging on the hinges. It suggested why Nevin had been stuffed in this cell also. Safely, she assumed that there was no one else here.

Quickly, her eyes adjusted. There was some form of magic that resided in her ability to see beyond what others could that allowed that. It also allowed her to noticed the darker parts of the room clearer than another might - so she could see into the darker corners of the place and actually notice they were completely alone. The door set into the wall, the one that led outside, had a small window itself, but it gave so little light and indication of a person beyond. Carefully, her head movements likely in this time rapid and amusing to one just watching her, she slipped into the beyond-crimson part of the spectrum and found herself able to focus on the heat patterns of the world. Herself, her knees and beak before her with clear, and the cold stone of the room was obvious too. Similarly, the iron bars gave off a powerful coldness in blue, that was directly mirrored by the sight of a lone red man far down the corridor.

So they were safe from interrupters, for now.

And now -

Now she spun around, her hands and feet still tied, her memory of what had happened filling her once more, just as the amazement of being able to see again wore off. Five days, here. Five days, with no Vitruvion. Her cuff, gone. The presence of a powerful mage, likely. Her friend, in the cell also.

Awkwardly she slammed back down, a light ringing filling the room as she did. And her eyes that had been starved of light, likely looked darker than they had ever been with the feathers around them dull and ugly, fed on the sight of her friend. And she filled her lungs and let out the happiest sigh she had in a long time. Red hair. Deep, dark eyes. Young face. It was he. Nevin. The alchemist, in true form, staring at a blood-coloured key in his hand.

She tilted her head.

"What is it?" she asked. "You made a key?"

Then her eyes dropped to the broken padlock on the floor by his feet, that was twisted with a length of rusted chain. Quickly, she fitted the pieces of the problem together.

"Ah. The key was made for that. Hmmm." She tugged on the manacles, and growled under her breath. But she paused, and thought. "Idea. Get the guard from the end of the corridor. He might have keys. Bring him in here and I can finish him off."

It was the gasp of relief and joy that made him look up from the key growing from his palm, and he took in Avis' face with his currently one-eyed gaze. She was staring at him through bloodshot eyes, the feathers around the top of her head matted with days of sweat. But the happiness in her gaze made her eyes shine despite their mildly abused state, and Nevin shifted, an acute awareness of the flow of his blood informing him of the fact that he was now blushing upwards from his neck. The flush of red crept up his exposed chest, easing some of the stark contrast between his normally pale skin and the vibrant red lines that ran across him.

Thankfully she gave him an out, reminding him of the fact that though her eyes were now free, her hands and feet were still bound. He waved his hand sharply, the key breaking free and falling to the ground with a strangely wet sound, then knelt down and picked up the dagger he had dropped. He flipped it over in his hand repeatedly as he thought of how to get the guard over here.

Calling out, telling them that Avis had gotten free would not work, though that was his first idea. That would just raise the alarm immediately and have the guard call for reinforcements. No, he needed something else, something that would cause concern but not outright fear. A vicious grin split his lips, distorted by the swelling and framed on one side by blood.

"Go hide in the corner alright?
These hunters are concerned by the money they're getting from you, so thinking you're dead would probably make him freak out and come running." He swept a hand towards the shadowed corner she had been in when he was dumped in here. Pale fingers curled tight around the hilt of the blood-dagger, pressing the blade up against his sleeve, obscuring it from easy view.

"Once he's in here, he won't leave.
Not when he's one of the ones responsible for your current state." This statement came out thicker than he had intended as his anger at what she had experienced surged, the icy fury threatening to swallow him up for a moment. He shoved it back down and made his way over to the cage bars, checking one last time to make sure she was out of easy sight from the bars of the cell before calling out.

"Hey! Hey, goat-buggerer!" The man down the hall snorted, his head swinging up to look in Nevin's direction. "Yes you you ugly sack of potatoes!" The man pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and started walking towards the cell, pulling his club from his belt. Nevin's hand tightened on his dagger.

"Just thought you might want to know that I think the other prisoner's dying or dead. She started making these choking noises and I thought I heard her collapse, but I'm not going near it in case it's a trick to get me close enough to attack. Not that she'd really need a trick but hey, your sorry fat head doesn't need to know that." Nevin's last sentence was said under his breath, possibly loud enough for Stare to hear, but not enough for the guard to. What he had heard made the guard speed up drastically, breaking into a light run.

Within moments he was unlocking the gate, and Nevin started to turn in his direction - only for the guard to lash out with the club, smashing into the side of the alchemist's head. It hit the gouge that the head of the hunters had made earlier, making the wound bleed more freely even as Nevin's head smacked against the cell bars. The Alchemist staggered backwards, his head now drowning in a fresh wave of pain.

It did not take Stare long to react.

Quietly, and subtly, she had been waiting in the corner, creating the ruse she was collapsed or dead. Just what exactly had made the jailor assume that was the truth was beyond her, but then he was an idiot. Was he thinking, as he strode towards their cell door, that her chains would keep her from being a true danger. Was he thinking, that his jibes about her 'eating' Nevin were in fact never going to lie in reality? Stare would have defended herself until the last, despite having been blinded and trussed up like a yuletide turkey. With any man, woman, or other, she would have give a good fight before dying with a last breath. Had the man really believed that she would go from being deadly loud and defiant, to a meek, fainted bundle? Just what had been going through his head as he walked in to meet Nevin.

And then endure a failed attack with a knife made from hardened blood, and club the young man on the head.

Well, that was something that Stare, peering from the darkness, would not allow. The man, after all, did not know she was there. He assumed she was at least blind and chained. He did not consider the fact she might dangerous, so helpless had she been left the last few days.

Her knees already tucked beneath her, Stare leapt as a reign of fury from the corner, her beak wide open and calling a cheer of war. The door was still open, and the guard had just walked in and hit Nevin, without the boy having done anything but turn. It caused a problem - and that was the guard himself. So Stare needed to deal with him. She called and she awkwardly lunged, using the faint elements of her might to attack. Her beak flew open and though she barely got two feet her eyes were still daggers.

It meant that the jailor was ultimately attacked from the shadow, as a death caw rang around the stonework. With concentration on his ankle, Stare willed a severe amount of pain on him, as much as a blunt knife stabbing. Letting out a loud groan the guard dropped the club from his hand - and then dropped to one knee. He cried out in pain as Stare landed with a thump on the ground.

Yet still she soldiered on, and threw her hatred eyes at his face. No sooner had he bent to clutch his ankle than a large bubbling mass of skin began to appear on his cheek, the genuine flesh dying rapidly away. He screamed and clutched at it, but all that that did was cause the skin to flake off, then fall of into his hands.

"Finish him off!" Stare hissed in a cold, detesting voice, as spiteful and horrible as Vitruvion had made her. "Kill him."

Nevin had recovered from the two smacks to the head as Stare wrestled with the bastard jailor. He had pushed his way back to his feet as she made the man collapse - and how had she done that? Nothing seemed to have happened to the man before he collapsed, dropping his club. The blood mage had already begun moving as soon as the man went to grip his ankle, and then began screaming as his face began to rot.

"With pleasure, dear Avis." Nevin's voice came out in an angry hiss as he lunged forward, wrapping his arm one arm around the man arms, forcing them down. The other hand snaked forward, driving the blood-dagger deep into the man's neck, cutting off his screams of agony with a wet, coughing gurgle. Nevin took no chances, and ripped the blade back out, allowing a gush of blood to hit the ground, then dragged the edge of the blade through his eyes. He watched as the man fell over, coughing up blood weakly, impassive as one hand reached upwards to him. Nevin stepped on that hand, and searched the man for the keys to Stare's locks. There were a few keys on the ring that the jailor had jangled at him, one of which matched the blood key he had used to unlock Stare's first chain. Nevin moved over to Stare and began testing keys until he found the one that unlocked her hands and feet.

Once she was free he gave the body a kick and stood up, swaying slightly as he did so. He scooped up the club into his hand and hefted it, testing the two weapons. Stare was... Drained, weakened by her time in captivity. He moved over to her and pressed the warm, slick hilt of the dagger into the hand of the uninjured arm.

"Take this, conserve what strength you have. Until we can find my supplies, one of my potions should help you out. And... You're not the only one who picked up a new trick." Nevin straightened up and headed cell door, pausing in the now open doorway to stand guard until she was ready to move out.

Heavily she breathed as he finally released her arms and legs from their five day long hold. As blood returned in full pressure to them she felt her whole body begin to experience a long, dreadful tingling sensation. Eyes fixed on the dead body of the guard she semi-focused on herself, and trying to ease her form back into a fighting position as she considered what was to come.

Now they had killed someone it would not be long before they needed to act next. The corridor lay before them, and even with her heat sight, there was nobody in view. That gave the next few minutes at least an easy prologue to the likely devastation that they would have to cause beyond. And it was even possible that the guard was alone in this level or area. With luck perhaps no one had even heard his scream of pain as she had mentally and visually stabbed his ankle. That gave them longer still perhaps to ready themselves before someone else came to check on the prisoners and find their colleague deceased. It gave them longer to prepare, longer for her to ease her muscles out from their currently agonising ache into a fighting stance.

As the blade of blood was pressed into her hand she felt a warmth run into her. Gently raising her eyes away from the corpse of their joint efforts, she focused on Nevin for a while, watching as he stood and bade her to conserve her strength. It was true her body was shaking, twisted and contorted as she had been for the long time, but her body had suffered more before. Indeed, she had been kept in a cage for two full weeks when she had tried to escape the Hollow. And she had been fed. Belief in herself was currently high, and Stare was determined to be more than just a weaker counterpart. True, as she tried to stand she found her leg begin to buckle beneath her, but the hold on the dagger she had was firm. Instinctively her hand had curled around it like a baby's around its mother's finger. It made her sinews awaken with expectation, bursting with reason and the knowledge of how to fight.

So she forced herself to tense, and her body to still, sucking in deep charges of breath. Rolling her shoulders back she refused to look at the state of her form right now, knowing for a fact he feathers would be fragmented and far from proudly glossy. In fact she could feel the missing cover of several tail feathers, and the negated feel of the cuff on her wrist.

Sighing she placed away the problems she would need to deal with later away, the decisions she could make and stalked over to be behind Nevin, one of her legs limping as she did.

Pain and a small peek told her it was a place that the plumage had all but been worn away and her skin was insanely ruined.

Ugh. She looked away and kept behind him, dagger in hand and ready to do what she could. With him she gazed down the corridor. And waited for a moment until the calls began to come.

"Gundred?" Came the word. A pause, then a grunted repetition. "Ehhh ... Gundred?"

Stare looked back to the body, likely 'Gundred' and her body stilled. Silent, she watched for Nevin's reaction as the next call sounded worried.

"... Gun ... Dred?"

Nevin bit back a curse. Of course he had chosen to act minutes before one of their captors came looking for his friend. A quick look to Stare showed that she had come over to him and was looking at him, her body still and tense. The blood mage took in a deep breath as the person calling for 'Gundred' became more concerned and started coming down the hall. It would be only a few moments before they turned the corner and could see that the first guard wasn't in the hallway and that the cell door was open. Fine. Nevin concentrated on his left hand, the one without the club in it, and started moving down the hall as quietly as he could, picking up speed.

"Oi, Gundred, now's not the time for games. They told us that bird woman could do some freaky things with her eyes." Heavy footsteps began approaching as Nevin tried to reach the corner of the corridor before the other person did. "And who knows what that tattooed freak can do, nobody's told us a thing. Gundred!" Worry and fear filled that last hour of the name and four feet away from the corner, Nevin knew he wouldn't make it in time. He snarled under his breath and flexed the magic tingling across his skin, swinging his arm up into a position over his shoulder.

Scarlet threads seemed to crawl from beneath his glove, weaving together as his arm came up, building into larger strings, then cords, then ropes - until they formed a blood red whip that writhed about in the air, almost independent of Nevin's motions. The guard coming looking for his friend turned the corner and the blood mage's arm snapped forward, whipping out and twisting slightly as it reached full extension. The whip shot through the air just as the guard saw Nevin and started to open his mouth to scream for back up; those screams were cut off before they could begin as Nevin’s bloody weapon wrapped around his throat and tightened when Nevin pulled his arm back. The guard was pulled off of his feet by the whip, and his hands came up to his neck, frantically trying to pull the whip off as his lungs cried out for air. What he did not see at the time was that every time his fingers touched the whip, he lost some of the skin on them, his blood leaving a crimson trail down his chest into the floor.

Nevin braced his foot against the guard's shoulder and pulled his arm back, using the motion and his control over the whip to keep it taut, watching with a blank face as the guard scrabble at his leg, the movements becoming weaker and weaker as the seconds passed. Finally the man's attempts at freeing himself stopped, and Nevin let the whip go slack, then pulled it away. Once the whip had coiled back up around his arm - moving unnaturally to do so - it revealed that around the guard's neck was a section of flesh where the skin and some of the muscle had been torn free. Nevin stared at the man for a moment, suppressing the shiver that ran down his spine. This was the first person he had killed with his scarlet threads, and he didn't think it was much of a pretty sight. He forced the revulsion at his own ability down and the threads unraveled from the whip, disappearing under his glove and sleeve.

"So... Sorry you had to see that.
We should go quickly, now that two are down more are sure to come. I remember the route to the head honcho's office - they didn't know I was conscious when they dragged me away." Nevin carefully did not look in Stare's direction as he began walking down the hallways, only pausing to listen for her to get close before moving again.

As she watched the lithe form of the snake-like crimson whip float out of his veins, Stare felt like she was not so much a lone demon anymore. Truly, in this place, she was not a dark angel of vengeance to be feared, but suddenly had an ally in the most terrible of times. All that had made her who she was - her half year in the Hollow, her decade before that of facing death and sorrow, her slow evolution now into a powerful magic user - had changed her personality to some dark effect. Perhaps they were not as dark as the possible mage who dwelt here, and perhaps they were sourced from a pure divine being, but those origins of her core being had definitely made her more bloodthirsty. More despairing in the setient being condition. More spiteful by nearly everything.

She nodded as the man fell back, neck free from flesh. Blood splattered the dark rocks of the passageway and even threatened to douse out one of the torches set into the wall. There were three altogether, and they managed the light in this place along with the natural illumination coming in from the cell's high windows. As Stare drank in the new brilliance she glanced over at Nevin, checking that he was well and saw the crimson whip slide back to join his veins. For a moment she blinked and he began an apology.

"Sorry you had to see that ..."

She grunted quietly and limped up the rest of the corridor to come stand beside him, not listening to the rest. Gladly, she left the cell doorway behind and saw the corpse at a better view. Mounds of skin and sinew were now scattered or burnt away, and his jugular was open for all the world to see. A thin white flash told of a bone from the underside of his jaw where the whip had scraped. It was an elegant but ugly death, and Stare had seen worse.

She balanced on her good leg, not feeling the true strength yet to excel her speed. With dagger in hand she looked at Nevin and then further up the corridor where this foe was from. The route seemed to extend for a while and darken, only one torch in its path. But as she could see now, and her eyes pierced the gloom she saw that it veered to the right at the end.

"Corner at the end," she extended a hand into the gloom.

Taking in a low breath she then heaved pressure back onto her injured ankle and began clumsily walking again. She held her dagger steady and kept her eyes peeled, striding and expecting Nevin to follow.

Onwards she went, cautious but steady and hearing no footsteps but their own. As they got the corner of the corridor she needed to rely on her dark vision more. But thankfully, apparently, her eyes were better than her body was, and adjusted accordingly to her will. Slowly she stopped pressing herself against the inside wall of the corner and looked around at Nevin. With a small nod to him and a smirk in her eyes she focused on the fact there was a lack of light coming from up ahead and hoped this meant no further enemies.

Just as yet.

And then she geared up herself, paused, and then peeked around the corner.

Only to have her heart sink as she saw stairs leading up. No men, no guards, but a steady set of stone stairs built into the continuing corridor, veering around a corner. And from them, just at the twist, was another dim light.

Sign of more life.