applesaucedream | Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

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Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

The woods are dark and deep, but not particularly lovely. If anything, they feel dangerous, as if something terrible might come lurching out from behind any given tree and tear into the nearest warm body. What that terrible thing might be is anyone's guess. A cat with hands? Slenderman? Stegosaurus? Actual cannibal Shia LaBeouf? All of the above in a horrible mob? It's anyone's guess. But every dreamer will be absolutely convinced that there is something unspeakable out there, and that it's after them.

The dreamers have two things on their side. The first is that there is actually nothing dangerous lurking in these woods (with the possible exception of other dreamers). The pervasive terror the dreamers are feeling is just that: a rift-given feeling, nothing more and nothing less. That snapping twig or rustle in the undergrowth is almost certainly just a squirrel or something else equally harmless.

The second is that no dreamer is alone. They all will be reunited with - or introduced to - their dæmons, a source of comfort in this dark, intimidating wilderness. However frightened the dreamers might be, at least they have someone with them who definitely doesn't want them dead.

[OOC: as ever, any and all are welcome! You don't have to be in the game to join the fun. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. And the party only stops when you want it to; feel free to backtag forever.]

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As nice as dark black forests are as metaphors, the practicality of one leaves much to be desired. Not that he's on bad terms with darkness, though trees are another matter altogether; it's just a question of visibility, and ease of travel. And when was the last time Zagreus ever felt...pursued? Hunted even? That's a new one, even for all his paranoia, with some notable exceptions. What lives in woods in his dreams? He could hazard a guess. He gives the woods a disgruntled scan, until his eyes alight on something monstrous, sitting silently where his blind spot had just recently been, and he tenses a bit before recognition sets in. Visual recognition, yes, but also--yes, the spirit creature again. How odd.

"Hello again, Frightful," he says, not unpleasantly, for all the insouciance of refusing to use its name. Truthfully, though it's attempting to be a distressing number of things at once, and not presenting a good facsimile of any, he likes the thing, however begrudgingly and surreptitiously. Even if it is a walking identity crisis, threatening to tip him over into discomfort any minute. The creature greets him with a rough exhaled rumble, the closest any big cat can get to a purr, even a mythical abomination of one. Could be resignation, affection, threat, displeasure--it's a little limited in its expressiveness that way. Otherwise it refrains from any commentary; perhaps having existence sprung on one unexpectedly is offputting.

His identity crisis is currently looking just as uncomfortable and uneasy as he feels, goat ears flicking nervously, otherwise preternaturally still, expecting the worst. Zagreus feels much the same...and yet. Forests are for exploring. No one just stays put, that's not how it goes. And the devil you know is always preferable--time to find it and get to know it, right? With unspoken agreement, they set off, wary and alert.

Johnny doesn't remember when he wound up alone again; wasn't he with someone? Someones? There were people with him, and he felt safe. Things never come out at him when he's with someone.

Nova's ears turn obsessively this way and that. Johnny's keeping his nervousness pretty well tamped down, or maybe she's just shouldering the full weight of it on his behalf. But when she stiffens, he stops short, a twig cracking loudly beneath his feet.

"What?" he hisses.

"Someone's there," she whispers. "Someone bad."

He looks up, trying to see anything, but all he can see is trees. He hears a certain rustling, maybe coming toward them, maybe circling round - hard to tell.

"I remember that smell." She's trembling now, and he knows, already he knows, but he doesn't want to believe it. Not again. Not so soon after the last time. "Johnny, we have to get out of here, now."

He should run, probably. What are the chances of anyone catching him in this environment, even Zagreus? But he can't. He stands still.

"Johnny," she urges.

He starts moving, but slowly - quiet little steps back the way he came, trying to eke out a path away from the encroaching presence. Trying to put some distance in. This never works, but it might work this time, right?

It doesn't take three sets of ears (Four? Two? Do snakes have ears? Where do dragons fall on the ear issue? What a mess.) to hear the sharp crack of a twig nearby, like the precursor to a firework's bloom. Zagreus hears it just fine. Alecto is the better at pinpointing the origin, however. Maybe some sort of triangulation effect? Maybe just the nature of the beast. Without any discussion (why would there be?) the chimaera heads in the direction of the sound, padding softly on the littered forest floor, naturally, predatorily quiet but not actively trying for stealth. Zagreus, of course, follows, and without that concern Johnny is easy to catch up to, at his fearful creeping pace.

Now the chimaera does make an effort at stalking, approaching Johnny at a bias, flanking him, with Zagreus' unspoken approval if not his cooperation. Not that that's necessary; it hadn't needed any input from Zagreus to grab Nova before, and it certainly isn't any more inclined to wait for direction now. Not from him, anyway. In a rush, the creature manages to appear all but under Johnny's feet, baying happily, swiping at his ankles with a paw that could hamstring Johnny, if it were so inclined. But the claws are, once again, sheathed. Playful, the way a well-fed cat is playful. Needless to say, Zagreus finds all this absolutely hilarious.

He can't ignore the way Nova is just frozen in his arms, her little heart beating so rapidly, and he fucking knows why, too, but he still can't make himself run, like a real dream, a regular dream, where his legs just won't work, but different somehow, too.

The swipe at his feet still manages to catch him off guard, and he lets out a gasp-scream of surprise and throat-clenching fear as he topples backwards, striking his head against a root. Nova squeaks in fear, huddling against him, and he closes his arms around her protectively, blinking against the dark and the blur of mild head trauma at his assailant. That thing, Zagreus' - chimaera, that was it. Not again, not again.

He doesn't bother protesting, scooting back fearfully, uselessly, slipping on dry leaves and awkward with his arms occupied, knowing Zagreus himself is out there somewhere, near enough.

Call for Gabe, part of him is screaming. Call Gabe right now. Right the fuck now.

He can't. He can't do it. Why can't he do it?! Nova is quivering in his hands but even she doesn't raise her voice to him, and she could probably call Gabe as well, but they both stay confoundingly fucking silent. Can't even think the name, the proper name, can't ask for help. He can only stare at the three heads all eyeing him like he's a meal.

Zagreus can't help laughing, though something keeps him quiet about it; probably the same thing that makes him feel a flash of annoyance at Alecto's gleeful cacophony, and Johnny's little scream. This isn't a place for loud, he feels instinctively. The forest feels like it might punish loud. Still...that was priceless, and he's under a lot of stress. That requires at least a solid chuckle.

The chimaera, meanwhile, advances on Johnny's fallen form until it's practically on top of him, uncomfortably close and real but absurdly dainty in its precise steps, avoiding any actual contact like a cat avoids water. Of course it's every bit as bizarrely fastidious as Zagreus himself.

"Go on, then. Tear up the ground, rip down some trees. Wouldn't that be nice?" Zagreus taunts, but with his madness behind it it's almost wistful. That would be nice.

Johnny backs up until he's caught against a tree, and by then it's too late to get anywhere with the chimaera boxing him in. He jerks in absurd surprise when Zagreus speaks, glancing toward the voice for just a second, too nervous to take his eyes from the monster for very long, darting from head to head in petrified disarray.

It's Nova who finally speaks, blurting out lines so familiar they might as well be scripted: "What do you want? Why can't you just leave us alone?!" Johnny clutches her tighter, begging her to be silent. There's nothing they can say ~~except Gabriel~~, there never is ~~except Gabriel~~. It doesn't matter. By the same sort of non-logic by which he couldn't run, he can't save himself.

Well, at least the little rabbit is true to form. If you don't have consistency with your soul, what do you have? But that doesn't make it any less tiresome, or any more worthy of an answer. Though, if he remembers rightly, the rabbit is at least a little more interesting than Johnny, once it gets going. A little bolder and more vibrant, a little less sordid and worn down. Zagreus ignores the rabbit anyway; talking to a rabbit still just doesn't feel right. Now Zagreus is standing nearby too, though by no means as close as the chimaera, observing and enjoying Johnny's clear distress. "Johnny, if you hold that thing any tighter it's going to suffocate. Won't even be my fault, this time." Welllllllllll, if you squint.

The chimaera has progressed to sniffing at Johnny's shoulder, even though that bite is long since healed over, was purely a mental affliction anyway. Then, pawing insistently at Johnny's arm, as though in agreement with its counterpart regarding the rabbit's potential smothering. Or possibly it just wants her to be able to run.

Johnny ignores Zagreus, keeping his eyes on the beast itself. He doesn't loosening his grip in the slightest, like he can't fucking tell how well Nova can or cannot breathe.

"Fuck you," he whispers without a trace of the usual desperate vehemence, the syllabic edge twisting into a startled whimper when the chimaera paws at him, how can Zagreus stand it, such a casual brush of contact that should be intimate, if allowed at all.

"Please," he begs softly, curling up closer against the tree. He might be pushed to idiotic violence whenever Zagreus pulls this shit on him, but he remembers what a lion paw to the head felt like, and he desperately doesn't want anything to happen to Nova. He keeps still, apart from the trembling. "Please, just go away."

Zagreus can stand it because it's in his catastrophically warped nature. He's already inured to turning a lot of himself on others, sometimes intimately so and at his own expense, and besides, Johnny's a non-entity anyway. As he's currently attempting to demonstrate, curled up and shaking like if he tries hard enough he could curl in on himself and disappear. How unfortunate. Where's the typically doomed scrappiness that's practically become Johnny's trademark? Subsumed by the need to protect a rabbit. What a liability, to have these spirit creatures. Even for him, he has to acknowledge, however privately. The thing does not repeat its pawing.

The chimaera scoffs, which with its physiognomy entails a forceful chuff of sound and hot air, stirring Johnny's hair. "You know that's not going to happen," the thing chides. "I doubt we know how."

"Besides," Zagreus adds all too cheerfully, "What if something eats you? Something that isn't Alecto, I mean." He's starting to wonder what it would be like, if the thing gave Johnny a good solid bite. Nothing sustained. Probably survivable, and anyway, it's a dream, what of it. In the name of curiosity, etc.

Johnny doesn't dignify any of that bullshit with a response. He jerks to the side suddenly, strings cut, tension released in a furious burst of energy. He doesn't quite make it to his feet, and he knows he's not going to get far, but that doesn't matter. Nova knows what he's doing, and when he extends his hands she kicks away from him, jumping into the dark and hiding herself in the shadows and smells of the woods, at the very edge of the limit for distance they can have - Johnny just barely feels the beginnings of that painful tug in his chest, and she moves no further.

On the follow-through of the motion he loses his already precarious balance and falls to the earth at Zagreus' feet, and there's no point trying to escape because he knows he can't, and he doesn't want that thing to chase him.

For all of that, Johnny seems to have taken his advice to heart; he certainly let the rabbit go, a bit more forcefully than Zagreus' admonition really warranted, if he's being honest, but what can you do, some people just can't do anything right. It was a smart move on Johnny's part, really, for all it's suspect origins. The chimaera surges eagerly in the direction of Johnny's throw, it really couldn't do otherwise, not standing over Johnny and waiting as it had been, grotesquely playful and keyed for pursuit. Throw the ball, Johnny. Zagreus makes no effort to keep it in check. Whether because he approves of the creature's game or because he doesn't want to find out whether or not it would listen, who could say. Immediately the chimaera is mostly lost to the darkness, but it can still be heard, hunting through the leaves and general forest litter for the little rabbit.

Not that Johnny looks to be in any position to judge Zagreus on being in control of himself, in whatever iteration that self currently happens to be. It's somewhat mollifying, for Johnny to be in a useless heap; Zagreus was starting to feel a bit shown up by his own monster. Is that symbolising anything, or just annoying? Whatever. Something is digging into the back of his mind like a thorn, and he responds in kind, digging the toe of his shoe sharply into the hollow of Johnny's collarbone. Like the chimaera's pawing, peremptory but broadly repulsed. And...not a little hopeful. There has to be a spine in here somewhere. "Where's your earthquake now?"

"Don't-" Johnny rasps out, too soft to be heard, really, buried in the dirt and the leaves along with him. The chimaera stalks through the woods, circling, and he can feel Nova hiding, frozen, scared. He wants her to run, get as far away as she can - he knows it will hurt like hell, maybe until their invisible tether snaps, but maybe it's possible, maybe she could get away.

He can feel her, practically vibrating with indignation. I'm not leaving you, idiot.

His focus moves quickly from his soul-rabbit to himself when Zagreus nudges him hard with his fucking foot. Johnny flinches and makes an involuntary grunt, sounding soft and pitiful and preylike. Hearing himself like that sends a sudden resurgence of his usual, stupid anger ripping through him, and he digs his fingers into the dirt, staring up at Zagreus with open, teeth-bared hatred.

"Won't work out here," he says coldly, because there's no point in refusing to answer. "It only works on houses."

He wants to fight back, against the obvious taunt, the indignity of being toed at, but he can't, quite. His arms won't work, or his legs, or all of him. He's pinioned by the point of Zagreus' shoe, paralyzed beneath it.

Zagreus nods like he'd expected as much, still watching Johnny with detached disgust--look what a gross thing was under this rock, truly, nature is amazing and mysterious. In reality of course he hadn't expected as much, but there had to be some limitation to Johnny's power, and narrative demands it be a significant one. The only real surprise here is Johnny saying something straightforward and informative instead of telling him to go away. Perhaps the snarling is new as well, but Zagreus isn't exactly keeping track.

The chimaera is still trotting its irregular zigzags through the roots and litter, increasingly frustrated, unable to find its prey. Greek monsters are surprisingly unsuitable for real world pursuits like hunting, or maybe that isn't surprising in the slightest. Why else would they have given a female monster a mane, besides a lack of understanding of reality? Natural disasters are ferocious, not skilled. Metaphors ought to be heard and not seen. They had thought meat spontaneously generated flies, too. Zagreus unpins Johnny only to crouch nearby, arm rested on drawn up knee pleasantly, sympathetically. "That sounds a lot more useful than I would have given you credit for. Just in dreams, or in the waking world? Don't lie, I'll check."

Johnny keeps his eyes on Zagreus, though he's still very aware of the chimaera. It seems to be having trouble finding Nova, who blends well into the brush. Small favors.

"Both," he murmurs. He feels a twist in his gut; he's giving everything away open-handed this time, with none of the usual interrogation and torture song and dance. He's not even being held in place anymore, apart from the precarious distance of his rabbit. "Most of the time anyway. Dreams are a toss-up."

The words sound normal, organized like a conventional conversation, but there's a dogged, forced nonchalance to them, trepidation in his eyes and contempt in his lips. He's coiled like a spring or a prey animal, ready to run, though there's no point to that, really, and he probably won't try it. It's just for show. Habit. Old habits cling to life but they're getting easier to cage.

For a moment it looks like Zagreus means to follow through on his fact-checking, reaching for Johnny like he means to comb through his thoughts yet again. But for all he'd threatened it, he only brushes Johnny's hair away from his temple, still feigning sympathy, like he's feverish instead of venomously petrified. Johnny isn't lying, but that doesn't mean Zagreus doesn't want to see him flinch. His cooperation is of course appreciated, but it wouldn't even necessarily guarantee forbearance, if the forest weren't just enough of a distrusted unknown to keep all mental limbs safely inside the vehicle. Nothing in the rules says cooperation has to guarantee anything, not in this circumstance and not for Johnny.

"Good. You'll need that. Any houses?" Because Zagreus knows specifics are important. The devil's in the details. Johnny isn't clever or mythically fickle enough to need such attention to detail, but the Rift, and its power-granting logic, is a different story altogether.

Johnny does flinch, scraping his shoulder through the dirt in an effort to pull back from the hand that, regardless, manages to brush through his hair. Catching Zagreus' wrist is a reflexive motion as well as a stupid one, but once it's happened it's too late. He's frozen, half sprawled and curled in the dirt, propped up on his shoulder, holding the predator's wrist like he means to push his hand away. He doesn't; he doesn't release his grip either. Just stares into Zagreus' eyes, his expression shifting fluidly from fear to defiance and back again. Everything he does in these interactions is like finding the book: he regrets everything but he won't put it back.

"So far," he says through his teeth, ignoring the dissonance of answering his questions like a good boy during this half-expressed act of physical repulsion. "Anything... constructed."

It feels like it's been forever, just Daniel wandering with the pale blur of the white leopard at his side, straining to discern shapes in the murk and then immediately hoping he never discerns any shapes at all. It's the suspense, the principle of the thing, the vague menace that's puddled between each jagged spike of a tree, the idea that there is a great vague Something observing him with lazy fascination, that really sends all of Daniel's nerves prickling. Aliyah, too, has been especially on edge, apparently just as concerned over Schrödinger's beast as she winds over roots and crackling dead leaves, ears swiveling faintly from side to side.

Somewhere a distant thing cracks and Daniel's hand drops to mid-thigh for the sidearm that isn't there. Evidently the dream has chosen to manifest him in the form of his old SGC self, right down to the green BDUs, but in its typical fashion has failed to supply any sort of weapon, even a field knife. Aliyah has her teeth and her claws and her predatory stare, but those are weapons of survival, nowhere near the caliber of a P-90 or even a Beretta. Daniel is too well used to feeling helpless, illustrated as always by the hands that constantly shift in their morass of anxiety but intermingled with the jangling, nauseatingly frequent wrenches of dread to his general chest region, it's unbearable.

When he finally perceives a shape in the gloom, he and Aliyah halt immediately. His heart does too, it feels like, before it promptly redoubles what feels like a painful effort to escape the confines of his ribcage. The shape looks human enough, but they both know that's hardly an indication of species or friendliness. And there's something - beside them, faintly etched out between the spiky arcs of branches overhead, and it - both of them - don't look quite right.

Daniel can't explain the shiver that runs through him, but whatever nebulous foreboding he's been experiencing since he got here, it feels like it just tripled in intensity.

The sensation of being watched is, as always, unwelcome. The moreso for the fact that on some level, both Zagreus and the chimaera are still afraid and feeling unpleasantly exposed. Being afraid is one of the surest ways to make him peevish, and that probably goes double for the monstrosity at his side, exchanging increasingly barbed quips in hushed tones. Frankly, it's probably best that a new target presents itself, even if it's currently an unknown. With eerie, unspoken accord both creatures whirl and turn their attentions sharply behind them, around them, scanning intently for anything nearby and alive. It's become something of a routine, though without any of the comfort that implies--feeling watched, and trying to catch the watcher only to find a mocking nothingness. Only this time, something is actually there, someone, actually. A man, and a big cat that all but glows in the dark, to which they've grown so accustomed. Whatever these two are, they're obviously not whatever's lurking in the forest. Zagreus exhales, and the chimaera chuffs, frustration and relief commingled.

As they approach the newcomers, Zagreus can tell the man's a stranger. Also, he's plainly terrified, that's hard for something like Zagreus to miss. "Relax," he says, and it might sound reassuring, if he could manage that without any disdain slipping in. Not to mention, the presence of Alecto at his side might go a considerable distance in spoiling that particular game; it's hard to imagine anyone believing that he's not a potential danger, with that manifestation. That's the trouble with having your beastly soul on the outside. "I'm not...whatever's in these woods."

Daniel takes issue with that statement on both a rhetorical and ideological level but not so much as he takes issue with the anatomically accurate representation of a chimaera keeping pace with the speaker. God, is that thing the extension of his soul, tantamount to what Aliyah is to Daniel?

Either way, the man's urge to "relax" inspires nothing to that effect. Daniel stands rigid as ever, a nervous hybrid of aggression and unease radiating from the tensed curve in his shoulders.

"Who are you, then?" he asks, dragging out the words with much more suspicion than intended. Aliyah sniffs experimentally, recoils, regards man and beast with equal amounts of mistrust. Neither seem to be victims of the same fear rapidly coalescing in the pit of Daniel's stomach; they seem more mildly unnerved than anything so extreme.

Yes, it had been technically a nonsense statement, Zagreus was more than aware, but really, it was essentially true. More true than anything else he could have said, anyway; what, that he's harmless? That they come in peace? The best Zagreus can do is say that he's not the main monstrous attraction of this particular venue.

"Zagreus, if that helps you any," he offers, watching the leopard's reaction with amusement. The chimaera gaps one set of jaws in a quick yawn, a fairly standard gesture of dissipating tension. See? Relaxed. This is how it's done. Nevermind that it's a show. Nevermind that nothing that size ought to look like that, in the mouth, all fitted for a snake's tongue instead of what should be there. "And I am Alecto," says the head currently fixing Daniel with a leonine stare. It's a surprisingly feminine voice, considering the mane, but that's all purely incidental anyway, when you're a myth. "And you are?" Zagreus asks, pointedly, annoyed at sharing the spotlight with his own much flashier manifestation.

"Daniel," he says slowly, torn between the faint excitement of being in such proximity to such a complex organism and wanting to keep his eyes trained on the man in front of him. Even the perpetual state of unease he and Aliyah have been caught in doesn't quite align with the entirely different sort of faint automatic terror response this man generates. It feels, if such a thing is possible, even less traditionally quantifiable. He inclines his head at the snow leopard. "That's Aliyah."

Introductions past, Daniel tries to arrange his expression into something less blatantly wary, more politely interested. This entire forest is playing havoc on his senses, after all, and it might not be person-specific. It's possible this Zagreus is -

Wait, Zagreus?

"Zagreus as in the Dionysian Greek god?" he asks, a hint of the old caution creeping back into his tone. As skittish as he is, his grasp of even the more obscure branches of mythology remains intact. He's had good enough reason to more or less memorize the entire pantheon, after all, even its lesser known branches.

Really, again? Everyone's a mythology buff when you've been dumped through a universal rift, apparently. "No relation, I'm afraid. I predate that by some time," he says, faux-apologetically. It's technically true, sort of, inasmuch as chronology exists. He prefers to skip any further specificity entirely. Though maybe some day he'll just roll with it, for entertainment's sake. It would serve someone right. Maybe next he'll ask if that's the Lycian chimaera, looking bored and wary (why limit yourself? No shortage of faces) at his side.

Now, Zagreus is hardly an expert on human(oid?) anything, but this is someone dressed...tactically, for lack of a better word. A soldier, or part of a crew, though a quick look reveals no obvious weaponry. As often as not, the people Zagreus encounters aren't people at all, or if they are, their talents don't lie anywhere so mundane, if they have any. That makes this encounter a very minor novelty. "Very interesting cult though. Why are you so afraid?" It could just be the sudden appearance of a couple of mythological monsters, but Zagreus doesn't think so.

Predating. That - is not good. Daniel can't help but wonder if this dream has dug out a remnant of his encyclopaedic knowledge of gods of various origins to fashion a nightmare specifically for him. Though Zagreus did also say no relation, implying there's no a-god-am-I mentality there in the first place. He has a feeling he'd know if that were the case; there tends to be a less subtle approach for everyone involved in that situation.

"Well aren't you?" Daniel fires back, more perplexed than hostile. The entire area feels so deeply unfriendly that he can't imagine anyone not being at least a little on edge here, though he supposes if one has a chimaera on their side the prospect of exploring might not seem as frightening. There's nothing about this man that implies he's as openly unnerved.

He makes a faint, halfhearted wave at the vast expanse of trees that appears to stretch infinitely in every direction. "I think it's this place," he offers tentatively. "I think it's just - I don't think it likes people being here."

Which sounds mildly ridiculous when one puts it out loud, but that's the best way Daniel can explain it. It's not as if sentient forests are the strangest thing he's seen. Case in point - Zagreus has a chimaera, and why draw the line there? It's entirely possible this is some sort of...sapient deciduous loci, maybe, that simply doesn't like strange souls wandering around inside of it.

Don't be fooled by the humility, Zagreus can get apotheosize with the best of them, when he's of a mind. And don't be fooled the lack of obvious fear, either. He and the chimaera are on edge, deeply unsettled by their surroundings and the feelings of being watched by something just out of sight. Something that understands what it sees, well enough to offer a knowing wink, well enough to make fools of them both. It's deeply unnerving, wrapped up and given wings by his native paranoia. Showing real fear, he feels with his instinctive understanding for unspoken rules, would set things in downhill motion fast. But the flipside of the coin is that if he follows those rules, things will only stay as foreboding as they are now. None of which does Zagreus feel compelled to voice aloud; he ignores the question completely.

The rest of it, though...far from sounding ridiculous, Zagreus is exactly the kind of person who will accept a sentient and malevolent forest without question. Why not? It practically goes without saying, by now. "Well, why would it? If someone threw a party in your house uninvited, you'd probably feel some resentment too." Did he just empathise with a hypothetically sentient forest? That's the worst thing to happen in this dream so far. Maybe he ought to bring out the imaginary axe. "But you haven't seen anything? You know, aside..." Zagreus waves indiscriminately at himself and the chimaera.

As if summoned, the mention of seeing anything reinvigorates the prickle on the back of Daniel's neck that leaves his neck muscles screaming to whip around and investigate what could be watching them. He resists the urge through simple application of a distraction, choosing instead to mull over the question. It is a good question, so simple and matter-of-fact in its core that Daniel probably could have gone hours before considering it. He exchanges a frown with Aliyah, who replies with slow swish of her tail. Daniel assumes he's just earned the snow leopard equivalent of a shrug.

They haven't, he's realized. They haven't seen anything more substantial than mist and tree bark, neither of which have displayed any intent to harm them. It's all been unformed flickers of movement at the ridges of their periphery, menacing shadows stretched outward and thrown by some formless unknown light source - it is so very dark here, and acutely disturbing.

"Nothing," Daniel says, shaking his head slowly. "I haven't - we haven't seen anything. At all." His eyes flick back up to peer intently at Zagreus, sharp and curious. "What d'you think that means? Is it angry at us?"

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Tender Lumplings Everywhere, Life's No Fun Without A Good Scare [Open to All]

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you keep on hoping that, Johnny

optimism is delicious

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