ChickenBonanza
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Mercyrose groans as she recognizes Kjaras-Dor. “Our party grows.”
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Mercyrose stares past his eyes. Reading his soul. Soul read. “Nah,” she finally says. “Now stop wasting Light and get in there.”
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“Shh,” Mercyrose shushed. “Just let me do the thinkin’.” She gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes, necessary given the disparity in height. “This one doesn’t even know what’s goin’ on, I see.”
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Mercyrose patted the incorporeal orb of light. “Don’t you worry your little head about it, alright? You just gotta sit there and look pretty.” She sighed dramatically. “Gosh, everyones comin’ over here now.”
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“Excellent!” Mercyrose points at Sarel, which morphs into a thumbs up. “Thems’ll make a good backup.”
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“I ain’t puttin’ my trust in too many strangers at once, ya little punk. Even two is a stretch.” Mercyrose drew lines from her eyes towards Pulse. “Got my eyes on ya.” “Yah,” she answers, simple. “He ain’t like you foreign humies, all weird with stuff.”
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Mercyrose waves off Pulse’s concerns. “Longinus can take ‘em,” she says. “Though tight spaces ain’t our strong suit.” She puts a hand to her chin, thinking atop the still Longinus, maintaining vigil. She snaps her fingers, an apparent idea coming to her. “You should yell at ‘em, Longinus, draw ‘em out so you can et ‘em or somethin’.”
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Mercyrose shakes her head, exaggerate. “Psh, don’t be a baby,” she says, as Longinus approaches the cave in lowered stance.
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Longinus and party touch down a short distance away from the cave. Mercyrose peers at it from afar, eyes narrowed and suspicious. After a few moments of silence, she turns back to Sarel. “Wanna hop down before we head in?”
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;( everyone’s out to get him -
jajaja, how wild also, the PM! grah!
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Alas, twas I who brought these plights upon him. My genius is almost frightening, y’see. Mascarose Deep Lore: I’ve seen through your lies, demon! I shall not be deceived!
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?!?!? everyone’s bullying mascarose ;( poor little baby.
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“Welp, only lead we got so far.” Mercyrose pats Longinus. “Bring ‘er down!” she says, and Longinus begins to descend in wide circles.
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“Prolly cause of the weirdo god,” Mercyrose mutters. “Think we should get down there? Any interesting little noises, or what?”
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And Sarel is joined by a small swarm of arrowhead-spren, swirling around her in a coordinated pattern.
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Mercyrose narrows her eyes. “The heck that punk-god have to take shape for? Prolly goadin’ me.” She looks to Pulse, suspicious. “You better not be some agent of his,” she warns. “Or I’ll shove ya in a crystal.” “Oy!” Mercyrose calls over the wind. “Canye do your tracking thing?”
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Mercyrose only laughs more at her distress. She whispers instructions down to Longinus, somehow piercing the roar of rushing air. Then she turns to Pulse. “Oy!” she calls to Pulse. “You know this place better than I do. Where’d’ya think the kidnapper’d run off ta?”
