The City of Thíos

While his invitation had been earnest enough, Rook soon found the guard's infectious giddiness wore off. As the gates closed behind him, he found himself alone in the darkness, his delicate hooves uncomfortable on the slightly uneven stone. He had declined the lantern, citing that he did not need it and that much was true. Cupping his hand he blew into the hollow of it softly, producing a phosphorescent light. Releasing it into the air like a dove, a dandelion-like seed hovered in the air, releasing a surprisingly ample green glow. Following along at his mental command, Rook scrutinized the permit papers with feigned interest, if only to seem as if he'd made the attempt.

"Man I wish I could read." he said aloud, his ears twitching at the uncomfortable echo. With a shrug he stuffed the papers unceremoniously into his satchel, crushing them without a care at he looked around at the cold world around him. Where he had imagined a warren, like what moles or rabbits might secret themselves away in, small, comfortable burrows suitable for living he found nothing but cold, uninviting stone. Stone that the warmth of day had never before touched. The thought made him slightly queasy, it made him feel trapped. He had come here seeking adventure, had he not? It wouldn't do to flee at so small a thing.

Picking over the stones he soon grew used to walking over them, although the bioluminescent light that tagged along with him cast eerie, strange shadows that made his footing uncertain at times. How humans could manage it with their big floppy feet he could never imagine. For a time, travelling down this never ending tunnel, he thought perhaps he might never see anything beautiful again. Only grim stone, and ugly, fierce shadows that seemed to encroach upon him when he wasn't looking. Yet, at last he made a turn, rooted in place at the sight before him.

It was an exquisitely crafted monument, something he more closely might attribute with stories of dwarves or kobolds rather than humans. A city of stone! Immediately his tail reacted, flicking to-and-fro at the sight. It was beautiful, in its own way. Cold and jagged compared to the forest and earth he had knownand loved, as if it were an alien existence from his own. Yet, its beauty was pallid, enchanting in its haunted way. He imagined it might burn his eyes were he to see it in the daylight and, for a moment, fantasized what it might look like beneath the moon.

Yet, all across it, wooden structures hung. Like tumors, feeding off its host. It was no perfect dollhouse, no isolated existence. It was made by humans, its soul mortal. He closed the distance to it, showing his permit to any that looked his way, whether they were guards or not. It was only natural that he was drawn to the Criostal gardens, and he soon found himself reveling in the sight of greenery, even so far removed from what he was familiar with. He need only wait for his time to come, he knew. He'd show them what he was capable of.

Rook stood, hand cupping his chin as he pretending to take in the sight of a well-chiseled statue of a picturesque human. He had little in the way of opinions regarding art, aside from music. It was a fact many of his fellows had admonished him on. "You can tell many things about humans by observing their art" he had been told, long ago. Well, unless he was learning that humans really liked naked people, he didn't feel like he was learning much. His density towards art, however, did not extend to a lack of perception. His ears twitched as the sound of the other humans died down, and as a result he could feel a modicum of adrenaline, a fight-or-flight sense of danger born from the instincts of a beast, rather than a reasoning creature.

Whipping around his hand fell to the hilt of his shortsword, his golden eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness falling upon those of his encroucher. It was not an entirely pleasant feeling, being cornered alone here in such a strange place, but though the natural world felt muted around him, the powers of nature were still very much with him. Strangely, after a moment of watching her the tension seemed to melt away as quickly as it had come, and he smiled disarmingly.

"I wasn't expecting to see such a friendly face all the way down here." the satyr remarked giddily, taking a step forward, eating away at the distance that separated them. "What might your name be? I would guess you're here for the job, or maybe you just wanted to introduce yourself?"

"I already have everything I need," he concluded. "I don't need any blacksmiths."

Whether this prickly tone was warranted, or even noticed, was difficult to tell. Rook's smile remained, although he did not progress further.

"All the introduction?" he parroted, stroking his chin in mock-thought. "Isn't that already all the introduction? My name is Rook, and that's all the introduction you will get...because it's all the introduction I have!" The fey leaned forward, as if trying to close the distance she had subtlety created between them, lacking any such subtlety himself.

"I answered the call because I felt like it. Is there any other reason to answer someone's call? It wasn't a magical call. As for being out of place... I'm afraid you may have a point there. This place is strange, but I'm not particularly worried about it, my magic is not stunted by something as trivial as stone and darkness. As for my qualifications...would magic be the answer you're looking for? I have much of that." He regarded the floor beneath him, suddenly stooping without an explanation as he caught up a dried bud, similar to the one she herself had crumbled away. Cupping his hands over it he brought it to his lips, blowing once more to the hollow he had created. Then, opening his hands with gravity he revealed the flower, blooming in its entirely with vibrant colors that seemed almost to glow. Placing his creation onto a nearby wall, vines shot from beneath it like veins, clamoring along the surfaces and accenting them with green.

Turning once more towards her he raised his hands and wiggled them for emphasis.

"Magic!"

Alva's lack of interest had a visible effect on Rook. The satyr grew slightly more sullen, like a child whose parents were too busy to compliment their artwork. Even so, the mood was completely replaced by interest as she began to warn him of the dangers he might be facing as they moved forward. He wasn't particularly worried. Although the idea of being killed somewhere down here in the depths was unpleasant, he felt nothing so base as fear. Fey, or at least his type, never really died. Not in the traditional way that mortals did. He would reform, over time, and one day be back out in the world in a measly few centuries.

"Adventure? Riches beyond my wildest dreams?" he considered what that truly meant. What he would consider a treasure was almost certainly nothing like what she did. Yet, he was more than happy to find out if he could find anything he would enjoy. 

"I think my magic can make things easier," he announced, "and I know you might not needs lots of flowers, but I can kill lots of people with magic, too, so you don't have to worry." he told her, as if this might be a particularly comforting afterthought. Deciding that she seemed cautious, he attempted to close some of the distance between them, literally and figuratively as he reached out a hand. "I know some humans shake the hands of others to say they'll work together. Do you want to?" the floating, bioluminescent light hanging by the dandilien puff floated forward, hovering above the hand as if trying to illuminate both of them, were she to accept the offer. 

Once the warmth of her hand closed over his, Rook's smile broadened, although the feel of the cold metal disc suspended between them was a bit startling. For a moment he instinctively thought to retract his hand, though once satisfied he wasn't being burned by iron, he determined it must not be the insidious touch of iron. Even so, he made a mental note to pay more attention to handshakes before accepting them in the future. Perhaps he'd even remember this one.

When she drew him in, he was surprised, but certainly intrigued by the gesture. It had seemed to him she had wanted to remain at a distance, only now she was subverting his expectations. She was close, and leaning closer. The lean in might have concerned him more appropriately, had he read that she was trying to whisper something. Instead he leaned in as well, close enough that their faces were almost touching.

"And who's that?" he whispered in return, parroting her tone of confidentiality. He was not so dense, however, as to completely misunderstand the implicit idea that he was being threatened. His hand, slightly behind his body, subtly twitched its druidic summoning. Just in case he might need some backup.

At the sudden whine of what Rook assumed to be either a human or a rusty door hinge with a remarkable penchant for mimicry, Rook turned towards Ant. For an instant, a shadow fell over his cheery disposition. Alva was not the only one who despised interruptions. By the time Ant had stumbled to a stop before them, however, he had regained his composure, looking between the tiny man and Alva as the two exchanged words. She didn't look much happier to see him. In fact, at her introduction they fey did not so much as cast a glance back at the man. 

If his guide did not see fit to show respect towards the destitute little flea, then he most certainly was not going to waste his energy on such a creature. 

"You have a guest?" he asked, intrigued. "One like me? Here for the job?" the idea was one he could get used to. He had worked with people in the past, all of them quite unusual. He was looking forward to seeing if these people were the same. Or, if he'd be the only one coming back to the city once this trek into the dark tunnels had ended. 

"I'd like to meet this troublemaker!"

Alva's interaction with Ant had drawn managed to channel some of Rook's interest towards the mewling wretch. He had yet to see his guide so...uncomfortable. As if whatever this man had said had cost her face in front of their fey visitor. Yet he couldn't possibly imagine what it could have been. The Devil's Basin? It did not sound promising. Although humans did so like their doom and gloom. It could be the local park for all he knew.

"Well, so far I have you and that thing to judge what the people look like." Rook mused, raising a thumb and squeezing one eye shut, as if trying to gain proper perspective for a painting. "I hope more of them are like you. They've be a very lucky people, indeed!" he lowered his hand, watching with interest as she replaced the daggers in her belt.

"Seeing you in action will be payment enough." with his answer he danced a few steps ahead, glancing around at the strange landscape. "We can walk while we talk! Or talk while we walk. I'll leave the choice to you."

Once Alva was off, Rook followed swiftly behind. She walked with purpose, something he found very interesting in humans. There was a finality in their actions, a cold certainty of decision that was so unlike most fey. Perhaps it was their shorter lives that forced them to recognize that their choices must be made without hesitation. She was certain of herself, a not unattractive feature.

"I forget that humans have such narrow perceptions of race." Rook mused as she explained the situations involving her appearance. As they passed crowds of wandering eyes, Rook waved at them, thinking it may be him they were interested in. "Your standards for controversy are very low." whether he considered she was serious or joking about the matter, he smiled plainly. A lifetime of prejudiced was as alien to him as she was to her own people.

The Satyr was keenly aware he was being watched, and it was no curious onlooker. She was inspecting him, taking in his differences. When she at last mentioned his legs, however, he grinned. Unlike his smile from before this one held an edge of competition as he glanced her up and down in response.

"Much faster than a human! Have you not seen a deer outrun your floppy feet?" he asked rhetorically, although realized most of these people probably hadn't indeed if they lived in this den. Without awaiting a response he waved a hand, and rather than his light following above him it flew on to outpace him. With the leap of a mountain goat he cleared a not insignificant distance. Repeating the process to create some distance between them.

The taste of certain victory was sweet as nectar to the Satyr's sensibilities. A nectar immediately snatched from his greedy lips as the human made a mad dash, swallowing the distance he had created and outpacing him. It couldn't be possible for her to be faster than him! He was certain of it. Yet, with each leap that put him on;y slightly ahead of her, he found himself having to assess the next one for a few precious seconds. It was dark, in unfamiliar terrain, yet she ran across it as if it were nothing more than a dirt road. A mild inconvenience stripped away by experience and superior darkvision.

In an instant it had turned from a show into a true competition and the Fey found himself at a disadvantage. A test of speed against a human, and he was struggling! It was absolutely thrilling, with each leap it was as if he were sailing through a sea of darkness, landing in the faint light he had created before it plunged him into it once again in search of a new place to land.

Back-and-forth it raged, and she was not the only one getting breathless. Humans were known for their stamina, after all, and as they both climbed the turret, Rook scraped to a halt beside her, narrowly avoiding his momentum carrying him from the edge. Now that would have been an embarrassing way to die. The sight of the city sprawling beneath them was one of alien beauty, and for a moment they fey was enraptured by it. A world of these humans, locked away from sunlight in a stone tomb of their own design. Had she merely wanted to show him this place, so far from the others? No, she didn't seem the type. He turned his golden gaze, nearly luminescent in the darkness, towards her, brow furrowing as she asked if he held any fear.

"I respect heights. I'm not afraid of anything." he lied. He didn't much care for wasps. With dawning realization as to her intentions, however, his eyes grew slightly wider in surprise. "W-wait," he protested, perhaps with less gusto than he'd have liked to display.