#deeperthicket 01

What a strange place.

A home built on the edge of a cliff that seemed to spiral into the depths of a darkness that seemed to swallow the buildings that were built into it. He can't help the way his eyes trail the cliff until the view was cut off by a building or some other structure jutting out of the shadows.

There are other people milling about nearby, some traveling along the rails that ran the depth of the spiral - but none of them pay him any mind as he folds his hands in his lap and lets his feet dangle over the edge.

It felt too familiar. It felt a little too alike the shadows that had one clung to a bottomless pit inhabited by cave gnomes and snarling wolves - or the endless shadows of a city of tarnished gold.

He's not paying any mind to passerby until one decided to cast a shadow over him, lingering over him until he has to lift his head.

" -- well, I'll be damned."

"So."

The word breaks the otherwise quiet space Enki has surrounded himself with, punctuated with the minute crunch of the trail mix he's eating.

"Were you like this before or after you started studying magic?" He gestures to Enki with a hand mottled necrotic tones of black and green. "Because I knew a buncha people who used to be really strong and then they got too crazy with it and wasted away to nothing."

He shoves another handful of granola and candy into his mouth, breaking up the conversation he was one-sidedly having until this point.

He has the wherewithal not to speak with his mouth full, but that does mean he's talking again as soon as he's done chewing.

"So, what happened to your arm?"

He asks it boldly, butting into Enki's extremely wide personal space because he can't help himself. It's like something's taken the brief pause out of his thoughts that would keep him from saying things before he could consider what the reaction would be.

His blood was rushing to crash against his ear drums. His thoughts were just the same, swirling and slamming into each other. What was this place? The hallways were interconnected in certain ways that only made just enough sense to not give you a massive headache.

But that's it.

Where this place wasn't as important. Getting out was still the top of the list but that meant going through a version of him more keen on bashing his head in. How was he supposed to reconcile with a creature like that? He'll have to figure something out.

Which he'll get to once he finally get out of the vent where he's escaped into. As safe as it was, the sounds did use the space as tunnels. He could practically hear every scream and shout from several rooms echoing within the chamber and he wasn't going to let a chance of getting out slip from his hands.

A vent opening had finally came into view and with some careful movement and adjustment, he managed to kick the the vent open. Whatever was on the other side would be handled--

Which turned out to just be an old man who's made his own shelter. Or this was going to be some sort of epicenter for some showdown if the red light was any warning.

Paper and cloth decorations lined the interiors of the Broken Butterfly. Garlands of pumpkins and spiders, web-shaped doilies, and tri-color triangles stood out against the walls as people made preparations for some kind of event that Daud didn't recognize- though, a great many others did.

He steps through a tinsel curtain, brushing the glittery strands aside, as he approaches the establishment's accountant, a gaunt and cantankerous mage, always nose deep in some book or scroll.

Today was very much the same, besides the sudden influx of gourds with faces and tea lights, and the mage was pouring over research.