Open Silence beneath
- Thread starter Laric
- Start date
It ought to have been the perfect refuge for him, if only for a handful of hours; A dim corner in a half-dead tavern, light on bodies, heavy on the kind of gut-rot grog that made a man revisit every poor decision he'd ever made. Not that Carradine, hood drawn low and nursing his third mug, needed any help in that department.
And yet, despite the bounty on his head and the ever-ticking clock nipping at his heels, he still hadn’t mastered the art of minding his own damned business.
He’d been watching the kid, too.
Gotten the same tight-lipped brush-off from the barmaids when he asked. Odd, considering they were usually more than happy to spill secrets for half a silver or half a smile. A filthy little stray like that shouldn’t have been let inside a shithole like this, let alone ignored. No, someone had told them to keep quiet. And they’d listened. Wenches didn’t take vows of silence on their own.
Pushing the matter further would mean drawing attention he couldn’t afford. Fortunately, the blonde one, pretty boy with the easy smile, seemed incapable of resisting a mystery. There was something off about him, too. Something in the way he moved, like his expressions didn’t quite fit. Like a mask worn just a touch too loose.
Good. Let him poke the bear.
Carradine kept still, but his hand slid beneath the table, fingers curling around cold steel. He wasn’t expecting a bloodbath, but he’d been alive long enough to know how fast a quiet room could turn loud. And he had no plans on being caught unaware in a dive that reeked of old sweat and spilled regrets.
And yet, despite the bounty on his head and the ever-ticking clock nipping at his heels, he still hadn’t mastered the art of minding his own damned business.
He’d been watching the kid, too.
Gotten the same tight-lipped brush-off from the barmaids when he asked. Odd, considering they were usually more than happy to spill secrets for half a silver or half a smile. A filthy little stray like that shouldn’t have been let inside a shithole like this, let alone ignored. No, someone had told them to keep quiet. And they’d listened. Wenches didn’t take vows of silence on their own.
Pushing the matter further would mean drawing attention he couldn’t afford. Fortunately, the blonde one, pretty boy with the easy smile, seemed incapable of resisting a mystery. There was something off about him, too. Something in the way he moved, like his expressions didn’t quite fit. Like a mask worn just a touch too loose.
Good. Let him poke the bear.
Carradine kept still, but his hand slid beneath the table, fingers curling around cold steel. He wasn’t expecting a bloodbath, but he’d been alive long enough to know how fast a quiet room could turn loud. And he had no plans on being caught unaware in a dive that reeked of old sweat and spilled regrets.
Carradine had seen his share of ominous shit. Hell, he’d authored a fair bit of it. But none of it settled over him quite like the weighted dread that gripped him now, as he caught sight of the figures the bizarre child placed on the table. Child... no. This wasn’t some wayward brat touched in the head. Not with those eyes. Not with those dolls. Wooden likenesses of himself and the pretty boy? No coincidence. This was something else. Something darker. Something...
The pretty boy.
A snarl rose to his lips as he rose from his seat, eyes as cold as the moonlit breeze reaching in through the open door, settling onto his flesh, making him question whether the gooseflesh on his arms was from chill or fear. He shoved the table out of his way, his mug tumbling to the floor and shattering across warped, filthy planks. The noise drew glances from the few scattered patrons, but Carradine paid them no mind. He stalked toward the table the child had left behind.
Ignoring the stranger beside it, his hand went straight for the wooden figure cloaked in black. He brought it to eye level, studying it with a seasoned, practiced gaze. The details were exact. Not just clothing or posture. The shape of the necklace around his throat. The subtle flaw in the mark on his neck.
This wasn’t a trinket bought at a vendor’s stall. This was crafted. Observed. Known.
"Fucking gobshite..."
The colorful words were perhaps more apt an introduction than the stranger could ever know, and all that he'd get before Carradine's hand grabbed for his wrist. It would have been better to save himself, but this blondie had seen him now. If he wasn't already a problem, he'd become one before long.
"We need to make ourselves scarce, now."
@Laric
The pretty boy.
A snarl rose to his lips as he rose from his seat, eyes as cold as the moonlit breeze reaching in through the open door, settling onto his flesh, making him question whether the gooseflesh on his arms was from chill or fear. He shoved the table out of his way, his mug tumbling to the floor and shattering across warped, filthy planks. The noise drew glances from the few scattered patrons, but Carradine paid them no mind. He stalked toward the table the child had left behind.
Ignoring the stranger beside it, his hand went straight for the wooden figure cloaked in black. He brought it to eye level, studying it with a seasoned, practiced gaze. The details were exact. Not just clothing or posture. The shape of the necklace around his throat. The subtle flaw in the mark on his neck.
This wasn’t a trinket bought at a vendor’s stall. This was crafted. Observed. Known.
"Fucking gobshite..."
The colorful words were perhaps more apt an introduction than the stranger could ever know, and all that he'd get before Carradine's hand grabbed for his wrist. It would have been better to save himself, but this blondie had seen him now. If he wasn't already a problem, he'd become one before long.
"We need to make ourselves scarce, now."
@Laric
The way this man gawked at him… Lords, he wanted to rip those wandering eyes straight from his skull. Any shred of benefit of the doubt Carradine might’ve given the blond was long gone now that he’d had a proper look at his face. Before long, the two of them were going to have a very important conversation about keeping that pretty little mouth shut, preferably one-sided.
But that was secondary to clawing their way out of whatever troll shite they’d just stumbled into.
Carradine didn’t know the shape of the trap yet, but he recognized the stink of it. The tavern had gone still in the wake of his outburst, silence pressing down like a noose. Then came the slam of the door against the wall, loud and sharp as a crimson flag unfurled, heralding the danger that had already begun to crawl up his gut and lodge itself in his throat.
They were caught. And it was already pulling them deeper.
The lights guttered, plunging the room into shuddering intervals of black. Long enough to steep the fear, short enough to remind them that they had no control. Outside, a chorus rose: wood, metal, stone clattering together in grotesque applause for a show neither he nor Laric had volunteered for. Carradine ignored the hollow-eyed black stares closing in. He’d been here before, in nightmares made flesh, and he wasn’t about to freeze now. He hauled the man to his feet and drove him forward, through the waiting door and into the night.
The moment they crossed the threshold, it stopped. The tavern, the silence, the suffocating dark—all of it. Only a laugh remained, faint and mocking, trailing down the moonlit road. Safety. Carradine sneered at the thought. He was more likely to plough the Queen of Altalusia than believe that was the end of it. Still, he’d take the breath on offer. His grip didn’t ease as he turned to face the long-haired stranger, brows knitted tight.
"If whatever that entity was took enough of an interest in us to make effigies? No, we're still knee-deep in trouble" He nodded to Laric’s wrist, his own hand still clamped around it. "Don't do anything stupid, and I'll let you go." At last he released him, stepping back as his hood came down. No point in hiding anymore. “Best bet’s to skip town, but it won’t like that. Could find a room, hole up ‘til dawn. Things like that… they tend to wane with daylight.”
The night stretched still and silent around them. Normally, he’d solve the problem by pressing a knife to this stranger’s throat, just to be sure his name never made it to the guard. But that wasn’t an option. Not after what they’d both just seen.
With a reluctant sigh, Carradine spat the truth.
“It wants both of us. Splitting up makes us easy prey. We stick together—at least ‘til morning.”
@Laric
But that was secondary to clawing their way out of whatever troll shite they’d just stumbled into.
Carradine didn’t know the shape of the trap yet, but he recognized the stink of it. The tavern had gone still in the wake of his outburst, silence pressing down like a noose. Then came the slam of the door against the wall, loud and sharp as a crimson flag unfurled, heralding the danger that had already begun to crawl up his gut and lodge itself in his throat.
They were caught. And it was already pulling them deeper.
The lights guttered, plunging the room into shuddering intervals of black. Long enough to steep the fear, short enough to remind them that they had no control. Outside, a chorus rose: wood, metal, stone clattering together in grotesque applause for a show neither he nor Laric had volunteered for. Carradine ignored the hollow-eyed black stares closing in. He’d been here before, in nightmares made flesh, and he wasn’t about to freeze now. He hauled the man to his feet and drove him forward, through the waiting door and into the night.
The moment they crossed the threshold, it stopped. The tavern, the silence, the suffocating dark—all of it. Only a laugh remained, faint and mocking, trailing down the moonlit road. Safety. Carradine sneered at the thought. He was more likely to plough the Queen of Altalusia than believe that was the end of it. Still, he’d take the breath on offer. His grip didn’t ease as he turned to face the long-haired stranger, brows knitted tight.
"If whatever that entity was took enough of an interest in us to make effigies? No, we're still knee-deep in trouble" He nodded to Laric’s wrist, his own hand still clamped around it. "Don't do anything stupid, and I'll let you go." At last he released him, stepping back as his hood came down. No point in hiding anymore. “Best bet’s to skip town, but it won’t like that. Could find a room, hole up ‘til dawn. Things like that… they tend to wane with daylight.”
The night stretched still and silent around them. Normally, he’d solve the problem by pressing a knife to this stranger’s throat, just to be sure his name never made it to the guard. But that wasn’t an option. Not after what they’d both just seen.
With a reluctant sigh, Carradine spat the truth.
“It wants both of us. Splitting up makes us easy prey. We stick together—at least ‘til morning.”
@Laric
The man folded his arms across his chest, impatience written in the hard lines of his jaw. He was more than ready to file his so-called partner away under the name Shiny-Haired Nimrod and never think of him again, but this wasn’t the time for careless battles. His hazel eyes flicked elsewhere, sleeves clenched tight in his fists as he muttered,
“Carradine.”
He spat his own name like it was a curse, his voice thick with disdain. The sneer that twisted his lips never faltered. “And I don’t care what it wants. Friendly isn’t on the table, so it’s an obstacle. Maybe there’s a hook of curiosity dangling out there, but that’s how traps work, bait to reel idiots in. What, you implying you want to chase it?”
Something about this Laric itched at him, an offness he couldn’t quite pin down. He didn’t look like a fighter. Didn’t put up much resistance when Carradine dragged him around, either. Then again, the look he’d thrown his way earlier… maybe he enjoyed it. Whatever. As long as he proved useful, Carradine didn’t give a damn.
The wind returned, a thin, ghostly breath that wound through the empty street and coiled around them, heavy with the fear they’d only just escaped. It rolled over Carradine like nothing. If the air was crowded with unseen eyes and watching things, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he started forward, boots scraping on the road as he aimed for the edge of town.
“What we saw in the tavern could’ve been nothing more than an illusion.” The world’s abrupt return to normalcy after they left only made the point sharper, though it left the question of why them unanswered. “If that’s the case, it won’t follow unless the one pulling the strings knows where we are.”
He stopped, turning just enough to glance back at Laric. A ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Or until I find them—and shove their little dolls down their throat. Either way, don't piss yourself just yet.”
@Laric
“Carradine.”
He spat his own name like it was a curse, his voice thick with disdain. The sneer that twisted his lips never faltered. “And I don’t care what it wants. Friendly isn’t on the table, so it’s an obstacle. Maybe there’s a hook of curiosity dangling out there, but that’s how traps work, bait to reel idiots in. What, you implying you want to chase it?”
Something about this Laric itched at him, an offness he couldn’t quite pin down. He didn’t look like a fighter. Didn’t put up much resistance when Carradine dragged him around, either. Then again, the look he’d thrown his way earlier… maybe he enjoyed it. Whatever. As long as he proved useful, Carradine didn’t give a damn.
The wind returned, a thin, ghostly breath that wound through the empty street and coiled around them, heavy with the fear they’d only just escaped. It rolled over Carradine like nothing. If the air was crowded with unseen eyes and watching things, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he started forward, boots scraping on the road as he aimed for the edge of town.
“What we saw in the tavern could’ve been nothing more than an illusion.” The world’s abrupt return to normalcy after they left only made the point sharper, though it left the question of why them unanswered. “If that’s the case, it won’t follow unless the one pulling the strings knows where we are.”
He stopped, turning just enough to glance back at Laric. A ghost of a smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Or until I find them—and shove their little dolls down their throat. Either way, don't piss yourself just yet.”
@Laric
Carradine’s harsh demeanor wasn’t born of malice, but of apathy. He didn’t know Laric, didn’t know his history, his fears, or his desires, and he didn’t care to learn. They were partners only by circumstance, and if Laric took issue with his tone, he was free to walk away. Once Carradine had sussed out whatever the hell was happening and put an end to it, he certainly planned to.
Still, he spared the man any further ice as they made their way toward the edge of town. There was no need to make an already unpleasant union worse. For a time, the walk was quiet. Candlelit windows flickered along either side of the road, calm and welcoming, with no trace of the horror that had seemed to crawl out of the earth itself only minutes earlier.
Carradine kept to the shadows regardless, shoulders hunched as though wary of being spotted by something other than the townsfolk they eluded.
“It seems early,” he muttered, voice low, “for it to be this quiet. With as many bars as this place has, I’d expect mugs and music for at least a few more… hours.”
His words trailed off as the crowd ahead came into view. Until now, the neatest theory in his mind had been that some illusionist had taken a liking to tormenting them. But when the tang of death hit his nose, carried sharp on the breeze, his confidence faltered.
“It seems,” he said through his teeth, glancing sidelong at Laric, “we may not be the only victims.”
Laric was already searching for a detour, and Carradine fell in step close behind. The last thing they needed was another crowd... he still remembered what happened at the tavern.
If the silence of the road had been calm, the stillness in the alley was suffocating. Moonlight barely reached past the eaves, shadows stretching long and jagged across the walls like a nightmare painted in black. When Laric nearly pitched forward into a yawning hole in the earth, Carradine thought at first he’d stumbled—until he, too, almost slipped into it.
“What in the hells…” Carradine dropped to a knee at the edge. It looked as if the building beside them had collapsed inward, the broken foundation weakening the ground into fissures. But there was something else. From deep below, faint light pulsed upward through the dust and rubble.
“Laric,” he growled, eyes narrowing, “do you see that?”
Without waiting for an answer, Carradine swung his legs over the edge and lowered himself partway in, testing the slope with his boots. Steep, but not too steep. He could slide down safely, so long as the drop at the bottom wasn’t too far.
“The earth under this building’s been completely hollowed out,” he said, a glimmer of anticipation pulling a smirk across his face. “Something is down there.”
He looked back at Laric, dark eyes gleaming.
“You wanted to follow it, didn’t you? Then come—before I think better of it.”
@Laric
Still, he spared the man any further ice as they made their way toward the edge of town. There was no need to make an already unpleasant union worse. For a time, the walk was quiet. Candlelit windows flickered along either side of the road, calm and welcoming, with no trace of the horror that had seemed to crawl out of the earth itself only minutes earlier.
Carradine kept to the shadows regardless, shoulders hunched as though wary of being spotted by something other than the townsfolk they eluded.
“It seems early,” he muttered, voice low, “for it to be this quiet. With as many bars as this place has, I’d expect mugs and music for at least a few more… hours.”
His words trailed off as the crowd ahead came into view. Until now, the neatest theory in his mind had been that some illusionist had taken a liking to tormenting them. But when the tang of death hit his nose, carried sharp on the breeze, his confidence faltered.
“It seems,” he said through his teeth, glancing sidelong at Laric, “we may not be the only victims.”
Laric was already searching for a detour, and Carradine fell in step close behind. The last thing they needed was another crowd... he still remembered what happened at the tavern.
If the silence of the road had been calm, the stillness in the alley was suffocating. Moonlight barely reached past the eaves, shadows stretching long and jagged across the walls like a nightmare painted in black. When Laric nearly pitched forward into a yawning hole in the earth, Carradine thought at first he’d stumbled—until he, too, almost slipped into it.
“What in the hells…” Carradine dropped to a knee at the edge. It looked as if the building beside them had collapsed inward, the broken foundation weakening the ground into fissures. But there was something else. From deep below, faint light pulsed upward through the dust and rubble.
“Laric,” he growled, eyes narrowing, “do you see that?”
Without waiting for an answer, Carradine swung his legs over the edge and lowered himself partway in, testing the slope with his boots. Steep, but not too steep. He could slide down safely, so long as the drop at the bottom wasn’t too far.
“The earth under this building’s been completely hollowed out,” he said, a glimmer of anticipation pulling a smirk across his face. “Something is down there.”
He looked back at Laric, dark eyes gleaming.
“You wanted to follow it, didn’t you? Then come—before I think better of it.”
@Laric
There was a part of Carradine, hidden and buried as thoroughly and deeply as he could manage, that reveled in these moments. In a time long left behind, he'd have been grinning ear to ear as they slid so effortlessly down the dark and dank tunnel, would have hummed a dark tune in rhythm with the beating of his own heart in his eardrums. It was a hunt, after all, and for so many years the hunt is what he'd done better than anyone else in the northern half of the continent.
Some vestiges of that spirit remained, but the edge of his will had been dulled by sorrow and anger. Perhaps that was why he'd allowed himself this detour with Laric. For as unusual as the man was, he couldn't help but see some reflection of himself in those smooth features; A younger, less jaded and miserable man.
As their feet hit the ground, Carradine couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at how crude and uninteresting the interior of the tunnel was. The pit was deep enough that he'd figured it was quite old, and yet the firmness of the walls as he rapped his knuckles against them briefly suggested the passageway was relatively fresh, still untainted by prolonged exposure to the elements above.
"Tch... takes the fun out of the adventure..." Carradine muttered as he stepped slowly forward toward the distant light that had beckoned them down in the first place, "If you're being led by the hand." Laric moved to take the lead, and Carradine paused for a moment, smirking into the back of his blonde head. The man had some iron in his gut, he wouldn't deny him that. "Looks as though we're still on the board. That mob was just a way to corral us."
He'd almost be impressed, if he didn't have other matters this was keeping him from attending.
Carradine followed Laric down the tunnel, slowly headed toward the dim glow that served as their only beacon. The narrow walls opened up, and a vast chamber filled with naught but darkness stretched out around them. That light, a single torch placed upon the ground, lit only the center.
Then, that infuriating giggle, the same that'd been following them all night. The voice of a child reverberated off of the cavern walls with an inhuman force, shaking loose rocks and dirt around the tunnel passageway behind them, closing it like the throat of the whale they'd just stepped in the belly off. The air immediately grew staler, the temperature stiflingly humid, yet still chilled enough to raise gooseflesh...
Undaunted as ever, The Blackbird scoffed in the face of his oppressor, ignoring easily that familiar shiver of instinctual fear that danced along his vertebrae. Reaching down to pick up the torch, he offered it to Laric, his eyes already scanning the darkened corners of the chamber.
"Here, you need this more than me. Let's sweep this chamber; I doubt the two of us starving to death is what they intend for us, whoever they are."
@Laric
Some vestiges of that spirit remained, but the edge of his will had been dulled by sorrow and anger. Perhaps that was why he'd allowed himself this detour with Laric. For as unusual as the man was, he couldn't help but see some reflection of himself in those smooth features; A younger, less jaded and miserable man.
As their feet hit the ground, Carradine couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at how crude and uninteresting the interior of the tunnel was. The pit was deep enough that he'd figured it was quite old, and yet the firmness of the walls as he rapped his knuckles against them briefly suggested the passageway was relatively fresh, still untainted by prolonged exposure to the elements above.
"Tch... takes the fun out of the adventure..." Carradine muttered as he stepped slowly forward toward the distant light that had beckoned them down in the first place, "If you're being led by the hand." Laric moved to take the lead, and Carradine paused for a moment, smirking into the back of his blonde head. The man had some iron in his gut, he wouldn't deny him that. "Looks as though we're still on the board. That mob was just a way to corral us."
He'd almost be impressed, if he didn't have other matters this was keeping him from attending.
Carradine followed Laric down the tunnel, slowly headed toward the dim glow that served as their only beacon. The narrow walls opened up, and a vast chamber filled with naught but darkness stretched out around them. That light, a single torch placed upon the ground, lit only the center.
Then, that infuriating giggle, the same that'd been following them all night. The voice of a child reverberated off of the cavern walls with an inhuman force, shaking loose rocks and dirt around the tunnel passageway behind them, closing it like the throat of the whale they'd just stepped in the belly off. The air immediately grew staler, the temperature stiflingly humid, yet still chilled enough to raise gooseflesh...
Undaunted as ever, The Blackbird scoffed in the face of his oppressor, ignoring easily that familiar shiver of instinctual fear that danced along his vertebrae. Reaching down to pick up the torch, he offered it to Laric, his eyes already scanning the darkened corners of the chamber.
"Here, you need this more than me. Let's sweep this chamber; I doubt the two of us starving to death is what they intend for us, whoever they are."
@Laric
That circumstance had brought them together did not make Laric a trusted ally, and Carradine didn't expect such a lofty title for himself, either. They were a pairing of the wind; leaves blown together and tumbling through a dark and twisted maze in unison. When the wind broke, so too would their partnership. That was fine enough for him.
What didn’t suit him was the quiet burn of scrutiny he felt from Laric as he passed the torch over. It was slight, but it seared all the same.
"The moment I let myself be remotely interested in whatever the hell is pulling our strings, it leads us into an empty cave." He griped, ignoring the slight hint of suspicion he felt from Laric, quite graciously, in his own opinion. Carradine wandered toward the fringe of the torchlight, boots grinding on loose earth and gravel. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, a sharp metronome of disapproval. “I knew coming back north was a damned mistake. I expected bounty hunters, maybe the city guard, not this.”
It was a careless admission, one that revealed why Carradine had been so insistend on discretion; He was a wanted man, and the casual way the words slipped from him suggested either that he no longer believed Laric the sort to cash in on another man’s head, or that he simply didn’t believe Laric could.
When Laric raised the torch higher, Carradine’s gaze followed, his expression tightening as light crawled across the concave ceiling. Shapes took form, an intricate design painted in fading pigments, symbols that tugged at the edges of memory.
“Huh,” he breathed, brow furrowing. “You know something? I’ve seen that before… or something damn close to it.”
The irritation in his voice dimmed to something colder, more calculating. His arms crossed over his chest as he stared upward, tracing the pattern with his eyes as though he could will the memory into focus. He had traveled too far, seen too much, for any one relic to stand out clearly, but this one did. Enough to unsettle him. Enough to make him remember.
And then it clicked.
His eyes went wide.
“Laric, move!”
He staggered backward, boots scraping against the dirt until his shoulders met the cold curve of the wall. The recognition burned through his exhaustion like a spark through oil. Nothing about this cursed night had been coincidence, and why should this be any different?
“This chamber... it’s not--”
The floor trembled before he could finish. The stone shifted beneath their feet, grinding and sliding like sand spilling through an hourglass. He could feel the pull of it, the slow sinking that promised no bottom. Carradine tore his knife from his belt and jammed it into the wall, knuckles whitening around the hilt. “Hold on to something!” he barked, though he doubted there was much to hold on to at all.
Two men caught in the dark, clinging to roots and dirt as the earth began to swallow them whole.
@Laric
What didn’t suit him was the quiet burn of scrutiny he felt from Laric as he passed the torch over. It was slight, but it seared all the same.
"The moment I let myself be remotely interested in whatever the hell is pulling our strings, it leads us into an empty cave." He griped, ignoring the slight hint of suspicion he felt from Laric, quite graciously, in his own opinion. Carradine wandered toward the fringe of the torchlight, boots grinding on loose earth and gravel. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, a sharp metronome of disapproval. “I knew coming back north was a damned mistake. I expected bounty hunters, maybe the city guard, not this.”
It was a careless admission, one that revealed why Carradine had been so insistend on discretion; He was a wanted man, and the casual way the words slipped from him suggested either that he no longer believed Laric the sort to cash in on another man’s head, or that he simply didn’t believe Laric could.
When Laric raised the torch higher, Carradine’s gaze followed, his expression tightening as light crawled across the concave ceiling. Shapes took form, an intricate design painted in fading pigments, symbols that tugged at the edges of memory.
“Huh,” he breathed, brow furrowing. “You know something? I’ve seen that before… or something damn close to it.”
The irritation in his voice dimmed to something colder, more calculating. His arms crossed over his chest as he stared upward, tracing the pattern with his eyes as though he could will the memory into focus. He had traveled too far, seen too much, for any one relic to stand out clearly, but this one did. Enough to unsettle him. Enough to make him remember.
And then it clicked.
His eyes went wide.
“Laric, move!”
He staggered backward, boots scraping against the dirt until his shoulders met the cold curve of the wall. The recognition burned through his exhaustion like a spark through oil. Nothing about this cursed night had been coincidence, and why should this be any different?
“This chamber... it’s not--”
The floor trembled before he could finish. The stone shifted beneath their feet, grinding and sliding like sand spilling through an hourglass. He could feel the pull of it, the slow sinking that promised no bottom. Carradine tore his knife from his belt and jammed it into the wall, knuckles whitening around the hilt. “Hold on to something!” he barked, though he doubted there was much to hold on to at all.
Two men caught in the dark, clinging to roots and dirt as the earth began to swallow them whole.
@Laric