(to Tomas) Everything goes dark.
(to Tomas) Slowly, awareness returns, dizzying, frightening, awareness. There was a choice, made in front of TEETH, so many TEETH. You're not sure what the choice was, but one was made. Then, a flash of light, scything claws - and --
(to Tomas) The smell of loam, and earth. You're flat on the floor of some narrow, cavernous space. Ahead of you, not far, you see a spot of light.
(to Alexis) Everything goes dark, but the memories, the pain, the fear - it all remains, etched vividly into your mind.
(to Alexis) A choice was made, a choice made in front of TEETH, so many TEETH. Then there was a glint of a light, a flash of scything claws -- and then the chase. The hunt. The torment of silver.
(to Alexis) But now, awareness returns.
(to Alexis) The smell of loam, and earth. You're flat on the floor of some narrow, cavernous space. Ahead of you, not far, you see a spot of light. And there's something else. Someone else, perhaps.
In the darkness down the rabbit hole The lights are on. It has average decor.
Utter darkness pervades here, this cramped, narrow space that's not even
large enough to stand in. The rich, loamy smell of the earth surrounds, and it's difficult to judge the source or distance of little sound there is.
It is night, and about 55F(12C) degrees. There is a first quarter moon. You can hear the sound of waves behind you.
[ ] [ ]
Alexis is here. Tomas is here.
(to Tomas) You cannot remember /anything/ after you fell unconscious in Old Man Bogey's lair.
Tomas grunts quietly in the darkness, rolling over slightly as awareness finally creeps into him. Afterwards he begins coughing, as if the air he had in his lungs was stale and unfit. "Where...?"
There's not much room to roll, unfortunately, and Tomas sort of goes up against the tunnel wall and then goes back down again. Excepting the light at the far end, it's pitch black, and almost impossible to see a thing.
Alexis shivers on the floor of... whatever the space is, her arms stretched in front of her. Slowly, she lifts her face, streaked with tears and likely mud or dirt. "Wh-who's..." she doesn't quite finish the thought as her body shakes, teeth chattering. Her eyes find the point of light ahead. She hesitates, then starts to drag herself forward, inching carefully, as if expecting some unseen threat to come from any angle at any moment.
It's a tunnel apparently, and very, very shortly after Alexis starts crawling forwards, she bumps into something. Something that feels suspiciously likes legs, or feet. Coincidentally, at that exact moment, something bumps into Tomas's feet.
Finally regaining the state of mind to act normally, Tomas is immediately bombarded by something bumping into him from behind. "Hell!" he curses, quickly scooching himself away from whatever just touched him. "Who's that back there?" he asks, not bothering to raise his voice much.
"L-Lexi," Alexis says meekly, recoiling as she recognizes the sound of Tomas' voice. "Is that... you, Tomas? Are you... is it... over?" Her voice still quakes as she speaks, and she raises an arm in the darkness to wipe at her eyes.
"I-I think so," Tomas answers, though to which question isn't clear. He begins crawling his way forwards, towards light. The man calls back, after a grunt of determination, "Keep moving."
A third voice joins in on the conversation. It originates from where the spot of light lies, the feeble illumination partially blocked by something that interposes itself at the entrance. "Oi! Someone there? Is it you cunts?" The accent and tone are both familiar.
Alexis starts to crawl after the shape moving in the darkness ahead of her, pulling herself along the tunnel. Little attention is paid to the state of her clothing at this point, and no sound of complaint - the girl remains silent, even as the sound of Irish-accented cursing comes from ahead.
"I think it is them?" "Yah? You think so? What if it's a fucking pooka or redcap or some shit?" "Treaty of Venice!" "You know what Fae think of fucking treaties!"
Tomas calls out to the bastards outside, "Help us out of here, you fucks!" He does not sound pleased, crawling even faster now.
"We're not pookas," Alexis manages weakly, her voice hoarse as she starts to try and crawl more fervently forward.
There's abrupt silence from outside, then a pair of jocular chuckles. "Alright, alright you fucking Yank cunt! Come on now!" A pair of strong arms reach into the narrow tunnel, ready and waiting and grabbing each of you as you near the entrance to the tunnel and hauling you out.
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: It's not raining anymore outside, though the ground is slick with mud. One of the two Order men sits on a tree root, smoking - apparently he let his buddy do all the work hauling you out. "Ah, you two look like shit," the former comments, rising as the pair of you emerge. He holds out a bag to Alexis. "How'd it go in there? You guys got the Old Man on our side?"
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: "Fucking hope they did," the other mutters under his breath.
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: Tomas blinks for a moment, looking at the smoker blankly. "I don't know," he answers hollowly, brow furrowing as a hand comes up to grip tightly at his temples.
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: Alexis's arms wrap around herself immediately once she's been pulled out to the surface, her shivering even more intense than when the rain was falling before, her face ashen. Her eyes turn to Tomas questioningly, and she seems to shrink at his answer. Her eyes lower, emptily staring to one side. "I d-don't kn-now, either," she stammers. "I guess... that m-means..."
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: The Order men glance at each other, at Alexis and Tomas - and then immediately fall into debate. "Ah, fuck. You think that means the fucking Handjobs got 'im?" "Well... nah. Maybe. I mean, you know how Bogey fucking is." "Yeah? And how's that?" "Fuck me, man, you know. He'll /want/ you to know. 'cause, well... you know. He /knows/ his rep." "Ah. Yeah. Fuck."
Alexis thinks; "Oh God... was all of that for nothing?"
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: They look at you. One shrugs and licks his lip. The other puffs a lot more nervously on his cigarette. "Well, me and Ciaran here, we think that we'd fucking /know/ if Bogey chose a side. Like, you'd cunts would definitely be the first to know. So, 'cause you /don't/ know. Well."
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: "Might mean he hasn't decided yet."
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: "I really hope you fucking Yanks pulled it off though," the cigarette smoking men mutters. "Fuck, you cunts'll get to head back to the States, won't have to deal with this shit. I remember the last time we had Bogey running around loose though. Fuck."
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: The trembling of Alexis's frame intensifies as the girl remains awkwardly silent. Slowly, she lowers herself to the ground, sitting down in the rain-soaked turf and cradling the bag of her belongings against her chest, pulling her knees up against herself.
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: Tomas clenches his hands, the bones popping audibly beneath his shawl whilst the other remains placed firmly against his head. "I can't remember," he tells Alexis, appearing incredibly upset by the fact.
the entrance of a cleverly-concealed barrow: "Ah... oh well. You guys look like shit - come on now. I'll buy ya a round. Real fucking Jameson."
It's a question - "Did you get Old Man Bogey on our side?" - that's repeated, will be repeated, when before your return to Haven you're brought to Dublin, brought somewhere warm and dry and given a chance to rest and recuperate for a little while. The man does buy you some whiskey. Jameson. Real Irish.
Even after being restored physically to warmth, it's likely some time before Alexis can even accept the familiar comfort of whiskey - and once she does bring herself to, she will likely indulge hard.
Tomas doesn't hesitate to drink, but he seems rather... Off. He can't seem to focus on anything for very long save for that drink, head leaning back while he downs it.
Whilst they share their drink with the Irish liaisons, whenever Tomas' attention remains off her for some time, Alexis can be found stealing lingering glances at the other member of the Order. The normally warm, talkative Southerner remains exceptionally quiet, save to respond to any direct questions given to her, either by Tomas or the Irish, as she nurses her whiskey. Finally, imbued with sufficient liquid courage, she leans close to Tomas while the others are probably in one of the animated debates they seem prone to. "Was it really you?" she asks quietly.
Tomas blinks for a moment, head swiveling to Alexis almost mechanically. "W-What?" he asks, looking taken aback by her question. "What was me?"
Alexis lowers her eyes, falling silent for likely the rest of the trip.
Tomas does not sleep. He stays awake, nursing whatever drink he can find.
As he shouldn't, for, for at least one night, his dreams are filled with teeth.