Grimm turns his head up and peers around slowly, and considers his position again.
Fossil and oppressive silence, somewhere deep and down. Cold metal underfoot - a favourite of the Wyrm, if memory serves. And shade. So much of it the place echoes with that darkness. No lantern called him here.
(No lantern called him at all.)
The Shadelord's huge claws bump into him. Grimm allows himself to be pushed backwards, catching himself on his back foot. At the contact of Void to his shell, sigils he didn't notice before burn cold around his Essence, recognising. Affirming.
Grimm's eyes narrow at the realisation this brings. His bindings are not gone simply because the physical ones lie cut and dead on the platform at his feet.
Still. They have pushed him.
"Perhaps you wish to discuss this pact elsewhere," he suggests, trying to get a gauge on their intent. Even his hoarse hush echoes too-loud in the silence down here.
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Fossil and oppressive silence, somewhere deep and down. Cold metal underfoot - a favourite of the Wyrm, if memory serves. And shade. So much of it the place echoes with that darkness. No lantern called him here.
(No lantern called him at all.)
The Shadelord's huge claws bump into him. Grimm allows himself to be pushed backwards, catching himself on his back foot. At the contact of Void to his shell, sigils he didn't notice before burn cold around his Essence, recognising. Affirming.
Grimm's eyes narrow at the realisation this brings. His bindings are not gone simply because the physical ones lie cut and dead on the platform at his feet.
Still. They have pushed him.
"Perhaps you wish to discuss this pact elsewhere," he suggests, trying to get a gauge on their intent. Even his hoarse hush echoes too-loud in the silence down here.