The Bull is quiet for too long, and Dorian feels himself starting to tense. His gaze grows distant as he listens to the scrape and skitter of stone and dirt – movement, he thinks, as bare as it is. What an awful thing, he thinks, for the two of them to survive such a terrible fall, only for one of them to be stuck. That does seem to be how their luck works.
Still, Dorian refuses to accept that.
And he refuses to accept the Bull's answer, as well, scowling at the wall briefly. Anger and annoyance to cover up that icy curl of panic licking up the walls of his chest. There's sense in the suggestion of course – find a way out, so Dorian can return with help – but Dorian isn't always a fan of good sense. Especially not with that strange timbre in the Bull's voice – something Dorian can't quite identify and almost doesn't want to.
"And deprive you the joy of my company?" He forces himself to smile, knowing it'll be audible in his voice if he does. "Perish the thought."
Reluctantly, he releases the wisp, lets it drift upward to what remains of the ceiling. The soft glow illuminates cracks in the wall, tiny gaps fit only for a mouse to slip through – maybe that's why sound is carrying so easily between them. Dorian frowns before quietly drawing another wisp from the Fade, murmuring an incantation to bind it to the physical realm and to give it direction.
"I'm sending you a light, Bull. I'll thank you not to squash it."
And with that, he splays a hand, sends the new wisp through the small gaps in the wall to the Bull's side. It drifts lazily, casting about the same amount of light as a single candle flame in a soft green hue.
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Still, Dorian refuses to accept that.
And he refuses to accept the Bull's answer, as well, scowling at the wall briefly. Anger and annoyance to cover up that icy curl of panic licking up the walls of his chest. There's sense in the suggestion of course – find a way out, so Dorian can return with help – but Dorian isn't always a fan of good sense. Especially not with that strange timbre in the Bull's voice – something Dorian can't quite identify and almost doesn't want to.
"And deprive you the joy of my company?" He forces himself to smile, knowing it'll be audible in his voice if he does. "Perish the thought."
Reluctantly, he releases the wisp, lets it drift upward to what remains of the ceiling. The soft glow illuminates cracks in the wall, tiny gaps fit only for a mouse to slip through – maybe that's why sound is carrying so easily between them. Dorian frowns before quietly drawing another wisp from the Fade, murmuring an incantation to bind it to the physical realm and to give it direction.
"I'm sending you a light, Bull. I'll thank you not to squash it."
And with that, he splays a hand, sends the new wisp through the small gaps in the wall to the Bull's side. It drifts lazily, casting about the same amount of light as a single candle flame in a soft green hue.