It's not the most reassuring thing Dorian has heard today.
But it's— better, admittedly. Better than imagining the Bull bleeding and bleeding and bleeding on the other side of the wall while Dorian chatters incessantly. Better than imagining the man with half of his bones shattered while he forces himself forward by sheer willpower alone. Better than imagining the Bull slowly dying while Dorian waits, powerless.
Still, the Bull is injured. And he's— stuck? Or at least entrapped in a narrow space. That's enough to make anyone anxious, which explains the Bull's earlier distraction. Perhaps— perhaps that's what had been bothering the Bull earlier, when the two of them had fallen behind, when the Bull had asked to play those silly little games. Wandering deep into the earth, with stone at every side, knowing that one bad quake might spell their doom—
Dorian takes in a slow, rallying breath, steeling his nerves. All right. If anyone is going to get them out of here, it will have to be Dorian.
"Luckily," he says with far more confidence than he genuinely feels, "I've every intention of finding a way for both of us to escape. I refuse to die down here, and neither would I let you do something so tedious as starve to death."
He slips over to the hole in the wall, the one leading to the hallway that winds further into the— compound? building? – and listens intently for any movement. Nothing worrying, save for the low groan of settling stone, the skitter of dust and rocks still falling after the earlier quake. He thinks he hears the distant echo of unintelligible chatter, of hissing and and grunting, but Dorian can't be sure if it's real or if it's an offering of his imagination. He decides it should be safe enough to travel through – or at least, as safe as anything can currently be.
Returning to the wall he shares with the Bull, he presses a palm against it.
"Are you able to progress at all?" Clipped, brusque, though Dorian does nothing to bury the undercurrent of concern that threads through his voice. "And answer truthfully, if you would. I'm losing patience for your attempts at distraction."
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But it's— better, admittedly. Better than imagining the Bull bleeding and bleeding and bleeding on the other side of the wall while Dorian chatters incessantly. Better than imagining the man with half of his bones shattered while he forces himself forward by sheer willpower alone. Better than imagining the Bull slowly dying while Dorian waits, powerless.
Still, the Bull is injured. And he's— stuck? Or at least entrapped in a narrow space. That's enough to make anyone anxious, which explains the Bull's earlier distraction. Perhaps— perhaps that's what had been bothering the Bull earlier, when the two of them had fallen behind, when the Bull had asked to play those silly little games. Wandering deep into the earth, with stone at every side, knowing that one bad quake might spell their doom—
Dorian takes in a slow, rallying breath, steeling his nerves. All right. If anyone is going to get them out of here, it will have to be Dorian.
"Luckily," he says with far more confidence than he genuinely feels, "I've every intention of finding a way for both of us to escape. I refuse to die down here, and neither would I let you do something so tedious as starve to death."
He slips over to the hole in the wall, the one leading to the hallway that winds further into the— compound? building? – and listens intently for any movement. Nothing worrying, save for the low groan of settling stone, the skitter of dust and rocks still falling after the earlier quake. He thinks he hears the distant echo of unintelligible chatter, of hissing and and grunting, but Dorian can't be sure if it's real or if it's an offering of his imagination. He decides it should be safe enough to travel through – or at least, as safe as anything can currently be.
Returning to the wall he shares with the Bull, he presses a palm against it.
"Are you able to progress at all?" Clipped, brusque, though Dorian does nothing to bury the undercurrent of concern that threads through his voice. "And answer truthfully, if you would. I'm losing patience for your attempts at distraction."