17 SPRING 515 AV
__________________________________________________________________
Now, this isn't where I meant to be at all.
The tunnel's opening loomed ahead of him like something hungry and alive, a great stone gullet winding its way through the darkness down to gods-knew-where. Huge clods of earth lay tumbled all around him, scattered on the sickly grass like the toys of a child. A particularly large and messy child. Who enjoyed playing with dirt. Everett was not afraid to acknowledge that the comparison had somewhat run away with him. What he was more reluctant to admit was that it seemed he had gotten lost. Again. The rain dripped sullenly onto the side of the hill, dribbled down the cavern's mouth in tiny rivers, and he hunched into his scarf with a frustrated sigh. Too petching cold for this nonsense, he thought, and huffed at the distinctly un-crowded horizon. There was something about the open expanse of rolling hills that made him uneasy, used as he was to being hemmed in between leaning walls and buildings. It was with unclouded relief that he caught sight of the crowded, slumping mass that was Tent City, and just beyond it a sloping hill that no doubt shielded the city proper. Tucking his hands into his pockets and turning his feet towards the city—now, how did I make it all the way out here in the first place?--he set out, squinting at the distant smudge that he hoped would soon resolve itself into the anarchic jumble of buildings he called home. A song crept into his head, a cheerful little tune about how things always work out in the end, and he whistled a few bars and—
--and she came home whistling, later than usual and he shouted and hugged her and said don't you see? It's too dark out there and too cold and anything could happen, and she only laughed and said that was alright, that was the joy of it. Things always work out in the end and a little adventure's good for the soul, and she'd only been gone so long because she'd heard there was a sale on bread across town. And he said it wasn't worth it, and she kissed him and said it was, and remember when we used to spend our days hunting treasure in the Temple? That was different, he said, and he knew that it was but not the way that he wanted, and she laughed and said curiosity was its own reward.
He'd stopped walking, though he wasn't sure when. He imagined he could feel the open shaft gaping behind him, vacant and foreboding. He frowned, shook his head to clear it, took another step. He'd copied a book once about a faraway world of dusk and caverns, ruled by giant spiders... or were they beautiful maidens? He remembered another, too, that mentioned a secret treasure buried deep in an old mineshaft. And there was the one with the cave-beasts, that was a strange one... he turned to look back at the mine.
Curiosity is its own reward.
No harm in it, right? The shop could wait a little while—he'd been neglecting it recently, he realized, hadn't taken a job in... in... hm. He peered into the darkness and wondered about buried treasures. And besides, he'd never been here before, hadn't searched inside, and maybe, just maybe—
Taking a deep, utterly redundant breath, Everett squared his shoulders and stepped inside.
The tunnel's opening loomed ahead of him like something hungry and alive, a great stone gullet winding its way through the darkness down to gods-knew-where. Huge clods of earth lay tumbled all around him, scattered on the sickly grass like the toys of a child. A particularly large and messy child. Who enjoyed playing with dirt. Everett was not afraid to acknowledge that the comparison had somewhat run away with him. What he was more reluctant to admit was that it seemed he had gotten lost. Again. The rain dripped sullenly onto the side of the hill, dribbled down the cavern's mouth in tiny rivers, and he hunched into his scarf with a frustrated sigh. Too petching cold for this nonsense, he thought, and huffed at the distinctly un-crowded horizon. There was something about the open expanse of rolling hills that made him uneasy, used as he was to being hemmed in between leaning walls and buildings. It was with unclouded relief that he caught sight of the crowded, slumping mass that was Tent City, and just beyond it a sloping hill that no doubt shielded the city proper. Tucking his hands into his pockets and turning his feet towards the city—now, how did I make it all the way out here in the first place?--he set out, squinting at the distant smudge that he hoped would soon resolve itself into the anarchic jumble of buildings he called home. A song crept into his head, a cheerful little tune about how things always work out in the end, and he whistled a few bars and—
--and she came home whistling, later than usual and he shouted and hugged her and said don't you see? It's too dark out there and too cold and anything could happen, and she only laughed and said that was alright, that was the joy of it. Things always work out in the end and a little adventure's good for the soul, and she'd only been gone so long because she'd heard there was a sale on bread across town. And he said it wasn't worth it, and she kissed him and said it was, and remember when we used to spend our days hunting treasure in the Temple? That was different, he said, and he knew that it was but not the way that he wanted, and she laughed and said curiosity was its own reward.
He'd stopped walking, though he wasn't sure when. He imagined he could feel the open shaft gaping behind him, vacant and foreboding. He frowned, shook his head to clear it, took another step. He'd copied a book once about a faraway world of dusk and caverns, ruled by giant spiders... or were they beautiful maidens? He remembered another, too, that mentioned a secret treasure buried deep in an old mineshaft. And there was the one with the cave-beasts, that was a strange one... he turned to look back at the mine.
Curiosity is its own reward.
No harm in it, right? The shop could wait a little while—he'd been neglecting it recently, he realized, hadn't taken a job in... in... hm. He peered into the darkness and wondered about buried treasures. And besides, he'd never been here before, hadn't searched inside, and maybe, just maybe—
Taking a deep, utterly redundant breath, Everett squared his shoulders and stepped inside.