Desmond wakes from a dream- a nightmare- with a huff of breath. The reality of the Furnace greets him- the stink of sulfur and smoke, ash caught on his skin, a heat just less than unbearable- and he can't quite help the groan that rumbles from his chest. "Couldn't have said it better myself," an ever-cheerful voice agrees, and Desmond blinks open his eyes to see Phoebe standing not far from where he's been dozing, her gold-hued coat gleaming in the light from her lantern. An array of f...

Desmond watches Phoebe with a sharp gaze, eyes narrowing as the Courser delicately picks her way across the ruined bridge before them. It's a good thing she at least is familiar with their path forward- he certainly isn't. Why he'd taken her up on the offer to delve further into the dungeons than he's ever been before is still a mystery to him (it isn't, not really- he is interested in far more than the fine lines of her form; her sharp gaze had drawn him in like a moth to a flame). ...