"Water...?" Icarus mused aloud to no one but himself, lifting a hoof carefully, as though the water may rise and strike him at any moment. It's cold and refreshing, not unlike wading through the shallow end of a pond back home to be rid of the dirt and grime from making a knight's name for himself. Sure, he's seen plenty of caves with water littering their floors. But this felt different. Depictions of things that looked eerily like Coursers, like him, painted all over the archways, age wearing at their colors yet they were unmistakably them, and water that he couldn't quickly see where it originated from.

It was.. made. Why? What was the purpose of caging water down here in stone instead of catching it freshly flowing from streams and rivers? Icarus pawed at the surface again, watching as ripples cascaded and bounced off their stone boundaries. Only then does he dare to think this water could be bad. Perhaps it was moved and isolated for having cursed properties - or, could water be guarded, hoarded for blessings? It didn't smell any different from regular water, although everything smelled musty down here.

What are the chances?

After he walked back to dry ground, Icarus decided to fiddle out an empty vial from his bag. He originally intended to collect slime or monster blood to showcase his triumphs, but weird underground-room-water and a strange story to tell would mystify an audience nonetheless! He shook off the last of the wwater clinging to his hooves and started his trek back the way he came, holding his knees a little higher at the thought of having either survived unholy wretched waterhole or blessed by ethereal Courser deity spring.