Back when he was doing his dives below ground solo, Icarus quite often, and quite unfortunately, forgot to pack the proper provisions to make his journey last half as long as he intended. He would always tough it out at first, trodding onward and downward to make the trip something worthwhile. How could he return without loot, an epic monster tale, or even one new thing to lug back to the surface? No, he wouldn’t be caught dead with absolutely nothing to show for his adventures.

The solution back then had been a simple ultimatum: go until he found something to save face, or stalk the shadows near the surface until the sun fell past the horizon and Icarus could sneak his grand escape home to save his budding reputation the scratch marks of failure.

However, now… Well. Icarus mulled over doing just that again as their hooves clicked against the stone passage, then squished upon luscious patches of moss and overgrowth. His steps were lighter, higher precision, than the heavier footsteps of Diomedes as they plod on.

Now, Icarus had friends.

“Dio,” he stopped ahead and craned his neck back to his companion, “stop for a minute. I’m hungry.”

“Again? …Sure, ‘boss’.” Dio stopped the way a boulder does; planting hooves into the ground to force a halt to his momentum, rather than any grace. Had they been in dirt, he’d have scored grooves through the earth.

Now, Icarus makes his friends carry the snacks. After all, the knight of the party cannot be slowed down by the unnecessary packing!

Pleased, Icarus helped himself to digging his nose into one of Dio’s saddlebags — only to find it empty, devoid of food, life, or literally anything else but.. crumbs. His skin warmed.

“Sorry,” Dio didn’t sound sorry one bit, snorting in amusement, “I got hungry a while back. You brought snacks, right?”

And knights do not throw tantrums.

(Shut up, Dio.)