Haren [he/him] WC: 276

His labored breathing soon calmed with the reassurance of his party and small canine. Thoughts that threatened to pierce his psyche were held back as he timidly ambled forward with the rest of the group. Haren hadn't thought of that incident in…awhile. He actively chose NOT to dwell on it, he already wasted years of his life doing so. But, today, in that tunnel, triggered something deep within him, and he would just have to deal with it later. 

As he shot out after Splatter and Firetruck from the dwindling channel, Haren planted his feet, this time as a means of grounding instead of fear. His chest grew large with the intake of air and quickly depleted as he exhaled. Slug yapped quietly at her owner, jumping on her hind legs as if to ask for him to pick her up. Softly smiling, he obliged. 

“Thank you…for helping me.” He spoke begrudgingly to Firetruck. He hated being the one to have to be helped, but he was genuinely thankful for this new found family. 

As they explored this new room, his thoughts began to race again, slowly, but racing nonetheless. He budded up to his husband Shepherd for comfort. The larger equine always knew how to settle Haren’s nerves and he wouldn't change it for the world. His eyes scanned the room watching Splatterpunk and Firetruck examine the old tomes within the space. The items piqued Haren’s interest, mostly due to their possible value. Before he could even comprehend that he couldn't read a damn thing, pages fluttered angrily in face, causing him to stumble back. 

A loud, irritated groan escaped his lips.

“For FUCKS sake.” 

Firetruck [They/Them] WC: 227

It was almost with reluctance that Firetruck walked from the too-small hallways, the inability of making the wrong choice just a beautiful siren's song. But Haren seemed to be having trouble, and Splatterpunk didn't seem thrilled, either. They couldn't see how Shepherd was holding up, but even one person in distress was enough for Firetruck to want to find a way so that they were in a better place. With a brief parting glance, they looked back before trotting into a moldering library, the shelves sagging or worse, the walls a breath away from total collapse. A space that felt like it was once loved, and then someone decided it wasn't useful anymore and it crumbled to dust.

Firetruck was still useful.

Their hazy thoughts were pushed aside by Haren's halting words. With a warm smile, Firetruck replied, "Of course! You have helped me many times already - it was only right that try in any way that I could. And you're here now, and it did end up safe. You really are so incredibly brave - I don't know that I could've moved if I'd been as afraid as it felt you may be."

Safety, however, might have been an illusion, but they were questing - of course there was going to be something. However, Firetruck never expected books, especially as they seemed to first target Haren. "Huh."

Shepherd [he/him] WC: 264

Shepherd knew how hard this was for Haren. They had been in just a handful of similar situations since they were young, so he knew his husband would struggle with the thinning path. In a low and comforting voice the black stallion kept reminding his lover that he was safe and that this too would pass. Luckily Firetruck also had beautiful words of wisdom for Haren and the four adventuring coursers let out scattered sighs of relief once the path returned to normal.

As they continued they came across an ancient library, filled with tattered scrolls, loose maps, and what seemed like never ending rows of books. Shepherd stayed close by Haren's side, automatically knowing just what to do to ease the chestnut's nerves, and watched as Splatterpunk and Firetruck examined the shelves in this room. The large stallion stepped closer to the spines of the dusty literature, trying to make out what the books were about, but couldn't discern anything from them. He couldn't understand the language written here. As he was traveling through his mind palace, filtering through the languages he already knew, Shepherd's attention snapped over to Haren, who was currently swearing at a book that had flung itself at him.

The stallion opened his mouth to speak but before he could, a tome flew at him, screeching something in a tongue he couldn't understand. He squinted at the high pitched noice and before he knew it, all of the books flew off the shelfs, chanting and speaking in unknown, ancient languages, divebombing the group and attacking them with undisclosed anger.

Splatterpunk [They/Them] WC: 245

Splatterpunk was quiet as they made it free of the horrible corridor, and hurried along into the next door they found. Shelves and shelves lined the walls now, and the shelves seemed to hum faintly with magic. They shook their head, trying to clear their head from the previous room.

"Flume, stay clear of the books and the shelves, alright? You'll catch it alight." They said over their shoulder, and the fire elemental drew its limbs back to itself, pretending as if it had not been reaching for a book. Splatter shook their head at him, slipping forwards to gently nose open the least magical looking volume they could spot on the shelf in front of them. They flipped through a few pages - and it was about then that the book they were attempting to examine promptly tried to BITE THEM IN THE FACE, WHAT THE FUCK-    

Splatterpunk yelped and stumbled backwards, lurching away - and then the rest of the books stirred, shouting and taking flight, swooping at the group.

"... FluME- Go, go GO-"

Flume didn't need a second more of permission to shape himself into an arrow and swoop his scorching flames towards the nearest aggressive pair of books, and there was a FOUSH of old parchment catching alight - the flapping volume immediately panicked, fluttering into several of its fellows. They were distracted by this, at least.

"Let's go, then-" Splatter called out, moving for the next doorway, nose covered in half a dozen paper cuts.