Of course she didn’t listen. She never did, likely never would. Crenia put little value in anything that she couldn’t hold herself - and the opinion of others was one of those things she couldn’t claim.

She remembered being a child and being told what to do, what to think, who to be. Of having no options and no choices, and no voice. It took her years, but she was happy with where she was now, who she was now, how she was now. She was able to go and search and discover, to show interest in things that bored others. And she didn’t need to listen to others.

Unfortunately, the rebellious attitude that came from too long spent listening to others sometimes got her into trouble, but it hadn’t killed her yet. It had come close, but she’d rather fight off death than fear living. Mayer seemed to be differently minded, much more aware that death was an option that was frequently around the corner, and lived his life as though he saw it as an enemy, something to be fought, rather than a friend that he would eventually meet with a smile. That sounded exhausting, and it sounded boring, and it sounded nothing like how Crenia wanted to live her life. She wanted to make discoveries and wonder at the big wide world, to acknowledge that she really knew nothing.

And, in knowing nothing, she knew of magic.

So it was with slightly obscured eye roll that Crenia pushed past Mayer and said, “Fine. If you won’t, I’ll do it myself.” He looked as though he was debating the merits of getting in her way, before snapping his mouth shut with a brisk nod.

At first glance, the sides looked sheer, the distance to fall immeasurable, but she could almost, almost make out something that could be a ledge. Her tongue still sticky from the black liquid, she called to Mana, the wisp who was near invisible when she wasn’t remembered. Crenia tried to remember her often, because no one feels good when they’re forgotten, but it was occasionally useful. “Mana, go and look - is there somewhere we’re to go?”

The little blue being drifted down as though the air was as viscous as the inky blackness itself, lighting up the matte liquid they had followed earlier. It was dripping, dripping, sometimes doubling back on itself as though it hadn’t wanted to fall. Mana’s gentle light bobbed, reaching into somewhere that wasn’t just darkness.

“There’s a cave over here!” Crenia called without looking at her companions. “I’m going down.” How was a question for another time.

Eventually they all made it down, and found themselves in another hallway. The strange liquid had taken on an almost gritty quality, as though it was devouring - or carrying - something on its way. They walked, and walked, and walked, until they were suddenly in a new room, circular again. Whoever had created this place had thought that circles were important, or, more likely, just looked good. The floor had turned from stone to sand, though the ferrofluid (or whatever it was) still ran in rivulets along the outer border.

Crenia blinked, and it was almost as though she was transported to another place - for, while the location looked the same, this new room was populated with many and more, all silently cheering and jeering and her and her companions. She looked around, the sand grounding though slick, and saw the shadow of a large Courser “looking” at them. Why, she didn’t know, but she felt it was looking to fight. “Elayne, it looks like you’re up,” she said, softly, unwilling to break the silence until she was better able to study it.

“I’ve got this,” Mayer said, shaking himself again. “It’s my turn.”

Crenia didn’t know they were taking turns, but, well. More power to him.