Plip, plip, plip.

The sound of dripping water is ever-present beneath the clip of hooves on rough stone and packed dirt cavern floor. So close to the surface, rainwater pours in and permeates every little crack and crevice until saturated soil can hold no more and it’s forced to seep through to a new place deeper still. It’s an almost-comforting backdrop to an otherwise empty trek, a white noise that numbs the mind and makes it almost possible to forget that – 

“You’re not going to find who you’re looking for down here, you know.”

– he’s not alone. Caspian sighs heavily and angles an ear back before he turns his head towards the other stallion without so much as a pause in his step. He certainly hadn’t invited him along, but he makes such an annoying habit of gluing to him like a blood-sucking fly any time he so much as looks towards the dungeons. What’s worse is that the blood-marked bastard is an avid fan of filling silence with noise, ruining what little peace Caspian gets down here.  

“You don’t know what it is I seek,” he responds back to him, bland and clipped, before he swings his head back straight ahead. 

“Ah!” comes Isidore’s cheerful reply, a laugh rumbling from the older horse as he picks up his own pace to step alongside Caspian, “But you are seeking something, then.” 

A heavy shoulder bumps into his own with enough force to make him stumble a single step in the other direction, making his eyes widen in alarm before he shoots him a glare and a snort, his ears angling backwards. “I never said anything like that. Surely an old man like yourself knows something of wanting a simple adventure.” 

A hum is all he receives from the old grey and he thinks for a moment that his answer has satisfied him enough to give blessed silence at last - just a moment. It’s never silent with him around, however.

“You know, if you are going to tell a lie, at least do me the courtesy of making it at least somewhat believable.” When Caspian whips his head around to stare at him again, he continues with raised brows, “Come now, you cannot truly believe I would just accept that, would you? I have two working eyes still you know - and working ears besides.

“You’re a different man when you enter the dungeons. I don’t think you’re aware of the change, yourself, but it’s as clear as day once you see how you are on the surface. You laugh up there while down here you become…ah, how do I put this…” 

“Quiet.”

“Rude.”

“Driven.”

“Bitter.” 

Each counter is met by yet more cheer and it all makes Caspian snort and roll his eyes. A shake of his head puts his messy bangs more into his face, but he pays it no mind and instead he simply focuses on putting one hoof in front of the other. Another twist, another turn, more dirt and vines and roots and moss and won’t something change and be different? This place is a never-ending labyrinth of stupid bullshit.

And Isidore won’t. Stop. Yammering.

“You needn’t tell me, you know,” the grey continues, ducking under scraggly roots and cutting in behind Caspian before coming back to his side with a clatter of hooves, “The dungeon has much to offer for those who seek…and much to take, too. Just be sure it doesn’t take who you are in the process of finding whatever - or whoever - it is you are looking for.”

It’s…something to chew on, at least. Caspian grumbles something noncommittal in response and keeps his eyes and ears locked onto the gloomy shadows ahead while in the silence his mind is left to wander. What he sought? Isidore would never understand it, really. A who, certainly, but it’s something far more…nebulous. A what, too, and a how and a why all bundled up into a mess in his head. Where could be fitting. When? Perhaps that, too. He wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain it.

All he knows is that the dungeons call and he has no choice but to answer. It’s his duty, after all.

For them.

“Ah-ha!”

The other stallion suddenly peels off, jostling him from his thoughts. He catches the end of his tail through a crevice in the wall just before it vanishes - just how fast can an old man move, anyways?! He considers simply using this as an excuse to carry on his own way without him, but the echo of a delighted chuckle piques his interest. Begrudgingly, he turns and wedges his way in through the small space with far less exuberance.

What he sees…well, it might make it a little worth it after all.

The dark claustrophobia of the narrow tunnels opens up into a vast cavern, the stalagmites and stalactites holding the view ahead between their jaws. Nondescript brown and grey gives way to rolling hills of green moss and hardy ferns lit by shafts of light cutting through holes far above and there, couched in the very middle and lit as if painted by some long-lost god, sits a dilapidated ruin. It’s little more than a few low stone walls held together more by vines and moss as far as he can tell from this far away, but it’s a ruin nonetheless. Far above, a thin stream of water cascades in as a trickle, more mist than anything else, to feed all the lush plant life.

It’s…beautiful, really, and Caspian finds himself awestruck. It makes it hard for him to think about hows and whys and whos for a moment. It’s difficult to remember how beautiful this place can really be when he’s stuck under the weight of the world with hardly any light to guide his way, but times like this? Well.

“See, now this is worthy of being called an adventure.”

Isidore’s words cut through, bringing him back down to the surface - er, subsurface - once more. The old grey turns, his nearly-white coat little more than a ghost in the shadows of those teeth and his bloodmark a terrible gash ripping through his skin to bloody his flank. It tears through any thoughts of beauty and wonder he might have like a knife through butter.

Ducking his head low, he pushes forward to brush past him to start picking his way down into the cavern proper. “Hurry up, we’re losing daylight.”

Unseen behind him, Isidore gives his back a small, weary smile and shakes his head before he tails after him.