It hadn’t been so long since Denver had delved into the buried kingdom with a hired companion by his side, the same one in fact. Logue, the modestly charming courser was called, and it was more than nice to be in his company once more, all soft eyes and rugged hide. He’d need him down here, a level lower even than the last time, a place that seemed somehow even more dark and dangerous than the rest.

It was reassuring, walking next to someone who seemed like they knew what they were doing, not to mention his buggy friend who seemed insistent on going everywhere he did. Silky, a fat and… admittedly adorable silk moth he’d encountered in the labyrinth, accompanied by the other horse’s own little friend; a small bat that sat atop him with his own barnacle’d buddy.

However, while the more novice of the two was excited by the prospect of the time he’d be together with a strong capable mercenary, he also couldn’t help but compare himself to the experienced adventurer striding confidently by his side.

That first day Denver had stared into that dim descent with actual seriousness, with a goal, he knew this wasn’t what he was made for, a foolish trespasser stumbling into someone else’s domain. He was huge, yes, but that meant his heart was larger also. He always thought he felt things deeper, had more sensitivities than his peers. He had muscle, but it was to carry his soft belly and aid him during those days he’d starved alongside his sister. It wasn’t for traversing dangerous pitfalls or felling merciless foes, it was for letting his sister lean against when she was sick, for hefting the hauls of lavish foods they splurged on after a successful heist.

Nobody from his own family had been a diver, at least that he’d known of. He’d not gotten much of a chance to learn of their history. Had anyone from Logue’s answered the call? “Soooo… any dungeon divers before you? In your blood, that is.” He asked him to break the small silence, curious. The brindled courser thought a short moment, before weaving the tale of his childhood into imagined reality behind Denver’s eyes.

“Hah, well funny you should ask that. I was just thinking this morning about where I started. You don’t dwell as much on it in the moment, down here. But whenever I go back up there… I think of home.” They were both from the surface at least, and he made some flirty remark on it, (“We could’ve rubbed shoulders you and I~”)never one to hold himself back even in the midst of thoughts one might find uncomfortable, itchy like a too-tight wool sweater.

He liked that they had something in common, outsider upbringings and such, compared to those that were formed here in the dungeons themselves, or else succumbed permanently to that siren’s song of it. He listened with rapt attention to the rest of Logue’s musings, at some point getting more lost in his strong jaw and long lashes. Gods he was gorgeous.

They walked farther into the grassy depths, the dungeon feeling more and more like an entire world than the neverending caverns he knew it to be. Though… maybe then the description wasn’t so far off, it might as well be its own world… its own few worlds really, who even knew the extent of it? Had anyone ever reached the end…? Was there an end? He felt like in a place like this, where nothing was truly ever as it seemed, it was entirely possible that it could extend into dimensions impossible to comprehend by mere mortals such as them.

If he did have any ancestors that had traipsed their way down into the unforgiving depths, he had no doubt that they’d be one of the many skeletal remains that littered the dusty floors in those portions where history soaked into the earth like blood on a battlefield. His parents certainly hadn’t gone down, they were regular work horses like most else on the surface. They were modest, but proud of the lives they’d built… two coursers who deserved a better child than he’d been. Who deserved to get to know their daughter more, his sister who could barely remember their faces.

Denver tuned back in, catching the tail end of Logue’s recounting of his family’s history, of his own, and picked his pace back up to be shoulder to shoulder with the other stallion, towering over him as he did most. “Sounds like you’ve been at this a while then? You’ve certainly got the muscles of a rugged adventurer~” The dark seal bay mused, tossing his mane and fluttering his long sloping lashes at the other, hoping he wouldn’t notice he hadn’t paid close attention. Silky chirped, and the courser almost thought it sounded sarcastic. “Cheeky…” he muttered at it with an amused chuckle.

“Yeah, long enough anyway.” Logue laughed back at his question, either oblivious or politely ignoring Denver’s relentless flirtations. Cocoa made a tiny noise too, but Denver didn’t know her well enough to be able to decipher if she was just as snarky as Silky seemed to be feeling today.

He struck up more conversation instead, trying to move his mind from dwelling on the past to focusing on the present… though he overshot a little, and started to look toward the future. Would he leave behind a legacy? Would anyone remember him, or that he’d been brave despite who he was at his core?

It was a weird thing to think about, out of the ordinary. Something about this place had him feeling sentimental lately… maybe he just needed a break. After this one, he’d sit it out a while, enjoy the wide open field they’d settled on and maybe even finally learn how to use whatever it was his moth friend produced as a lucrative business opportunity. Or else a lavish fashion statement.

In the end, he just hoped his parents would be… well, not proud, but would at least know he was doing everything he could- that he was still caring for Cally. He gave Silky a small nudge, more affectionate than chastising, and laughed at some remark Logue made as they trotted farther into the cavernous wilds.