As the floor gives in and all four of them descend, all Petrichor can feel is the hatred that boils him alive. There was no line to determine what was him and what was her. It was just an all-consuming pot of turbulent rage and divine persecution. A judge, jury, and executioner had descended upon them all. 

All paths with them...lead to her. For as long as he couldn't shake them, he would be taught a lesson in penance. Before them, she had him in a sickeningly warm light. It was lonely, but he was promised no pain.

Once again laid flat on another ground of another room he'd fallen through, he stands with shaking legs and looks around. Saccharine seems to be the worst off of them all and she sits in the corner shaking something terribly fierce. It seems trust between them both was not very present.

Riot is back to its gleeful twirls as it approaches him. It awaits something.

This group was...nothing but trouble. The longer he stayed with them, the more he'd suffer for their inadequacy. Turning his back to them, he breathes in a deeper breath as not to immediately lash out. It wasn't his nature, but then again... neither were the thoughts he was having. He felt like a livewire. Something was sparking.

Without saying anything, he walks off towards an exit. Saccharine, seeing his departure, barely makes out, "H-hey wait...!"

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Thaumiel had been gently trying to coax Saccharine to breathe, but any progress is quickly interrupted as he turns to watch the other stalking off. To where? Where did he think he'd be getting if not straight into more trouble?

The knight quickly rights himself and attempts to place his own form between Petrichor and the further depths of the dungeon. "Hey. Don't go doing anything rash. Are you alright?"

Arcturus, surprisingly, does not interject right away. He watches with curious eyes as he tends to his own wounds. His hair has all but completely fallen out of its delicate pin-ups, but it was a problem he'd deal with later.

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Saccharine watches with rising tension as the stare of the leopard courser is packed to the brim with ice. Where once stood a somewhat annoyed but complaint companion now was an exhausted and quite frankly done stallion. She tries to duck her gaze away from his line of fire only to linger on the wisp that seemed to taking in the interaction excitedly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure even if there's danger out there, it is no safer than in here with all of you." His words were said with faux kindness, and all they did was incite more fear in the mare. How long had he been in here? What trouble followed him? At that thought, the wisp is suddenly closer to her face than when she last blinked and she jumps.

"Staying here seems unwise. That would make two floors I've had the pleasure of either falling or being dragged through. I'd like to avoid a third." Petrichor attempts to step around Thaumiel.

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He knows the consequences of doing so, but steps in front of Petrichor's movement anyways. His head bows low, acting like a bulwark. "I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to go unattended. At least allow me to help you return."

It isn't safe, he wants to add, but he has no foundation for it – a crazed man would say the danger is behind them. Petrichor could easily find his way to the surface most likely. But no. There's a look in the other stallion's eye – the one that now stands by Saccharine and makes slow, swaying motions with his tail. The one with stars on his hide and a moon on his face.

Like he knows something, but isn't sharing.

Thaumiel returns his attention to Petrichor and straightens. "It's the same I have offered to Lady Saccharine and I cannot, in good conscience allow anyone to wander alone."

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At being interrupted, again, something dangerous shrouds just beneath the surface. Petrichor would be scared of his own rapidly shifting demeanor if he was less overwhelmed and tired. The dungeon...wasn't what he thought it was. At first, perhaps, but now with company? She grew tired of the lollygagging.

His stony expression is locked on the much taller courser. It doesn't not move even as a voice leans down to whisper, 'I remember ones like him. Arrogant and so full of pride. They are the first to turn on you the moment things get tough. The first to blame you when they make a mistake. Acting brave will only go so far...so how about we test it?'

Her tone had shifted into morbid curiosity if only to sate her past experiences. It was the first long statement he'd heard from her since she disappeared that night.

Sighing, he looks back at Riot who dances between Arcturus and Saccharine and seems to be making progress in calming the flighty mare down. "Fine, but I still don't think we should linger here any longer. It's giving me the chills."

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Thaumiel stands firm until Petrichor inevitably backs down. His nostrils flare as he drops into a sigh, finally able to take a second and assess the surroundings. He doesn't know what this other courser's deal is, but it isn't his problem. He's only concerned with his safety, and ensuring the dungeon doesn't claim another.

"Agreed." He concedes that much. Though it doesn't feel like they have much of a choice, as he looks around. The dungeon often funneled people forward, and it seemed that was their only choice at the moment.

Arcturus weaves his way between the two, seemingly content with moving through the tension like it was a tangible spider's web. "Looks as though there's only one way, my friends."

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Saccharine, having watched the two face off, only looks to the silly wisp that played with her hair as it spun happily around her. If it wasn't so concerned, perhaps it would be alright to go. Its light guided her forward, but she stops at Thaumiel's flank of whom she trusted most to wait for his guidance.

Petrichor, on the other hand, steps around the taller courser with a last heated glance before following after his less sane travel partner that he was slowly getting used to. Better with the crazy you know, he supposes. "After you." He mutters under his breath as he follows the darker courser.

She merely is laughter in the back of his mind. Taunting, she beckons them forth as her eyes leave him to shift to her central point of interest of the heraldic variety. 

Ears back and flat against her head, Saccharine looks encouragingly at Thaumiel.

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Arcturus only offers a smile. He won't have to lift a hoof to help -- no, he knows well enough that as Thaumiel softly assuages Saccharine that he'd be taking the first steps forward.

The Knight steps cautiously down the darker corridor. It's lit only by a low lantern light -- these ever-burning things that Thaumiel had yet to fully understand. His ears swivel on a dime as they listen for every stray pebble or distant groan of the dungeon.

He breathes in the less-than-fresh air of the new chamber as a shiver runs down his spine. Something's wrong, but he can't place it.

"Look up," is the soft whisper in his ear -- how Arcturus was able to weave so close without him knowing was unnerving. Sure enough, crouched in the far corner of the cavernous expanse is some kind of large insect. Thaumiel can hear the distant chitter of its mandibles against one another. A fearful image of torn flesh crosses his mind, but he dispels it for now. It doesn't see them yet.

He lifts his tail to stop Saccharine from moving forward any further. "Careful," he hisses under his breath, cautious.

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Saccharine follows closely behind Thaumiel and watches the lanterns with fearful eyes. Everything about this place served to unnerve her more and more. All she wanted to do was go home, but leaving the group felt like signing up for disaster. Well, even with the group things were disastrous.

Stopped by Thaumiel’s tail, her heart rate, which never seems to go below racing, picks up once again. What now? And then she sees it and her breathing stops.

Petrichor, in all honesty, had seen this coming a mile away. Every step with these strangers led to more and more threats. This time, however, Riot is cheerful in bobbing through the coursers and up to the front. It was mostly ignored by the beast, for now.

’Another challenge,’ her voice is excited, ’I want to see. Show me that you can succeed.’

It was a taunt at best. It didn’t feel like she believed they could do it. Petrichor leans over to whisper to Thaumiel, ”So, do you see a way around?”

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"Unless you think we can return to the top where we started before . . ." Which is to say, no, he doesn't. His eyes nervously flick back to Saccharine before he lowers his voice even further. "We may just have to creep by,  but -- are you adept with a blade, if worst comes to worst?"

Arcturus is busy watching the strange beast. His eyes watch the twitching of a limb, much like a cat would watch a stray beam of sunlight.

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Petrichor sends an uncertain glance Thaumiel’s way. It had not been long he’d been venturing in the dungeons. Less than a year. In all that time, there were very few threats that caused a need for weapons.

”I am an herbalist, but if push comes to shove, I am sure I could rise to the challenge out of pure determination to not eminently perish.” It is brutally honest, but he can also take the hint to not let the mare catch on behind him. She is having a hard enough time trying not to suffocate on her own fear.

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That doesn't ease his concern all that much, but a knight is his duty, and that comes first and foremost. He tries not to let that show.

"Very well." He turns back to size up the proper way to approach. He knows little of insects ... only that he should fear them. Ears pinned, he tries not to acknowledge how unnerved the other courser was making him -- the way he was oddly enthralled with this. There seemed to be a straight, clean path forward. If they were cautious enough, maybe ...

He nods towards it. "If we're cautious of the rubble, we could move through."

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Petrichor looks up ahead, swallows the apprehension, and nods. If you can't beat crazy, you might as well join them. He looks back at Saccharine with an iron gaze that locks her focus in place. "Stick close and don't hesitate."

She nods, scared. He can only hope she'll have the nerve to keep her word.