The prosthetic Arsenic had thrown together worked, functioned, at least. With a bit of time, Whetstone was managing to walk again.

The presence of Collapse hung over him like a noose, like reaching claws and teeth of predation, like a death waiting in the wings. He knew away from him, out of his sight, and merely parroted what Collapse had claimed had happened - and it seems that was enough for 'Lapse, who paid him no mind. Still, it hung.

Rake was accompanying Whetstone today, on a roam about the dungeon, to help him continue to grow used to his leg. It clunked mechanically across the furnace floor - and, despite its metal composition, did not heat up terribly in the hot, dry air.

Phoebe, still concerned for Whetstone after what had happened, had slipped in alongside the pair, Rake and Phoebe pacing after Whetstone, following where-ever he went. His eagle pressed against his shoulders, and largely, he was deep in thought.

"It's the blood moon? Or the harvest moon, one of the things, up on the surface." Said Rake, after a time.

"The Harvester is back." Phoebe said, which Whetstone didn't know what the SHIT that meant, and it gave a pause. He halted.

"... The what?"

"The Harvester." Said Rake, blinking. "Oh. Have you never seen him? Pumpkin looking fellow, with little eyes, arms and legs. Armored. Sells good stuff, really."

"... Oh."

"He's out and about this time of year." Whetstone had begun walking again, nodding absently.

"Perhaps you should have a trot up to the surface, under the moon, when you can manage it." Said Phoebe. "... Lot of ghosts, though..." She seemed to ponder if Whet would easily startle or not.

"..." Whetstone had looked up, and froze. The circle, the red circle, was ahead, and a dry splash of dark brown blood was still across the earth.

Rakehell looked at this too, his brows furrowed. There was something familiar in his stare as well.

A few moments passed. Phoebe shifted their hooves, unsettled.

Rake moved up, slowly, leaning his head down to Whetstone's ear.

"... Have you been here before, too?"

Whetstone shook, and nodded his head, just a fraction. His eyes refused to look towards Rake.

"... Alright." Murmured Rake.

"... I want to go home, now." Whet said, low.

"Okay." Rake paused, eyes shifting. "... If you... want to leave, Whetstone. I won't help anyone look for you. Something to think about."

They turned back, falling to silence again.

Whetstone had to leave the Grey wings, and soon.