she is up quickly and efficiently. her tactical belt is slung around her waist in an instant; cassie psychically holds her backpack aloft so she can easily slip her arms through. still, despite her promptness, she scowls. 

"any idea of what we're walking into? we can hold our own, but - fuck, wish we could've had coffee first."

or a shower. at least some time to slip into fresh clothes. 

DANE FAIRCHILD

☉

she doesn't have a tactical mask, but the bundle of cloth at her neck is very clearly a cowl as she thumbs it up over her nose. her hood comes up, magnets drawn to the sides of the cowl so it's not at risk of falling if they get in a skirmish. 

"yeah, won't find me complaining there," she says. 

combat boots crush crystals underfoot. not much sunlight filters in from above; they were deep before this all started. the beeping on dane's device grows incessant and then stops all at once. 

"damn," she says, hand out to him as she drops to a crouch. "i heard there were crazy pokemon down here, but that's something else." 

an impressive shape looms over a torn encampment. the flayed remains of a rocket grunt are at its feet. another - alive, but bleeding from a twisted leg - crawls backwards on all fours. it'll be hell getting him out of there. and she's not sure about her partner, but an all-out battle against that thing is out of the question.

she says, testing the waters, "think he'll bleed out even if we do fend it off in time?"

DANE FAIRCHILD

☉

crimson is hidden by the shadow of her hood, but still she turns her head away from him to hide her disappointment. she's grateful for the cowl when the sandstorm whips up behind them. cassie mewls piteously and gives a shake of her head. 

psychic energy provides a barrier for her. 

what she doesn't tell him is at the first sign of trouble, she's out. she's not going to fork over her life for a crippled grunt. she doesn't spare the dying. 

she buries the dead. 

maybe, just maybe, they won't have it come to a head. crystal stalactites glitter down from above. a turn of cassie's head, the broad strokes of sylvie's intentions, and some of the stalactites crack at the base. 

and fall, crash landing some yards off. the walking wake raises its head, ears perked toward the noise.

DANE FAIRCHILD

☉

better him than her. he's been calm company these past few hours, but she'll be as indifferent to his death as the rest of them. they part ways and she examines the cavern's knobbly wall. with a grunt, and just a couple of scrapes on her palms, she manages to pull herself into a hiding spot, though still have view on dane's futile rescue attempt. 

the walking wake is a mass of muscle and fur. spittle has gathered at the corner of its bloodied maw and putrid foam mixed with viscera drips behind its gallop. 

cassie makes herself equally as scarce, lithe body tucking under an outcropping of crystal. they wait. the growls grow in volume and sylvie holds her breath, cold sweat breaking over her skin as she loses sight of it. she dare not move. 

she trusts that, somewhere in the dark, cassie's eyes are burning with future sight. if danger threatens her, she'll make a move.

DANE FAIRCHILD

☉

blue blurs in front of her and her eyes tighten, but they do not close. she starts a count in her head, ears straining, and upon the sound of bones crunching, she relaxes. that's one less problem to deal with. 

she hauls herself out of her hiding spot. the walking wake feasts on its prey and her companion is nowhere to be seen. she doesn't linger. 

cassie claws her way out into the open and shakes out her fur, trotting briskly to match sylvie's pace as the rocket goes to put as much distance between herself and the creature as possible. 

deeper they go into the chasm.

DANE FAIRCHILD

☉