The oddly creaky, avian-feline purrs of the two griffons resonate against the natural walls of the cavern. The two are easily differentiated, with Monster's dryer, cracked-over sounding croaks coming quiet and sulky as Marcus loosens her saddlebags, a quiet activity off towards the entryway of the cave. Outside, he'd thought it darkly overcast, difficult to see. Here, with the blackness of the cavern at his back, grey light feels silver, overbright, and helplessly slow to recede.
It doesn't take long. With the two mounts informally guarding the entryway, Ellis can sense Marcus approach, the quiet impression of bootfalls on loose earth and stone.
Adjacent, he kneels down. In his hands are rations, canisters full now with rain water. Not many. They weren't anticipating a long stay, and there weren't even bedrolls taking up saddlespace. He is still dressed in his armor, the fur lining across the collar, the shoulder pieces, having done something (but not everything) to protect the linens beneath from the deluge they'd just flown through.
A glance to Ellis his task, as if noticing it's happening for the first time, and after a beat, he offers, "Let me."
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It doesn't take long. With the two mounts informally guarding the entryway, Ellis can sense Marcus approach, the quiet impression of bootfalls on loose earth and stone.
Adjacent, he kneels down. In his hands are rations, canisters full now with rain water. Not many. They weren't anticipating a long stay, and there weren't even bedrolls taking up saddlespace. He is still dressed in his armor, the fur lining across the collar, the shoulder pieces, having done something (but not everything) to protect the linens beneath from the deluge they'd just flown through.
A glance to Ellis his task, as if noticing it's happening for the first time, and after a beat, he offers, "Let me."