The thing about these tunnels that was a good thing was that they were strewn with usable supplies. Ever since the prey had started to behave strangely, Ursus wanted nothing to do with hunting the creatures with his own teeth and claws. Thinking about becoming sick made his stomach churn and throat burn. At least he could craft some traps and get food that way. Being able to pick through his options was better than nothing. And he could bring the sick ones a swift and painless death; the least that they deserved.

Keeping his head lowered toward the ground, Ursus moves quietly through the tunnel. His claws scuffle against the dirt on purpose, attempting to discover anything of use covered by years of grime and litter. Not far into the tunnel, an offshoot grabs his attention. A faint light revealing a small collapse that now allowed the red painted daylight to shine into the dim inner workings of the room.

Glancing around the decently sized room, his eyes widen and lips curl upward in a grin. This clearly had been used as a storage room once upon a time with the amount of wooden boxes piled all around. Items from glass tubes to lengths of fraying rope to metal wire to many other things he had no name for were filling not only the crates but spilling out onto the floor.

Remembering the scent of marmots he had passed on his way up to the mine, Ursus decided right then and there that he would craft some snares to catch them as they came out of their dens nestled between the rocks of the mountain. All he would need is some… Aha! A bundle of orange-tinged material that appeared bendable, but not too soft fell from a crate he nudged with his nose. Now, where had Locke gone off to to help him craft these traps?

"speech"

coded by NachoMumma
pixel by moon810801

The prey is strange, but is it any stranger than the rest of her situation? Iscariot doesn't know what to think. Was this all a string of coincidences, propped up on a bad case of worms? There's something about it, something she doesn't like. It's enough to make her head ache with the possibilities. Taking more and more time away from the Syndicate, not like they'd notice, Iscariot does what she can to get to the bottom of things.

Weaving her way through the Mines, she's curious. It would be ridiculous to think she's alone down here, but exactly who else lurked within? That's going to take some doing, to sort out. Hackles up as she searches, moving deeper. Feeling the darkness take hold around her shoulders, and melting into it. The creature is pale, but the shadows that stretch around her are forgiving.

Rummaging sounds draw her attention. Sure, there's plenty of junk down here, but who was paying it mind today? Eyes adjusting to the darkness around her, Iscariot is sharp as she gets the man to come into focus. Nose wrinkling as she nears, she doesn't bother hiding. "Guess it's a fine place for a treasure hunter." Her tone is lilting, if a bit haughty. Carefully observing him in the low light, gaze glimmering. Every bit of her is tense, hackles lifting along her shoulders and spine. Not that it does much to make her look larger-- not at Riot's size. "You find anything good, or just the dirt?" Narrowed eyes, coming as close as she dares.

"Iscariot"

Before he has to call out to Locke, the piebald raccoon appears with shiny trinkets in paw. A pinched brow and humored huff leaves Ursus as he holds out the material he doesn’t know the name of (it’s wire but he’s a wolf so). “Help me make snares and you can keep whatever you find,” Ursus offers the trade because clearly he was the pack mule in their friendship, and Locke knew it.

Locke sets to work, carefully hooking the ends of the wire and then sliding the other end through so that when an animal goes through it, the hole would tighten and catch around their neck, body, or leg. Satisfied that Locke was sufficiently helping, Ursus begins to look for more to use when the patter of tiny paws on the floor draws his gaze toward the entrance of the cavern. A brow of intrigue raises as she approaches without fear or hesitation, speaking to him as if they’d known each other for forever.

“Not a hunter of treasure, but I see how you could think that,” he replies with indifference, letting his gaze rove over her tiny form without shame. She was tinier than Senua and that alone was impressive. “I found some stuff I can use for snares which is what Locke here is helping me craft now,” Ursus nods over toward the raccoon who merely chatters gibberish in response without halting his movements.

“What’s a little umbra like yourself doing out here?” He ask in response, gaze still lingering in more of a predatorily way than he realizes.

"speech"

coded by NachoMumma
pixel by moon810801

No fear, it doesn't serve her. Iscariot puts on a mask, slips into a different skin. Something cuter, something charming, something far less haunted... something almost shaped like a pretty, dainty girl. It's an act she can only keep up for so long, and the day is young, but it will do. It will do for now. Gazing carefully at the man with curious, wide eyes, she studies his contraption.

A snare, one made from bits and bobs, scraps left behind here from times gone by. Iscariot's study of his contraption is careful, giving a nod after a long moment. It would be sturdier than the average trap made of plant materials, she'd give it that. The predatory nature of his gaze doesn't escape Riot, but she'd play into it rather than out. Stay innocent. Keep the act up.

"What are you catching in traps this sturdy? Looks like overkill for hares... goats? Risking the metal in water for seals?" Was she offering to help? Not necessarily, but it's simple curiosity.

As the focus shifts to her, Iscariot forces herself to relax under his gaze. "Just had to get outta the house, can you fault a girl for exploring?" A light smile, her eyes shifting from the trap to the bold man before her. Curious, his scent one she couldn't track or place. Fascinating, but potentially dangerous all the same.

"Iscariot"