don't cramp my style, old man

Levi flicked his ear and scoffed. Indeed, he'd spent most of his childhood being shadowed by some companion or another. For a while, when he'd been younger he hadn't minded it as much, but in hindsight it was stifling. Almost as bad as when his Mother fawned over him, cooing and kissing, calling him her sweetest, littlest baby. Right. A snort pushed its way out of his nose at the Warlord's remark, salt and pepper, huh? For an old man he didn't look awful, hadn't yet gotten all wiry and thin with old age, made Levi wonder what he'd looked like in his young and proper prime. Whether any of his sons could compare, Mortis and Azure alike.

Levi shifted his attention to the question posed, his nose twitching as he took in the scents that wafted out from the deep. He took a few steps forward, seemingly unfazed by the morbid nature of this place. The knowledge that things had died here, would always die here after they got lost.

"Decay. Old bones." He sniffed again. "The air is musty. Bad circulation, is probably worse deeper in. We're probably the first people who've been in here in a while." He noted, barely holding back the urge to ask if his nose had stopped working in its old age. He was a moody teenager for sure, but he wasn't a shithead. Not really.