and he was just like a great dark wing

It isn't until the words leave his mouth that she realises just how long it has been since he last spoke. Suspicion takes root then, the closed in space making her own scent more evident to herself than it had been out in the biting wind. She moves towards the front of the cavern where glittering items lay out in plain view, gold, discarded. Clearly something sudden and terrible had occurred for it to be left behind. The air took on a heavier weight as she sniffed through the dust and cobwebs, even spared from the wind, the air was bitingly cold, or was that just whatever hung between them?

Paws scratched through scraps of half rotted fabric, tattered and decaying books strewn about the space. There didn't even seem to be mice in this place. She couldn't quite put her paw on why, but her hackles began to inch upwards, the scent of a coming storm on the absent breeze, or was it just a shift in the pressure between herself and Dread?

Deluge sprawled out in the middle of the cathedral, head canting as she considered the stained glass and uncorked a bottle, taking a swig and holding it out to Dread. It would take a good deal more alcohol before she was ready for whatever was to come, but sometimes, you fucked around and you found out right? She wasn't going to run from it.

“Speech”