a garden deep, a garden dark

Whispers come alive in a place like this. Björn doesn't begin to place them, doesn't pretend he can. Drawn in by the glowing mushrooms, letting them take hold in his imagination. Fungi were sacred to his father's people, and they utilized them well, but never shrooms like these. They're bizarre, with a glow that plainly states do not eat. While the boy isn't stupid, maybe he can find someone who is, get them to taste them. To try them. A simple study in the cavern's magic, as macabre as it would be.

Nothing ordinary about this place, though Björn's study is intense. Deep. Winding his way through, always cautious to keep his mind on the places he's traveled before. This is... unlike most of those. No comparison, aside from the way he's able to descend. Cliff climbing, but in reverse. Everything about the boy is careful, at least when it comes to the ground under his feet. Can't trust it too much. Not in light of recent events.

There are eyes in this cavern, though Björn can't yet tell who they belong to. The boy knows he's rarely alone, but this is different. It's not the gaze of the gods on his shoulders... they don't reach. Not down here. The scent of another is recent, but he doesn't have a way to place it. Lost to the ways of the world, wearing ground colored shoes and a sky colored hat-- something like that. Don't lose the plot, boy.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." His voice is steady, curious, rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest as Björn calls out into the abyss. Acutely aware of just how not alone he is, as he explores. He needs to know. He needs to see. He needs to experience.

"Björn"