Subterranean | Solomon & Darwin
“As early as the sixteenth century, if I’m not mistaken,” Solomon answered coolly, looking between the two of them. “Though probably earlier than that, too. Couldn’t tell you when they stopped, though. Suppose it’s as good a place as any to get rid of someone.”
Tilting his head, it took Solomon a moment to catch up with Darwin’s train of thought. “Oh! No, they—well I can’t say for sure, I guess, but they’ve seen them from up here… is what I gather.” He seemed to ponder something for a moment, his brow furrowing and eyes squinting. He’d been told not to go down there, that there was no way out (or the less-likely option, that it had no real bottom), but… if they’d found skeletons in it, then someone had to venture into the pit, didn’t they? And return, with said bones in their possession? It only made sense. “On the walls, perhaps…” He leaned a little bit further, unafraid of toppling in, trying to spot any sort of movement on the interior.
Eyebrows rose when the smallish one suggested that they go inside—that hadn’t been part of the plan. Solomon spared a glance in the direction of the cave he’d meant to take them to, the one they were supposed to explore… but his own insatiable curiosity wouldn’t let him completely shoot down the idea. He glanced to Darwin, an expectant look on his face.
“I… don’t know. I suppose someone must have, if they found skeletons. It would require climbing gear, though, that I don’t have… I’m certain the drop would kill you, if nothing else.” Clicking on his flashlight and shining the beam down into the dark hole, Solomon did little to hide the excited grin that had appeared on his lips. Roots moved through the earth beneath them, burrowing toward the walls of the pit, slithering through cracks and crevices and breaking them open wider with their tough, fibrous tendrils. The trees that surrounded them creaked and groaned with the effort of pooling their energy to move their massive root system deeper and deeper, puncturing the barrier.
Letting the light fall upon the stilling plant life, Solomon gestured with his other hand. “Might be in luck, though… if you think you can hold on to those without slipping.”
"It is, isn't it?" Darwin heaved a sigh as he continued peering into the hole, careful not to get too close. It was the perfect place to dispose of bodies and an even perfect place to hide yourself if you were a demon. He stole a glimpse of Bertrand who was just staring into the hole as well. The self-appointed butler was most likely just as curious as him as well, if not more, hopefully not to the point of no return. Speaking of no return... "Ah." He figured as much. Most of Solomon's sources would have probably not ventured into the hole. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been sources for anything. "Of course."
"Should I push him in, Master Darwin?" Bertrand's voice in his head interrupted the demon wrangler's internal monologue. Curious, and a little slow to realize what the demon was suggesting, Darwin turned to them and saw that they had shifted their gaze from the insides of the hole to Solomon looking down, closer to the edge.
"NO! Don't you dare! He's our guide, not bait. Besides, we don't know if he told anywhere he is right now, if he shared my name or information. We could easily be traced when he disappears. It's not like we know what to expect down there if we were to try and retrieve him, either. If he'd survive the fall." Darwin retorted in their shared mental space, and Bertrand appeared to sigh as they returned their gaze down the hole.
When Solomon finally turned to him, Darwin immediately put on a smile, as if to persuade him, the two of them, that everything was all right, that Bertrand didn't just suggest pushing Solomon in the hole, but that smile was more awkward than anything. "Yes, of course. The drop...would kill you." He turned to Bertrand with an "I told you so" face, but Bertrand just nodded once and resumed their one-on-one spiritual session with the hole.
"Oh, uhm..." Darwin winced, more than a little hesitant if not absolutely fearful for his life. He's grabbed on to a lot of things in his life, but vines? He's seen a lot of horror movies to know those things break during the most perilous of times. "Are you sure?" To be fair, Bertrand could probably spread their wings and fly them out of there if need be, but there were two of them, and Darwin himself wasn't sure he'd survive the fear of falling. How pathetic. "Do you have, uhh, a contingency plan if the vines, roots break?"
