“Point still applies.” Tate retorted, peering into the darkness of the cavern–every bit as wary as one might expect of someone who radiated nothing but pure anxiety out into the world. “That’s a terrible reason–why didn’t I think it was a terrible reason before we drove all this way and I climbed off a cliff?” Because Damien was somehow annoyingly persuasive by pure measure of being obnoxiously charming, and very occasionally Tate got swept up in that. Which was a pain in the ass, but it happened none the less.
“Well I’m glad something happened in the whole year of 1284, a single thing of any note happened.” He drawled, glancing reluctantly between the darkness and the blindingly bright light coming in from the outside. “Suppose there’s only one way to find out.” Though no one had ever sounded more miserable while saying such a phrase. “–there’s no way they’d come up this close to the surface, would they? This is definitely weird? Not just me being–” me.
In the process of Tate’s muttering about their being here, Scott had already opened his bag and pulled out the camera. Something small enough to carry around easily, but which recording in good quality. There was no way he was going to lug around a shoulder mount for Damien’s adventurous streak. He switched it on, and started recording somewhere in the middle of '-- climbed off a cliff?', and kept the camera fixed on Tate and the dark hole behind him. ”It’s weird,” Scott answered, while Damien fumbled through his backpack for a flashlight, which Scott briefly recorded, before capturing the entrance and the edge of the ledge, looking straight down just so whoever watched could get a sense of where they were. There was a town somewhere in the distance, probably Herford.
Scott turned back as Damien found and turned on the flashlight, pointing it directly into the cave though it either kept going further into the mountain or swallowed the light, even as he stepped closer, passing Tate as he hesitantly stepped a few feet further in. Scott kept the camera fixed to him. “What time is it?” Scott asked Tate, coming to stand beside him as they watched Damien, who was hovering between taking another step as he cast the light about trying to get the light to bounce off something in the back. “In Ireland they can’t come above ground at all,” Scott said “I don’t know if it applies everywhere. There’s that hob that likes Mum in the country house remember? And the vila, vodyanoys and rusalki in Gran’s wood?”
Though the question remained what they would even come up here for.
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