praemiumvenator, lasthazard, symfonist, thetalonofgod, exmunditiis, impennata--eredita
That was a bust.
That is one of the many things that Gallus is current thinking. He's got his back against the wall, fingers clutching at the stone to no avail. He's never careful enough, and that's his problem. He should've taken more precaution to entering this ruin-- especially since it a Dwemer ruin. How could he forget the chance of the Falmer being afoot? Blast.
He peels himself from the wall and crouches down, looking across the room to where the primitive huts of the Falmer remain. He muses to himself about sneaking right by them, since surely the muffle enchantment on his boots aren't there for no reason. It's also no secret that they're blind, too, so he's sure he could pull it off...
Tonguing at a sore on his lip, the Guild Master steps away from the wall an iota more, taking each and every step with great precaution, as if one misstep will crack through the silence like the roar of a cave bear. And that, if it would ever happen, would surely be the end of him right there. He can't afford to get swarmed by them, but he's already so close, so close to the end of the dungeon and to the loot.
There's a step behind him, and immediately the Nightingale spins around, eyes widening as he shakes his hands in front of himself to the stranger in front of him. Now is the time nor the place to be loud, especially when one noisy step could get you killed.
Were the situation not so dire, he would be annoyed. Instead, he just lifts a finger to where his mouth would be were it visible.
