fh_dungeon | Dungeon Residential Camps, Somewhere, Sunday Morning

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day 6

Dungeon Residential Camps, Somewhere, Sunday Morning

The dungeon had shifted again overnight.

This time it was different, however: no new corridors were formed, no new rooms were opened. One camp's corridor led into another's led into another's, and from there, a path straight forward towards the vault. It would not be hard now for the Fandomites trapped inside to meet and congregate.

Was the Toymaker making it easy on them? Possible. But not very probable.

[ camp one | camp two | camp three | ooc ]

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"Yes. Though let's be fair, for you, this is going to be a crippling injury," Peter said, agreeing with the narrative. He took a step back.

Natalie rolled her eyes. See, she could still do that just fine.

"I'll live."

"I would hope," Peter said. "Who else will roll their eyes at me?"

Probably everyone at the camp eventually.

"Most people," Natalie replied, before finally biting into her breakfast. Small bites, carefully chewed. "Just probably not with as much exasperated affection."

Peter rolled his eyes, because he had a well-developed sense of irony.

He picked a random piece of fruit out of a small pile and sat down on the ground to eat it.

Natalie sat down next to him. For the moment, anyway.

"Today feels different. Don't know why."

"Maybe today, the rest of the dungeon will only be half as dangerous," Peter said dryly. "Or maybe today is the day we bust out of here," he added, slightly less sarcastic.

"Mm. All I know is that I feel like the other post is different today, but I haven't been out to check."

Yeah she hadn't stopped being meta just because there was trauma.

"Also our fireplace is, well..." She glanced over at it. "I doubt that's 'just because' or anything, either."

Peter followed her gaze. "Unless someone got frustrated and wrecked it in the night," he said. "I wouldn't be able to blame them, honestly."

"No," Natalie agreed. "I'd destroy everything around us too if I thought it would help."

But for now, she was going to assume the keys were the thing.

"How do your fighting skills work anyway?" Peter asked. "I know you're slightly beyond ordinary human-skilled..."

Natalie shrugged. "I just have natural reflexes for it," she said. "Something attacks, and I go into a kind of combat mode, and I just know how to move and what to do. To a certain extent covered by my stats, anyway. But I can't do it indefinitely, and I have a weak spot."

"Like an actual Achilles heel?" Peter asked, lifting an eyebrow (partly because she couldn't). "Inconvenient."

"It's the rules," she said, shrugging again. "And it's not all bad, because it's nice in other situations."

She wasn't intending to explain that.

She was talking to Peter Wiggin, who had never missed a single innuendo if it was paraded in front of his face.

Now both of his eyebrows were going up. "Really."

"I could force your eyebrows down, you know." But this wasn't talk of how likely they were to starve and die here, so she was inclined to let it slide. "But yes, really."

"That's going to be awkward in a fight," Peter said merrily.

"Hasn't been yet."

Well, she usually wore jeans so at least the backs of her knees weren't exposed for too easy massive damage. But guess Envy was just going to be overly confident, what with the habit of wearing short skirts with boots up to just below the knee.

"But I don't fight to lose, anyway."

"I'll eat my weirdly-shaped and probably not entirely healthy apple to that," Peter said. He held it up high in an exaggerated salute.

"That doesn't look like it'll keep the doctor away," Natalie judged, tilting her head. "But there are no doctors to keep away, so it'll do."

"Seriously, though, a weak point that happens to double as an erogenous zone?" Peter asked, taking a bite from his fruit. "Val would've had a field day with that one."

There were a lot of ways in which sex and love were going to be Natalie's downfall thoughout her life.

"But she's not here," she told him. Or really, what was little left of her candy bar. "And you seem to be doing just fine with it on your own."

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Dungeon Residential Camps, Somewhere, Sunday Morning

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