[Julien would much prefer to be gone, but when it's this dark he may as well be cornered. Wings have a plus when it comes to feeling around: he can check his footing before he takes a step and mostly keep from smacking into things and impaling his feet on sharp objects. But that is not silent, or fast, and the idea of trying to find his way in the mountain without a light is disturbing. He strains to look around while Thorir takes the light off him and rambles and talks to himself like a madman. Honestly, when there's this much gold and glittery stuff it just looks tawdry and fake to him.
...was that one of those creepy dimensional portal things up there? I have no idea what those look like. It was. He hates that place, but he'd take it over Thorir's new willingness to threaten him and his own unwillingness to take that. Julien can fly, but not well or strongly. It's a good ways up. In this still air, can he reach it? The junk here, he can better tell now, is unevenly heaped higher in places, like dunes. He got a glimpse of the topography and it's a way out - before he's consciously decided he bolts, trying to move fast enough to make up for the terrible footing, beating his wings to help him scale the incline and adjust to missteps.
It's not subtle. Metal rings and clatters under his feet. The powerful sweep of his wings is a force as physical as a shove. Something terribly sharp pierces his toe in the soft spot under the claw and he gasps, but then he's at the top of the slope, causing a little avalanche by leaping off a decorated chest and shoving it down the slope, and adding a burst of wingbeats to his momentum. The sound of his wings is deep and almost musical as they claw through the air and force it under him.
He accidentally picked up a heavy circlet while climbing, it got around one of his toes. Julien shakes it off and it falls with a few drops of blood; the jeweled comb has penetrated the skin and stuck there. Laboriously he climbs, feeling and fearing the limit of his ability. It's so close! His limits are in the power of his wings, not his breath, so, rattled and feeling betrayed, he can shout-]
You know I'd never come here willingly without a light, damn you!
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...was that one of those creepy dimensional portal things up there?
I have no idea what those look like.It was. He hates that place, but he'd take it over Thorir's new willingness to threaten him and his own unwillingness to take that. Julien can fly, but not well or strongly. It's a good ways up. In this still air, can he reach it? The junk here, he can better tell now, is unevenly heaped higher in places, like dunes. He got a glimpse of the topography and it's a way out - before he's consciously decided he bolts, trying to move fast enough to make up for the terrible footing, beating his wings to help him scale the incline and adjust to missteps.It's not subtle. Metal rings and clatters under his feet. The powerful sweep of his wings is a force as physical as a shove. Something terribly sharp pierces his toe in the soft spot under the claw and he gasps, but then he's at the top of the slope, causing a little avalanche by leaping off a decorated chest and shoving it down the slope, and adding a burst of wingbeats to his momentum. The sound of his wings is deep and almost musical as they claw through the air and force it under him.
He accidentally picked up a heavy circlet while climbing, it got around one of his toes. Julien shakes it off and it falls with a few drops of blood; the jeweled comb has penetrated the skin and stuck there. Laboriously he climbs, feeling and fearing the limit of his ability. It's so close! His limits are in the power of his wings, not his breath, so, rattled and feeling betrayed, he can shout-]
You know I'd never come here willingly without a light, damn you!
[In another couple of seconds he'll be through.]