(no subject)
[And now they're at the Labyrinth. Carrying on...]
Bahorel's already heading in. Hey, if the watches chime on either side of the door that's useful to know, probably!
And on the other side of the door is...rock, lots of it. Rock walls, rock floor, all very properly mythic. There's some sort of vaguely sparkling, purple-green mold growing along the walls. Bahorel runs his thumb through a patch of it; it puffs little glittering spores all over him in return. They don't seem to do anything besides make him somewhat sparkly, which is more than all right, if not particularly productive.
Feuilly shrugs and follows; God knows what Bahorel might do left on his own in a magical cave even for a moment. (Honestly, Bahorel would be fine. But it's the sort of thing one feels the need to say around him.) He raises his eyebrows briefly at the sparkles on the wall and on Bahorel. "Rococo. It's a new look for you."
Bahorel's already heading in. Hey, if the watches chime on either side of the door that's useful to know, probably!
And on the other side of the door is...rock, lots of it. Rock walls, rock floor, all very properly mythic. There's some sort of vaguely sparkling, purple-green mold growing along the walls. Bahorel runs his thumb through a patch of it; it puffs little glittering spores all over him in return. They don't seem to do anything besides make him somewhat sparkly, which is more than all right, if not particularly productive.
Feuilly shrugs and follows; God knows what Bahorel might do left on his own in a magical cave even for a moment. (Honestly, Bahorel would be fine. But it's the sort of thing one feels the need to say around him.) He raises his eyebrows briefly at the sparkles on the wall and on Bahorel. "Rococo. It's a new look for you."