Theon inspects the walls about her before sighing and crouching upon the floor, uncaring if she were to get wet. She inspects her grey robes in the flickering firelight before reaching out and grabbing a jagged piece of stone that came to a point. Biting her lip, she tears at the cloth. Once. Then a second time. With the first, it was a simply long strip that she ties off into a makeshift sling. With the other, she ties it about her waist like an impromptu pouch and begins to fill with fairly sized stones to fit into her rough-made sling. As she finishes her task, she reaches up and grabs the torch from outside her chamber, robes now just below her knees before moving back into her chamber.

With each step, she tries to work out what had happened before and after but she had little in the way of memories still. All she could remember was the strange reality with the motes. These must be the others the keykeeper had talked of. It stood to reason they all had similar experiences in the world of motes as well. Under her breath, though, she curses the abysmal mote. It had promised to give her something of hers back and something new. She sighs and stops in her tracks before the pod. If the objects were there, then perhaps she would thank the mote. If not, it was an abysmal liar and she would be hardpressed to forget it. If she ended back in that afterlife again, she would end up the personal poultergeist, tormenting the lights til the end of time. That would show them! 

As she searches over the pod she had been within, she grimaces. Nothing was within the pod, but curious enough... It felt nothing like stone. Instead, it felt more akin to the surface of a smoothly flowing stream. She gets the sense there was a lot of arcane nonsense going into each of these pods, outrageously powerful at that. However, there was little more she could figure out, not even what sort of magic was at play, if it even was magic. She frowns before turning to leave. She looks down the one way, to the man inspecting over the broken statue at the dead end. She narrows her eyes at his stopping to peruse the dilapidated architecture when from the look of things, the ceiling might cave in at any moment. Instead, she pursuits after the woman in purple with quick, light steps. That one had the right sense of things. Better to leave this apparent tomb while they still had the chance.