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ℤ𝕖𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕣𝕦𝕤 𝔸𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤
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As Lethe took the lead of their journey onto the bridge, Zephyrus used the fabric rag he’d taken from his guandao to wrap his wound. It was red as blood, anyway – and useless indoors, as its only purpose was to guide Zephyrus to the wind.
He tied it tightly, and hoped that would be enough. If not, he would have to ask Archer to look at it later – rudimentary as his knowledge of healthcare was, it was more than Zephyrus was familiar with. 

He brought up the party’s rear quietly, head raised and eyes sweeping, skeptical. This temple had partaken of his blood, and the blood of his ancestors, or their enemies, and yet he knew it not. Perhaps he was the first Anders to ever set foot in here, but it seemed just as likely that he was only the most recent. 
He stepped past the first blade with ease, movements light and smooth, like a dancer. There was a surprising calm, in these first few moments, but he didn’t put much faith in it. Water can be still one moment, and cresting a wave the other, all at the whims of the wind.

"[color=#8f0000][i]HAhahahAHAHaHAhAHahaHAAHAHaAHaAHAAhaHAahahahaha!![/i][/color]"
Oh. There it is.
Zephyrus didn’t look back after he’d seen the shadows. Whatever they were, it was irrelevant to him, what mattered was escaping.
He lowered his head, and started forwards at a pace, nearly colliding with the arc of the secondary blade, and blasting himself past it with a sudden rush of air at the last moment. Moving like a dancer, still – twisting around Jillian as he moved, in that instant driven by instinct.
He tried not to panic, he knew himself competent enough to survive in a place like this. He just needed to focus on his footfalls, on such a narrow bridge. Much of it was muscle memory.
He did pray, however, that Archer wasn’t in any sort of similar danger.


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Archer Anders
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Archer wasn’t sure whether he’d started screaming because of the skeletons, or because Felicia had come swinging at him with her eyes tightly shut, but he did know [i]one[/i] thing: he [i]was[/i] screaming, and it was [i]loud[/i]. 
In a sort of frenzied panic, and bouncing off the few moments Felicia had bought him by distracting the closest skeleton, Archer raised his arm and drove his elbow into its jaw with as much might as he could muster – which wasn’t much, given the prior ordeal- then chopped out at the [i]skeleton’s[/i] elbow with his other hand, hoping to break its grip on Felicia.
He scrambled hurriedly to his feet, graceless but successful, which was the Archer way.
Then, as his long bout of abject, terrified shrieking passed, Archer jabbed his fingers accusingly at their new attackers, indignant and arrogant, "[color=FF5733]I am [i]already[/i] sick of this place![/color]”

He took a long, shaking breath, brought his arms up into a defensive position, and then threw them down to his sides again, as loops of spitting flame coiled themselves around his fists. Fear gave way to anger, anger at being made to be afraid.
"[color=FF5733]Bring it, I’m gonna kill you all [i]again![/i] Hya![/color]”
Archer duked into the air, hurling bolts of flame in the direction of the other as yet unattended to skeletons and catching their dry old bones alight.
"[color=FF5733]Ashes to ashes, dust t- huh?[/color]”
However, they kept advancing, burning but unvanquished, each their own smouldering pyre of bone and fire.

Archer was screaming again.