[center][h2][color=plum]Dwyn[/color][/h2][/center]

Curious to see what lay down the passage, Dwyn made her way over to the lit hallway. It seemed relatively benign to her as these things went, even if she wouldn't call anywhere around here inviting. The thing that caught her attention was the smell - something stirring at the back of her mind. It was familiar, as though she had smelt it many times before. The word 'holy' came to mind, the briefest flash of rites and rituals. Just as she was about to start racking her brain for answers, the others began to debate their options.

With a sigh, Dwyn turned back to her companions. It honestly seemed to her that these people would rather argue all day than come to a decision. Still, there was no reason not to say her piece, especially since she had no wish to stand quietly whilst the others got themselves killed. And some of what they were coming out with was concerning, to say the least. She looked at the disrespectful one with a reluctant nod. [color=plum]"Loath as I am to agree with you, I think you're right that splitting up is a bad idea. We don't know where any of these passages lead - should anything happen, there's no guarantee that we'd be able to find each other again. That being said..."[/color]

She gave the abrasive man a look of irritation, though remaining somewhat prim and proper. [color=plum]"I question the logic of [i]deliberately[/i] angering whatever lurks in the depths. Better that we just move on. If we insist on splitting up, though,"[/color] Dwyn glanced at Isabella, exasperated, before looking back to the lit passageway. [color=plum]"I plan on heading down that hall regardless. Better that we at least see what we face."[/color] At the very least, Dwyn would be able to stab with her weapon, even if swinging the tall polearm would be impossible.

Was that really it? Did she really think it was a good idea to go that way? After all, the nature of the passage would no doubt be inconvenient to them, and any fast-moving foe would tear them in two. No, she wasn't looking after the group, was she? Just chasing a forgotten memory, a selfish action that she was supposed to have cast off. Of course, this was why she'd never been more than a squire. Some knight, to place her own whims over the lives of othe--

Dwyn shook her head, appearing distressed for a brief second before regaining her composure. Of course that wasn't her motivation. She had no interest in worldly desires, in acting for her own benefit. Luxuries such as company and conversation merely provided a distraction from achieving her holy mission. That her chosen direction would comfort her with familiarity was a coincidence, nothing more.