[color=a36209]"An what's three a'four drops in an ocean-!?"[/color] Keepa cackled somewhere behind the group, their voice quickly becoming distant the moment their eyes turned away from the encroaching onslaught. While their footsteps clacked along in their sprint, after a moment, it soon felt like they were headed downhill...and the tilt never stopped. The halls pushed off farther and farther, the cells losing doors and dimensions, becoming blurred figments as if mashed together with oil paints and mache. The torches lost form to the point where they became unable to hold a flame, the hall becoming spotty with darkness.
Kite went limp in Ruby's hold, their arms still having been splayed even while dragged until the ground...no...perception tilted to dump the group off of their feet through the hall, more falling than flying. Screaming past them, hands arched and mouths spilled from misshapen cells until the only reference of their trajectory was the sensation of moving quickly, though 'down' swiftly lost its meaning in the abyss. Soon, even orientation lost meaning and the numb oblivion of the void claimed all senses.

[color=Black]///[/color]

[color=black]Bubbles.
The trail of life leaving lips, symbolized by rippling spherical trickles; the inverse of rain.
Floating up to the sky, they rejoin an ink-black cloud that mars an otherwise tranquil field.
The cloud rains on a tree.
Within the cloud, an ocean roils and sloshes from the turmoil of being drained, but the bubbles continue to slip between the tears of rain.
The ocean is inhabited...

In the distance, the concept of a beast that inhabited the hopeless darkness peered at them. Swimming through the nothing, it may as well be as far away as the sea from the stars...though it was palpably aware of each's perception, even enough to sunder Violet from the throes of her nightmare. All that was left of her was the eyes to behold The Deep. The mass coiled and a glint blinded the crew from a set of six eyes.

///[/color]

Then came a click of steel impacting stone, grindingly scraping off flecks that burst into lightless sparks. Burning into perception, the light met the darkness for only a moment enough for the merest of glows to rise up in the shadows.A hiss rose up, akin to a snake which accompanied the 'whoosh' of combusting material being fed air. Movement was difficult at best, limbs barely responding, though other senses soon picked up the crackling of cooking flesh and a fishy smell to accompany it.

[color=0076a3]"Da'anes-e'da...troi not t'mewve too much. Y'still corporealizin'..."[/color] a feminine voice coldly suggested among the backdrop of popping of a fire that dully came into view in a haze. The first, alien sentiment had been expressed much like a greeting, though holding a sinister chirp as if somewhat unfeeling in the welcoming nature that the statement would otherwise intend to imply. The figure, tending to the coals, sat on a rock while prodding the kindling around with a smaller stick.
Over their right shoulder rested a massive sword, their arm angled to hold the haft and guard, giving it occasional spins with the point twirling into the ground...wearing a small hole in the stone floor.

Your arms move much like in a state of sleep-paralysis, slow and sloppy if at all. Perception slowly takes in the stone chamber, far different from the prison in the general makeup being more like bricks than mere cobblestone.
Along the floor where the figure sat on what looked like an old, almost rotted log, a myriad of holes were already worn into the floor in various depths. [color=0076a3]"Got dinna siszlin', should ya not be so...[i]tilted[/i]?"[/color] they suggested, the glow of their crimson-amber eyes turning to the party who laid on stone slabs.

The room was circular, seemingly designed to hold eight slabs at equal intervals, though two of them had been smashed over by some apparent struggle, leaving the area slightly to the left of the obvious door a mess of rubble. Above them was a series of metal grates that the smoke from the fire escaped, though still leaving the room pleasantly warm and inviting, especially considering the rising aroma of smoked paprika and garlic powder now lightly crusting the cleaned flesh of six fish being set up on skewers by this newest individual.
[color=0076a3]"Ah je, once y'stomaches come back t'ya..."[/color] they chuckled, reaching into a pack and drawing a piece of firewood , proceeding to plunge their hand into the fire to delicately place it among the rest. They even went so far as to set their sword to the side in order to use a second hand to [i]mingle[/i] other blocks of wood around it to keep a vibrant kiln. [color=0076a3]"Suppose this'n when tha questions come? No, y'not dead, yet...not if'n I can help it. heheh~"[/color] they half-heartedly chuckled as if rehearsed, their eyes, vertically cut like a cat's, turned back to the flames which they pulled their steaming hands back from, feathers and all paranormally remaining unburnt. [color=0076a3]"Troi not t'mewve too much..."[/color] they encouraged as the darkness of this new tomb slowly gained definition.

The...woman...appeared lean, though sitting, they were estimated roughly 5'10-6'2, a heavy coat tied around their waist. Black...material...that could easily be assumed to be fur thickly covered their body where the midriff-exposing tank top didn't cover. A long and wide scarf draped around their neck and face up over their implied nose, veiling their mouth...vertical plates of metal and chains blatantly woven into a teal, red and black plaid fabric. 
Most pronounced was the curl of two ink-black ram-like horns from the side of their head on either side, capped with curled points of conventional-seeming metal. Not to detract was an amalgam of scars up and down both of their arms that the fur quickly smoothed back in an almost metallic sheen to obscure. This motion rippled up their form to make even their hair spike back as their eyes looked over the crew...presumably sizing them up with keen, animalistic attention to detail.
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