Usually they would've been recognized by the soft glow of fins or the striking paleness of scales as they walked through the tunnels. Consequences of Order's recent actions might have made their face evoke greater cause for alarm than before, some now aware of their allegiance due to the valiant defense of Gemini's conversion. However, if such a moment were to occur and put them at risk, perhaps another sight would distract any they encountered enough to safely slip away. Or rather a sound, quite unlike the click and scrape of claws on stone: as they entered this area strewn about with all manner of items, broken and long forgotten, a light tapping accompanied every step taken. It was the regular contact of the smoothed end of a stick with the ground. Held for the sake of getting used to handling it when no thumbs existed to keep their grip steady, Halcyon had spent the entire journey alternating it between shaky paws to ensure both received some practice.

Having at last reached their destination, time was taken to rest. They shifted their current paw closer to the top of the walking stick, allowed the other to grasp its length as well, and leaned forward to let its sturdiness hold their exhausted weight up for a while. A sigh whooshed out as muscles relaxed, no longer put through strain. This did not mean they were entirely at ease though; even in repose, an eye carefully swept their surroundings for enemies, and a finger of thought hovered ever-attendant to Lesser allies, whether nearby or watching over their charge in Eridanus. Furthermore, a shudder rippled through them as they took in the horrors of their chosen undertaking.

An absolute mess sprawled before them, ancient and utterly unorganized. Dented metal of varying sizes and shapes mingled with tattered fabric scraps. Sharp, jagged edges glinted from every corner, threatening cuts if one didn't tread completely aware of their danger. This assortment of materials was precisely why Halcyon had decided to visit here. The reason did not exempt them from the instant revulsion such chaos naturally drew out.

Their pulse quickened as they struggled to figure out how best to sort everything into neat and tidy piles. Too many objects of differing appearance eventually grew too much to behold, and eyes shut for a few seconds to regain the composure necessary to continue.

This was a test, they assured themselves, of mental fortitude. Endure, and rewards would be reaped—their siblings' safety and possible resulting gratitude.

Despite words of strength to themselves, so far that test was off to a poor start. But what else could be expected; a child of Order's design could only process large amounts of detail by slowly sifting through them and putting those alike together. To go against this instinct was equivalent to ignoring a stubborn itch and allowing it to build in strength. As Halcyon dared to look once more upon the waste of innumerable cycles past, the folds of their mind harbored such awful irritation. Their initial approach to the situation, struggling against impulses tied forever to their nature, therefore proved incredibly lackluster for someone so dedicated to their cause.

Jaw clenched in dread and knees aquiver, they stooped down amongst the surrounding junk. Appearing as if they feared any piece might jump up and bite into their scales, paws tightly clenched thrust their walking stick in front of them to poke at whatever lay on the ground. There came the clatter and clang of metal on metal. Edges honed for cutting screeched when they shifted against hard surfaces. Other than causing the perpetrator of this noise to wince, no significant finds came to light. Unsurprising when the effort involved here was minimal, duty and Orderly urges coming into enough conflict to nearly paralyze the Drone.

Willpower kept them in motion and their action slow and measured. That wouldn't last for long. Eventually programming would win out, and frantic attempts at reorganization would ensue.

For now, though, they settled into an uncertain crouch, still grasping the stick. This hurdle needed to be jumped, and fear of the caves' clutter could not be allowed to hold them back.

Oh, they hated it—the many shapes lopsided and lacking in geometry, the evident flaws possessed by poorly crafted objects, and the imperfections worn into all things by time's bad influence. Every glassy or metallic shard they brushed aside was replaced by scraps about the same condition or worse, any materials barely fit to be called so anymore. Multiple times they fished a promising almost square of fabric out of the refuse only to discover a massive hole eaten into its weave. Bits of animal hide often crumbled to pieces when claws did as little as prod them.

Safe to say the discovery of anything even remotely salvageable would be regarded as near miraculous as patience and self-control wore thin. This made the mostly intact slip of leather they pulled out next from beneath a pile of musty rags take on far more beautiful qualities than it deserved. The piece was not as ancient as other examples, and as a result did not become dust at the touch, but also remained far from new. The signs could be read from its scratches and peeling surface. Spots of discoloration were an ache to observe but would have to be ignored in favor of the promise the overall piece held.

This might do nicely, but Halcyon was not one to stake all hopes on a single item. Backup plans were necessary in order to guarantee success at their endeavor. One or two more possible options would have to be produced before they obeyed the screaming desire to put this ugly tunnel behind them. So they steeled themselves and continued to scrounge around.

It'd have been far too hopeful to expect any other bits of useable leather to be salvaged from the debris. Conditions in the tunnel as they were, moisture soaking the air, luck was responsible for how the one in their possession lacked the distinct stench and color of mildew. Careful claws picked through the remainder of what lay around Halcyon while they strove to keep their pained grimaces to a minimum. But all this effort yielded no further discoveries, only a bare circle of stone once all was swept away.

Shuffling a few inches to the side to see if a new area nearby could provide any better didn't go well either. The change in position was mostly uneventful, other than a single disgusting find: what'd felt like the old and ragged pelt of a small Lesser had turned out to be an entire decomposing corpse left at the bottom of the heap they were digging through. A surprised hiss once they realized the flesh squelching between clawtips, and it was flung to the farthest possible wall. The moment became one where the desire for routine over adventure swelled, so much so that a minute was spared to calm the racing of their heart before resuming their important task.

What a horrible reminder of what mindset plagued the caves. Lawlessness and disregard for others was evident in the excruciatingly poor management of waste.

Nevertheless they continued, relocating to a spot some distance from their last. Further filth would be no deterrent so long as a sense of duty persisted. They'd find the required materials, even if a few dozen more hazards had to be disposed of. What primarily mattered was reaching them so the job could progress as planned.

This search didn't turn their stomach nearly to the same extent as the previous. Devoid of any metal pieces or rotting creatures tossed away, what was left were mainly swatches of fabric crafted from a variety of fibers familiar and not. Some seemed to be derived from Lessers, the strands woven together reminiscent of a few coats amongst those the Hive had welcomed into its fold. Most originated from plant life though, those connections ones Halcyon had just begun properly acquainting themselves with now that Eridanus fell under Order's corrective influence. Quietly sorting through them, a pleasant guessing game sprang from the process, one which put them at ease and held more obsessive tendencies at bay.

They found another leather piece eventually after clearing away almost everything in their midst. Proof of what they already knew by common sense, it'd suffered far more over the cycles than the first to be encountered. No need to hold it close to nostrils to catch the reek wafting off of it. Furthermore, white spots bloomed on the dark brown surface while the patch's edges crumbled slightly in a gentle grip. Quite different from their fungus, Halcyon would be quick to insist; without being a gateway to Mother, it was a useless decoration whose irregular patterning demanded a cleaning over admiration of the sight.

Personal opinion set aside, they shifted the leather to their other paw which at present carried the walking stick and the original piece obtained. An acceptable haul for what could have been a complete disaster and misuse of energy, leaving the site to avoid any newcomers challenging their presence appeared the preferable option to lingering in this den of dilapidation. Perhaps displaying nerves frayed due to staying so long in an untidy environment, the Drone's feet nearly left the ground as they rose to stand. They then angled for whence they came, steps fleeter than those during their entrance.

Grateful to put unpleasantness behind them? Yes, but equally there dwelled excitement at moving on to the next step of their self-assigned project.