He needed to visit this room more often. Back when he was still young, he remembered another group of Gembounds used to live here. He'd been advised not to travel carelessly or flagrantly trespass, but it had been - who knew how long? Nobody was here anymore. The scents of wayfarers lined the stones, but they were stale, and winding, and never lingered long. Nobody lingered long. So he deemed it safe.

The humidity felt nice on his skin, a thick blubber warmed by thin velvet in black and white. Saosin wandered the edge of the lagoon to which the waterfall was fed, not yet having dipped himself in the waters. His curiosity was sometimes powerful enough to drive him onto the rocks in search of discovery, but with the lights still extinguished, there wasn't much he could do. Still, he wanted to venture from the water. He was restless. So he pulled himself along the stone and sniffed, parting his jaws, letting the scents in the moisture collect in the roof of his mouth.

Stale animal smells. Dirt and mud. A burial. He wandered, wondering if a carcass lay somewhere. Wondering what it meant.