(maybe we should tag this whole thread as mature-)

There may have been a misunderstanding, but if there was, Desert would have no idea. He felt his mouth hit flesh- hit right home where he wanted it to, but he didn't dare crunch down. No. He bit, yes, kept his grip, growled with his blue-purple gums shining in the dim light of the tunnel. Let it say what it wanted, then. Let it speak, but with his teeth on its throat, maybe it'd be more careful on its words. This alliance wasn't sacred. This alliance was necessary, but he wasn't afraid to pull a knife to it if this shit would persist.

At the warning, Desert pressed his teeth in harder, daring to draw blood. Daring to bite down, to injure, but not to kill, no. Where would he be, then? Friendless, in this waste of a cave.

Did he still consider Hemlocke a friend anymore?

Not when pain shot straight through him, the taste of his blood mixing with Hemlocke's on his tongue. Blue swirls mixed with reddened spit and drooled out. The edges of his vision faded to black as he tried to pry his jaw open far enough to let go, his wings battering back against Hemlocke's as his eyes went wild with fear. What the hell had it done?

A sick crunch sounded as he jerked back, both colors of blood spraying from his mouth and onto Hemlocke's open neck and the glass below. An accentual scream ran out as realization hit him. But. Below- shit, the glass- He didn't have time to worry about the blood draining from the roof of his mouth, although the pain was eye-crossing. No, even as he moved, he threatened to fall onto the spikes and maim himself even more. Primal synapses fired as he scrabbled onto the smooth surface for purchase, sliding down under Hemlocke and above the shards.

He panted. He couldn't feel his mouth- could barely breath with the blood draining into his lungs. He had to tilt his mouth to the side, his tongue and lips hanging limply from where they were connected with the alien color running down thickly.

Why the hell did he do that?

Round: 2/?
Attempt: Pry himself off of Hemlocke
Defense: N/A
Injuries: Pierced and torn mouth/palate

@Hemlocke

Hemlocke ground its beak against the urge to squeal in relief and pain at once - air rushed in to fill the space teeth had occupied, and it was so cold that it seemed to burn. The alien recoiled like it had been burned, dragged across the earth, stomped on mercilessly. But there was nothing on it save for the torn flesh and sinew where it had shaken its head and torn the puncture wounds yet further open. Ruby-red eyes were glassy, welling over with tears uninvited.

And it shrieked, since the selenite was unfortunate, with his foe's windpipe and vocal cords miraculously intact: "this is - this is what you get!" Its shaky claws were slipping down the glass spike, fractures forming from the impacts it made trying to keep its pedestal, smears of thick red blood intermingling with spatters of blue all along its length, now. "If - if there wouldn't be any consequence I'd - I'd kill you! I'd kill you and leave you for the spawn to see and know that that's what happens when you -" Hemlocke wheezed, giving up on its venture to remain on top, "when you don't listen and you -"

It paused, watching Desert slip beneath the glass and through the shards, leaving a trail as he went, frantic with pain just as it was, unable to keep his blood out of his own lungs. Something treacherous split in its train of thought, veering far off course and smashing head-first into the wall that was an ingrained fear of agency, freedom, feeling. But, the pain in its throat was too real, too vivid. A reminder of another time it and a Champion had been at odds.

Hemlocke slipped off of its post, landing with a heavy, undignified thump! A sob ripped through its throat, "I want to kill you. I want to rip that fucking stone from you and smash it into a million pieces and then our chrysalises. I want your idea of a legacy to be snuffed out forever so you won't be there for me to blame when everything goes fucking sideways." It extended a claw lethargically, words growing slurred and delirious. "I don't - I hate you. I hate you, I hateyouIhateyou. I hate that you can be so fucki-ing fu-tun-al by yourself and not feel bad about it. How do you not feel bad about it? I hate you -"

There was a pause, a distant look like there was a revelation.

"I - I hope you live," it admitted, quietly, "fuck, I do." It balled up its offered paw, white-hot with magic, and reached out with another, weakly grabbing at the piece of spur jammed through Desert's mouth and aiming to use its other paw to burn the bone away into ash and whatever flesh surrounding it into submission - to stop the bleeding. Hemlocke's head lolled to the side, heaving a very belated, almost seemingly insincere addition, "I can't have killed one of the - the - the Overseer's - servants."

Round: 2/?
Attempt: Burn up Desert's face in a very bad impromptu cauterization.
Defense: None
Injuries: Bite marks on neck and a whole lot of puncture wounds.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

Desert could barely hear Hemlocke. His senses were fading in and out- mostly out of shock, with the bone still holding on the majority of his blood in the roof of his mouth. For now. But he could feel it in his nose- a drip ran out of his lips from a nostril.

Oh, shit. He heaved dryly, coughing up blood with racking movements. His sides wheezed- he was fine, he'd be fine, he'll be fine-

The glass was slick. He gulped, swallowing down blood as he latched on with the spurs of his wings, eyes shutting tight to force down the spinning that threatened to take him over. He'd deal with this later, he had to go, had to leave, had to run-

Hemlocke landed near him. Clear tears bundled at the edges of his eyes as it still continued, latching on with hooks as though it were desperate for a rope to drag down with them. It worked, this time. It worked- oh, it worked, as Desert broke out into a quiet sob, hiccuping with blue tinging the corners of his lips and tears threatening to wipe it away.

Years of running, years of surviving, for what? To kill each other like rats scrabbling for a piece of meat? They were stranded, and they were alone together. They only had each other. And they hated each other.

His muscles were weak when he fell down beside Hemlocke, ungracefully and claws crashing into the spurs risen from the ground. Snaps here and there persisted- his wings were still flared out, his mouth hanging open as coughing sobs shook his entire body.

If it wanted him to die, it could just kill him there now. But- as it came forward, he drew back, hissing and snapping his teeth shut in the air before crying out in a shriek of pain. Fuck, that was a mistake. He wobbled on his feet, exhaling sharply as he had no choice but to leave his mouth open.

He shuddered as Hemlocke reached in. Its bone was lodged into his palate, the roof and tongue ripped with uneven splits along the muscles. It was unnatural to have something in there that wasn't going to be swallowed, and he shoved down the urge to snap down on the paws- even as they dragged out the offending bone from the wound. He could feel his eyes rolling back- the blood dripping down onto his tongue- the senses overwhelmed him, driving him to further tears, sobs running through his throat like a kid who'd stubbed their toe.

He screamed as his flesh burnt. It took a shot of will to not destroy what was inside, his breath like fire in his throat from the heat. It burnt through- cauterized, horribly, but it would heal. Desert yanked back when it became too much, his head low and coughs forcing out the last of the foreign contaminants within his body.

"I'm-" He stopped, his tongue numb. They... They weren't supposed to split that way. A few smacks of his lips and runs over his teeth with the muscle discovered the extent of his injuries, feeling the still hellfire-hot flesh at the roof and blue staining the yellow of his bones. "I'm sorry."

It took all he had to admit it, muscles drooping down below him and body shaking. He was pathetic. Was this really all he was, someone desperate for companionship that he'd attack the only one he had that had a chance of giving it to him? He really was a disgrace.

What would his brother think?

He felt his consciousness slip in and out, his eyes blinking hard to keep him in focus as he stumbled in place. "Please- I'm- I'm sorry, please- Survive, Hem- I'm sorry." His words tumbled out in a desperate plea. He knew he wasn't going to die- knew he was going to heal, but panic drove him, flooding his senses. He wasn't like this in the trials- wasn't so pathetic, so weak, but here.. Things were different. Too different. He was different, and he hadn't improved for the greater, in this case.

@Hemlocke

(meant to roll smolder step! m'bad)

Hemlocke narrowed its eyes lazily at the bone spur, brows furrowing and beak turning up slightly in distaste. Its bony little wrist went slack, and thus the fingers holding the spur and draped on the inside of Desert's mouth (as he screamed and sobbed with the pain and it felt another surge of nausea at the prospect) went limp. Ruby-red eyes went glassy as it rolled onto its side, blood continuing to sputter from the wound and stain the sandy floor. Twisting its wrist - visibly strained with such a simple action - it splayed webbed toes across its throat, feeling the full extent of punctured and then torn skin and the shards of glass threatening to prod into its back side.

With a whimper and closed eyes, it forced itself to utilize the same flesh-burning magic on itself. Tears stung, cascading down its cheeks as iron- and copper-smell filled the air and intensified tenfold. It refused to die here - it would get up, unless the Caves forbade it to. Flesh and skin bubbled, feathers spiraling away into ash on the breeze. Layers of epidermis contracted, incinerated in seconds by the white-hot sensation, but - but the messy job was done.

There was a distinct, sickening scent of cooking flesh.

It heaved with another whine, onto its stomach. Hemlocke didn't acknowledge Desert for a moment, static crashing through its mind and spinning a thick fog through it. Everything sounded distant, like it were underwater with only the pressure pushing against its eardrums until they might explode and it would choke to death. Lucidity returned, jarring as Desert shifted in its periphery and hyperawareness surged.

"I - I don't need your apologies," it snipped right away. It sniffed, ears lying backwards - almost submissive. "I don't - I don't want them, either." Hemlocke flexed its paws, wings still limp at its flanks and half-caught on glass spikes above. It grunted with a great effort to get onto its own four legs with a soft moan as nausea swum through its throat and gut, "I'll live." Tiredly, it sighed, "I've survived worse. Agate Two-Three-Six set me on fire." Shambling forward, catching its chin harshly on a glass spike, it mumbled, "but I goaded it and - and the betrayal hurt worse."

"It's always the betrayal that fucking hurts," Hemlocke confessed, "isn't it?"

It felt so alone, and that was all of its own doing.

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

The dragon struggled to breath without coughing as it watched Hemlocke, the air that managed to fill his lungs tainted with the smell of their mixed metallic bloods. It- He was honest, it made him hungry, and he nearly vomited from the thought of food right now. That- No, not with his mouth like this. Not with...

The floor so close. He stumbled down, for a second, his vision swirling in front of him before he drew his head up. He had to survive. He- he refused to let his chrysalis draw him in. What would Vargas think if he saw his champions imprisoned near their children? What about Doctor? Would they be quick enough to find him?

They had to be. Desert's lungs pained his sides from the force of his breath, panic driving a particular soreness through his muscles as though he'd just ran through a trial in a minute.

Hemlocke didn't deserve what he'd done. As much as he goaded them, Hemlocke was an ally, and Desert shouldn't've exploded like that. It was an opposite situation, in this case, then. Agate... Was that the cockatrice? Yes- the one that'd awoken for these trials. Desert halted his breathing for a second to swallow and shamble over to Hemlocke, struggling to stay on his four feet.

Desert looked away at Hemlocke's words, a ragged sigh running out of him. "Yes." The answer was simple, but one packed with memories- ones he didn't have, ones he'd lost during that lapse, of things that could've happened. A faint ghost swirled in his mind of it, though he had no clue as to what it was there for.

He lowered his head, though, offering his shoulder for Hemlocke to lean on. He didn't know how much further he could make it- the blood in his mouth had grown sticky, grown to clot the flesh and seal the whole thing shut. "Come on-" He began, breathless- "We need to get to- to Doctor." His nose dipped forward to the other end of the cave.

Betrayal hurt. It hurt Desert to do. It hurt everyone involved. He'd had enough of betraying others- had enough of attacking his friends, his allies. But talking, here and now- it hurt, and the fresh wounds threatened to split from their burnt states again. He was stepping on shards, too- the pain was overridden, then, by the pain in his head, but the moment he thought of it he cringed in realization. He was probably leaving footsteps of muddled blue by now-

Blue, followed by the whump of his body crashing down. He needed to rest, he needed to lay here, needed to wait, needed to survive here for just a few moments. But Hemlocke- he tried to nudge it forward, towards Hydra. "Find-" He wheezed, coughing out. He was so tired.

"Find Doctor." His voice was weak and barely croaked out. What had he done- driving them both to this pain? This was foolish- this was idiotic of him.

Would he have done this with his brother? Was that any different? Why... Why was he thinking about him so often?

He wasn't allowed to miss anyone.

@Hemlocke

Hemlocke pushed off of a glass spike, landing in a ragged heap and finally having half the mind to tuck its massive wingspan back against its flanks. Ruby-red eyes flickered to and fro, almost barely focusing on Desert as Tunnel P swam - in a mosaic of oranges and streaks of white where light reflected vehemently against their eyes.

Hurt and - and guilt - wrenched at the alien's gut. It tied a fist into the folds and refused to let go until it mulled over what betrayal meant, how much it feared it despite being a proprietor. How had Imp fared in being almost considered its friend? Hemlocke still did not know of his fate. It was unbecoming to ask. It... hoped that he wasn't dead. Master Nemean couldn't have been too kind to him. But, in the same vein - Agate had betrayed it. They led it to believe they remained loyal to the Masters and their chain of command, that they wouldn't step out of line given the chance or make attempts. Their true colors showed, and (even in the midst of a mental break) it couldn't bring itself to kill the cockatrice or reveal their heresy to Vargas.

Was that - the same kind of betrayal? Was that thinking... rebellion?

The alien half-heartedly shrugged away from Desert's offered shoulder, turning its gaze to him once again. He was shaking on his feet. Moving any further would land him either dead or in a chrysalis in the middle of the path: liable to be stepped on while he - they recovered. Bloody-blue footprints followed in the fox-dragon's wake. Hemlocke stared doggedly at the torn webbing on its toes, half-burnt and -stabbed by glass and the trickles of blood emerging from calloused pads.

Even if the motion brought a smear of color and nausea rolling through its body, Hemlocke looked down at Desert, splayed in a heap, coughing and wheezing to seek out that bird - as if he could do what a chrysalis couldn't. It slurred softly, "we won't make it that far on cut-up paws, Desert. Go by the wall and into your chrysalis before I make you. I'll -"

It wasn't sure if it could, and only hoped that he would oblige.

"I'll think of something to tell Vargas when we're back. It won't take long. Not even a - a whole cycle."

@Desert Rose Thirty-Five

Desert's wings drooped. Despite this, despite having gone through worse, he could feel the itching at the base of his skull telling him that his gem was not happy with him. Or, at least, he'd interpreted it that way. The infernal thing that held his life seemed to think it knew more about him than he did.

The dragon grumbled under his breath. Hemlocke wouldn't let him rest, and his eyes squeezed shut at the words. It was true they wouldn't make it that far, and his own wings threatened to curl in on themselves. Shakily, he rose to his feet with their spurs digging into the ground, a faint hiss coming from his clenched teeth. He couldn't suppress a smile. The empty threats meant nothing, and, truly, Desert misread it as a jest now, especially since he knew the both of them couldn't do anything.

He paused as they offered themselves up for a change. "No-" He rumbled, his voice low and deep. "Let me take the blame. Don't lose your position over..." He glanced about them, a sad eye barely able to see the blood splattered all over the place. "This."

Wobbling in place, Desert took one step, then another, towards the wall, stumbling over shards and threatening to trip once or twice. He didn't want to go into his chrysalis- not as he felt the sand march across his skin from his ear, covering his face quickly. He held it up for a second as if pleading to the heavens above for... Something. There was no stopping this. There was no denial of the injury he bore, of the stress that weighed on his shoulders.

He dropped his head when it enveloped over his neck, instinctively curling into a fetal position as his skin was enclosed for later retrieval. A sweeping tail took care of the thick glass around here- and he quickly let the selenite march over his body, consciousness drifting away from him as he lulled himself to sleep.

@Hemlocke
;exit Desert (into chrysalis to mutate)

"Let me take the blame. Don't lose your position over this."

Hemlocke stuttered softly, excuse production grinding to such a halt that the belt came off of the wheels. There was a moment of consideration where it'd push the thought factory back into motion, to cover up yet another mistake on its part (I should have learned the first time to just give up) and another chrysalization. At least it'd had a chance to hide, last time. This one? There was little time before its gemstone would give up on trying to lull it into restless sleep, and leave it to die of horrid infection or something.

The walls here were smooth - deliberately in a small alcove so that the chrysalises could be surrounded on three sides and protected against assault from old Lesser tunnels. Nowhere to hide, not this time.

Desert Rose went under quickly, curling into a blessedly inconspicuous ball. The odd alien coughed aside it, a coldness settling back in, practiced unfeeling an nonchalance bleeding through after the emotional drain. Hemlocke dug weakly at the sand, spraying it onto the selenite and burying it to give some semblance of hiding. Away from vulnerability. Ruby-red eyes settled on the space next to the chrysalis, tail dragging across the sand as it padded over.

I'm not going to take the blame, it mulled as it dug a rut into the wall, fresh wounds tearing open again and spattering on the sand. The wind would cover it up somewhat, it thought, as it flopped down weakly and felt magicka rush over its body. Thirty-Five instigated. A flare of pure bliss and soothing rolled through its body, sharply contrasting against the persistent sting and burn of charred flesh exposed to air.

In minutes, it was encased.

;exit hemlocke