He wandered beyond the door, eventually, heading towards the strange lights rather than away from them. Some nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him to stop, to stay clear of the strange glow. The quills on the back of his neck down through his shoulder hair began to prickle, standing on their own. As if his body wanted to erect defenses even before he'd crossed the threshold in to the dimly lit place.

Teyouma did not notice the shifting of the colors around him. He did not see the orange of his feathering turning more blue-toned in beneath the strange light. Everywhere was darkness, and he was absorbed among it, except for his pitohui-styled wings. He was more intrigued by the glimmering crystals and their strange black ooze than anything else. Each time he'd come across a cluster of them he'd try to pry loose a small chunk; then he'd either roll it in his palms to clear the oil, or discard it. By now Teyouma had a small collection of pebbles from these clusters but nothing of remarkable quality. He'd just as easily discard them as he found them, leaving trails of tiny stones behind him as he investigated the room.

And then he saw it: the largest pile of stone to be found in this place; it reminded him immediately of the blue-light spire of Polaris, but it was different too. The ominous light it emanated sent off more warning bells, but being a monkey-brained fool Teyouma did not heed those either. He approached the lower segment of the oily black spire, staring wide-eyed at it, until he noticed the gaping hollow segments at the base. These alcoves looked immense compared to his own lithe body and he wondered - albeit briefly - what had created them.

A better question may have been what laid within yet?

Draconua lay in her hole at the foot of the Black Spire, relishing in the heat of it. It was nearly enough to lull her into sleep—but, why should she? Slipping into the visions of chaos and destruction was pure bliss; even if she could not be in the middle of it, she could imagine it so vividly. Violent, violent war. Cities falling at the feet of another. Twisting, snarling influence spread only by chaos. It was one of few things that the Hound found herself favoring; one of the few things she clutched to for hope. It was a strange sort of hope.

But, no matter how engrossed she was in those nightmares—she would notice the sound of movement beyond her hole. It wasn't the brisk thu-thu-thump! of the Leviathan as he moved, nor his Overseer. None of his creatures walked with such a quiet... smallness. Perhaps it was something simply passing by. Perhaps it was something sneaking.

The Hound unraveled herself and pushed her faceplate up towards the light. Its surface ignited in bright carmine as the Spire struck it. A shallow hiss rattled from her chest and she hauled herself up. Her claws clattered across the stone as she near-slithered out of her den. All twelve pinhole eyes fixed on the strange, winged simian rooting around near the Black Spire.

"WHO ARE YOU?" she bellowed first—she wanted to see the creature run—before striking out at her magic. The chaotic energy slipped between her fingers, drawing a guttural hiss out of her. Draconua drew her wings up, crimson-tipped fingers glistening in the light and making her impossibly large silhouette... well, larger.

When no response came, the hideous beast slowly slunk back into her lair, a rattling hiss a warning of what was to come if such a creature dared approach again.

Exited due to inactivity