Man, lowbloods are all so fucking tiny. Riccin is feeling like a drone in the caverns right now: Marduk is the tallest, and even slouched, they've got a head on her. Shit is absurd.

Little fuckers could at least have the courtesy to wear boots.

"Ghosts," they repeat. That sounds vaguely familiar: if they're hanging with Marduk and Sipara, then they're probably another dork from Fleetbound. Well, whatever. "That's hilarious, kid, 'cause I fucking make them. Now shut the fuck up. I'm not out here to yammer."

Moving requires shifting Pheres, who is still purring, and.. apparently sleeping, because he doesn't do much more than make a muffled noise of protest when they try to stand up. It's pathetic, and they'd almost be tempted to let him stay, except they're sweating like a fucking mammal, and the way they're getting damp is making their skin crawl.

Keep this shit up for too long, and their ports will have them sparking like the redblood. No fucking thanks.

Thank god for the jade. She trots over, rattling off some creed on water bottles and dehydration, and Riccin takes the opportunity to untangle their arm from Pheres, and push him - none too gently - towards her. "Go cling to the trainee," they order. "Come on, we're walking."