It's not Shion's first time in this second Darrow. It is, admittedly, also not his second. He does his best only to stay for a little while each time, making himself leave every time he finds an exit. This is, in part, out of caution and in part because he's studying the exits, too, to see if there's any consistency in how and when and where they appear. There's a slim chance that what he finds here below may be mirrored above, an exit hidden in the air. So far, that hasn't proven to be the case, but he still pursues it doggedly. While he's not sure he's yet learned anything of real value, he still feels like he's seeing enough that, sooner or later, something is going to click. It just needs time.
In the meanwhile, it's an outlet. He gets to feel he's doing something, making some kind of progress, and to work out his frustrations on the monsters that meander his way. He's figured out which ones to skirt as much as possible and which aren't any kind of a challenge at all, and sometimes he's not in the mood to fight or he wants to conserve his energy and the supply of blood he's brought as snacks again, but every now and then, it feels good just to let off some steam. There aren't often other people down here, so he doesn't have to worry about being seen. Anyone he does run into either knows to keep their mouth shut or can be quite easily told to.
He's not counting on running into Neve. It occurs to him, when he spots her coming up the street, her gait and wardrobe familiar, that he should have mentioned it to her when he first found a way in. They've discussed it, after all, and Neve is capable of holding her own. The thing is, she doesn't need to know that he's also capable, in very different ways. Having to restrain himself during his search was too tedious a notion to entertain for long, but now there's no alternative unless he just dodges behind a ruin and hides. There's too much predator in him for him to consider that seriously.
Giving himself a quick glance to be sure there's no noticeable blood on him, only ashes, he adjusts his bag against his hip and starts down the street, slow and cautious, but not hiding. When he gets closer, he darts across the cracked pavement toward her, his voice a worried hiss. "Neve!"
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In the meanwhile, it's an outlet. He gets to feel he's doing something, making some kind of progress, and to work out his frustrations on the monsters that meander his way. He's figured out which ones to skirt as much as possible and which aren't any kind of a challenge at all, and sometimes he's not in the mood to fight or he wants to conserve his energy and the supply of blood he's brought as snacks again, but every now and then, it feels good just to let off some steam. There aren't often other people down here, so he doesn't have to worry about being seen. Anyone he does run into either knows to keep their mouth shut or can be quite easily told to.
He's not counting on running into Neve. It occurs to him, when he spots her coming up the street, her gait and wardrobe familiar, that he should have mentioned it to her when he first found a way in. They've discussed it, after all, and Neve is capable of holding her own. The thing is, she doesn't need to know that he's also capable, in very different ways. Having to restrain himself during his search was too tedious a notion to entertain for long, but now there's no alternative unless he just dodges behind a ruin and hides. There's too much predator in him for him to consider that seriously.
Giving himself a quick glance to be sure there's no noticeable blood on him, only ashes, he adjusts his bag against his hip and starts down the street, slow and cautious, but not hiding. When he gets closer, he darts across the cracked pavement toward her, his voice a worried hiss. "Neve!"