For Stone

[kethel]

Kethel has no first hint that something is wrong. First there is nothing, then every sense comes alive at once, sending frantic alarms from all directions. Everything smells wrong, no home, no family, no Reaches wrapped around a hollow tree. Instead it smells of dust and cold and unwashed groundling bodies (and, somewhere in the shameful depths of its early memories, of food), of the inside of something made of dead trees and old stone. Bad.

Worse. It's wearing its groundling form, which it rarely does to sleep. Even the rest of its Flight finds that habit a bit too much, and Kethel will take to other habits if someone needs to be soothed by not having a small mountain of bony plates and big teeth snoring nearby, but it's purpose is defense and reconaissance, and both are hard to do if it gets jumped in its sleep. The habit isn't comfortable, but Kethel hardly knows what to make of comfort when it's offered, and it learned to rest with wings when all kethel learn--when claws and armor are the best way not to be dinner for a much bigger sibling some hungry night.

It tries to open its eyes and to shift with the same urgency and in the same moment, the second breath it takes in this wrong place. The first part works, but when it reaches for its other self, nothing happens. Nothing external. It feels a bit like something cold reached into its gut and tugged, but it remains smooth skinned and fragile, and that's the important bit.

Not much rattles Kethel, but this is horrifying. With no knowledge of an herbal simple that could stop a shift (and that would just kill it anyway, in that particular case), all it can imagine is external control. It doesn't know enough of queens, but it knows all about Rulers and Progenitors riding your thoughts and stealing your mind, and before it can gather itself, it lets slip a soft, pitchy hiss, a surprisingly small sound from a body that, even in groundling form, takes up a lot of space. To Raksuran ears, it's very close to the kind of noise a distressed fledgling would make. Kethel doesn't consider itself to have had anything much like a childhood, which makes it easier to deny its own (lack of) age, but sometimes things slip.

Just for a moment. Then it's back at work. The room (room is the right word) is small and closed in on four sides, lined with flaky metal bars above and on one wall. There's nothing like open air beyond the bars, just the cool, stale, scent-laden mess it caught on first waking. Now that it knows to listen, it can hear the owners of those scents, some close enough that they must be on the other side of a solid wall, some distant indeed. They aren't speaking, for the most part. Rustling, breathing, a bit of groaning. Nothing healthy. The larger space this barred room is part of (it doesn't know "cell") must be huge, if enclosed. It's dim, with light from flickering balls of glowing yellow spaced thinly about. There's one in the room with it, but it's a faint light indeed, not enough to illuminate the corners of even so small a space.

A space that isn't empty. Kethel growls faintly, back to its customary deep and threatening, at its own foolishness, though it could have sworm it was alone, that it would have noticed a second person, that somehow the other body in the room appeared while it was squinting up to try and spot a ceiling beyond the bars above. That's stupid. No excuses. It prepares to have to remind itself several times that people are not food, but then picks the scent that belongs to the shadowy form out of the air.

Nope. Not food. "Old consort?"

Comments

[scarsolderthanyou]

It's the sound fledgling distress that starts to drag Stone out of whatever drugged or magical sleep he'd been in to get him here. It's instinct, even for a consort as old as he is. He doesn't twitch or wake up immediately, propped up against the wall, but he does blink a few times. He definitely didn't go to sleep here. He knows he didn't. He'd been in his bower, for once, hadn't he? There shouldn't have been a child in his bower, let alone one afraid of anything. His great-great-grandbabies were still in the nursery, and he's sure that wasn't Bitter or Thorn.

Then the scent of Fell registers, and he's awake all at once, twitching this time and trying to shift. Nothing happens, except the twitch, and his eyes popping open. One clear, one blurry, until he forces them back into focus.

Kethel. That is unexpected, but at least it's not as terrible as it could be. "I have a name," he says, creakily, as he levers himself to his feet and takes stock of the situation. "It's easier to say then 'old consort'."

[kethel]

Well, it's been outdone on stoic crankiness in the face of madness for now. It'd be more sour about that if this weren't Stone. That was a battle it was pretty much always going to lose. It takes a moment to respect that particular power move and then addresses the content of the grump. Kethel has an easier time with categories than names, though it does try with those of its flight who prefer a personal identity. To Kethel, old consort contains all the necessary information and is in no danger of being confused with anything else, whereas Stone is both a bit tricky and possessed of the pesky double meaning behind so many Raksura names. Stone is Stone and a rock is stone and an old consort is Stone and... Well, it's a headache.

It never has that problem with Consolation, but. Well.

In the end, it just shrugs its confusion. It'll try, but it's a bit sour about having to. "Do you know what's happening?"

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Not yet. I don't smell any other Raksura... or Fell." He smells a lot of other things, though-- mostly a whole lot of unwashed groundlings, stale water, and blood. He gets to the front of the cell-- he, on the other hand, knows the word "cell" just fine-- and peers out, up and down the narrow corridor outside. There are other cells all up and down the line.

"We're in some kind of prison." He pauses, then adds, "That's a cage for a lot of people." Surely the kethel knows the word "cage". "You don't remember how we got here, do you?" He doubts it, but he can hope, for one very brief second.

[kethel]

Stone works fast. Or at least a little differently. Kethel's energy went into establishing the concrete. Room, wood, metal, light, people. It hadn't gotten as far as what wasn't there or what it all might mean. Asking Stone was the first idea it had had.

Just goes to show. Learning from old consorts is always a good idea.

It walks carefully toward the wall of bars, too fond of its extremities to risk crowding a touchy line grandfather but able to see the advantages of a greater line of sight. Fortunately, it's tall enough to peer around without having to get close, even in their little... cage, yes, that's a word it knows. "No." Since there's nothing to add to that statement, it doesn't go into any more detail about all the things it doesn't know. Stone can handle that.

Then, after a long pause, "I can't shift." Playing that knowledge close to the chest did occur to it, but if there is a ruler behind this, Stone should have forewarning. The ruler wouldn't have to be particularly close or powerful. It's only a kethel.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Yeah, neither can I," Stone says with a grumpy expression. "I'm guessing it's some kind of magic, since there's no queen around, and we obviously weren't given any of the Fell poison. Or you'd be dead." For once, he's glad of that. Waking up to a dead kethel would have been even more unpleasant, and then he'd have no one to complain at. Besides, he'd have hated to have to tell Consolation about her favorite kethel, whenever they got out of here.

Because they will. It's just a matter of time, patience, cunning, and effort.

He gives the bars a rattle, testing their strength, then starts climbing them to get to the bars on the ceiling. Maybe there's a better view up there, and he can see some of their jailers.

[kethel]

Kethel waits a few beats, turning that over in its head. Not much new information to speak of, aside from Stone's assent to being just as in the dark as it is. Some kind of magic is about as vague as an idea can get, though it is nice to hear that Stone doesn't think it's rulers or progenitors in their heads. That probably wouldn't work on an old consort, anyway.

But it has to zero in on one particular point, even if it'd rather join Stone in just exploring and poking the corners. It has no faith in time, patience, cunning, or effort, but it does have a mission, a task that justifies its continued existence long after a kethel should be obsolete. Information. "Fell poison?" Mysterious magic cage or no mysterious magic cage, it has to follow up on that.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Didn't anybody tell you about that?" Stone hisses just a little at the omission, now clinging from the ceiling with both hands and one foot, trying to get his good eye up close enough to look around above them. "Maybe they were planning on using it if you got uppity." Since he thinks that's a stupid idea, and anyway, it's not like the Fell flight would really notice if they poisoned their usual prey until it was too late, he goes ahead and explains. "There's a mixture we can make that kills Fell if they eat it, or eat something that ate it. It just keeps Raksura from shifting and makes us sick, but you can tell that's what it is because you can see our scales on our skin. And, you know, because we're sick."

[kethel]

Kethel could be annoyed that there was some level of conspiracy to keep a secret and effective means to kill the whole flight (though it does wonder what would happen to Her and all the other half-raksura). However, when there's a not remotely secret means to kill them all, and her name is Malachite, it's hard to get too bent out of shape. It only... learns. There is a poison that works on Fell. So noted.

It moves slowly until it's just about underneath Stone. Instinct says to get up and look, too, but it doesn't entirely trust those bands of metal. Yes, the time may come when breaking them is an excellent idea, but it's not inclined to try that without knowing a little more about where they are. In the meantime, it's heavier than Stone, and its eyes and nose aren't significantly better.

Stone is probably used to Kethel's disinterest in the forms of conversation by now. It doesn't comment, just moves on to the next important point. "What do you see?"

[scarsolderthanyou]

"It's dark. The ceiling is high enough up that I can't see it clearly, which is saying something. There are a lot more of these cells." He growls, a little rumble that rattles the bars a little. "I don't see the guards, though I'm sure there have to be some. They might not be typical groundlings, there's plenty of room in here to fly, and I can't see far enough in this murk to see if there are stairs."

He lets himself drop back down, wincing a little as he straightens up. He's too old for adventures like this, dammit.

"If you think you can see better, climb on up and have a look," he adds for the kethel's benefit.

[kethel]

Kethel doubts its eyes are any better. Stone may be old, but it's impossible to imagine Stone as less than competent at anything. And it's not very good with aging as a concept anyway, given how few Fell ever manage to do much of it.

So it doubts it'll have anything to add, but it does clamber up because observation is part of its job. Is there much of a chance what it sees here will be useful to the Flight somehow? There is not. It just doesn't like to get out of the habit. Its climbing skills are a bit sub-par, despite the boost it should be getting from its height and the fact that Fell feet are more heavily clawed than Raksuran in softskin form (and a kethel's only moreso). It doesn't have a lifetime of clambering in trees and over ruins to draw from. It manages, but it's far from elegant as it hauls itself up, relying more on strength than finesse.

If Kethel had a name, it might be "More Strength than Finesse."

It takes a long look, then drops down again. "I don't smell any Fell that aren't me. Just means They aren't close." Because it's still worried.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Or it's something else. There's groundling magic that can keep us from shifting, too," Stone comments, pacing around the cage and frowning. "Besides, I'm pretty sure nothing but another half-breed could keep me from shifting, and the Fell stopped doing that after the battle at the Reaches." When a huge swath of them died. Yeah, probably smart of them to stop trying to breed with Raksura.

Note he politely didn't use the phrase "you people" at the kethel. He's trying to not be too antagonistic, if they're stuck in this same prison cell together.

[kethel]

It's a nice thought, though not one Kethel gets any benefit from. It still reverts to the simple, categorial thinking that it tends to rely on under stress. It's flight is different, but both Fell and half breeds are what they are. But politeness in general is not its forte.

Not that it actually minds. "I went to sleep where I usually do," it offers--no transition to the new topic. They seem to have exhausted the question of magical means or Fell influence, and without more evidence, they can't get any further. So on to some other facets of how they got here. It curled up at the main entrance of the abandoned mountain tree they're based in, relying on sheer bulk to slow down anything that attacks while it's not fully awake, and that's all it remembers.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"I was in my bower," Stone answers. "With the door closed, and Thorn and Bitter on the floor in a pile of blankets nearby. Impossible for anyone to sneak in, drug me or enchant me, and get me out again. If I'd been outside or on a trip, this would make more sense." He growls under his breath. "It's going to have to be more magic."

But why would anyone pluck him and the kethel out, specifically, and drag them here? It's a stupid choice: the biggest, strongest, and most experienced of each group of predators? They're the most likely to manage to kill their captors!

"Where do you usually sleep?" he belatedly asks the kethel.

[kethel]

"By the door." Kethel is a little reluctant to share this information, but it has to believe that at least Opal Night and Indigo Cloud are allies, or the whole thing falls apart. The basics of the Flight's defenses aren't a secret from allies. Especially as the basics of their defenses are more or less their kethel. As the larger and more flexible of the two, it's the logical choice to take point on the entrance.

Feeling it was perhaps less than informative, it adds, "Where the tree opens up. So I'm between the forest and everyone else." It means that to sound intimidating, but as it speaks it realizes that as it isn't where it's supposed to be, there's currently nothing between the Flight and the reaches. Stone is awake and watching, so it doesn't let a sound escape, but the sudden distress makes its jaws tighten and its shoulders hunch, a bristling of spines it doesn't have. That's one reason to take the most dangerous players off the board.

[scarsolderthanyou]

And Stone can't help but notice that. Even in a damned kethel, he notices it, and has that urge to make it go away. He's going to wind up protecting and socializing with the thing, isn't he... ugh. Disgust aside, the urge to reassure is still there, so: "When the find us missing, they'll go on the defensive. And even without us, your flight and my court are pretty formidable." He stops short from going over to it, though. He has some standards.

[kethel]

That is a helpful thought. It's hard to miss the absence of half your kethel, and it can only assume that the whole of Indigo Cloud probably knows where Stone is at all times, if only as a matter of self preservation. It's wrong in this, but the premise is pretty solid.

The fact that its flight probably isn't being eaten by predators right now (probably) takes some of the edge off, but Kethel is still on the way from just shell shocked to pissed. Experimentally, it tugs on the nearest metal bar. It's not surprised when that turns out to be futile--when is anything that easy--but it's a starting point. Next experiment is trying to score the metal with its footclaws. All it can manage is dislodging a little of the rust and a sting in its talons. Kethel's very good at being systematic. Less at remembering that carrying on a conversation is happening.

[scarsolderthanyou]

People might like to know where Stone is at all times, but not out of self-preservation-- mostly because Stone is surprisingly good at hiding when there are things he might actually need to do around the court. He watches Kethel pace and rattle their cage bars silently for a moment.

"Eventually someone will come," he comments at last. "Either to bring us food, or to gloat, or to move us somewhere else. Try not to attack them, when they do." As tempting as that might be, there is probably magic to prevent such things, and he doesn't want to have to carry Kethel wherever they wind up having to go.

[kethel]

Kethel rumbles sullenly at the direction. Not because it can't see the reasoning. Because it can. Problems that can really be solved with biting are actually few and far between if you're not just one of the bigger moving parts of an all-devouring swarm. It's glad it doesn't live the barely-even-life of your usual kethel, but sometimes it can see the draw of that simplicity.

"What about grabbing?" Not the same as attacking. Kethel has never taken a hostage per se, but it's quite familiar with bait, thanks in part to Moon and Stone's antics. Things kethel has hold of stay held. And then Stone can growl at whoever it is.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Maybe," Stone says after a moment of thought, weighing the options between the kethel taking the brunt of any damage that results in-- or being outright killed. Stone may not particularly like it, but he's not sure he'd like to be here by himself, either, with no one to grouse at or to help him fight. If their captors aren't interested in killing them, though, then having Kethel labeled to be the troublemaker could leave him free to do things while Kethel is being watched and dealt with. "Depends on if whoever it is has obvious magic or weapons I've never seen before, mostly, and whether it looks like they're willing to kill us."

[kethel]

Stone is well ahead of Kethel on that one. It may have made a lot of progress recently, but grab-and-scare is still about as sophisticated as its plans get, and Stone's comment works just as well at that level. It considers the point and nods. Obvious magic and intimidating weapons it can easily imagine, but that still begs a question. "What does willing to kill us look like?"

[scarsolderthanyou]

"You've got good instincts, you can probably tell when you see it," Stone says dryly. It's not like it's one easily describable thing, more like a lot of little details that add up, with some gut feelings thrown in for good measure. "But if you can't work it out, I'll let you know."

[kethel]

While Stone almost certainly means that compliment with a sting in its tail, Kethel's faintly pleased to hear it has good instincts. It agrees. Just nice to hear. Especially from a raksura who clearly operates under the assumption he's much smarter. Kethel has not really grasped sarcasm yet. "I'll watch you."

A creak and a clang down the corridor draw its attention. Sounds a ways off, but maybe means something.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone looks up immediately at the sound, head turning automatically in the direction the sound came from. He motions for Kethel to be quiet, so he can listen-- for footsteps, for voices, for the sound of any other prisoners who might be reacting to the incursion. Because that definitely sounded like a door opening and closing again, to him... not quite enough metal rattling for it to be the door to one of the cages, and so probably not another prisoner arriving or being pulled out, which meant it was probably their captor.

[kethel]

Kethel is excellent at quiet and still. Had experience not managed that, it is much more of an ambush predator than most descendants of the Forerunners. It draws in on itself immediately, only a subtle change in stance but one that leaves it coiled and ready to pounce or defend as the case demands.

The initial noise could have been anything in this structure of stone and metal, but the sounds that follow are very odd, a rhythmic light clicking that starts and stops at intervals. It doesn't move particularly quickly, but it moves in their direction.

From more than one direction at once, it realizes after a moment. There's more clicking down the opposite way. It stays still, because the situation requires it, but it does look to Stone for a reaction, preferably for some direction.

[scarsolderthanyou]

It sounds like someone's claw tapping on the floor as they walk, to Stone. Someone stopping to look in at whatever or whoever is in the other cages every now and then. Someone not in a hurry. That can only be their captor, or some lackey of their captor. He shoots Kethel a silent look and motions for him to stay put, at least until he can get a glimpse of what they're up against. He's not guessing it's something too terrible, because there are no sounds of horror or anger or fear from the other cages.

He, himself, leans over as far as he can against the bars, trying to see the source of the nearer clicking. If they could shift, he'd have them doing that, just breaking the cages open... oh, well.

[kethel]

Kethel can't help a guilty twitch of contentment at having a direction to follow. It looses none of the tense readiness to tear something apart (which would be messy but not impossible in its current state, depending on the target) and waits quietly.

What Stone sees in the hall is nothing so mundane (for a Raksuran value of mundane) as tapping claws. The thing has a roughly familiar shape, not unlike some of the more insectlike ambush predators in dark corners of the Reaches, all spindly, angular legs around a body shaped like an arbora-made storage basket. The clicking is what happens when each of those little feet strikes the floor, and as it grows closer, it smells not like predator or prey but heat and metal shavings.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone has come across a dozen or so insectoid species in his time, sentient or not, but none of them smell like metal. That reminds him more of the ancients' technology, or of that city on the giant turning gear in the mountains. He scowls, flicking his tongue out for a better taste of the scent. "Some kind of insect thing," he tells Kethel, very softly. "Smells like metal. Might not be edible." Or tear-apart-able, for that matter, which would be disappointing. Still, if it isn't actually a real creature, that probably means it's not actually their captor. Some kind of tool or guard, at most?

[kethel]

In Kethel's experience, very little isn't edible if you believe in yourself, but it decides to trust Stone's assessment. It resists the urge to edge closer fairly easily, since it's still following directions and that's soothing.

As the spider-thing approaches, the smell of hot, stressed metal gets stronger, and an odd sensation settles on both of them. It is--unsettlingly for Stone, horribly for Kethel--not entirely unlike the pressure from a queen's attention (or some of the much worse things in the Raksuran-Fell bloodline). Not a specific command, as they already can't shift, just the sense of pressure. There's clearly magic at work here and no scent of anything really raksuran. The sensation flares as the spider passes and fades again as it continues down the hallway.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone bares his teeth automatically, and watches to see if it even notices, but doesn't make a sound until it's gone. Then he turns to the kethel. "That's it. That's what's keeping us from shifting. If we can find a way to smash that, we might be able to shift forms again." But to do that, they have to get out of here... surely there will be a chance for that. Whoever has them here wouldn't leave them locked in their cage forever, right?

He starts to pace across the cell length, good eye turned on the bars, looking for weaknesses, just in case. "That's a machine," he adds for the kethel's benefit, in case it hasn't seen anything like that before. "Much more complicated than any I've ever seen before, and it might have magic in it the way the Forerunners' machine did."

[kethel]

Kethel wouldn't have made a distinction between magic and machine and now it's curious what the difference might be, but that's for another time. "Could probably smash it now." Kethel has every confidence in its own ability to batter through things. "You think it's just one?" it asks instead, wondering how they'd know. The pressure on its mind got much worse when the little thing went by, but it didn't stay that way long. What if there are a lot of them? "What if it's like cloth?" Cloth is very new to the Flight, and First has told it all about the process. It feels very clever for coming up with a raksuran-appropriate analogy, faintly hoping Stone might be impressed. "Lots of little knots holding the whole thing together?" It is a smart kethel.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"There are probably more than one. No one would have only one guard, even if the guard is made out of metal. Not in a place this big." And they can only sense this one room. There may be another one, or more space outside this chamber, which would require more guards. He could probably smash more than one, especially with the kethel's help, even in their current forms... but it depends on how well they're made.

The second question earns Kethel a glance. "Metal is a lot tougher than cloth," he explains. "The joints may be like knots, but it's harder to tear metal than cloth. Like the Forerunner machine, that was metal." He thinks. Mostly. There were some stone-like things, too, but he's pretty sure most of it was metal.

[kethel]

Kethel is not good at metaphors yet. "I meant the magic." It knows about as much about magic as it does about cloth making, but the two seem equally mysterious and therefore it's easy to imagine they have something in common. It frowns as it tries to find a way to explain its thinking that won't involve talking about Fell stuff. There isn't one. It expects Stone to be annoyed at it for even bringing the subject up. "Like how rulers have to work together to cover more ground, unless they're old." Kethel knows the royal Fell castes are surmountable, but that doesn't make it a comfortable subject.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone frowns, pausing again to eye Kethel. At least that explanation makes a little more sense than comparing the machines themselves to cloth. It is still pretty new to metaphor, isn't it? Stone never would have put it like that.

"So you agree that there are probably more," he surmises from the explanation. "Smashing one will probably just alert the others. So until we're sure we can smash more than one-- maybe a lot of them-- we're stuck waiting, or trying to avoid them if we get out of this cage." He goes back to examining the bars for weakness, looking irritated, though at least he's not sending that in Kethel's direction.

[kethel]

It agrees that this is the best thing to do under their circumstances. It just doesn't like it, and being easily agitated and bratty about deferred gratification is one trait both descendants of the forerunners have in common. "Could we take one and not break it?" It'd be up to Stone to identify anything about the thing. The creature or construct or whatever just looks like weird magic metal to it. But it is working under the slightly questionable assumption that Stone knows everything.

[scarsolderthanyou]

"Same result. Any others will probably come running to rescue it." Stone gives the bars of their cell a brief rattle, scowling. "And we still need to get out of here to get to it."

Maybe even if he can't shift, he'll still have his usual strength. Who knows, it might work. He braces a hand on one of the bars, and grabs another with the other hand, testing to see if they'll separate, or at least bend a little.

[kethel]

That sounds like it might have interesting results, but Kethel can see the wisdom of not playing a hand too early. Experimenting is risky by definition.

The bars creak a little under Stone's hands. He's not as strong as he should be, but he's a line grandfather and they're just metal. But the moment they budge, there's a spike in those screeching sounds and the smell of grinding metal, and three of the magical things appear outside the bars. They're faster than they look, but quite noisy when they move like that. One of them extends a leg to touch the bar and it begins to vibrate.

[scarsolderthanyou]

That's faster than even Stone had anticipated. He tries to keep a hold of the bar despite the uncomfortable shaking, baring his teeth at the things. "That got some attention," he half-grins, half-growls at them. Can they talk? Do they understand words? Guess he'll find out. "Where are we?"

[kethel]

The shaking is only uncomfortable, but in another moment the bar starts to heat up. Raksura in softskin form can take far more temperature variation than most comparable species, but it definitely should be painful to hold. meanwhile the vibration seems to ease into the air. Kethel growls as the sounds too high to quite hear begin to rattle its jawbone, picking it up just a little earlier than Stone. Younger ears, or maybe it's a Kethel thing. It doesn't like this, but the pain is completely bearable. For now.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone doesn't like it much either. The magic-machines don't respond to his question, so he lets go of the heating-up bars, snapping them through the bars instead in an attempt to grab the nearest one.

Might as well, while they're in reach, right? Even if it winds up tossing him back against the wall, it's still something to try.

[kethel]

The little sentinel is surprisingly heavy and seems to resist being picked up more than its weight can account for. It's also a bit hot, though not as much as the bars. The noise gets worse, but Kethel moves to help now that they're doing something anyway.

Aside from being strangely hard to move, the many-legged thing doesn't seem to have any defenses, but unfamiliar voices begin to mutter around them once he's had hold of it for a few seconds, and somewhere in the distance is a shout.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone gives up on picking up, and settles for dragging, aiming to pull the thing up against the too-hot bars and maybe crunch it a little. With the kethel's help, they might even be able to do it. Hot or not, he'll risk a little hand-burning for some answers.

And it sounds like they might get some answers, from that shout. If they can just hold onto the thing, maybe damage it a little, for long enough to bring their actual captors running, he'll call it a win.

[kethel]

Kethel has a little trouble catching on (that sound is as distracting as it is uncomfortable), but it does move to assist. With the extra hand they manage to get the thing against the bars, but when it makes contact its legs seem to lock in place, only bending the slightest bit despite their combined (admittedly less than usual) strength. The other metal things abruptly begin to move away.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Now what. Stone keeps a hold of the thing, peering through the bars for some source of the shout, for some creature maybe coming towards them, though it's hard to get a good look.

Kethel, being taller and not blind in one eye, gets a low growl, "See if anyone is coming." Then Stone doesn't have to let go to try and crane his neck.

[kethel]

Kethel straightens and peers around as best it can. Nothing at first, but then it spots movement, more organic and comprehensible movement than from the metal spiders. "Someone's coming," it hisses to Stone. "Fast," it adds as an afterthought. It can't make out a scent in the busy atmosphere, but it seems to be something upright and covered in something fluffy. Most likely fur but one can't go assuming about these things.

[scarsolderthanyou]

It could be some kind of fluffy clothes, too. Groundlings do like their clothes. Stone attempts to squeeze harder on the machine thing he has, with the vague thought of maybe pulling off its head parts, crushing some of the internal bits that keep them from shifting, or just giving it some actual damage, because that would be satisfying. His skin around where he's got it is angry and red from the heat, but nothing's blistered yet.

"Is it carrying anything?" he asks Kethel. "A weapon, a stick, anything that it looks like it might plan to hurt us with?"

[kethel]

Stone's efforts are having only a slight effect, but there is one to see, a small gap that seems to be in a joint between metal parts. There's an unpleasant noise that comes with the beginning of the gap and a release of a little puff of steam.

Kethel waits a moment to answer, letting the distant figure come into better focus. "It has a box," it announces, brow furrowed in confusion. "Little one." Which could of course contain anything, but it wouldn't expect a Stone-subduing weapon to fit inside.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Since Stone can't envision anything in a small box being able to do much to him, either-- well, a knife could fit in a small box, but why would anyone keep a knife in a box?-- he doesn't let up on his attempt to break open that metal joint. The metal-rending noise is encouraging, and he redoubles his efforts, wedging fingers into the gap and tugging harder.

At the very least, even if the box is something magical, he might have time to tear this thing apart before the approaching person gets here. He can be optimistic.

[kethel]

Kethel is on the edge of throwing itself into the rather unimpressive fray. Stone pulling apart a metal spider isn't much of a fight, but just standing by and watching is too unnatural. It has no contest for caring about anyone but Flight, and therefore Stone is Flight (probably much to his annoyance if Kethel were foolish enough to tell him so) and fighting for the Flight is its job.

Before Kethel can make a bad decision, the metal spider abruptly goes limp, the horrible sound stopping and the heat beginning to fade.

[scarsolderthanyou]

Stone doesn't let go, just in case. Baffled, though, he twists the thing in his grasp, trying to see what he did to break it, since nothing actually came apart as he'd hoped. His hands still hurt, but he can deal with it. There's no one here to make a fuss about a few burns so he doesn't need to make any kind of show to earn the fuss.

The limp metal thing gets a shake, rattling against the cage bars, just in case it has some life left in it that needs to be woken up again.

The only thing he can think of is that maybe the person with the box is responsible. Unless the thing really can't take a little prying at its joints. "Where's the groundling?" he asks Kethel in an undertone, still examining his prize through the bars.