Originally Posted by Underwood"You ever try out for lady wrestling, kid? I know a guy who can set you up…"
Into the tunnel you went. It was, despite Underwood's worries, not actually very dark. That wasn't to say there was lighting. You certainly didn't see any. But it somehow never got terribly dark, because stories never talked about the valiant heroes stumbling over outstretched roots and falling nose-first into a puddle. So, it stayed at a kind of darkened twilight, hard to see, but not impossible.
The tunnel stretched on, with twists and turns and odd little gullies, though nothing you couldn't surpass. Mack lead the way now, on the reasonable grounds that if there was anything that needed killing, she was the best at. Reynarde had retired to the role of rearguard, and was licking her fingers from Erin's present of liver. The fox-wife still sent suspicious glances at Erin, but at least she wasn't looming quite so closely anymore.
Then you came upon the voices. This happened when it was late. Then a little later, you came upon the voices. This happened when it was later. And a little after that, you came upon the chamber. This happened after you'd walked for nearly all day and what, had you had a working watch, you'd have thought was a fair bit of the night.
The chamber was not very large, but it was large enough, and it was not very decorated, though it had plentiful clocks about it, and there was a beautiful table set out, with dishes of delicious food and pots of tea and an entire, double-layered cake of chocolate and icing. The smell was absolutely beguiling, and there was something for everyone. Joints of meat and bottles of ink, roasted livers and delicate flowers, and a beautiful bowl of black pudding, so rich and fluid as to be nearly a bowl of crimson blood.
All of this was on the ceiling. Upside down.
Also on the ceiling, and also upside down, were the two feasters. One was a woman, with olive skin and feverish light brown eyes. Her shortish, brown-red hair looked like it had been struck by lightning several times. She wore a hideous plaid vest (orange-ish), a brightly colored dress shirt (yellow), and plain slacks and dress shoes . All of this was topped off with a fur-trimmed coat that was covered in stitches (blue). She had multiple piercings in her ears, with chains running between a few of them, and rings on every finger. A long, jagged scar ran across her nose and under her eyes, completely bisecting her face, and she smoked an antique Calabash pipe. She wore a hat, a crisp, pure-white Panama hat, and she was drinking tea. Upside down.
Equally upside down was her companion. He was tall, with skin that was so pale as to make Mary look well-tanned, and short, black-brown hair that failed to conceal his long, black rabbit's ears. His eyes were completely black, and they were hourglass-shaped, like a goat's. He wore the clothing of a late 18th century courtier, a robin's egg blue doublet with a ruff, and white stockings and blue knee-britches, and silver-buckled shoes. He had a heavy signet ring on one finger, and he had a sword strapped to his belt, a semi-transparent creation of crystal and cold. The pitcher of juice nearest to him had iced over. He did not wear a hat, and he was having a slice of cake. Upside down.
"ERIN!" The wild-haired woman shouted, her voice loud and raucous. She waved from the ceiling. "You're just in time! I have tea! I even have cake! I have tea and cake!"