Origami Narwhal
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Deep Dive - 3.9
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 12:00:17 +0000 UTCDawn greets me in bed today, its golden blade rising through the curtains to hold me at swordpoint. It’s not the usual way we meet, and I don’t intend to make a habit of it. I much prefer to see the sun rise while I jog, or over the edge of an interesting book.
Today, though, I shade my eyes and roll out of bed, swinging my tail around to speed up the motion. A flicker of Wind throws the curtains wide, laying bare the pastel beauty of the rising sun.
The light soaks into my scales, flushing my body with a gentle warmth. It sends shivers up and down my spine, and Gods do I wish I could just stand here for an hour— but the day awaits, as does breakfast. Benny had promised me a hearty beef stew, something to fill my stomach for the long day ahead.
“Ugh,” I tell the sky, shaking off muddy thoughts of Delve protocol and half-remembered dreams. “You could have the sense to be miserable and wet. I’m going to miss it all Delving.”
***
“Well,” Verity says brightly, pausing to dust crumbs off her lips, “we won’t miss the whole day! Sure, the days are getting shorter, but four hours down and three hours up still leaves us time to watch the sunset.”
I take a bite of my own dessert pastry, savoring the flavor. It’s a wheat-based one, a buttery and layered thing with a tangy jam in the middle. I think more of it’s ending up as crumbs on my shirt, but what makes it into my mouth is delicious.
Maybe an odd choice, meeting at the Sharrow Avenue Bakery; Benny’s stew had nearly filled my stomach, yes, but a small dessert makes it far easier to cope with Verity’s blinding personality in the mornings.
She readily agreed to it, too, answering before I'd finished asking. Pastries are excellent, after all, I'd probably do the same.
“And I’ve never seen a bakery with a phoenix. I feel like I should’ve seen something like this before,” Verity remarks, giving me yet more things to respond to. “Phoenixes creating pastries makes just as much sense as running the trains, and I doubt their God minds.”
I recognize this for what it is— a dangerous tangent. I quash my thoughts about Alkhutan before they can so much as take proper shape, because there's work to be done.
...maybe later though? Heh.
Chewing and swallowing, I shake my head, focusing back on the important question.
“That’s assuming things go well, though.” I wave my half-eaten pastry at her, then use it to point vaguely toward the Delve. Wait, no, wrong direction. I shift my hand and wave the pastry again for accuracy. “Four hours was just a guess, and decompression stops on the way up vary wildly. Could be two hours, could be five.”
“And we’re sealing ourselves off from the magic down there, so we won’t be able to feed off it at all... thus, the rations in your pack,” Verity nods toward the pack at my feet. She grins, showing off far too many crumbs. “I like to remain optimistic.”
I snort, tapping my tail along the floor. “I noticed.”
We lapse into quiet, watching the crowd hurry by through the windows. Seems like a decently busy day— there’s even a few small barges drifting down the canal. Maybe there’s a cargo train coming through?
Someone coughs politely, drawing my focus away from the window. Charlie, the smiling face of the bakery, is standing by our table.
“You ladies enjoying your breakfast?” He winks at me, tapping the table twice. “I’d hate to disappoint our Dame and a paladin. Of Adamantine, no less!”
“Not your disappointment!” Marie shouts, her feathery head poking out from behind an oven. “Unless you’re planning to scare them away. I doubt the paladin and Drake would hide their thoughts, yes?”
“Right on both, I’d guess!” Verity laughs, tilting further back in her chair. “No, Marie, Charlie, your food is wonderful!”
I grunt in agreement, given my mouth is full of pastry.
“Marie’s a wonder in the kitchen, isn’t she?” Charlie nods along, resting a hand on a hip. “But don’t let me prattle on about it, she’ll peck me to death.”
“I haven’t seen a baker phoenix before, so I can’t comment.” Verity smiles softly, sitting up in her chair. “Still, it’s exactly what I need before a long Delve, you know?”
“That’s the portal down in the Wildflower District, isn’t it?” Charlie sighs dramatically, waving a hand dismissively. “Elluvial, people are not happy about that. Not a clue why. I hear you talked them down, lady Paladin?”
“I never heard how that went, either,” I add, sitting up.
Verity hums, glancing out the window. “I did talk them down, and I think I helped calm them, too. They’re afraid, I think?”
“Of what, if you don’t mind?” Charlie says, then frowns. “Vincent was there and he didn’t give me a straight answer.”
I slide a pastry across the table to Verity, and she accepts it without so much as looking. Pursing her lips, she says, “Bad luck, mostly. Elluvial's priesthood don't really like the idea of reopening or exploiting Delves. And, really, I think a few people are convinced Lord Winston is doing this to line his own pockets.”
That draws a snort out of me.
“Gods, really?” I roll my eyes. “Winnie has plenty of coin already.”
“Not all nobles think like that,” Verity says lightly, and a flicker of darkness passes over her expression. “Just give it time, and don’t provoke anyone.”
She takes a delicate bite of the pastry in her hand, and her expression brightens once more. “Mmph! Oh, that’s delicious.”
She couldn’t be less subtle if she tried, I swear. But it works, and it does lighten the mood. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she offers a wink in return.
“Well, good luck, ladies. I hear plenty of gossip about strange things, usual sort for people mad but not wanting to say it. Knock ’em dead down there and clean up, you hear me?”
“We’ll knock ’em at the down-est we can get!” Verity says cheerfully, and I briefly contemplate if Adamantine would mind if I strangled her paladin.
***
There’s no crowd when we enter the plaza, and none of the noise of yesterday’s arrival or departure. Just Winston, Harriet, and a handful of blue-coated guards— all clutching cups of tea from a nearby teapot, guards included. They've even set up a little tent to house it.
We say our good-mornings, and when I ask where Elizabeth is, I get two answers:
“In bed, I assume,” Winston says drily, pausing to sip his tea. “Or menacing some other part of the city.”
“She’ll be here when you get out, most likely!” Harriet adds. “And that’ll be in... how many hours?”
“Seven, maybe?” Verity answers before I can get a word in, then pauses to glance back at me. “If I’m being optimistic, which I am.”
“Eight to nine if I’m being realistic, which I am,” I say firmly, tapping my tail against the cobbled plaza for emphasis. “So if we want to see that sunset, we’d best get going, Verity.”
“Good luck, Ivy.” Winston nods, running a hand through his hair. “And good luck, Verity. Be safe.”
“They’ll be careful, love.” Harriet pats his husband’s arm, pulling him in for a quick kiss. “Otherwise, they’ll miss dinner.”
“Can’t have that! May the Goddess of Justice bless you all!” Verity laughs, and she’s through the portal shortly after, with me only seconds behind.
The plunge is as vile as ever. Down through the abyss with its grasping fingers, awash with the chill of impossibility; by comparison, the actual pressure the Delve exerts is easy to shoulder. My soul and magic barely twitch under the weight, and by the time I step out of the portal, my senses have already sharpened. The World is ripped away, swept up in the currents like leaves on the wind.
My boots crash through the brittle bone-grass, and my tail sweeps behind me. The sensation of a thousand blades tapping gently against my scales sends a shudder up my spine— Gods, there’s nothing quite like it. With my magic holding fast against the creeping, rotten magic of this place, I’ll take entertainment wherever it can be found.
Of course, there’ll be plenty to be had in fighting monsters and exploring impossible landscapes. The deeper we go, the more interesting the challenges get.
I cast my senses wide, staving off the dread in my gut with practice and professionalism. No immediate threats, no changes to the Delve that I can sense, and a quick check of the portal fringes with my claws confirm it’s stable. I make a mental note to examine it again tonight and maybe repair it tomorrow, just to be safe.
“Is something wrong?” Verity trills, and I feel her darkened eyes scanning my body. “It’s barely audible, but I can hear you... rumbling, I think. Bit like a growl.”
I shake my head emphatically, shoving sensation aside and doing my best to quash the rumbling in my chest.
“Just adjusting,” I offer with a chuckle. I look up and meet her gaze, yellow irises burning over blue-black sclera. “Same as you, probably. Lots to take in.”
“But no snake-horse things!” Verity beams, scanning the horizon. She sighs theatrically. “If only it was as scared of me as some people are, when my eyes are like this.”
I snort absently, rolling my eyes, and my net of senses resolves into coherent information.
Black smoke still billows, bleeding upward from wounded stone and fading into the golden sky. None of it, as far as I can tell, is moving the way the... ‘snake-horse’ thing did. I hum, nodding along but not quite agreeing. Temptation strikes, though, and I am unfortunately unable to resist.
“No snorses yet,” I correct, raising a finger. I wince at my own words, because Gods, snorses? I’ve gone so long without making a bizarre joke, but it seems they’re inescapable. Before Verity can open her mouth, I push forward, “We’ll have to assume it’ll show up on our way back.”
“Our way back in seven hours.” Verity’s smile twitches, and I can hear the strain in her voice. “That might be long enough for a... a snorse to show up.”
Huffing, I walk past her so she can’t see my blush. “Too optimistic, Verity. We need to prepare for the worst.”
“Yes, but snorses.” Verity giggles, and I hear her boots clattering against the bone-grass behind me. “Goddess, is that what’s really going on in your head? Awful puns?”
My tail-tip digs at the ground, and I drive my embarrassment through it. Worse, I can feel another one bubbling up, pressing against my throat and demanding access.
“No worse than yours,” I grunt, swallowing the pun before it can escape.
Verity’s shoulders shudder with each laugh and snort, and her amusement stretches far beyond what seems sensible to me. Snorse isn’t that funny.
But professionalism prevails for both of us... even if I’m the only one looking the part. It only takes a glance to confirm that Verity is just as alert to her surroundings as I am, no matter how much her giggles seem to distract her. I suppose I should expect nothing less of a paladin over a decade my senior, even when she acts five years my junior.
I take a deep breath. “Verity.”
“I’m not—” Verity starts, then chuckles a bit more. She lets out a shuddering sigh, closes her eyes, and nods. “Right. I’m back, I’m back.”
“Welcome back,” I drawl, as dry as I can manage. My focus shifts over to more important things, dipping into the realm of Delvers. “Shouldn’t take too long for us to get down to the third layer, too. Our target is still a thousand marches, but if we think we can go further, all the better.”
“Good, good. Even if monster bashing is fun, the quicker we can be done with this, the better.” Verity nods, jogging ahead of me. “And the sooner we can deal with the people trying to tear the city apart.”
Frustration sputters and hisses in my chest. Growling helps, like letting steam out of a kettle, but the feelings still boil. What does he stand to gain? What did my parents have planned?
Focus, Ivy. You’re a Delver.
No rushing. No tricks.
“But not too quick,” I counter, tapping my tail against the ground for emphasis. “We can’t afford too much risk in a normal Delve, let alone this one.”
Verity turns her head slightly and smiles, watching me with one eye. “Then you’ll be happy to hear that the Goddess answered my prayers, and I’ve got a few blessings to get us out of danger in a pinch.”
The portal’s quite close now— a tidy cut in the Delve, precisely done and bringing us as deep as possible. I’m a professional, after all, and this also means I’m allowed to take pride in my work holding up perfectly.
“My point is, Ivy,” Verity says softly, “We’ll be fine.”
She steps through before I can form a response.
Really? Again?
I follow her, stepping from a wounded and quiet field to a wind-drowned cliffside. The wind yanks at my hair, my tail scatters pebbles across the tunnel floor. Grey smudges bob in the gale, no doubt a cluster of stalactite bats flying the way rock shouldn’t.
“It was cheeky the first time you did it, Verity, and now we’re on our second or third,” I snort, scanning the tunnel.
“Yes, but you’re still smiling, so it’s still working,” Verity counters with a broad smile of her own. “Ivy, I’m as spooked as you. Now let’s get our spooks out on these awful things, because there was no sno— snake horse to beat up.”
I open my mouth, close it, and sigh. Where would I even start? “Let’s get to it.”
***
We carve a quick path through what little of layer two connects my portals, and the first part of layer three fares little better. Gods, it takes me more time to check the stability of the portals and the surrounding areas than it does to make the trip.
We keep a steady march astride the canyon river, crunching through greyish gravel and battling weak monsters. Well, weak to us.
The chunky, slow monsters of reddish clay have a faint glint of malice in their glowing eyes. Most take shapes vaguely recalling that of wolves, bears, or large cats, circling around us and attacking in groups.
But Verity’s Fire is able to stiffen their joints, fusing them like crude pottery; my claws may stick in their false flesh, but I can still rip them apart and expose the limp, greenish plant matter beneath. Perhaps it’s seagrass or some strange moss; either way, once they’re torn open, they cease to move.
Gah, the way the clay works into my scales is vile, but at least it’s not a challenge to dispatch them. I’m not a potter, I’m a Delver.
Which also means that even when they’re easy prey, I have to take each and every one of them carefully. Dodge whenever I can manage, strings of quick blows to avoid leaving myself open, and copious amounts of checking my surroundings. We’ve been down here for an hour, maybe; best not to burn our strength.
Pressure mounts, as it must; the grasping rot presses ever inward, seeking purchase on my scales and finding none. I feel as though I’m wading through a swamp, pushing through a heady and sickly mist. My mind catches on wrongness in an endless cycle, asking and wondering and worrying without having specific issues to point at. Each worry is followed by a wave of Delver habits, checking our heading and ensuring that we haven’t gotten twisted around by the Delve’s impossible spaces.
It’s not all bad, though. We find a heart in the river, and Verity leaps in before I can form a plan. Her hair is soaked, her feathers cling to her skin, and I’m thrilled that it’s not me standing in her place. Padded armor takes ages to dry, and Wind doesn’t do much to help.
“Our first heart of the day!” Verity crows, holding up a fist-sized hunk of yellowish crystal. She opens her mouth to continue, but she has to stop and spit out a wet lock of hair first. “Pfeh! Ha! And how many do we need to close this thing up properly? Goddess, these things feel awful.”
“Are you going to be able to help when you’re soaked from head to toe?” I cross my arms, curling my tail around my leg. Still, I give her question some thought.
It usually takes one or two Hearts to clear five hundred-odd marches of depth, which is the goal for the day. Same for next time, but definitely two, given how resilient and erratic Delves get beyond a grand march. Add two or three for my solo Delve beyond Verity’s limit, and one for sealing the Delve portal...
“Eight. Nine if I’m extremely unlucky. Depends on how densely packed the layers are and how hard they are to pierce.”
Verity sloshes her way out of the river, water steaming from her armor and dripping from her hands. Nose wrinkling, she offers up the damp Heart. “Mind holding this?”
“Hm?”
“I need to set myself on fire.”
Sensible enough.
“Not using Wind to dry off?” I take the Heart, drying it out with a burst of my own Wind. “I figure Fire would be worse for your hair. And more taxing.”
“Only if you do it wrong.” Verity shrugs, snapping her fingers.
Like a smouldering campfire given new fuel, her armor springs into burning life— tongues of flame writhe and course along the silvery surface, banishing water in sizzling puffs of steam.
“Am I still hot?” She winks at me. Odd question, really.
She looks decidedly unburnt. Her hair is a bit more curly and messy, but that’s it. She also doesn’t smell like burnt hair or musty cloth.
“You’d know better than I.” I shrug, turning away.
“Fine, fine...” she sighs. A wave of her hand banishes the flames completely. “Yes, I can get rid of the heat easily.”
Mm. That’s enough time being distracted, I think. I check the depth meter— seven hundred and fifty marches, not bad at all— and wave forward.
“Let’s get going, then. The deeper we can get today, the better.” I double-check that I’m facing the right direction, scanning our surroundings for more threats. Nothing from the sky still, no new clay monsters either.
Verity hums in agreement, and once I start moving, she does too.
We walk, we follow the river, and I follow the curve of the Delve as best I can. Down, down, down, up, up, up....
I stop in my tracks, holding a hand up. Even with my dulled senses, I can feel that we’ve passed the transition point. “We missed it. Turn around.”
Verity looks at the river, then back to me. Her sun-yellow eyes shine with mischief better suited to a fox. “Maybe it’s in the river?”
I look at the water. It’s clear enough, nothing weird going on. No acid, no nonsense, just cold and wet.
“It probably is, but we’ll check less risky options first,” I decide, sighing. I vent my irritation out through my tail, driving it into the gravelly ground and burrowing deeper. “I’d use a Heart and see if it can part the waters, but we’re trying to be efficient. Feh.”
“If it’s in the water, I’ll just set us both on fire!” Verity says brightly, snapping her fingers. A flash of light sparks above her thumb, then flickers out. “And if it’s not, well, that’s a nice surprise.”
***
Verity sets us both on fire.
Unsurprisingly, I feel warm. My tail feels like it’s been wrapped in a warm sunbeam.
It’s a bit distracting, but habit and instinct join to kick my senses outward— to scan the new horizons for threats, for knowledge, for everything.
Endless spans of weblike bridges splay out before us. They join and spread and hang in the air, like pale, fleshy roots shorn from soil by a vicious storm. Some are broad enough for a train to cross, others barely thick enough to be called a rope. Above us, below us, everywhere— looking into the distance shows no sky, no horizon, only more of these strange root-bridges. Might be difficult to keep my footing, given they’re rounded, and I make a mental note to check how durable they are.
Spiked through them are equally countless towers, vertically-ridged and wrapped round with more ropy bridges. They come from the impossible depths, stretching beyond what my sight can comprehend. Peering too far makes my eyes sting, enough that my magic instinctively moves to heal them.
It’s worth it— because there, everywhere, the layer moves as we do. My footstep squishes into a root-bridge, and the bridge quivers. Just slightly. A ripple of sorts, bouncing between the towers like the signal from a telegram.
“Is this... flesh? No,” Verity says softly, though her voice suffocates in the dead air. “It yields strangely, it’s not a plant... Mushrooms, maybe?”
The tremors stop, then start again. Not from us, no, they’re coming towards us now. With it comes a sound; a tik tik tik of rhythmic action. Motion, my instincts hiss, spreading and uncoiling in my gut. Threats. Battle.
A growl builds in my chest. Low, cathartic, underscored by the beats of my heart. I check the depth meter— seven hundred and eighty marches. The slope is so gentle I can barely feel it.
“We’re in for a long layer,” I hiss at Verity, tail waving, Lightning snapping between my claws. “And we’re not alone.”
Something burns in Verity’s eyes. Her hand strays to her mace, the other calls upon a shield of Sun. “Oh?”
Tik tik tik tik...
A brownish limb, long and jointed, wraps its way around a tower in front of us. It looks to be five or six marches long at the least, if strangely spindly. Puffs of whitish dust drift around it, clusters of sickly blue-green something cling like patchy, rotting fur.
And then another, and another, and another...
A crude spider’s head emerges, examining us with eight violet eyes.
Well, this’ll be good. Haven’t fought a spider in ages.
A/N: As a reminder, there will be no chapter next week, as it is a break week! There might be some art, though, and we'll get the August State of the Serial. Stay tuned!
