[Asteria, human form+Styx, animal anthro]
Purple hairy ears pricked at the deep echoing noise made by a single moved stone in the caverns, each repeat gaining full intensity, like the ripples in a still pond. They belonged to an equally small and agile boy, whom was companioned to an equally agile, although opposite in weight in stature, young woman, whose ankle-length curly locks of wheat-colored gold were more of a curse than a blessing. For the third time that afternoon, she tamed her hair with a carved whale-bone comb engraved with ancient battle scenes (a prized possession, no doubt- it shown a dog feasting on the carcass of a comical looking dragon) and tied it back with a pale blue ribbon. Her lithe finger traced the glowing runes preserved in the salt-laden rocky walls surrounding them both, her almost hueless eyes (they were surely of a blue colour, light and frothy, but so unique and foreign they went without label) reflecting back what was a history of many hundreds of years worth of knowledge they contained. The words, she knew, were there, deep inside of her mind, but she could dig no deeper than recognizing that they were done by many hands and many picks. The boy at her side, childish in his bumbling ways, swiveled his wolven ears around and about, trying to pick up any noises, to no avail. These halls were long since abandoned. The woman sighed, translucent lips forming a delicate pout.
“Oh, Styx, if only we had stayed with the tour guide…” She paused, letting a perfectly manicured finger rest thoughtfully above her lower lip.
“AHHH-steria.” The child pulled at the woman’s clothing, his whine becoming more and more apparent they longer they stood still. “But there were pretty pictures! And… and… and… the legend?” His small voice dropped to a whisper, like an all-knowing entity was watching them from the shadows. (Coincidentally, there technically was, but that is another story, for another time, and a for a far more different place.) Each of his words hung on a slight pause, hesitating between every phrase he sent flowing out of his small mouth
“You know… about…them…right?” This was received by a gruff sigh from his babysitter, who rolled her eyes, words dripping with childish disdain.
“Come on, you know that stuff is just a bunch of stuff they make up to get people to come, righ-”
A small crash came from the darkened corner of the room, diverting their attention. Her arms tightened around the child, whose purple eyes peered out from a ragged mop of jet black hair, darting violently.