Fuming and empty handed, Caiaphas positively stormed through the morning thick of fog -- her explosive gait practically parting the mist like a bludgeoning hand. She could scarce see through the thickness of the roiling mist but she cared little -- she knew nearly every fault and fissure in the path back to the heart of the Sound. Overhead the trees bent downward as if weighed by the brume and the obscurity of the turbid fog marched ostensibly onward through the Sound in the semblance of ghosts.

But she did not care for scenery -- so riled was she by her encounter with Danica it was a wonder at all she even detected the scent of Kierkegaard.

For a moment she paused as if unsure of the trustworthiness of her faculties -- a singular ear flicked backwards. Her expression as mystified as the haze engulfed valley.

But it was certainly Kierkergaard -- and she wove her way through the thicket until at last she was upon him. Her expression did not falter as she received him but it was evident from the leg he favored he was in poor shape. She surmised it was even a marvel at all he had made it this far -- his hock remained swollen and the skin irate and Caiaphas had to wonder how he even bore weight on it enough to bring a rabbit into the fold.

Her own frustration was forgotten as she witnessed him in as sorry shape as he was, and tentatively she tested the air for any sign of Sisters. Finding none she stepped forward, motioning to him that he (and his succulent rabbit) should follow suit. "We go to the grotto." She growled, marching past him in the direction of the very borders of Ankyra Sound where her vast and interminable cave sat among a rise of jagged foothills.
CAIAPHAS
"how does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?"

There were many times in Caiaphas' life where conversation was met with cold disapproval; and this happened to be one such time. She was pleased that her present company usually shared the same sentiment -- and wordlessly the two mendicants, one waif and one wraith, stole across the cloudy countryside in silence.

The Grotto was not far, thankfully for Kierkegaard and his favored leg -- and when Caiaphas approached the mouth she whirled upon the ashen male and her expression was at once flooded with unequivocal and choking inclemency. "This is one of many altars. Touch nothing." The commandment was stern but Caiaphas was not so foolish to think Kierkegaard would go into a rage and destroy her cache -- but in the eyes of her Sisters the two of them had to tread carefully.

(mild powerplay, since it doesn't make sense to have two/three posts over them traveling thru the cave -- PM me if not okay)

The two wound their way down the long tunnel until at last their trek deposited them into a wide and commodious cave where their breaths resounded perceptively through the flowstone and even their footsteps (hers straight and even, his limping) lamented in echoing resonance through the chasmal depths. It was obvious this was where Caiaphas spent most her time -- her scent (along with Larus and Kevlyn's) was heavily laden and the cavern bore traces of life within its walls. The discarded remnants of meals. Rubble and flotsam. Several feet away a skulking collection of skulls.

In the center of the cavern there sat an idyllic and dark pool circular and ominous in nature, hardly more than three feet in diameter. Caiaphas motioned for the male to set there, and should he oblige he would find the salt-water would likely soothe his injured leg while she scavenged in one of the various narrow tunnels for an old meal to deliver to him.
CAIAPHAS
"how does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?"