The Heartwood Will you tear my skin?

With fur completely soaked through, he slinks around the edge, chin tucked to his chest in an attempt to see past his paws. The other does the same, mentioning hidden wonders past danger underwater caves and the possibility of it only meaning certain death.

Alduin doesn’t mind death.

So, he meets his Harbinger on the other side, completing the circle of the tunnel and coming to the conclusion that the tunnel’s mouth is roughly about five feet in diameter.

Alduin stops close to his companion, head level with his shoulders and a cynical, dangerous type of curiosity shining in dark eyes as he watches the water below him. Only, a second later he attempts to meet Dreven’s eyes, a hardly there, upwards tilt of his lips shows. It’s crooked, only on one side of his maw as he lifts his head to stop only an inch or two away from the other males nose.

That same maniacal excitement shines, it’s muted, but there nonetheless.

“Let’s find out.” He purrs, no fear for death to be found. 

Out of everything that could go wrong — drowning, getting lost and then drowning, being unable to see, or never finding a way back out, it seems Alduin could care less. Yet, the hellhound can see the glint of emotion playing in Dreven’s own orbs and it makes him smile — a handsome toothy sort as he laps a tongue over his own scarred, whiskered lips.

“If I die, you’re promoted.” He adds in a rumbling tone hinted with cynical humor. 

And just like that, Alduin balances claws toes on the edge, takes a deep breath, and dives. 

Nothing but a silent ripple of water is left.