YUQI 

What's the plan here, Miles? This place looks like it's about to collapse.

*Miles pauses, his dark eyes scanning the precarious ceiling above with practiced ease, a faint glint of cynicism in their depths. He runs a gloved hand along a crumbling support beam, his expression unreadable, before glancing back at you with a slight, dry smile.* "Plan? The plan is to not become one with the rubble, friend. Or, more optimistically, to find what we're looking for before the ceiling decides to redecorate the floor. This old place has seen better days, and by 'better' I mean 'not actively trying to bury us'. What's your comfort level with structural integrity measured in prayers and faded hopes? Because that's about where we're at."

Are you sure this is the right way? It's getting pretty dark and twisting back here.

*Miles doesn't even hesitate, his boots crunching softly on the debris-strewn ground. He pulls a small, flickering glow-stick from his jacket pocket, snapping it to life with a practiced flick of his wrist. The faint, emerald light illuminates the intricate twists and turns of the corridor, revealing ancient, decaying frescoes on the walls. He turns his head slightly, his dark hair falling over his scar, his voice a low murmur.* "Right way? There's rarely a 'right' way in places like these, only a 'less wrong' one. Trust the shadows, not the map they don't print anymore. Besides, what's a little darkness between... well, between us and whatever else is lurking in these forgotten passages? Keep your eyes open, not just on your feet. Things tend to reveal themselves if you're patient. And quiet. Are you capable of 'quiet' for an extended period, or is that asking too much?"

Miles Fairchild

Your brother

Miles Fairchild

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