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There's a scream and a shout. He shoves the kid hard into safety and they both drop to the ground. Folding in on each other into the space under the pot. Rubble clattering down over top them and closing in their hiding place.
It's pitch black, and his other scenes feel fuzzy and unreliable in this close echo chamber. But he can feel how they fell together. Mickbell had dropped to his knees and is doubled over across Chilchuck’s crossed legs, his forehead pressed into his thigh. Chilchuck has his arms around him. One looped under his shoulders, the other across his back, holding the young man in close. There's only just enough room for his nose not to touch Mickbell while the crown of his head is grazed by the pot protecting them.
Sometimes it's good to be small...
Mickbells shaking hands weakly wrap around Chilchuck’s arm. He whimpers,
"We're gonna die..."
"No. No no no," Chilchuck breathes, "Don't say that. We- we're gonna live. We'll be fine."
He pulls the kid in somehow closer to him, his side pushing hard up against his heavy chest.
"Even if no one else does, we'll survive… And, and if that happens, we'll get back to the surface and get them help, okay?"
He answers with a tiny miserable sound, digging his forehead deeper into the old man's thigh.
Chilchuck lets out a low sigh.
He knows it's not the most comforting, but it's better than being dead.
He needs to stay calm. Relax as much as possible for however long they're going to be here.
Chilchuck turns his head and lays it against the space between Mickbell’s shoulder blades. With his ear pressed into his back, he can hear every frantic beat of his heart. Every uneasy breath. Every whimper and stutter and falter fills his head. Chilchuck’s hand tightens on the kid's shoulder.
He starts rubbing his nails over his back; a vague, innate attempt to comfort.
There's nothing to do but wait and trust the remaining members of their parties.
Slowly, Chilchucks mind drags to his attention how strange what he's doing is.
The young man he's cradling to his chest, whose gripping his arm and sobbing into his leg-
Is a stranger.
He doesn't know this kid. Just things about him.
He knows he hasn't been doing this that long. He was barely older than Chilchuck was when he started. He should be about 22 now.
Chil’s younger brothers are about that age...
He knows he's not part of the guild. He knows it's because of that kobold. Someone Mick cares about enough that he protects him over protecting himself.
Which makes him stupid.
But a kind of stupid Chilchuck understands. After all, it's not like he's here for a better reason.
22…
That was nearly a decade ago for him. He remembers it almost like a dream. Being bright eyed and fresh faced and so, so naive.
"Hey," he whispers, "You're name’s Mickbell, right?"
"Ye-yeah."
"Who's waiting for you?"
"What?"
"On the surface, I'm sure someone’s waiting for you to come back. Tell me about them."
His lungs heave and his words come out muddled, "It...It's just Kuro. He's all I have..."
Chilchuck’s brows furrow and his hand freezes in its motion on Mickbell’s back.
That…
It occurs to him now, that he might be spoiled. Many half-foots are. Cradled in their communities. Chilchuck’s own life is a labyrinth of other people. Siblings, cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews, nieces, grandparents. A web of family big enough to get lost in.
To be one of only two. It feels impossible...
A sob heavy enough to shake both their bodies brings him back.
It's not some hypothetical. It's a kid that he's holding onto. And that, right now, is completely alone.
"It's all my fault," he wheezes, "The dungeons were my idea... He wouldn't even be here if - if he wasn't..."
His words crumble in his crying.
"Don't give yourself so much credit," Chilchuck says in a soft, low voice, rubbing his back again, "The only reason to follow another person into hell is love. He follows you because he cares about you, and he knows you look out for each other... He knows..."
Mickbell’s whine calms to a whimper, and his labored pants quiet to a shaky rhythm.
Chilchuck can feel the blots of warmth as the fresh tears hit his leg.
"...Please... Just let him be okay..."
All they can do is wait. Wait and trust.
He's not sure how long they sit there before Mickbell speaks again.
"H-hey, I can barely hear anything. How do we know when we can leave?"
"I'm not really sure," Chilchuck picks up his head, putting his ear closer to the pot, "I think it's gotten quie-"
THUNK
Something hits the top and they contract into each other. Going silent. Holding their breath.
A voice carries in mumbled through the metal, " Chilchuck? "
He breathes relief, "Marcille!"
Chilchuck knocked his forearm against the pot, "Marcille, we're in here!" He pushed up with his shoulders, jostling the rubble pinning them down.
" Hold on! We'll get you out of there! "
He didn't stop struggling upward until enough weight had moved for him to get his hand under the pot. He hinged it up, the two of them unfurling from their cramped positions. Light flooded back into his eyes and he was met by the silhouettes of the massive horned girl and his mage.
She squeaks, delighted, "Thank goodness-"
"Kuro!" Mickbell scrambles to his feet and bolts past the girls, "KURO!"
Chilchuck stays frozen, staring at the space where Mickbell ran. Listening to his own chest rise and fall as the adrenaline come down ironed the tension out of his muscles.
"Here,"
He turns to see Marcille’s extended hand.
"Let me help you up."
He takes her hand and she pulls him to his feet. Keeping him steady as he steps out of the remains of the wall.
"Are you hurt at all?"
"No," he shakes his head, "We're alright."
He looks out to see Mickbell already having dropped down next to his newly revived companion. The kobold is sat straight up, his head drenched in red.
Chilchuck can hear Marcille start to talk to him, but he can't focus enough to catch any words. Not yet.
He raises a palm up to her.
"You can catch me up in a minute, I want to check on them first." He vaguely nods toward the pair and begins to move with barely enough time for Marcille to get out an "Oh, okay…"
Mickbell’s tugged a square of cloth from his bag and is fervently trying to wipe the blood from Kuro's fur.
"We'll get you cleaned up and you'll be good as new, okay buddy?"
The hound notices Chilchuck’s approach first, his eyes and ears snapping to attention past his half-foot’s shoulder. Mickbell whips around to look at him, his face still wet and flushed with emotion.
"He okay?" Chilchuck calls to them as he gets closer.
Mickbell sniffs and wipes his nose with his sleeve, "Yeah, a little dazed maybe."
He chuckles, "Well, dying will do that."
He stops just in front of Mickbell’s twisted shoulder.
"I'm glad he made it."
"Hey um," Mickbell sniffs again, awkwardly shifting his eyes to the ground. “Thanks-”
"Agh, Don't," Chilchuck kneels down and starts to comb the messy pieces of Mickbell’s bangs back into place. "It'll only make me uncomfortable."
Wordlessly, Chilchuck uses his hands to gently clean the tears from his face and Mickbell lets him. It flashes in Chilchuck’s mind that this may be the first time he's had someone perform this specific kindness.
"You seem to run with a pretty good party, but," His fingers linger on his cheek as the boy looks back at him with bright sea glass eyes. "If you ever need anything, you should come find me with the guild. I'll make sure you're both taken care of. Okay?"
His eyes seem to swell for a moment before he tucks the feeling into an embarrassed pout and turns away.
"Sure, okay, I'll think about it old man."
Chilchuck lets out a snort and straightens himself up, "Eh, good enough."
He steps over Kuro’s legs giving Mickbell a final pat on the shoulder.
"I gotta check on the other kids."
A few steps away, Chilchuck turns and points at the guard dog, "You keep taking good care of him, you hear me?"
He answers with a short, affirmative bark, looping on arm around Mickbell and pulling him to his side.
Chilchuck grins back at the pair as he walks away.
Watching how Mickbell wraps his arms around him and buries his face into his companions neck, how Kuro returns it by pressing his muzzle into the top of the half-foots head.