Interacting with:
@Moon Man The gentle pitter-patter of Dylirius’ footsteps echoed across this spacious tunnel. Not sounding too unusual for those in earshot, used to hearing his energetic pace. Yet the urgency in his dilated pupils would tell a very different tale. As his two lengthy tails kept sweeping away the trail of paw prints that were left behind in the dirty stone. Being delicate enough in his actions, not to disturb the giant spider's webbing, or trigger any of the Everdark’s numerous traps. But still unable to outrun an intense growling noise that followed him through the darkness and into the light ahead. With but a single persistent thought in his anxious mind.
"I-I can’t—I can’t let anyone see me like this...” Dylirius uttered to himself.
With the bright amber glow of his irises adjusting to all the blues, purples, and greens that illuminated the entire space. From floor, to walls, to the plantlife hanging from the cavern’s ceiling. It was a sight that brought an immediate smile to the lesser demon’s face. Quick to leap forward through the air like a cat, over a field of glowing flora, and plant his hind paws onto the vibrant red caps of one of the many ‘mushroom trees’. Using their unique springy texture to nimbly bounce from fungus to fungus, several times more, until he was mere feet away from The Spore that Speaks.
“Impressive as always, Dylirius.” He congratulated himself in a confident whisper, upon his feet silently gracing the ground. Casually brushing off his robe’s oversized sleeves and leaf-like hat, to keep his forest-colors dust free.
“You made it here, and without a single witness.” Dylirius asserted in hushed volume, with his back facing the myconid. Slowly inhaling the distinguished nutty odors through his twitching nose, focused on all these little spotted fungi, that were bunched up just beneath his stance. Both paws attempting to quell the hellish rumblings erupting from the pit of his stomach.
“Patience please.” Dylirius urged, before reaching back to take the satchel off his backside.
“Even when ravished with insatiable hunger—one must remain vigilant to every little detail.” He noted, while setting the satchel down in front of him, and opening the magically-sealed latch.
How else could one keep his treasures secured from the humans and other thievish folk, which had no bounds for personal property?
“Ah, here it is.” Dylirius declared preemptively, before pulling out the thick hardcover book, and opening it to reveal the exact page that he needed. Covered in crimson-inked text so minuscule, that it seemed impossible to read. Yet his single claw proceeded to tap against the written description that he began to read aloud.
“Bouquet Black Earth Tongue. Undoubtedly named for its obsidian color and growth patterns resembling a bouquet. Its delicious buttery texture will melt on your tongue. So long as it has at least four white spots on the cap. But it’s safer not to actually swallow its stems...” He said, wasting no more time to put his book away and close the satchel.
Before Dylirius reached below and plucked one straight from the ground. Able to see its five spots on top, as he effortlessly inserted a single claw into the tender mushroom. Soon popping the cap into his slightly-ajar maw, and sucking on its unique savory flavor. As he continued to pick more and more delicacies to enjoy—the blissful demon had soon stuffed his maw full of mushrooms. With their stalks sticking out, and a river of drool dribbling down from the side of his chin. While failing to be concerned, or acknowledge however The Spore that Speaks was reacting to this. It was likely difficult to tell how much of this was a playful act.
Sure. The minor swelling of the tongue, and excess production of saliva is another side effect of tasting it. But oh it's so worth it. Dylirius thought, with his tails gently swaying back and forth.
And these will also be quite useful in my serum for suppressing someone else’s ravenous appetite. He concluded.
Not taking long to spit out the undissolved mushroom stalks and then bury them underneath a pawful of soil. As Dylirius nonchalantly looked over his shoulder and smiled at The Spore that Speaks.
“Good evening, Spore. I must commend your excellent gardening skills, once again.” Dylirius praised, speaking in a fond tone.
“And I mean it—a precious few can tend to such a delicate and deadly garden in the Everdark.” He appealed, while picking up his satchel and turning himself around. Trying to ‘butter up’ his acquaintance, since it was only natural for an alchemist to frequently meet the supplier of his ingredients…
