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"...yes, I can read. I'd like that, I think. If you could bring me a book... the only problem is, the light down here is limited, and I can't see perfectly in the dark. Maybe... candles? There's no electricity... I don't know how else to light the nest..."

Pinning the blonde gingerly to his mottled form, Bazzite tucked his wings against his back to prepare for the ascend up the crystalline tube that fed into the nest proper. It was smooth on the inside, difficult for someone with real human fingers to climb without gear and a light. Bazzite had traversed this tube so many times that he needn't even keep his eyes open. He knew just how many hands it took to reach the end. Even carrying Benitoite, the youma's clawed feet and free hand were all that was necessary.

The tube itself was pitch black and incredibly claustrophobic, Bazzite himself only having just a few extra inches of room to move. Certainly, two of him would not fit at all. The blonde was pressed tightly against his youma to ensure they could climb, but it would undoubtedly be uncomfortable, the smooth rock gliding passed the blonde's back as they rose. Breath met rock instantly.

Finally, after a few agonizing minutes of climbing, the pair emerged through the top and into the nest proper. It was a cavern carved out of the mountain into which the tube fed and was spherical in shape. The light here was very dim though a few luminescent purple crystals peeked through the rocky walls to light just enough for someone like Benitoite to make out basic forms and shapes. Bazzite's blue eyes shone brightly here. The General could hear him rustling around with cloth or fabric, likely the bedding, somewhere to his left. Along the walls were crudely carved shelves, claw marks visible in the way the purple light cut off suddenly at an angle. Bazzite had tried to make himself at home, placing small and odd trinkets on these makeshift shelves. Necklaces, cassette tapes, a broken music box, a puzzle missing half its pieces, CDs, lipstick tubes, a purse, keychains...

The air here was musty, and circulation of fresh air likely didn't occur much at all. "I think I should take you back down the tube, Alex... I don't want you to get hurt trying to leave..."

”The ferals can’t get up here, usually.” Bazzite gestured to the tube the pair had to ascend to get here in the first place. ”Sometimes I hear them scratching around down at the bottom, but few have ever made it all the way in. I take care of them, if I’m home. It’s fairly safe, all things considered. As safe as any place in the Rift could be.”

Fresh bedding was a welcome blessing, the youma unfurling the blankets in the worn space in the floor he used as a bed. Whatever lived here previously had carved out a small bowl of sorts in the rock, and Bazzite had filled some of it with soft dirt from the outside to cushion him while he slept. This was removed, as best it could be, in favor of quilted blankets that smelled of places other than this dusty hell.

Peering up to the small shelves, the youma wondered where a candle might be safest, where it wouldn’t be knocked free to set himself ablaze. ”....maybe a flashlight, then. And lots of batteries. I’d love a book, though. Any book. Lots of books, so I have things to do. There isn’t much to do down here, Alex. There aren’t any televisions to watch or games to play. I miss school, I guess. Or just… things to do.”

He was quite thankful, however, when Captains and Generals called upon his expertise, if even for a short amount of time. Being topside was welcome enough.

Bazzite shrugged, thinking it needless to worry. "I think they get bored, halfway up, or stuck, or panic. I've only had a few of the centipede ones up here. Some are too big for the tube, so... that works out fine, I think. I don't want any roommates anyway, unless it's you, Alex."

Patting the bedding into place, the youma nestled himself in the folds of the blankets. He would not sleep on his back, ever, for his wings would be crushed and it would be excruciatingly painful. Instead, Bazzite mostly slept on his stomach, head happily planted on the softest of pillows. His neck and shoulders were incredibly thankful for the support and the simple comforts of a human home did wonders to help the youma sleep at night.

"Any book will do, Beni. I don't care, as long as I can read it."

Anything to stave off the boredom.

The youma realized Benitoite couldn't make it back down the tube by himself, not without risking serious injury in the process. The rock was too slick, too well-worn for a human to get a foothold, not to mention with extra baggage. Lifting himself from the softness of the fresh bedding, the youma sighed heavily. "I don't want you getting hurt, Alex. I'll take you back down."

"Are you sure...?"

The youma looked longingly at the bedding, still slightly warm from being clutched so closely by his General. The scent of lavender and detergent was a welcome reprieve from the stale and dusty air. He simply wanted to bury himself in it and dream and forget that he couldn't go to school, couldn't see the sun... couldn't go home with Benitoite.

The desire for books and something with which to pass the time was slowly forgotten as sleep tugged at the youma. Despite his pseudo-immortality, his time spent under the influence of the necklace was tiring. Emotion was exhausting for someone so used to being free of it. With a deep sigh, Bazzite felt his eyelids begin to close.

The pillow was so soft, like Alex's hair. Soon the youma would be asleep, dreams ever elusive.