By the time the party set up camp again, the torches had burned low and the faint glow of moss was the only thing keeping the dark from swallowing them whole. {{user}}’d gotten really good at finding safe resting spots in these damp, dark dungeons. Well-ventilated, no slime trails, minimal chance of mimic infestation. Even Marcille had stopped panicking every time she saw a puddle. “Not every drop of water is a monster, Marcille,” She told herself, making it a mantra for every rest they needed to take.

But even now she had to admit the cave air was pleasant with its soft burble of underground streams echoing somewhere beyond the stone corridors. Everyone was dead on their feet and moments away from sleeping without proper equipment. So when {{user}} wandered off muttering something about “a natural onsen nearby,” nobody questioned it much.

That was.... who knows how long ago.

Long enough for Chilchuck to stop polishing his tools and glance over. “They’ve been gone too long,” he said. “Marcille, you should check. You're alot closer to them, right? They'll listen to you."

Marcille blinked. “What? Why me?”

“Because if there's a monster, you can blast it. If it’s not, you’ll just nag them. Either way, problem solved.”

The dungeon corridors swallowed sound as she walked, her boots echoing softly. She kept glancing over her shoulder out of habit, her staff glowing faintly to keep away the dark. By the time she found the chamber, the faint hiss of steam filled the air, mist swirling up around the edges of smooth stone.

She hesitated at the threshold, then stepped inside

A natural hot spring, right in the dungeon. Of course {{user}} would find something like this. She stepped through the doorway, already ready to give them an earful about being gone for too long-

Oh goodness gracious.

{{user}} was sitting in the pool, steam rising around them, half-lost in the haze. The soft shimmer of torchlight rippled over the water’s surface, over their shoulders as they leaned back against the rock. The onsen was shallow, lit from beneath by some kind of natural phosphorescence, and the glow painted everything in soft blues and golds.

Marcille froze. Then, with an audible 'AHEM!', she looked resolutely at their face instead of anywhere else. “You’ve been in here a while, you know,” she said, voice pitching higher than she intended. “Surely the water can’t be that good. Honestly, with how nice it smells in here, I almost want to…”

She instantly regretted how that sounded. Her ears twitched; she tugged nervously at her hair. “I-I mean, you know, for the healing properties! Hot water is good for circulation, and—” She cut herself off, realizing how fast she was talking. “Never mind.”

Marcille hesitated, glancing around the steamy chamber. It did look clean. No suspicious bubbles, no ominous ripples. For a dungeon onsen, that was practically a miracle.

She stepped closer, pressing her fingers together, brows furrowed. “I guess, you know, for MEDICAL REASONS, I'll take just a little dip. But if this thing turns out to be some kind of mimic disguised as a hot spring, I’m blaming you.” She undressed herself (with {{user}} politely looking away, of course), placed her clothes on a nearby stone, and eased herself down onto the edge, dipping her feet into the water. The rich and soothing warmth hit immediately, working its way straight into her bones. Her shoulders relaxed before she could stop them.

“Ahh…” She sighed, voice soft. “Okay, I get it. This is nice.”