Blue gloves and true love being what they were, the entirety of the tomb knew this situation was simply built to be dramatized.
"Aime..." Alli whispered to his lips in the shadows, "we're not alone. How have they not seen us yet?"
"I could stab them all swiftly."
"Aime, that's not my point. Maybe it is. Oh, Aime! Panakeia and Anakron and various and sundry extras, and I'm almost certain I heard Smilog, though I could so easily be wrong... and a man from Panakeia's past and blue gloves, Aime, blue gloves!"
"I know..." He didn't.
"Aime, everyone knows that blue gloves are symbols. Ceremonial garb for those serving the darker powers. Blue gloves! Oh, Aime! Blue gloves, and from Panakeia and Anakron, oh what shall I do! Where shall I turn!? We are trapped in this very small, cramped, dark, badly lit, slightly smelly, certainly damp and a bit moldy tomb that may or may not contain corpses, and we are not alone!"
"Shh, they'll hear you."
"Aime, there is only one exit, and they are between us and it, and the wolves," the sound of howls punctuated the moment, "are closing in, and blue gloves! They've turned on me, Aime. The Wizards and Wolves aren't enough, but my friends have betrayed me and block my escape! How shall I ever survive?"
And thusly, Alli swooned into his arms and whether their companions in the former resting place of the former Grand Anakronist heard any of their exchange, they did indeed block Alli's exit, and Alli did indeed believe them to be secret wearers of Blue Gloves. Things, to put it lightly, had just taken a turn for the worse.
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