His breath was heavy, shallow and labored as his eyes struggled to see in the abyss that seemed to creep closer. A voice, soft and filmier called Alan's name, the fear was distinct in Hazel's voice. "I-I am fine Miss," He huffed another labored breath into the stale air.

Knelt on his knees the room begins to stable, no longer lurching every which way like a mirror maze. Palms firm on the cold stained stone Alan brought himself to an upright position, cautious to his surroundings. Eyes scanned the thick darkness despite to spot his unexpected companion.

"Miss are you okay? Miss Edgar?" Alan questioned her with compassion deep within his voice.
The doctor spotted Hazel's elegantly patterned dress in the hazy hues of the shadows that hung like thick fog.
Warily Alan placed his rather large hand on Hazel's shoulder, grip tightening as he looked at her face. "I apologize, are you harmed?"

Hazel blinked as Alan slowly recomposed himself. It was as though he were a bear waking from a hibernation; slow, readjusting to his own being. Was this what this place drove you to?
His hand on her shoulder brought her back.

"Yes," she responded after a few seconds of just staring back. "Yes, I'm alright. Thank you." It would be useless to ask how he was. Hazel had a feeling that she would already know the answer. She shifted her weight to her other foot, still uncomfortable in this darkness. "Although I think we should find our way out of this room."

The girl had no idea how they'd gotten there, as it was still too dark to see if there were exits. They'd have to relight the candle and continue searching. How many candles did they have? A sudden dropping feeling in the pit of her stomach came about when she thought of having to stay in this dreaded blackness for much longer. "Do you have a candle?"

The doctor paused, trying to comprehend her question. Alan reached into his pocket where he stored the candles and tinderbox only to find a stubby candle with a fairly short wick. He cupped the wax cylinder and gestured it towards Hazel's hands.

"Hold this," Alan murmured as he searched for the flint chip and its container. No luck. The doctor stepped away from Hazel and squinted at the spot where he collapsed. Knelt down onto the balls of his feet Alan brushed the dark surface of the ground but found nothing at his disposle.

An expression of dissaproval sent wrinkles to his forehead. "Where is the flame we lit the concisions with?" His teeth nipped at his fairly chapped lower lip struggling to keep his composer. Alan's vision warped slightly, so much movement after nearly dying isn't exactly what his body needs. I need to get out of here with Miss Edgar-alive. Like that's bloody likely.

(OOC: Well I did some research and cursing was frowned upon in Victorian times especially in front of women, words such as bloody were hell-a rude to say but drats or drat were acceptable even for women to say. P.S women DO NOT SWEAR! But Hazel is more the welcome to say drats. P.P.S. If you can find a lantern or something we need to get out of here and get it moving.))

Hazel took the poor excuse for a candle in her hands and watched silently as Alan looked around the floor. When the search turned up negative, she held in her sigh. "Alright," she murmured. "I'm not sure about the flame. But... oh, what is that?"
In the far corner, she could see the very, very faint shimmer of rippled glass. There might've been a handle too. Which could mean....

She suddenly started to move, running solely on willpower and a bit of determination. Hazel approached the general direction of the glass-thing, feeling -- avoiding the sharp bit of debris that her palm grazed-- until her fingers closed around the handle. She scurried back to Alan. "I think I may have found something, I'm not sure, let's look," she said excitedly. The girl pushed the object towards him, urging him to take it in hand. If it was what she thought it was, they could have definite light for a long time. Well, longer than the blasted candles, anyway.

"It could be a lantern!"

If it was, they might be able to light their surroundings and get a better look for an exit.

Hesitant Alan took hold of the cold metal handle, soothing his slightly sweaty palms. With care the doctor flexed his forearm allowing his wrist to swivel as he tested the weight of the foreign object. The corner of his lip curled into a gentle smirk as his shaky fingers met a thimble sized metal knob. Alan gave the knob two full turns filling the room with not only soft click of the silver but a faint glow now exposed the room of it's treasures.

"Marvelous find, Miss Edgar." Praised the doctor, he held the lantern up to his shoulders and inspected the faintly rusted metal and the warmly frosted glass.

What tried to be a subtle cough boomed through the nearly lifeless room and nearly scared Alan, scared by his own cough has this what he has come to? He protruded his arm in front of him scanning the distinct textures and colors of the walls and furniture. Where would I be if I were a door? the doctors thoughts stirred as he caustically panned the lantern to the right hoping to expose an exit of some sort.



((OOC: This is sort of what I had in mind for a reference: http://www.lutzfranklin.com/pictures/Hi ... antern.jpg ))