Setting
It's shadow swallowed you whole.
“I believe that when we die, Charon ferries our souls to the afterlife, The righteous go to Elysium, and the damned go to Tartarus, or I suppose you call it Hel, or whatever one chooses to call it. But if we’re not truly dead, then perhaps somehow, we all survived whatever was to take our lives.”
He looked towards the rock, and grimaced. What did the gods have in store for him.
He turned back to Moonlight, and cantered his head.
“You sure seem to know a lot about us, for an Alien that I’ve never seen before.” Dion added.
He taps his fingernails against his plated armor and remarks, "If we are to leave, why not get to it?" He was slightly impatient, but it didn't much bother him.
He gave Hazel a moment to think, turning to Dion with a stoic look of determined analysis. "So... You are... an accountant?" Moonlight's face went through several phases of grief in a record two seconds. "The records led me to believe you were the least common denominator..." Resisting the urge to poke and prod at the Aschen relic, Moonlight asked something he probably shouldn't have, "You speak Ancient..." He cleared his throat, looking around to make sure the four of them were alone; the rest of the thought was slow and cryptic.
"That tongue was granted to you for a reason, don't squander it because your birthright sent you down the wrong path."
He leveled an eye towards Peter, levity returning to his voice, "If you can squeeze through this barrier and open the Gate, be my guest; you're almost twice my width in your armor though."