[Solomon, meanwhile, holds his alert nature calmly, even more so when the increasingly smaller space filters out all its light, darker and darker, save through a small opening. High, higher than they can reach. There's a ceiling now, a cold floor beneath, a thick door to one side and a thin bed far underneath the window, a wall completely coated in shadow. The air smells thick of disease and smoke, the sounds of galloping horses and clanking metal reverbing through the space from above. Above. They're low, below, cold and dark and damp.
There is a figure curled up under the blankets, small with their hands clenched tightly to their face. But Solomon won't give Ahito a chance to look. Instead, he grabs the boy firmly by the arm and drags him towards the wall under the window, slapping a hand over Ahito's mouth with his own eyes pinned towards the light.]
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There is a figure curled up under the blankets, small with their hands clenched tightly to their face. But Solomon won't give Ahito a chance to look. Instead, he grabs the boy firmly by the arm and drags him towards the wall under the window, slapping a hand over Ahito's mouth with his own eyes pinned towards the light.]