Pressing herself against the stone wall, Elise squeezed her hands over her mouth to keep herself from laughing. In all honesty, this was no situation to be laughing in, but there were some times in life where you just had to accept that perhaps you aren't completely sane and move on.

Like when the ground opens up beneath you and you have to deal with a twelve foot who-knows-what that should have stayed in Hell while getting lost in a maze.

Or whatever one might be dealing with. Life can be crazy sometimes.

Chest tightening as she tried to control her breathing, Elise glanced around the corner of the wall, finding the stumbling creature closer than she would have liked, but also slower than she had initially thought. Looking at it closer, and when not considering the fact that it could still probably kill her with little effort, it more closely resembled an overgrown wolf than some nightmare fuel from a horror movie, and it seemed to be injured. A gash split the left side of its face, crossing over its eye and ravaging its nose. Its right hind leg dragged behind it, and its breath was heavy and labored. Fearsome stature aside, it had clearly lost a fight to something, which was unsettling to think about but also not her biggest problem at the moment.

Retreating back around the corner, Elise shifted her focus to the piles of debris scattered across the floor of the corridor, composed of metal and stone. The walls were in a state of sorry disrepair, making it clear where the stone likely came from, but it wasn't the rock that held her attention. Among the rubble were weapons that looked like museum pieces: dulling daggers and rusted long swords, dented shields, and crumbling pieces of what Elise could only assume was armor. Nothing she had ever touched before in her life, or knew really anything about, but they were a chance.

Her only one, really.

She was a runner, and a good one, too, if she could say so herself, and while she didn't neglect the rest of her body, she held no confidence in being able to wield a sword to any passable degree. The idea of getting close enough to use a dagger was nauseating to say the least, but she'd have a better shot, and she could probably get one of the smaller shields on her arm too, even if just to reassure herself.

Trying her best to move as soundlessly as she could, Elise grabbed a long knife, the blade only a bit shorter than her forearm. Brushing aside the slight discouragement at the startling weight, she slid further down the hall and grabbed the smallest of the intact shields and winced at the scrape of metal on stone, hurrying to strap it to her right arm.

Alerted by the noise, the creature ("Arla," she decided to call it, after the savage mop of a dog her neighbor had had a year ago) dragged itself around the corner, its eye finding her as she finally fussed the shield's straps into what she assumed was their correct positions.

"Alright, Arla," she mumbled, "let's play."