One thing you noticed, when you were forced to endure angry silence, was the ambient noise around you. Skandra could see nothing up above save those dots of orange light, which were not as useful in illuminating the side of the massive spire as they should have been. Yet he could hear. Whispers of sound all around them, and not enough to know what the sound was or where it was coming from. All things being equal, he would have assumed bats, but all things were not equal. That and the steady sound of the squeaking hand crank told him everything that he could know about the world around him at the moment. The urge to light a clove was strong, but he didn't want any light giving away his position, though the crank would probably do that as they drew closer.
One single, angry sigh escaped his lips.
"I'm sorry," he muttered darkly.
That was when he heard it.
There were other squeaking sounds up above him. Not bats. Not an animal at all, but decidedly mechanical in nature. Skandra could not have said what it was for certain, but he thought it was the sound of... similar to what was happening as he lifted their little platform higher. Rope swinging against pulleys. Rope swinging against something metal, something brass? Or perhaps it was the sound simply of their lift, being made higher up. Nothing was revealed to him in that instant, just as nothing would be revealed to him without light. He could not ask it of Aeotha. He could not do it himself for the risk that was involved. They were floating in the dark. Earth receding beneath them, and infinite black ahead of them.
Now the sound became a movement. One side of the platform jerked hard, heaving it side to side. Skandra had to grip the railing tight for support. To prevent himself from tumbling over was his goal, and yet his goal was barely met - that with a bit of difficulty. Skandra could tell simply from looking that one side of the platform hung lower than the other.
The rope.
"Well, fuck," he spat as the crank began to turn faster.