#dreaming

"Well," says the mud and muck dosed satyr "I am officially disgusted with myself"

"Forgive. The river should wash that clean, at least."

"Easy for those without furry legs to say" Zane sighs

"Relax. if need be I might be able to hopscotch the dirt off..." Earl says

"I think I already smell of mud, a bit..."

"It's me they're after so, " Earl says 'Let's hope I smell of mud a lot" He hurumphs "Insecure little ravager"

"I know. How pathetic she is."

"can't you just tell the authorities on her? The fae authories?" Zane asks

"Not enough evidence, and not enough folks about. She also is smart enough to stay in areas where other nobles will protect her" Earl answers

"Indeed. They will protect their own."

"Not always" Zane says "What about Baron August? Sir Morthyl around firnost? Heck, Count Hemlock"

"Yes, there are good ones" Earl says "And I'm glad for them, but you'll notice they don't hang around those good ones. "

"And their hands are often tied versus the 'bad' ones."

Zane says "I guess.. well, I'm veing us now. " He gestures and makes a pretty good helix pattern, then closes it in a circle about them. The magic is tight and efficient.

"Nicely done."

"Thanks" He says and looks pleased, until he starts to sink in the trod "oh for..."

Earl helps him up, and they move on

Zara leads them by quiet paths, hoping the mud is enough

the trod limits them though and...

she hears sniffing

She pinches her nose, working a fuddle. Methane!

In the distance, coughing

This causes Zane to stiffen, but he doesn't panic as he realizes how close they are. Doens't risk the veil

Zara has smelled worse things. She continues to lead the trio.

Flames roar in the distance. Are they actually risking that? Doesn't matter, the methane is in their minds

And they pick up the pace as much as they dare. Ahead of the, Zara sees the swamp grow foggy.. they're nearing the next level of the dreaming.

No time to rush and risk it... steady progress is progress.

That's when Zara sees it. NO one else does, but no one else is a slugh. Veiled... a snare on the trod itself. Big enough and strong enough for a troll

Zara presses a hand against Earl, to slow him.

And he slows

Then looks at her

"Snare."

A scowl at that. "Lovely."

"Got it, " Zane smirks, and counterweaves ..the snare becoming visible. THey move around it, and Zane resets the snare a bit further in and veils it anew "Think that'll slow them down?"

"One hopes."

And a step through the fog!

And they step through and are changed. Zara's fingers web delightfully and while they pass through the fog, she remains hard to spot unless one already knows she is there. Memories of older lives bump against her thoughts like moths against a moonlight window.

The refugee runner... the Victorian... the servant-spy.... old selves, old friends.

Near her, her giant, grows ever taller. A sense of cool protection seems to radiate from him, and in his eyes she can see the artist, the gentleman, the smuggler...

And Zane seems older more mature, and more primal in some ways. His eyes more goat like than before, and yet his beastal touches making him oddly pleasing to gaze upon. There's a sense of restraints being softer about him, as if steel is more like clay and is breaking.

Zara, uncertain, trends to the lee side of her troll.

Zane says "Exemplary" and laugh

A quizzical look - all eyebrows.

"Sorry, feeling very satyrish and good" He says at the unspoken comment

A nod. She smiles and waggles her webbed fingers at him - Zara understands.

"mmm" The troll says, stoicly above such expressions.

Not that he fools Zara

Oh sadness, they're leaving the swamp, the trod becoming solid and ..less fun for her.

A tiny sigh.

But some rags and water can help with removing the less-pleasant drying muck.