#dreaming

"Ah, a pity, then they MUST go.." A woosh...

and Sylvi the gargoyle and Zara the ruslka find themselves at the the edge of a true solid trod

"Okay, okay, okay...." she turns around, trying to get a better look at her own wings. "I, uh...boy, I hope this undoes itself..."

Zara closes her eyes. "It should. The Exile's influence weakens beyond his realm..."

The weird thing is, Sylvi feels urges to roost, to observe, to... is this some kind of weird troll sluagh mix ? It feels natural

"Mine Love, he was a gargoyle for a time, too..." Fond.

Oh how tantalizing... how sweet, she could let him watch her, as she slipped in and out of the dark surface of the river

then Zara remembers a promise, a destiny. one that will lead to more rusalka in the world. A sacrifie of sorts.

She knows - a warm secret, held close and treasured.

And then both start changing back. Wings collapse and.. for a moment, Sylvi feels cheated

A gentle sigh of regret.

And Zara's teeth, capable of gnawing the flesh from bones from an abuser of river or maid retract

"Oh, but...!" A brief protest as the wings fade away, then a sigh. "Well...that would have been hell on my wardrobe, anyway. Come on, let's find our way back."

"Aye. We must needs. The Exile's realm is... a lotus blossom, nu? But I think Agnes will be happy there."

"I think so, too. I hope so." And they move off along the Silver.

They find their way, it feels like a quest of days rather than minutes . And maybe it is. Maybe there are deadly manticores, odd old men demanding answers to riddles, and talking flowers asking if you've seen their bees? But.. in the end, they return to the farm...

just in time

(to farmhold)