#odyssey

Our heroes head into Certain DEARTH. At first, the land scape of the dreaming seems much the same, but then, the plant life grows... less. Less trees, less leaves, less blades of grass. There are no sightings of wild animal chimera here.

Dag's mouth twists into a small frown. Years in the carefully protected green about the Lodge have spoiled her. She prefers it. This desolation feels too exposed. The one advantage is that she should be able to spot a threat a mile away.

Somehow, the gloom and shadow remains to a large degree, it would appear that while there is SOME, there is a dearth of even light here. The silver lights their way more than the dim sky

Nope. Don't like this at all. The weight of the halberd in her hands helps. Symon has better night vision than she does, and she can feel him, at her side, and a little part of her soul is still overwhelmed and giddy about his proximity. The Oath-tie feels like a shining silver tether in the Dreaming, a clear guide Home (since, it seems, 'home' is now a someone more than a somewhere.)

It is a source of strength, and trolls know strength.

And this, more than the bauble, is why they're here. Sure, the treasure will be nice. But she had missed this.

Symon can feel the oath and its power as well, of course, but in a sluagh way, and that's really not anyone's business but his... and maybe that of the woman he made it with. It helps him here too, it acts as some protection against the worst of the abundance of lack

Symon also feels the Dearth in his own way. Why he isn’t especially tied to verdant green, the gentle sigh of autumn and stark cold of winter still are full of… energy, in their own ways. This is empty, and unpleasant. While he doesn’t take Dagmar’s hand, lest she not have attention for Flyswatter, his hands are free and he lets one rest on the small of her back, a reminder he is there.

It's not exactly banal, no, this IS the Dreaming... but there is a sensation of having things withheld

The simple contact un-knots some of the tension she carries.

“You don’t scare me, Dearth. I have stared into the void, and it demanded tuna.” He whispers.

Snort-laugh-grin, all at once.

The oddest thing happens, as if it knows of WHAT cat is being spoken off, the dearth lessens? which is a bit of a paradox but the Dreaming handles those fine. A sliver of pale moonlight adds to the illumination, as if buying a concession

"Yeah, I don't fuck with her, either."

"Well, now you're Hers, too."

"Odin might have opinions about sharing."

He eyes the sliver of the moonbeam. "The Dearth cannot harm us, for we have within us, multitudes. Every tree we have walked beneath, every horse and dog that Dagmar has saved, every corpse that I have transformed from death into a new form. They are with us, even if the outside seems bare."

Symon straightens in Dagmar's shadow and takes a step forward again. "Then I'll have to try to win Odin's favor and become His as well."

A soft chuff. "Seems fair. He's a sucker for greenies."

She seems to fortify a bit at Symon's declaration.

Quetz looks up and gives a soft writhe around Symon's foot as if to alert him

A rare thing, for the sluagh does not miss much

(Dun Dun Dun..TBC)