#odyssey

The shadow slips alongside the giant.

Here, she is very much akin to that title - towering, her horns branched out into many-pointed antlers.

They approach the water, Symons' plan fresh in his mind.. the bridge across the river looks stable, yet the Silver is a latic, not..entirely safe

He keeps a careful eye on the water as they approach, watching for any ripple.

Dagmar LOOMS.

Symon gives her a soft touch, then he steps forward, though his mein ripples a little, as though sticky and reluctant to pull free from her shadow.

"Stay with Dagmar, Qetz." He whispers to the snake.

Flyswatter stays in hand. She trusts Symon, but she does not yet know how big of a threat the serpent may truly be.

The waters churn, and almost seem to boil... something is moving under the currents and rising fast.

Symon takes a hesitant step forward, then another. He is not certain if it will hear him, but his voice, when he speaks, is tailored to a silken whisper that barely disturbs the air, is steeped in reverence.

"Great one of the River," he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in respect. "We seek only safe passage, to cross your domain unscathed."

Both have seen some giant snakes but this one feels more primordial, this great creature is akin to the World Serpent though it can fit in a single river, for it touches the core of what is.. of magic itself. The gemstone glistens in the center of its brow, it writhes in a motion half out of the water akin to a dance of cycles and expansion both. Dagmar is reminded of a werewolf conversation about totems... the word 'Uktena' coming to mnind, but every culture knows of the Serpent and the River joined...

Her eyes widen a bit at the size.

It rises and does not so much speak to them as THINK so strongly they cannot keep it out Always I will have my due. Always and forever until the River Dries, and then when it returns, so do I. What can you offer for safe passage, Denier, Mountain Shadow, Thunder's Guile? And why should I just not take all?

Dagmar can see Symon's shadowy form waver slightly, but he continues...his whisper carries an almost reverence, his tone drenched in admiration - though he tempers it to not be too obvious. Dragons have a flaw in being susceptible to flattery... perhaps serpents as well?

"Great and eternal one of the waters, your grandeur has been whispered of even beyond the edges of the Dreaming. It is said that no treasure gleams brighter than the gem upon your brow, and we were advised... foolishly... to try and take it from you."

"But I could not bear such insolence, great one. To steal from you would be to defy the very essence of the River's eternal flow, of magic itself. Instead, I humbly offer you a trade—a tribute worthy of your boundless power."

"Perhaps you could take all, or perhaps the the Hammerstrike would lay you low. But I respect you enough to offer a barter instead of a battle."

She trusts Symon. She does. But she would find the strength to slay this beast ere harm came to her Oathmate. That is a Truth, and as a Gwydion, she knows Truth when she sees it.

The great tongue flicks out to taste the truth for itself, to sample all that is about in a brief second, then the River Snake says PERHAPS. PERHAPS NOT. More likely, she would die and your souls would have to seek each other out again on the next wheel. Flattery such as yours is better reserved towards other creatures, but there is some truth in your admiration, and you are right that the love you have for each other makes the unlikely, her victory, just a bit more likely. Those are the rules are they not? That True Love conquers all? A great gamble to assume you two possess this, but I do sense power in it. Tangible but ephemeral, like a wind that tears papers out of a school boy's hand and then is gone only to reform again. I could I would destroy you both, I am ALMOST sure. But out of respect, if it comes to that near my river, I think I would urge your new lives to meet again sooner. Still there is lore in you, power too, Son of she who spawns a great brood that does not even spring from her. Son of the mortal who dealt in death and now fights against it. Brother of the Ravenous Rescuer. Brother of the little unwelcome broken dustpan who may yet thrive. I am learning the more you interact. What do you offer I cannot gain by merely having you breathe MY river air?

Her jaw juts.

Symon steps forward a little more, his shadowed form still wavering but resolute. His voice, a soft whisper, drips with reverence and quiet confidence as it brushes against the river’s current. He makes his rasp as velvety smooth as he can, attempting for a tempting offer.

“You speak the truth, great one, and I do not presume to challenge your might. It humbles me to know that even in your vast dominion, you have glimpsed fragments of what ties us together. Yes, we gamble on love and loyalty, and yes, perhaps the odds favor you. But it is because of that gamble that I do not simply stand here as prey. I stand here as one willing to bargain.

But we come not to take, but to offer."

He continues quickly, not wanting to try the Serpent's patience ere it start to look bored or annoyed.

“What I offer is no trinket, no passing possession. It is a magic that clings to me, life after life, a part of me that grows with each breath, each rebirth. Woven into my very being, it persists from life to life—and that is powerful. Take it, and we will walk through your domain with the utmost respect, unharmed, as you command. We will carry your tale, sharing it in your continued glory.”

"That is unique, and I guarantee you have no such prize in your collection."

Brow?

The River serpent writhes more, the waves of the river splashing dangerously. This is no attack, but frustration for... You speak truth. I do not have this there is an unspoken 'yet'

Symon stands tall in the shadow of the great serpent, his voice still quiet but full of careful conviction. Finding strength in his weaving of this offer. Dagmar might recognize... he's using his dungeonmaster voice, one of the rare times he has such confidence.

"Then, great one," he whispers, "perhaps you can take this as an opportunity."

His fingers twitch slightly, as if unsure how to fully offer something so intangible, yet still, his hand remains outstretched, an open invitation. "Take the Breath of magic that laces my soul, a touch of Winter Sun. It has been with me through trial and tribulation, through struggle and success alike, but this I would gift to you, merely for passage through thy domain.

We do not seek to steal from you, but to offer what is mine to give."

A little crease between her brows.

Oh, her Guile is clever.

And Symon is swallowed whole

"NO."

Flyswatter is in front of her, and her stance has shifted from waiting to READY.

Qetz HISSES at its great great..whatever relation this is, furious. That was HIS warmblood

lukewarm really

Then the River Serpent 's stone liights, and says "Yes.. it IS power. And it WAS long lasting"

This time , it does not think, but whispers, in Symon's voice!

"Take your magic, and return my Beloved. Or would you be a breaker of bargains?"

Calm yourself... or do not live to regret it, Star Rider A warning Your lover is ... strong willed is the nicest term, grasping is another ... even within he attempts to poke around in ME. Arrogant interloper slash sacrifice

"You think I care if I live?"

It is hard to read a snake's expressions, but Dagmar imagines she sees at first some satisfaction.. then, a touch of growing disgust. Finally, the River snake begins to heave, and... like a liquid shit going the WRONG way, Symon lands back on the bridge. The River Serpent hisses in their minds He tastes of Snark, dry humor, and sour edges, bleh. Not as bad as that Nocker with the time device, but close.

Symon lays there for a moment processing what he's seen, that he's learned from his.. moment of being IN the River snake

Dagmar scoops him up.

"That was new." He whispers weakly up at Dagmar.

"Thank you. We cross now."

The snake nods.

Symon takes an experimental breath. Then, another, filling his lungs fully. Normally, this causes a hitch and coughing...

She cradles Symon in one arm, close to her chest, and keeps Flyswatter between them and the snake as they cross.

Dagmar is NOT going to risk talking or tarrying until she's sure they are safe.

Symon's head spins... new lore and knowledge, it was akin to being in a library of old tomes, IF that library was set on towels inside a giant washing machine

He has a better idea of how to get to the stone now... and something else. Something that is not their goal but might be worth looking into

And while Dagmar is doing the work, SHE at least will notice despite his harrowing expeirence and cut off from air (Presumably) in a river serpent's innards...Symon is not wheezing

He's not even having to fight it

of course, this IS the Dreaming, but still.

He exhales, a huge, long sigh. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.