Galadan, wolflord of the andain (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wolflord_andain) wrote2012-02-26 11:55 pm
wolflord_andain) wrote2012-02-26 11:55 pm
In a dark wood, just after a dark time
The forest is briefly lit by an explosion of brilliant white, that terrible glow limning the edges of three darker figures linked hand to hand to hand.
It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, though the three figures remain.
In the wake of such an aberrant arrival, the Wolflord spends the first minute or so scanning the surrounding area, first for damage, and then for the imminent arrival of any of the more troublesome of Pendaran's creatures.
Only when all the details have been ascertained will he speak.
It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, though the three figures remain.
In the wake of such an aberrant arrival, the Wolflord spends the first minute or so scanning the surrounding area, first for damage, and then for the imminent arrival of any of the more troublesome of Pendaran's creatures.
Only when all the details have been ascertained will he speak.
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Galadan has returned to his usual dry mode of address.
Funny how that works.
"You need not worry on my account."
Kevin's account may be an entirely different story.
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River may be kind of leaning against Simon's shoulder.
A little.
"Call it abstention to throw spitballs."
River totally approves of brattiness, of course, but she thinks Kevin needs to work on more adroitly judging his audience. It's a hobby that involves delicate calibration!
Luckily(?), Galadan is good at reminders about those.
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He puts an arm around River, barely conscious of doing it; he's still looking at Galadan.
"As long as we have a moment here.... Thank you. For pulling us out of there."
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"She is the sensible one."
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He glances at River, as though to ask when did this happen?
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It's not her best version of that expression -- it's kind of undercut by the weariness, and also all the grime and gore that's still all over her face -- but it'll serve.
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One with grass.
Then he turns his gaze to River and Simon.
"Provided you choose to remain hydrated, I'm afraid you'll have to do without a waterskin."
Cups are also right out.
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She should probably have some water. (In other words: yes, okay, fine.)
...She should probably wash her face, then have some water.
That requires sitting up away from Simon, though. So she'll be a minute or two yet.
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Murmured: "We should drink."
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(She can't push emotions back very well, nowadays. Which means momentary distractions are more effective than they might otherwise be, if they're genuinely distracting -- but means that the rest of her feelings crowd in the rest of the time. And right now, what's in the back of her mind is Milliways.
How many friends will they never see again? How many are dead? And Boukephalos, Tequila, Bar herself -- some friends must have died with it no matter what.)
Then she nods a little, and pushes herself -- inclines herself upright (ow, shoulder) and scoots forward towards the stream.
Handkerchief in hand. Her face is going to need some good rinsing, or everything she drinks is going to taste like possibly poisonous ichor.
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The battle, the desperate triage, are starting to feel distant and unreal.
The thought he's trying to banish from his mind is: what if we can't get back?
What if we can't get home?
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Perhaps then Galadan would share the sentiment that, given his two remaining friends (besides River) currently reside in the Tam's home universe, there is very little he will not do to make sure a pathway of travel is available between there and here.
Whatsoever he has to do to manage it.
But as they are not close acquaintances and Simon is not psychic --
Galadan merely sits in silence, drinking another handful of water from the stream and keeping his wintry grey eyes on their surroundings.
Someone needs to be on watch, here of all places.
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But it hasn't occurred to her to reassure Simon.
She's tired.
She's tired, and she's grieving, and silence has fallen.
(It's not that she's ignoring her surroundings. River's not really capable of that, and here she's not on home ground, and the battle wasn't so long ago. But it's Galadan's home ground, and he is on guard, and she'd be following his lead anyway. Unless something else happens, she's standing down.)
She washes her face, in silence, and drinks from cupped hands, and splashes more water on her face. She wipes it off with the damp stained handkerchief. When she's more or less clean, she drinks some more, and moves on to washing her forearms.
If her eyes are damp from more than water now... well.
It's hard to tell at a glance, but she wouldn't really care anyway.
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Oh, god. He'll have to tell Kaylee.
So many friends they'll never see again, if Milliways is gone. So many --
No, stop it.
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But in lieu of twiddling this thumbs while his companions have a moment --
He rests one hand over his heart, with the appearance of someone half-distracted --
And then an enormous black wolf, red-eyed and terrible, makes his way toward Simon and River, settling down at the gunslinger's side.
The rustling of the trees grows louder, at first in response to a strong gust of wind, but even when the air falls still again, that heavy rustling remains.
The wolf ignores it. Deiena are ridiculous creatures, all told.
And soon, Milliways or no, they will all three of them be gone.
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She doesn't say anything, either, but she leans a little sideways against a shaggy warm shoulder.
Since he's there.
(Strangely enough, this does not noticeably quiet the busy rustling of the trees.)
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The wolf does not move.
The trees do not cease their rustling.
From the appearance of things, nothing is changing. Nothing save --
Somewhere in the sheaf of worlds that spreads from the heart of Fionavar, something shifts.
Galadan lifts his head, one ear cocked in the useless remnants of body-memory.
Then, gently moving away from River's side, he shifts, body blurring into shadow and re-emerging as a man, whole and entire.
"Now that," he says, very quietly, winter-grey gaze fixed on a nameless middle distance, "is interesting, indeed."
And incredibly unexpected.
Hmm.
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"What is it?" Low.
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And then her face lights up with hope, and she scrambles awkwardly to her feet beside him.
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One corner of his mouth quirks up even as he reaches out toward River's wrist.
"However unexpected that may have been, mere moments ago."
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"You can get us out?" You can get us home?
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Her excitement is tempered a little -- just because Milliways is back doesn't say anything about what shape it's in -- but not a lot. Milliways is back, it's there, and that's more than she thought to hope for.
(Sometimes a thing gets broke, it can be fixed.)
"Got the door," she says, and she's still beaming. "It reopens."
She reaches for her brother, the old urging come on, come on look on her face.
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(Sometimes the rescue comes in the nick of time. Sometimes it happens a little while later.
Sometimes things really do work out.)
(time to go)
Simon's fingers close on River's.
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And then they are gone.
Though the rustling of Pendaran's leaves remains.
It will take some small time for that to fade.
Ah, well.