What sharp teeth you have!

River does not say: saw that one coming.

Because she's not Jayne.

Her face might kind of say it, though.

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inthetapestry

Anyone watching might see Kevin suck in a breath, like someone whose stomach was just hit by a soccer ball.

"Haven't I just said," he gasps out, "that this place is not mine to welcome them to? That would be overstepping."

He straightens, and then bows, politely enough. "But I will hope you enjoy your time in Pendaran, friends. I hope your guide tells you something of its history, that you may appreciate it properly."

The grin reappears, for a flash of a moment. "I would not, however -- what is the phrase, take pictures?"

And then the young man is gone, and the elkor leaping off, graceful and careless, once again. Even Kevin is not foolish enough to stay when the Wolflord has said to go.

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"Well."

That was ... strange.

"I hope this won't mean any trouble for you later on?" It's directed at Galadan.

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"Hardly."

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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"He's not in the political contestants."

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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"All right."

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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"Thank your sister," is Galadan's reply, one corner of his mouth twitching ever-so-faintly.

"She is the sensible one."

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Simon's eyebrows go up, slightly.

He glances at River, as though to ask when did this happen?

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River twists her head enough to direct a serenely smug look at Simon.

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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Silence reigns for a short time as Galadan slakes his thirst, then moves away from the bank of the stream to take his seat in a more comfortable location.

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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River's face says, duh, in a friendly but muted manner, to Galadan's general vicinity.

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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... yeah.

Murmured: "We should drink."

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It's another couple of seconds before River sits up.

(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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Simon leans over the stream, scoops up water in his cupped hand.

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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Were Simon psychically capable, or were he and Galadan closer acquaintances than they are --

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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River is psychic, and is Galadan's friend, but she doesn't react. It's no surprise to her. She knows they'll get back, whether it's immediately or just soon.

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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They'll get home. Somehow.

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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Galadan does not sigh.

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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River doesn't look up. But her eyes close (damply) for a moment, and her mouth twists in what might be a watery, brief ghost of a smile.

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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Time passes.

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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Simon's head comes up as Galadan changes form again.

"What is it?" Low.

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River's head turns, following Galadan's motion.

And then her face lights up with hope, and she scrambles awkwardly to her feet beside him.

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"Our method of egress," Galadan says dryly, still gazing into the distance, "would appear to be at hand."

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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He looks from River to Galadan, inexplicable hope flaring up in him.

"You can get us out?" You can get us home?

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