Dean shot Methuseld a withering glare (well, as withering as he could manage given his diminished stature and state). “You’re incorrigible.” Turning his attention back to Donovan, he continued, “Things happened. Some fun.” He seemed about to go on, but instead exhaled through his lips in a huff. All that anger and gusto he’d seemed so possessive over just went out of him, along with the ever-present darkness.<br/><br/>Moving toward the edge of the ship and the docks, Dean shook his head. “She doesn’t want to go any further. She doesn’t like the stink of the place. Danger in the air, or something.” He lifted one hand up, then down on the smooth, obsidian-glimmering finish of the guard rail. “We’ll need to leave her here and let her sleep, I think. Otherwise, we’ll just be in for a long wait.”<br/><br/>So saying, Dean turned his attention to the boat Methuseld had been at work on, aiding her with a sense of practiced impatience. As he worked, he piped up – almost quite literally in his higher pitched voice – “You two realize that the Vizier’s agents will be looking for us. All of us. And that his enemies will too. Powerful enchantments were rested from the man, and his witch will have her own agents and agencies. If we split apart, they’ll just take us all down sooner rather than later. I suggest we agree to travel together, at least until we can find a stronghold fit enough to keep the Djinn and Genies and witches of the world from prying in.”<br/><br/>There weren’t a lot of places like that. Theoretical utopias abounded, but an oasis of peace rarely came without cost. Dean’s honey-brown eyes flicked to Donovan, thinking of the order of Knights that Donovan should have been a proper part of. They’d have words for the duo if they returned. Words that might include rather severe punishments, so that left them out. There were other, riskier groups that they might seek out; enclaves beneath the earth, dark places where men rarely tread, yet civilization languished all the same.<br/><br/>Pursing his lips, Dean hesitated, the boat now made well ready, the casting lines taut and what cargo they had to unload (spare food, water, and other supplies), stowed. “I can think of a few options,” he said at last, “but we can wait for the girl to emerge from her stupor to discuss them all.”<br/>