#cotsi

The grass is as deadly still as the air, springing into motiononly when a mouse or rabbit decides to dart across the endless stretch ofground, from one patch of yellow greenery to another, waiting for cloud coverand cooler weather that won't come for several more hours.

It's not a desert or one of the outright dry grasslands, butit's on its way there.

(It is, unfortunately, the exact opposite of any mushroom biome,which are used to the apparent calm but also have the promise of life, of watersomewhere or everywhere, which don’t have rolling fields to worry about andinstead have murky bogs and swamps.

It goes without saying that Mo's feeling more than a littlehomesick.)

For the most part, though, even that much motion is rare, andthey've just got the dying promises of a breeze that'll never properly startand the relentless sunlight to entertain them.

It's a good thing Mo's cap protects them from so much shade,protects their eyes from directly having to deal with the onslaught of lightand heat, or they'd probably be feeling as energy-sapped as the others look.

(That might have something to do with how early they all got up,though.)

They don't have a map– they did,at one point, but Kate had lost it during an encounter with a river nymph.

(It's best left at that.

Kate's still not great at dealing with guilt, or any otheremotion, and she gets horribly flustered every time it comes up.)

It works out alright anyway, because they've all done their bitof hero work for the week, came out of the entire mess more or less as theyentered, and they're not travelling with a specific purpose at the moment. Astired as they might all feel and look, they have all the supplies they need.There's no doubt in anyone's mind that they're setting up camp early today, theweather nice enough and their goals the right amount of vague and aimless tojustify a break to soak it all in and relax.

All they're waiting for is the right area, somewhere slightlymore protected than the rolling stretches of barren plains.

They've been able to see the distant forest for hours, linkedbranches and towering trunks promising shade as well as a few monsters to maybeknock around, creeping more and more into view the longer they travel, andthey're lucky that they reach it before the sun hits its peak.

Still, it's more luck than most of them are used to, and Quinn'sthe one who goes in first, sword raised and Theseus and Durango following closebehind.

Then they're almost immediately telling the others to followthem, because they have to see this.

And they do.

It's wonderfully shaded, for one thing, and Mo's eyes adjust thefastest. They're glad they do.

Their planned camping ground isn't the usual forest, and it's arare moment when encountering the strange and unusual benefits them. The treesmore or less create a comfortable but large ring around a clearing filled withpatches of different flowers and bees buzzing overhead. There's a slow river,too shallow for fish but a good explanation for how lush the grass is, greenestright at its banks and competing with the most colorful flowers.

"You've seen one flower forest, you've seen them all."Kate's comment is nonchalant, almost bored as she shrugs, but it doesn't hidehow wide her eyes are, sunglasses having slipped slightly down her nose.

And of all of them, she and Zed are the only one who've everseen one. Most of them had been to and seen other biomes, if only briefly,before being plucked from their homes, but not one as rare as this. Theseus,who spent most of his life on islands without a single flower forest, looks nearlyready to throw down his pack right now and start sketching every detail.

Mo's eyes, however, are right back on the others, watching andwaiting because there's some kind of tension here and they know it.

 --

River and Toby are equals in how utterly trapped they feel bythe crushing sense of incoming doom.

The pause to take the view in– this vibrant mix of greenery andcolorful petals hovered over by idling fuzzballs and cut through by thesluggish winding stream– lasts only long enough for one of River's fingers totwitch while Toby winces.

When Durango opens his mouth, it's too late to retreat.

"Well, it looks bee-utiful enough."

Quinn bounces back fastest, replying almost immediately andgrinning as she does.

"If you say so– I don't get what all the buzz isabout."

The others groan, as is expected when it comes to poor jokes andwordplay, but they don't get it. They don't comprehend what horribly bad newsthis is. Not yet.

(In all their talking on the pillars to pass the time, it hadn'tcome up that Durango, cocky as he already normally is, could be insufferablyproud of his puns, or that Quinn has a seeming inability to not share the onesthat pop into her head at random, which are of course all terrible. Durango'sweren't, and aren't, any better. Quinn and Durango, in all their time workingwith Kate and Zed and all their time talking and bickering with each other, hadlikewise somehow missed bringing it up or displaying their natural, painfultalents.)

Toby and River glance at each other.

It's a look of immediate kinship, of "ah, yes, you– youknow the hell I've been through, you have suffered as I have." But theycan't escape the recognition that comes with it, the knowledge that theirtormentors have not only joined forces, but that they have found kinship ineach other as well and in their shared form of torture.

Not only are Durango and Quinn going to keep making puns,they're going to make more now.

The look River and Toby share is, at its core, one of pureterror, tinged with rising horror and built upon the stable ground ofwell-established exasperation. It's one that screams to the heavens, shriekingin a hopeless plea, begging for mercy that will never be granted. It's a lookthat clearly embodies the very spirit of "no".

Quinn and Durango, however, share their own glance, one alreadyitching with the need to compete, to conspire as well as utterly obliterateeach other. Their look replies, loudly, clearly, and gleefully, with no roomfor any argument, "yes".

--

"I always figured Quinn would be, y'know, too cool for badjokes. They don't seem her style." River traces the petal of aparticularly large red flower, touch as light as she can manage. Beside her,Toby tosses another pebble into the stream, and she does her best to not flinch at the splash or the water that hits her arm.

"And I'd hoped Durango would be too worried about hurtinghis 'tough cowboy' image."

"Guess we were both unlucky." River leans back,resting one hand on the grass as she glances over her shoulder at where Durangoand Quinn are still at it. "D'you think they hate us?"

"Not half as much as I hate them."

"They– they've gotta tire themselves out at some point,right?" Everyone else is busy relaxing, or napping, or exploring theclearing and watching the bees without getting too close, having given upwaiting. Slugger's on watch in case anyone screws up and manages to anger theswarm, and Mo's slouched beside her, mushroom covering their eyes but not theirsteady breathing. River's ready for a nap herself at this point, and the darkcircles under their punny tormentors' eyes are hard to miss. "Don't they?"

"Nope." Toby lays back on the grass, one foot in thewater and his eyes half lidded. He looks as tired as she feels, though there'san exaggerated bitterness she can agree with too. "They just have tooutlive the rest of us long enough."

They wait there, for a while, not saying anything and doingtheir best to not wince with every bad pun (and there are so many and they are somehow gettingworse), until Quinn makes an especially bad one about honey. Toby almostjerkily stands up, taking his foot out of the water like it's burned him, andstarts walking, half hopping as he shoves his sock and shoe back on.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the Greek Isles– the kraken eating me would beless painful than this."

"...I think I might just join you." River stretchesher arms to the side as she stands, pushing herself up even as the rest of herbody demands she stay down and keep watching the bees. "Want to getstarted on dinner?"

Technically it should be lunch, but they've all been up sincebefore the sun rose and they had something close to two meals already, andhunger is hunger. They'll make food and they'll enjoy it, no matter what itshould or shouldn't technically be called.

"I don't see why not. It'll serve them right if they missout because they're too busy being totaldorks."

His voice gets loudest at the end, glaring over his shoulder atDurango and Quinn to make sure they know exactly who he's talking about.

Durango doesn't bother responding to it in any way, too busymaking rapid-fire puns, and Quinn's gaze doesn't shift even as she makes an...interesting hand gesture in Toby's general direction– he just laughs, rollshis eyes, and keeps walking.

It's not the same team relationship she and Durango had, or eventhe same friendship they've got now, but River's glad Quinn and Toby aren'tserious with their bickering.

The supplies are hastily scattered, anything not currently beingused as a pillow left in a bit of a disheveled circle of their own, but it'seasy enough to get the cauldron set up and to start sifting through theingredients they have. In the meantime, they keep chatting, with each other andquietly with Theseus.

(It was, it turns out, a lie to say that everyone had given upwaiting.

While Rudi and Sacha are, like almost everyone, sleeping, they'veapparently set up a betting pool for who'll win the pun war. Rudi's personallyin Durango's camp while Sacha's own vote is for Quinn, but Theseus doesn'tmention what anyone else has bet.)

"...personally, I don't really think there's a way to win or lose,especially not with those two." He looks almost forlorn as he keepssketching, using his knees to support the journal and keep it upright."I'd join them, but most of the puns I know probably aren't funny topeople who aren't from the Greek Isles. Too much focus on legendary monsters orthe Gods."

"Believe me, we're glad. It's bad enough with just the twoof them."

Theseus lights up and River bites her tongue, knowing why andknowing it’s too late to try and save the situation.

"That one wasn't half bad!"

Toby's brow furrows for half a moment and relaxes just asbriefly, eyes narrowing as he frowns.

'Bee-lieve'.

"I'm going to drown myself in the river."

"Nah, come on." River grabs Toby's shoulder as hebegins to turn and gently tugs him back, giggling. He's pouting, but he doesn'ttry to get up again. "I still need your help with cooking."

"Anyone else could help."

"Yeah, but this way we can keep each other busy, make somenice stew for when everybody's awake, and I can make sure you don't go and tryto kill 'em." She passes him a few potatoes, eyeing the oddly shapedcarrot at the bottom of the pile.

"You make it sound so nice."

"...I'm glad they're enjoying themselves. I mean, I hopethey'll stop soon or that this'll keep them from making more puns later, but I'mnot expecting it and that's not the point. They're having a good time. Nomonsters, nobody to save, nothin' to run from, no squabbling... just themgoofing off."

"...I'm glad too." Toby unwraps one of their bundledknives, blade slicing through the bumpy and ruddy potato skin. "I stillwant to throw myself in the stream. I reallywant to throw Quinn in the stream, but there's no way I can do that."

She'd just yank his arm and flip him backwards. 

River tries not to laugh or chuckle, but Toby's pout lets her knowshe's failing; she doubts he can really blame her, not when the mental image isso funny.

She pats his shoulder before she starts cutting the carrot intomore typical carrot slice shapes, dropping them one by one into the pot. Funnyor not, she can understand where he’s coming from, helped as it all might be bythe exhaustion settling in all their bones and the hunger beginning to gnaw atthe back of their minds.

"If you figure out a way, let me know. I'll have to try itwith Durango."

Toby's eyebrow quirks as his gaze turns calculating, the shrewdlook not quite completed by the small smile he can't hide.

"Is that a mean streak?"

"It's a fed-up-with-puns streak." Still, River'sfingers fiddle with the inedible top of the carrot for several moments beforeshe sets it and the knife aside, hands clasped in her lap as she glances away."You're right, I wouldn't do it. Not really. I'd worry too much abouthurting him, but I don't think I ever could."

River waits, for a moment, waits to see if he’ll joke about her beingtoo gentle or too much of a worrywart, but if Toby thinks about it, he doesn’tshow it.

"...I don't want to hurt Quinn either, and the river's tooshallow to really throw anybody into it." Toby tosses his now-peeled andchopped potato into the cauldron before starting the process again, barelyavoiding nicking one of his fingers as he does. "We'll just go and splashthem after we're done cooking."

The mat Theseus is sitting on shifts on the grass as hestretches, pencil still gripped in one hand as he grins at them, dipping backinto the conversation as quickly as he'd left it.

"That sounds like fun. Just– please try to leave my artout of it."

River and Toby share another glance, this one far lessexasperated or terrified, and River's excitement wins first.

"You could help!"

Theseus tilts his head, closing his journal as he does.

"I'm still the son of somebody who was seen as the god of the ocean and I spent most of my life completelysurrounded by water. Seems a little unfair, don't you think?"

Another sliced up potato gets tossed into the pot as Tobysnorts.

"It's hardly the sea." The river is long, likelystretching out of the forest and across many empty plains like the ones theyhad to cross, but it isn't terrifyingly deep like the ocean, dark blue with thepromise of untold horrors, and it's hardly as vast, only wide enough for aperson to lie in. (Even a person who can’t swim can stand comfortably in thestream, content in knowing the water's too gentle to be any trouble if they fall.)

Theseus hums and tilts his head again, but his smile isn'tenough of an answer. River pushes the subject again, gently.

"You don't have to, but we'd sure enjoy it if youwould."

Theseus's smile grows, and she realizes his smile was an answer. He wasn't consideringsaying yes; he was putting his strategizing to good use and was working out hisbattle plan. Theseus might not be the leader of their group, but he's awonderful fighter and an excellent tactician.

"Alright, we'll have them outnumbered."