dark_light | we are not truly immortal

[Does it interfere with your idea if I start poking around the edges of this place, looking for how I'm going to put the daemons back?]

[Yeah, but don't start grabbing up masses of dead people yet. That'll get 'em screaming for sure.]

[Okay.]

Cam goes on with his story.

Amariah solicits a copy of Sherlock's route from the dock to the land of the dead, in case she needs to make a trip out of the place to make wishes.

She provides it.

By the time Cam finishes his story, all the harpies are listening with their full attention again, even the grumblers.

"Thank you," Calliope murmurs. The others murmur agreement.

"You're welcome," says Cam.

Amariah has spent this interval processing Sherlock's information. She doesn't perfectly understand how space works here, but she has it well enough to lift off and lead Cam away to let the Jokers take over talking to the harpies. The two Bells make for shore and start following it.

They find no more harpies on the way.

Meanwhile, Aianon is telling stories.

He has twelve thousand years of them. He will not run out.

Amariah is curious when storytime becomes actually-figuring-out-what-to-do-with-harpies time, but she can give it a while. She sticks with Cam while they trace the shoreline. The topography is weird but it doesn't shift; distances in multiple directions don't add up right but tracing the same sequence of movements always leads to the same landmarks, same shore features. The shades exist on an island, judging by what happens when the shore is flown along. Estimating its size is futile, of course.

Storytime is interspersed with conversation; Kas and Aianon express an interest in knowing the harpies' history, and in bits and pieces, they learn it. Most of what they get is not of immediate practical value, but it builds a picture, and the picture shows them how to find out what it is the harpies want.

It's Calliope who finally says, after gentle coaxing and aimless conversation and many, many stories, after the Jokers admit that ambition is a thing they almost entirely lack:

"We have a purpose now. Something real, something true, something important, even if your friends don't like it. It's no good just giving us these stories, tasty as they are. We need a job that means something, or there's just no point."

The other four all nod.

Jane can't see in here, Amariah says through the link. They could sort through the dead, if I wind up being able to adjust this place instead of having to move everybody out to make them whole. The thing where they can sense guilt might even be a reasonable proxy for judgesight if they can do it non-destructively.

Good plan, says Kas. We'll keep it in mind. How are you doing with the river?

It's an island; I can see where we started up ahead. Going to see how high up we can get, first - it looks like there's a ceiling but I have no idea if that's real or not. Funky topography.