[ damnit. dream magic, and powerful stuff at that. there wasn't even a chance for thought.

sighing, eliot settles into a seat easily enough, thankfully not really losing his faux physical bearings with the jump. he takes up the oars. just another row around brakebills. that's all, right? ]

If they can pull off what they just did, we may as well cooperate. We don't have to trust it, but fighting against this kind of thing where I'm from is usually the quickest way to getting your brain fried if you're not a psychic.

[ which is good enough reason for the stigma psychics faced at brakebills, but. anyway.

eliot presses the oars into the water, letting whatever is guiding them to also guide his direction. ]

Just try to remember as much as possible. In case we don't come back here. Any detail could be useful.

[ his gaze wanders back to the ore dock, trying to pick out anything he can manage that could prove useful. ]