Last chance

[Sören]

So the little sea stormed. Sören watched the dark waves toss and churn; the rage of seaform lit by arching spikes of lightning; the harrow of whistling shrill wind like laughter. His pleasant smile slid clean from his expression, resolving to grim patience and slate indifference. Storms did not frighten Sören, nor did they phase him. A child's tantrum, soon to pass. But the way Elias demanded his help like he were a supplicant on bended knee, begging the favour of a god, that irked him. He could feel his fingers twitching in his pocket, the urge to close them into the fist that would seize the power of the Runes into his grasp. Not to fight, but to tower.

He didn't.

But the humour drained out of him.

"I will rephrase then. I could do it without you."
Money and resources were not things he lacked. He collected people as much as trinkets, their gifts among his tools. Most recently, Grey owed him a favour for plucking his daughter from the shadows of the underworld -- that being the second time he had stepped in to save her life. Others bowed under similar weights of debt, or would ignite at the chance to invest for the promise of simple returns. Tales of Roopkund's creature smouldered trailing embers on the web, but they blazed a bonfire through the Network. The chance to study such a beast, to delve beneath the very flesh of myth. A vial of the acid that cost Sören his eye would probably earn enough to fund the entire expedition among the esoterics he frequently bargained with.

He allowed the words to sink beneath the waves. Didn't bother to qualify the assets his help came with -- they had come to him. Instead he sharpened his gaze on them; dissected them in turn, and found them wanting. A creature from the deep, and a vagrant from the streets, by the look of them. He assumed Elias's skills, but if the girl could channel she gave no sign on it. By now she had shrunk back, her cheek almost pressed to the dark leather of Elias's shoulder.

Dead weight and arrogance.

"There was no bargain; I went to Roopkund on the whim of a friend chasing phantoms. I didn't expect to find anything."
He didn't answer the other question, of course, nor even acknowledged it. He had taken what he desired, and would have done so even at Declan's protest, when the resonance filled his mind with the most beautiful music and squeezed everything else out of his head. If the shard had brethren, Sören wanted them -- of that there was no question. And he would take them whether Elias considered it payment or not. The only question now was whether Elias would be coming or not. "But you are not a friend, and I am a business man. I make my living in trades and deals. You're asking me to risk my life, for what? An adventure? Make me an offer and I promise to consider it fairly."


Last chance.