“Sidewinder,” Charon shouted, “I’ve come to talk to you. There’s… a bit of a problem.”
The records room was a strange one— situated within the annals of the city hall, it was quite the non-Euclidean space: larger on the inside than the outside, stacked high with endless filing cabinets and technical panels that glowed green and blue. The room was sterile, tiled, cold and white, with a maze of pipes of varying levels of functionality on the anterior wall that ranged from pure metal to transparent glass. Out of the shadowy, endless ceiling of the impossibly tall room, Sidewinder’s massive form materialized almost out of thin air as they began uncoiling themselves from their vantage point— a large, steel pipe affixed to the wall, which they’d wrapped themself around an incredulous amount of times.
The realm-owner slunk slowly over towards Charon and her charge. Calypso was clinging to the horse’s back (unsurprisingly, he was not in his alternate, more imposing form), his outline obscured just slightly in her short mane, and looking up at the great snake-god as they drew themselves up halfway to lord just a regularly-intimidating amount over the both of them. Their shadow cast upon them in a strange, unnerving way, bending to its owner’s shape rather than the shape and the light of the room.
“...What might that problem be?”
Calypso spoke this time, gathering all of their courage and looking Sidewinder directly in the eyes; digging their claws (lightly as they could, mind you) into their horse compatriot’s back, they spoke with a wavering but determined voice. “Some people are… a little… concerned. With the…” Calypso trailed off under the snake’s watchful gaze.
“With the new arrivals.” Charon picked up the end of the small faerie’s sentence with a curt glance and nod of understanding towards their current passenger. In response, Sidewinder’s eyes narrowed, and they scrunched up their face in an exaggerated fashion, making their annoyance clear.
“What’s wrong with them?” They growled. “It’s not like this batch is any different from the last, or the one before that, in terms of their collective moral status.”
“Very true, yes,” Charon replied, “But regardless of the moral setbacks of arrivals… it’s more a… personality problem. A personality conflict. And maybe a little bit of a moral conflict, given that the person registering the complaint is… let’s just say… a little zealous?”
“Then why do I care? People will have their disagreements all the time. It’s not like everyone is going to get along, not even here— expecting that is just silly. People are still people, after all.” They closed their eyes in thought and huffed. “I know who I bring into Tarroque, especially when I’ve chosen those people myself. And if I’m NOT doing that myself, then the wards are. And they know what to look for, just like I do!" Tarroque's lord was pantomiming wildly, gesticulating with the floating talons they'd summoned to help make their point. "I’m not going to put my own realm in danger. I wouldn’t bring someone here if I thought they were a threat. Or would pose one. Hell, I’ll bring former murderers and shit here if I think they’ve still got a chance, you know that! I do my research! By regular moral standards, I’ve got some pretty bad people here! And sometimes, just sometimes, they do this crazy thing where, like regular people, they get in conflict with the less bad people! What makes this any different?”
“I understand, Sidewinder, but t-”
“Why are you even going on about this? Have enough people complained for this to be a problem? And who is this even about, anyway?”
“I feel like you know who this is about.”
Sidewinder grimaced. “Perhaps I do.”
“And it’s not very many people, mind you, just some very vocal people. One… very vocal person. I don’t want anything bad coming of this— surely you must understand!”
“I understand plenty!” Sidewinder snapped, tongue flicking about wildly as they bared their teeth at their smaller counterpart, and their even smaller rider-counterpart. “What are they going to do about it, anyway? Start a revolution? Burn down some buildings? They can’t even do that! And even if they could, to what end? They can’t hurt me! They’re almost all dead anyway!”
“This individual is… different, something about them... public opinion-”
“Who gives a damn about public opinion! I don’t go out there!”
“Well maybe you should!”
“Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? For crying out loud, this is more trouble than it’s worth. All of this. You’re being a huge pain in the neck right now— might I remind you I made you! You are me! So you shouldn’t be acting like this!”
Charon froze, and then shouted back. “And you are me! What even is this argument you’re making? I shouldn’t be acting like this?! I’m acting like me! I’m still my own person! Maybe you’re the one who shouldn’t be acting like this!”
After a brief pause, she continued.
“I get it, Sidewinder. I really do. I can’t say I know exactly how it feels to lord over a whole realm, given my job is just making sure people don’t start mauling each other on their way to it, but… I get that you’re hurting, and you want to make sure that that doesn’t extend to anybody else. But this hiding yourself away from the world isn’t helping anybody. Especially not you.”
Sidewinder mulled over her words for a minute, but swiftly responded with a dismissal, muttered as if they were forcing themselves to believe the words coming out of their own mouth. “I know how to help myself. This is what’s best.”
Charon moved to speak, but Sidewinder began again. “...And in any case. If whoever these people are, whoever this person is, has a problem with how I run my realm,” Sidewinder hissed, “They can come and talk to me themselves.”
“I hope you don’t mind me butting in… again,” stammered Calypso, from the hiding place behind the horse’s back legs he’d evidently assumed during their shouting match, “But you see… err, that’s just it. They can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t exactly make yourself available, Sidewinder.” Charon finished, meeting the snake god’s cold glare with one of equal intensity. “To anyone.”
“I make myself plenty available.”
“To who, exactly?”
“To you. And you’re all I need, aren’t you? Unless you aren’t.” If the snake’s glare was chilling before, it was absolutely freezing now. Their eyes bore right through Charon’s own, affixing her with dead seriousness. With deadly, yet calculatedly restrained, anger. “Besides, if someone really needs to see me, they’ll come to you. And they’ll ask to see me, instead of complaining indirectly, and refusing to come confront what is apparently their massive problem head-on. Why don’t you go and tell whoever it is who’s complaining about the people that I chose to come to MY realm to come and see me? Extend them my own personal invitation. I’ve got plenty of time.”