pure sweet violent hearts

Relaxing would've helped a lot, but it was difficult when Riordan couldn't feel the bottom. He'd never felt like this before, and he wasn't sure that it was a good feeling - but still, if Bhreac could do it, so could he. And her advice made him purposfully stop flailing, even if he drifted a little and thought he would drown. Until of course, she mentioned the monster. But instead of letting that psyche him out (even if it was, deep down), he chose to combat the very idea of the monster the way he fought everything else: with bravado and charm.

"Aye? Well lets wake that little beastie and see how bad it really," the water slapped him in the face, still a bit unruly despite his attempt to chill the heck out, "is." His tongue flicked out and caught some of the water from his lips, truthfully grabbing more of the pond than anything. It wasn't a terrible taste, but it was cold. Riordan drifted a little bit longer, then found that - if he stretched - he could juuust touch the ground with his toes. He used that to paddle closer to earth. "I think that's about it fer me." If the monster came up on the shore, then hey, he'd still tear it a new one.