Uninhabitable is a bit of a strong word— or, at least, so Ryoto would think. Though, it supposes it isn't thinking in the most keenly practical sense like Yvan (who is, likewise, still nameless in its stream of consciousness) is. So long as there's something to look at, it's rather content; even with hunger pangs beginning to once again gnaw invisibly at its guts.
You see, it's quite easy for it to distract itself from oncoming misery without much mind being paid to its needs. For all its denizens' strange fixation on staring (enough for it to notice), Gemini had been a rather wonderful place to explore. It can't wait to make the (presumed) return trip through it; perhaps pick up another polished mirror of a gemstone like the one it's presently holding.
All that high praise being said, it's Polaris that Ryoto really falls into inescapable fascination with.
Sure, the floors are a bit dull and lifeless, but— Ahh, just look at all of the... glowing things, friend! Don't look so displeased with it! Behold, the new dusting of mushroom spores on most of its fur— ... Yvan hadn't been too happy about that one, promising to brush all of those out later on—
Perking ears are sure to lead to the propagation of yet more fungi in the room, as quickly as they flick upward and to attention. "Fish" is a word that it likes the association of, but... It leans over the sheer edge of the river, squinting hard. "... how see?" The water's surface is too choppy to even betray a shadow of a fish, much less the idea of one! "Mm, doesn't look safe." Ryoto rocks backward before it takes a tumble in, reclining onto its haunches and balancing its newest fidget-stone on its lap.
@Yvan
Explanation of magic and confidence be damned, clearly, that voice of self-preservation is too small. So, Ryoto must compensate by raising its own— forcing it above the rushing current Yvan's beginning to drop himself into— and wincing aloud, "No, no, come on—" The blunted claws of its feet scuff against the floor as it lowers onto all fours, pacing closer. "D-don't need fish."
The water's bitingly cold when it sticks a hand into it in search of a forelimb to pull Yvan up by; cold enough that it yelps and nearly retreats. "A-aah!" Just the mere thought of losing the other to such a frigid depth keeps Ryoto grasping, though.
"... can look for something else," it whines, insistent, when it seems to constantly miss the shimmer of blue-white scales beneath the rippling surface.
@Yvan
Ryoto doesn't understand why Yvan is so carelessly stubborn. The current's harsh enough for it to feel like it'll be sucked into the river with even just one arm dipped in; does he not feel it ripping at the entirety of his body? He doesn't even a fur coat to use as an excuse! The whole thing is enough to push it to frustrated tears— and those sting worse than the sputtering of water as it hits rock or the tattoo its jack-rabbiting heartrate is beating into its lungs.
Pacing to trail the swimming form doesn't help. Neither does the misting of pink— wrong, wrong, not right, he shouldn't have— that trails after the dragon's fall from gracelessness. Swearing words are punctuated with distressed whining from Ryoto as it stoops at the edge again (throwing aside its precious holding stone, because wringing its hands around it is no help) and dips both hands into the freezing-cold water.
It nearly falls in during the melee of trying to guide his claws to the river's edge and haul him out, but— he's heavy. Too heavy to pull up all on its own, and there's no one else around and— and— A nagging, anxious noise tears loose of its throat again as it shakes its head. Eyes blink fast, clearing away that blurry coating over them. They screw shut with the bridge of its nose crinkling— it hates it, but—...
Water roars in its ears as it dives in headfirst. The iciness of it sinks in in an instant, but there's hardly time to linger on it; handholds slip further with every second it doesn't spend powering itself upstream and attempting to press itself underneath Yvan's lower half, urging him to shove up with it like some sort of... stepping-stone. As long as he's out, it can haul itself back out— right? It's lacking the heft that he has, and it matters more that he's okay.
It needs him to be okay, and it shows in the single, forceful upward shove it inflicts upon his stomach before being swept a few feet downriver and fighting an endless, perhaps unwinnable battle against the relentless flow.
@Yvan
Panic is the first step in drowning. Despite all willing to forestall its rising, Ryoto knows that it's falling into it. Its rhythmic strokes are faltering, growing more and more erratic and desperate; reaching further and swinging wider instead of focusing on power. Just getting to Yvan or the shore clouds every reasonable plan that might be forming in its mind— even those that would achieve either goal: dipping beneath the waves; going with the current and letting itself be taken however far it needs to be; simply slowing down in its frantic pace—...
It surges upward, gasping for a new breath of air to hold before slipping back into war. Every muscle burns with the strain of fighting, but it has to make it out. It has to.
Yvan needs to get out, too. Ryoto surges upward again, mouth open to speak and cry out that very sentence, but its voice dies in its throat and riverwater instead fills its mouth. It gags at the taste, sputtering out its valuable breath and gasping for another.
@Yvan
"Swim!" Get out! "I can drag you out, come on!" Get out! It still can't find the voice to plea with him; not for lack of air, but for terror as Yvan chances losing what hold he's managed just to come after it and try to help it instead of himself. Ryoto shakes its head with a bleating cry, a palm smacking against the water as it tries and fails to gesture for solid ground. A few compensating, paddling strokes lead it nowhere, even as it angles a little more properly for the edge and slips short of it with yet another gasp.
@Yvan