2021-04-10 - Shipwreck
This mist and fog have finally cleared from Gray Habor, revealing numerous strange things. None stranger than the odd, fantastical looking shipwreck that appears during a particularly low tide.
IC Date: 2021-04-10
OOC Date: 2020-07-11
Location: Bay/Rocky Beach
Related Scenes: 2021-04-11 - The Warning
Plot: None
Scene Number: 5832
The tide is out. Way out. It's a low tide the likes of which haven't been seen in decades; the kind that makes the news with boats sitting on the ground and people staring out at the tidal mudflat which has replaced the lovely ocean view they had.
The rocky beach is suddenly much bigger, and that's attracted tons of people on this otherwise average spring day. Kids hop around among tidepools they didn't have access to before; boat owners bemoan the damage to their vessels. The casino looks a little ridiculous sitting on stilts holding it up from the ground, like someone in a luxurious dress carefully holding it clear of street refuse as they scurry from sidewalk to sidewalk.
For those who Glimmer, however, this is no ordinary shipwreck. There's a large structure out there on the tidal flat, something which shouldn't exist: a tall ship, four masted once upon a time (only the main mast remains), coated in seaweed and algae. People without the Shine plainly can't see it, otherwise they'd be flocking to it. No, this is something only they know is there, tempting, inviting. She's resting on her starbord side, a huge hole open to the hazy sun on the port hull. The figurehead is an angelic individual with flacon-like wings in flowing clothes, their once-black hair flowing back, blindfolded, carrying a trident.
One of those Glimmer -- just not very much -- is Ravn Abildgaard. A man who is in the process of readying his dry docked Vagabond for the season, and he definitely notices the low tide; he probably spent most of the morning helping yachters secure their ropes and mooring lines to keep their vessels hanging from them, rather than flopping over on the side and likely suffering hull damage. He's been delayed in getting his boat seaborne this year due to the fog -- and today, he finds that he is in fact not at all unhappy about this.
And he should know better. So many months spent right here on this beach -- in the company of Aztec gods and man-eating zombies, and ghosts and whales and more ghosts. It's not a quiet beach. It's not a good beach. It's the kind of beach where --
-- look, he's already wandering out there, splattering sea floor mud on his boots, because of course he is. You don't live long in Gray Harbor if you're too curious, but you live even shorter if you're not curious enough.
Aidan, on the other hand, shines like the lighthouse that ship probably could've used. Does this mean he should know better than to go hiking out to investigate only-glimmerers-need-apply shipwrecks? ...probably. But like Ravn, this is either not the case or not stopping him. He's been helping with the Vagabond-readying, and he's not getting mud on his boots mainly because he's barefoot right now, in shorts and a t-shirt, like he thinks it's genuinely Spring and not just saying so on the calendar. So far he's succeeding in not freezing to death, however, so maybe he's just suitably adjusted to the climate.
"...hey," he says to Ravn as they squish through the wet sand that never expected to meet air, "you think that's the ship those crates came from before? 'cause they kinda seem like they'd belong to that kinda ship." The kind those shine-less people strolling down the sand don't seem to see. That kind.
"I hope not," Ravn murmurs back as he pads along on the mudflats, side stepping a confused starfish. "I know that some people found good things -- in one case, about a million good things -- but at least for me, I'd rather have gone without the reminders I found."
"The coat's pretty kickass," Aidan replies, and it's hard to be sure whether that's an agreement or a disagreement. On the one hand, coat. On the other, the emphasis may well remind the Dane of the less-kickass contents of its pockets. "Also that tiara. Kinda wish I'd grabbed more stuff from that box before it... uh, dissolved, I guess." Bare feet mean watching where he's going, both for the sake of any creatures and his own mortal sole(s).
Ravn shakes his head. "I found a menu from the restaurant where I proposed to my fiancee, and the keys to the first car I stole -- and crashed. Can't say I really want to be reminded of her, or of the trashing my father gave me for the latter. Though in his defence, it was his bloody car."
No one really takes notice of Ravn and Aidan heading on out to the ship; they're all milling around, poking at (admittedly far more mundane) things they shouldn't as well. More than a few are going to get up close and personal with anemone and jellyfish stings. Where are those two going? Who knows, maybe they think they saw a seal.
The closer they get to the ship, the bigger it seems. This is a galleon, multi-decked and, once upon a time, gleaming with gold, burgundy, and black paint. All of that's long since worn away to mere fragments, much of the top-most deck disintegrated in a pile along side the fallen fore-, boneventure mizzen-, and mizzenmasts. The main mast sticks out, green-stained rags all that remain of its former sailing glory.
Crabs scuttle around the ship; a few fish have been stranded in pools next to it. The old, aching timbers groan and creak in the ocean wind, water rains into the lower decks with overly loud, echoing drips.
Aidan makes a face, and glances over at Ravn. "Yours didn't have any good shit? That seems kinda unfair. I mean. I guess if it's handing out a million dollars to one person and a hat to someone else you could argue that's not exactly equal either, but at least it might be a cool hat. Just shit that brings back bad memories is kind of a dick move. I mean, even not just kinda is, but especially just..."
He probably would be hiking out here if he thought he saw a seal, too, or at least considering it. Almost a shame there isn't one. But the view of the ship as they near it doesn't really need any large sea mammals to improve things. His eyes widen a bit at the hints of colour and the sheer size of the thing. "Man. It's a lot bigger than the Vagabond," he notes. It'd have to be, really, but somehow it seems he didn't entirely expect it. "...the ukulele's cool too even if the string thing is weird."
"My God, she has been one hell of a ship once," Ravn the historian notes, looking up at her in awe. The figurehead alone -- and the rest of her belongs in a museum as well. He nods at Aidan. "I think she's some kind of galleon? I'm not an expert on ships admittedly -- let's walk around, see if she has a name. She must have been here since... Christ. The last clippers were still in service in the early 20th century but they are generations after this lady. I wonder if she's been here all this time, or the Veil decided to toss her here today at random." He starts to circle around the wreck, not completely eager to step into the darkness of her hull just yet.
The windows at the back of the ship are half-missing; those still intact seem to be stained glass depicting various maritime scenes: a sea serpent attacking a ship; a kraken locked in battle with a great whale; a selkie and a merman battling with spears. The name, still visible all these centuries later, reads, AC CREATRIX OMINUM.
Then, they see it--a face, looking out one of those empty window frames at them. Pale green-blue skin, large black eyes, humanish--it's gone the second they spot it. There's the sound of scuttling around inside the ship's interior. Scattered around the back of the ship are numerous crates. They look awfully familiar...
Aidan looks suitably impressed by how old that sounds like, as well as by the stained glass, and squints at the name when they pass it. Okay, 'creatrix' and 'ominum' kinda look like words, but 'ac'? "...think it lost some letters?" he asks, head slightly tilted, "Or is A-C like SS or USS or HMS or whatever else?" This is a question that becomes several degrees less interesting when they spot that face. "Ohshit," he murmurs, eyeing that window and taking a half-step back, "Um. You saw that too, right?" The big difference between Gray Harbor and most other places is if he sees someone not-quite-human with green-blue skin and pure black eyes, it actually being there (for any useful definition of 'being there') is the way to bet. But it's still a bet. "...and crates," he adds, still quiet, a flicker of a glance toward them. The temptation to check them out is pretty decent (and probably higher for him than Ravn, considering). The sound of scuttling is a bit more pressing, however.
"Um. Hi," he greets the now-unseen being, voice raising somewhat to do so, "Everything okay? We were just kinda stopping by to check out your ship."
"Looks like you were right," Ravn observes calmly. "Also? Let's not tell Denny back at the HOPE centre that his merpeople are definitely real and they're right here. He'll only end up drowning trying to swim out here with a sharp knife to stab a few."
He looks up at the name plate. "The Creator of All Things. I am pretty certain that by the standards of just about any society that would have built this craft, that name would have been considered blasphemous. Not sure that means it can't be authentic -- but her owner sure as hell has had to do some fast talking. I would not be surprised to find out that it's not at all a real ship but some kind of Veil construction put here to create... whatever these dream tokens are intended to mean." Ravn glances at Aidan. "Like you said -- they weren't all bad. Most of them were just -- very personal, or somewhat quirky."
Then the Dane falls silent, perhaps to see if Aidan's call actually prompts a response. Or maybe he's just not really that eager to open presents.
Amid the ship's own sounds comes more scuffling and a bit of murmuring. A small shout. Another face in a broken window pane, this one gleaming bronze with yellow eyes, there and gone in a second. A hissed conversation travels down to them.
Then, of all the things, a voice; high and young, perhaps a child's. "GO AWAY!"
Someone mutters something. Another shout follows the first. "WE KNOW YOU'RE NOT REAL!"
The Creator of All Things. Aidan glances at the crates again when Ravn translates that. "...huh." A second face appears! He's pretty sure. And then the replies -- the second in particular. He looks to the Dane, brow furrowing a bit. This is not a tack things he talks to usually take, even in Dreams. A glance down at himself, then back to the boat. "I'm pretty sure I am? I mean, I think I am. And someone said I think therefore I am, so I think I therefore am?" This is certainly not going to confuse anyone. "Do you get a lot of not-real people dropping by? 'cause I know that's disconcerting but also they don't usually listen if you tell them they're not real." A tiny pause. "Maybe they think they're real. Huh. But, um. Are you real, then? We can go away if you really want but I'd kinda rather talk. I mean, with you guys, not just... randomly talking." All potential evidence to the contrary aside. "I'm Aidan, if that helps."
If August isn't here getting himself into trouble, it an be expected his wife will be. And so she is. Eleanor realized quickly that her day manager of the coffee shop, out with her getting lunch on the boardwalk, couldn't see the ship. She excused herself and began trekking out across the barren mud and tidal pools to investigate. She has her phone in hand, speaking into the recording app, describing what she sees down to every minuscule detail. She might be able to get someone to sketch it for her later, from the words, knowing any photos would likely not capture the image.
As she nears, in sneakers, jeans, and a white tee under a mint-colored cardigan, she spots the others nearby who can see what she does. "I'm not imagining this, right?" she asks them, moving to set a hand against the weathered wood. The shout makes her double-take. "Hello?" she calls out.
"Wouldn't that be ironic," Ravn murmurs. "If to them, we are the monsters."
He looks up at the galleon and its beautiful stained windows and seems to consider maybe calling something back -- but Aidan's already on it, and let's be honest here, he's thinking faster than Ravn is at the moment, too. He glances at Eleanor instead and murmurs, "I think they think we are the imaginary things."
More shifting about behind the windows, missing and present. There's a whole set of faces now, perhaps a half dozen in total. They seem to fall into two categories: pale to earth tones, or green to blue. They flicker in and out of view as they duck away to confer. Aidan's comments have put them into a tizzy, and now, they don't seem to know how to proceed.
The bronze face appears again. She gasps when she sees Eleanor. "Oh no. They sent someone!"
"No, she's not real either!"
"Yes she is, I've seen her before!"
While almost all of the others are arguing and panicking, the smallest face, a dusky green-violet, considers each of them in turn. "I think they're okay."
The other five fall silent, staring at that one. They look back at the others. "It's okay. Let them in."
The bronze one glances at a pale gold-skinned face, plainly worried. The gold one sighs. "Okay. You...you can come in. If you want."
"Nah, we all see it, so it's probably here," Aidan quietly assures (sort of) Eleanor. He's a little surprised there keep being more of them, but it's a pretty sizable ship, so really, wouldn't it be weirder to only have one or two denizens? He brightens when the trio is deemed not only probably real but also probably okay, and gives the ship-dwellers a bright smile. "Thanks, I'd really like to. Um, I'm sorry we didn't bring you anything, we didn't know there'd be someone to visit. Who would've sent someone and why'd it be bad?" He starts toward what looks like the most reasonable means of ingress, though he can easily enough be redirected if pointed elsewhere. "How long have you guys been here, anyway?"
Eleanor blinks at Ravn and seems to mull over his words. She nods to Aidan. "Huh, I wonder if there was a thin spot and the tide withdrew here AND the Other side, and the ship fell through the rip?" she theorizes. "Do you need help?" she calls to the beings inside. Most sea-faring folk she's encountered in the Veil she has been friends with. So far. "Were you from The City? Do you know Naoith? She's my friend!" She glances down at herself, just to double-check that she's not naked, because if they are somehow Over There, she usually shows up in the buff or near enough to it. Nope, still clothed. Yay!
She shoots off a text to let Della know she'll be back late, then one to let August know weird SHIT is going down and where she is. Their recognition of her on the ship has her smiling. "I'm a Maestro!" she declares, as she moves to climb aboard. "We'll see if we can get you home."
Ravn glances from one to the other and shrugs lightly before trotting off after Aidan. He has no idea what Eleanor is on about -- but this might not the right time to sit her down for a catch-up session, either.
He too is clothed. This can't be a dream -- not wearing clothes seems to be the theme of his dreams lately. And of course it does -- he hates exposing his skin to the risk of casual touch, after all, and it was only a matter of time before somebody in charge Veil-side grokked that one.
"Just remember that we're pretty far out to sea, in case the water suddenly comes back," he cautions.
The gold skinned one gives Ravn a confused look. They seem about to ask him something when one of the other faces--this one blue and pale rose--looks to them and shakes their head emphatically. Their mouth snaps shut.
"It's fine," the small, pale green and violet one assures them, and vanishes.
The bronze one says, "The deck's open around this side," then disappears as well. The other three exchange worried looks, but all drop from view. They can hear moving around in the huge vessel as whomever these beings are make their way to this presumed 'entrance'.
The deck is, indeed, laid open; little of it has survived, allowing a view to the first of the lower decks. There's some sort of large, central hole that appears to coincide with the hole in the exposed, port side of the vessel; something round-ish penetrated the ship's hull and traveled up through the deck, skewering it and ultimately leading to its demise. Rigging dangles down from the surviving main mast; still more stretches out tot he collapsed mizzen- and foremasts, creating a jungle of seaweed and algae-covered ropes.
Through the hole in the deck the sources of these voices slowly emerge: children, as was maybe expected by now. The bronze and gold-skinned two seem to be young girls, maybe early teens, each wearing a richly embroidered cloak. The other four are of indeterminate gender, and...merpeople. The pale purple one has an octopoid body, and is walking on eight, violet and green legs; the blue and rose one has a sort of seahorse lower half, and is moving by circling their tail around objects and climbing. The final two are riding on the backs of the young girls with the cloaks, in little back-pack style harnasses made of kelp. These two are fish of some manner, their tails and fins more elaborate colors matching their bodies: the first face they saw, green and blue, and one they only caught glimpses of, purple and orange. The more fish-like children have aquatic features, while the two girls are simply that: human-looking.
The octopode waves and smiles. "Hi!"
Lacking a boat, de la Vega's only real motivation for being out here on the beach today is because he was asked to follow up on multiple calls of a public disturbance. Some people talking about a shipwreck, and other people saying it's bullshit, and the normies are all in a tizzy about it, and of course it's the acting Chief who gets tapped for this kind of crap.
He slams the door of his cruiser, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and trudges up the sand while squinting out at the massive galleon keeled out over the beach. And what does one do when one encounters washed up old liners that clearly don't belong to this time or place? Why, one goes to investigate, of course.
Aidan heads over where directed, and looks frankly kind of delighted by the view of the ship's insides through the entrance hole. Though it seems like it might've originally been an exit hole, perhaps. "Did it get hit by a cannonball or something?" he asks, though given the track record on answers so far, it's a little more wondering-aloud than truly asking, this time. Not that he wouldn't want to actually know! He eases his way inside to join the ship-dwellers, and blinks once at the variety of them (and perhaps the non-standard-merness of most of them), though there's quickly and genuinely a smile again in return for the octopode's.
"Hi!" he replies. "Thanks for letting us visit. Um, like I said before, I'm Aidan, nice to meet you. I like your ship. And your cloaks,"' that, of course, to the two wearing them, "are awesome. Don't they get-- I guess maybe they'd only get heavy out of water, and just kinda flow under it?"
Eleanor smiles at Ravn reassuringly. "I'm not too worried about that. There's plenty of debris floating and I can make that carry us back to shore like we're in a Zodiac raft," she chirps merrily. She shines very brightly and she's almost as strong in the Physical art as Itzhak. "If these are folks from The City, don't worry, they're not hostile. Mostly. Just a little different. They were all living on the back of a giant, city-sized hermit crab, and with our help decided to free her and find their own ways. It was pretty awesome." She beams proudly.
As they climb through the hole, Eleanor looks at the 'sailors' with a joyful expression. "You are all so beautiful!" she declares, clapping her hands. "Is everyone ok? No one is hurt are they? What did this to your ship?" She's full of questions, but that's nothing new to anyone who has known her more than five minutes.
Ravn blinks a few times at Eleanor's explanation -- which honestly doesn't make a whole lot of sense to him in the moment -- and latches on to the important keywords there: not hostile and awesome. Those are not oh god we're all about to die words, and this at least he considers to be a distinctly good thing.
The shout, though -- from the Dane's wince, that is not a good thing.
"MERMAIIIIIIIIDS!"
The shout from the beach is loud and clear and to those who are familiar with the man, unmistakeable Denny in origin. Ravn spins around with an expression that easily translates to a heartfelt oh shit. Then he looks at Aidan and quickly says, "I'll -- deal with him. Before he stabs anyone."
Then he takes off at a run back in the direction of the rocky beach, headed for a scrawny and honestly quite miserable looking fellow who's running back and forth on the shore in there, still not having found his courage to venture out onto the actual sea floor. There is no weapon in sight -- but certainly places enough on the tramp's body where one such might be concealed. Whatever the story is here, Ravn clearly considers the man enough of a threat to zip past the police officer and call over his shoulder as he does, "I got this! No worries! He thinks they'll eat him!"
And then he's catching up with Denny, and focusing his efforts on guiding the shorter man away from the beach and away from any aquatic lifeforms that he wants to duel to the death. In Denny's defence, he does seem to possess a low key shine -- almost as weak as Ravn's own -- and might just be somebody who actually has encountered flesh eating sirens sometime recently.
The octopode's smile falters at Aidan's question. He looks utterly perplexed at the notion of a cannonball doing that, glances at the two girls in cloaks in obvious concern.
The seahorse misses this visual exchange, and in fact laughs. "As if a cannonball could do that. It was Him, of course." He shakes his head at Eleanor. "We're not from the City, silly. That's not under water! I'm from the Underlight Shoal."
"I'm from Southern Reef," the green and blue merchild adds.
"Wet?" The bronze-skinned girl frowns at Aidan, an expression of careful consideration. After deciding he's not joking, she says, "Well, they're our skin, so of course they get wet, but that's because we're in the water."
The bronze-skinned girl tilts her head as Ruiz approaches. They're kids--sea-people kids, but still kids--and he is plainly An Adult With Authority. "Who's that," she says, voice low, wary. It's a child's version of, 'do we need to run into the ship before this Adult sees us'.
All six of them startle at hearing Denny's voice; their eyes dart towards that sound, then to Ravn when he announces he has it under control and takes off to make good on that. "I told you this was a bad idea," the orange and purple mer-child says on a heavy sigh.
The gold-skinned girl's eyes shift to Eleanor. "Where's your cloak? Did someone take it from you?" She casts a withering look in the direction of Denny's voice. Obviously he took it. So maybe Denny's not wrong, because she definitely looks like the possibility of him laying hands on Eleanor's 'cloak', whatever that is, makes him a selection on the dinner menu.
Aidan is not well-versed in the lore of The City, because whatever powers that be didn't decide to recruit him for that one. Nor, clearly, is he au fait with the various means of boat-destruction. So he blinks once at the former, tilting his head at the description of living on a giant hermit crab, and murmurs "That does sound pretty cool," as they head into the ship. And blinks again at the various answers, plus Ravn's running off to-- actually, the Denny situation makes complete sense to him, honestly. Just a shame it means the Dane has to go. "In that case, your skin is a lot cooler than mine," he says, glancing that cloaks(?) again. Tattoos aren't the same as embroidery! And those don't even show right now. "And sorry, I don't know a whole lot about boats. My friend," a tip of the head in the direction Ravn headed, "has one, but mostly I just know how to make barnacles get off of it. Also it's a lot smaller. Can I take a look around yours? And who's Him?" It's a pretty good echo of the emphasis the octopode gave it.
"Oh! I visited the Western Reef. Is everything all right for everyone down there?" Eleanor asks with a smile. "Who is He?" she asks curiously, before glancing over her shoulder at the approaching Ruiz. "That is Javier, he won't hurt you, I won't let him, ok? His job is to help and protect people."
The cloak question has her chuckling. "I believe Naoith is keeping it safe for me. It doesn't come back to this side with me, it stays Over There." She checks the children over for any visible injuries to make sure they're ok. "What are you names? I'm Ellie."
"Sure! I can show you around," the sea horse promptly offers Aidan. Their tail uncurls from the railing and the leap, monkey-like, to the main mast. From there they begin to wind down it. "There's a ladder here on the mast, you can climb down that. There's so much cool stuff in here. I'm Kellan, by the way." They give Aidan a confused look. "You don't know Him? Wow, you're lucky."
"I told you she was from Western Reef," the gold skinned one says to the bronze-skinned one, who hmphs. The two merchildren on their backs giggle and exchange amused glances.
The octopode bobs their head, studying Ruiz as he goes about trying to police this bizarre situation. "He seems okay," they agree, and look to Eleanor. "You don't know Him?"
"He's never attacked Western Reef," the orange-and-purple child points out.
"I'm Berit," the bronze skinned girl says. "And He's the One Beneath."
The gold skinned one says, "I'm Tosia. He's been trapped at the bottom of the World Water for forever."
"Except," the orange and purple merchild says, "he's getting free." Their eyes move to the huge hole in the ship. "Or, maybe He got free. I'm Isa."
"My name's Naim," the blue and green merchild adds.
"And I'm Josip," the octopode says.
"Nice meeting you all!" Aidan says to the introductions, adding to Kellan, "And thanks," as he finds the mentioned ladder and takes hold to start climbing down. "I totally want to see the cool stuff. Why did He do this to your ship? Are you guys going to be okay, do you need it fixed?" He pauses, eyeing what he can see of the path of the hole. "...I could try to fix it for you guys, maybe..." He does not, as noted, know that much about ships, but 'should not have big holes through them' is on the list, and he's pretty sure he can see where things ought to be more properly connected...
"Nice to meet you Kellan, Berit, Tosia, Naim, and Josip!" Eleanor commits the names to memory but her expression goes very CONCERNED when they speak of The One Beneath. Because combined with the phrase trapped under the World Water, brings some very Lovecraftian horror themes to mind. She murmurs, "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming." She looks at the children with worried eyes. "He doesn't have wings on his back and tentacles on his face, does he?" she asks. "I was at the Western Reef when some very large crustaceans attacked," she points out.
As he and Aidan descend into the ship, Kellan says, "Oh, it's not ours. We were just poking around where we shouldn't--there's wrecks like this all over, and the adults always tell us to keep clear of them. He probably wrecked this one because it had something of His, and He wanted it back. We were gonna see if whatever it was is still on board!" Despite the rather dire nature of whatever something named The One Beneath would be after on a shipwreck, Kellan sounds excited. "Maybe you and I can find it first..."
Naim laughs. "No, He doesn't have a body like that. That sounds like my mom's cousin Ygin! He just sort of--is. Like, you can see he's there? But he's not like us."
"He's not corporeal," Berit emphasizes.
Josiop gives a more thorough explaination, such as it is. "There's a story that He's an ochoraim that was cast out for doing bad things, but wouldn't be accepted by Them, so now He's just stuck between having a shape, and not."
Tosia rolls her eyes. "That's just a story. Everyone knows you can't be an orochaim and one of them."
"That just means He's neither."
"Then He has to be something else."
This is the makings of a fine argument, and maybe even why the children came here. Naim proceeds to confirm this.
"We wanted to see if there was anything of His on this ship. Anything cool and interesting."
"Our teachers would give us all top marks in our history studies if we did," Isa murmurs, glancing aside surreptitiously. "Which some of us really need."
"Ravn said this one's called the 'Creator of All Things'," Aidan notes to Kellan as he disappears downward into more of the ship, "and you've got these crates out the back that look kinda familiar..." Whatever else he has to say is for the seahorse-kid's ears only, not because of secrecy but just because that's about when the magician ends up far enough down that his voice isn't inclined to float back up, or not unless one listens hard. Surely, if anything goes wrong down there... like, say, One ceasing to be Beneath and becoming Inside, or something... he'll yell.
Eleanor looks momentarily relieved that it isn't the Great Old One, but still, it sounds bad. "Is he one of the Dark Men?" she whispers, as if he might here them here. "And I'll help you look through the ship. We'll need to make sure you can get back home though. This world is not one you want to be in."
She begins moving through the ship with the kids. "Tell me all you know about Him, so I can be educated too," she requests. She ponders, "Did this ship get wrecked like...in January? I don't suppose the time would line up exactly though. There were tons of crates washed up on our beaches with what seemed like things from our memories in them."
Eyes narrowed, Isa asks, "What's January?" So that probably answers that question.
"This one's been in our waters since I was a fry," Josip offers. "And that was during the last Great Tide. So, it's been a long time."
"Yeah, you're ancient," Berit says around a giggle. Josip sticks out his tongue at her.
"Dark Men." Naim pulls a face as they try out the phrase. "Never heard of those. Maybe that's what you call Them? The Ones Without Shape?"
Isa ponders what Eleanor has called Them. "They're not really Dark," they say, eventually. "Just...they make things not good. Which is what He does, only, he does have a shape. ...kind of..."
Tosia sighs. "He's hard to explain." She nods towards the old entrance to the captain's quarters. "We were poking around in here when we heard you all. If anyone would have something fancy, it's the captain, right?"
Josip, at least, is willing to attempt an explanation. "He messes with your head, makes you see and hear and feel things that aren't real."
The walls of the ship's interior are soft with decomposition, though what's left of the decking under Eleanor's feet seems able to support her weight. It's odd, coming into the ship on its side; the children are using various platforms and hooks meant to hold down items as steps, in effect, to make walking on the slanted wall easier. This was a richly appointed captain's cabin, once upon a time; now, they table is rotted into a pile, its carved legs and edges lost to time. A large china cabinet sits on its side, dishes smashed and flowing out of it like a rockfall. There's a big, black, ebony chest of East Asian make as well, scratched and green with algal overgrowth.
"That certainly sounds like Them. We call them the Dark Men, but they don't really have shape or form, but they have influence on things. Even over here, though they usually send others to do their dirty work." Eleanor frowns at that, but follows along with the kids.
"Just be careful, who knows if they booby-trapped anything in here," she warns. She looks at the chest, seeing if it is openable or if there is a lock she can phenagle.
"Oh. We just say Them, because," Naim shrugs, "They're just not men, or any kind of specific color, They just...are."
"Bad," Berit says, picking through the bits of shattered dishes. "They're just bad."
"That too," Naim agrees.
Josip joins Eleanor at the chest, poking and pulling at it with his tentacles. "Locked," he says, sounding disappointed. Tosia brightens.
"Aren't you a witch, though?" she asks Eleanor.
The mer-children's eyes snap to Eleanor. "A sorceress?" Isa asks, concerned.
"They sent a sorceress after you?" Naim asks Berit, who groans.
"She's not here after us, Naoith says they just," Berit waves a hand at Eleanor, "show up sometimes. Maestros are just weird, okay?"
"Are there any merfolk Maestros?" Isa folds their arms, plainly irritated. "There should be."
Tone shifting to one of reassurance, Tosia says, "I'm sure there are."
The chest is, as Josip has lamented, locked; the two doors have a small, corroded keyhole, and there seems to be no key around. Not that this is much of a hinderance to anyone with Glimmer.
"A Maestro," Eleanor corrects. "And yes, I am." She grins and ushers them with her hands. "Stand back, just in case there is something in here that will try to eat you." Then she turns back to face the chest. She concentrates, moving her hands in a motion to try and work the lock open with her Mover ability. It's her first go to, though destroying it with Spirit is there as a backup plan.
<FS3> Eleanor rolls Physical-3: Good Success (7 7 7 6 5 5 2 2) (Rolled by: August)
The kids don't need to be told twice. A Maestro is going to use the Art in front of them! They couldn't be more excited, so backing up comes naturally.
"If there are merfolk Maestros, I want to meet one," Naim declares. Unfortunately for her, one of them just left (Ravn) but perhaps he'll be back.
Eleanor finds the lock hard to move; the parts are gunked up with algae and who knows what else, corroded from sea water. But move them she does, eventually: the effort to do so has her mind tingling, like she was holding her Glimmer breath after a fashion. The door gives, popping open a quarter inch.
"Nice!" Josip declares, sweeping the chest open with a tentacle.
Water seeped in eventually, but unlike the china cabinet (which is full of sea snails, algae, clams, and barnacles), the interior of this chest is practically barren. Inside the black ebony wood is unmarred (if still wet), presenting them with three shelves. The top shelf has a luxious cloak of dark, emerald green embroided with silver thread. The bottom shelf has a sextant, waterlogged maps, and a heavy compass. On the center shelf is a dark bronze lock box with a stylized eye image embossed on the top.
Berit murmurs, "Wow," eyes on the cloak. "The captain left her cloak." She makes a gesture, which Tosia echoes; something complex with one hand, perhaps a sign of respect.
Eleanor inspects the items, one at a time, handing them over to the kids, carefully. The cloak is handled delicately, the sextant and compass with less care, and the maps with perhaps the most. "Go spread these out where you can, see if they are still legible and can be dried," she tells one of the older children. Then she turns her attention to the lockbox with the eye. She sets her fingertips on the eye and focuses her mind to read the object.
<FS3> Eleanor rolls Mental: Good Success (8 8 8 7 5 4 3 1) (Rolled by: August)
Josip is happy to help Isa and Torsia spread out the maps; really, the bigger problem is finding a level surface to do it on. Berit and Naim hover nearby. "Oh, are you going to..."
The question fades from Eleanor's hearing when her fingers touch the box. It's like whiting out, in a way; her focus narrows in tight on the shape of the eyes under her fingers, leaving the ship and its cargo of strange children to fall away.
Something coils around her mind, cold, viselike, chains imprisoning her, crushing her. Somewhere she hears one of the children cry out.
A voice whispers in her ear, low and heavy, like a base drum beating:
all your eyes shall be opened
A vision explodes around her: ships burning in the harbor, file raining from a violent storm that's whipped the ocean into a frenzy, the sand of Gray Harbor's beaches dark black, sparked with the light of those who Glimmer trying to prevent this chaos--
It's over as soon as it began. Eleanor is swaying back from the iron lockbox and Berit is scrambling to keep her from falling over.
"Tides! Are you okay?"
Josip appears at Eleanor's side. "What happened?"
Tosia points a trembling finger at the lockbox. "That's His. It has to be."
Eleanor leans heavily on Berit and Josip. "It is His, and He is coming here. To Gray Harbor. I need to take this box to other Maestros and examine it fully," she whispers hoarsely. "I can send you back to the other side if you let me rest a minute, open the doorway for you. You can take the other items with you, if you want?"
Isa, who was super into the idea of finding a relic of the One Beneath, now has an expression of wanting nothing to do with it. "Are you sure? We could just..."
"Leave it here?" Berit shakes her head firmly. "No. Someone else will just find it. Better to let a Maestro have it." She wraps the sextant and compass up in the sodden, dark green cloak. "I'll see if I can find out who she was."
"You don't need to send us, we know the way," Josip sssures Eleanor.
"Tide'll be back soon enough," Naim adds. She's half-turned on Tosia's back, eyeing one of the maps. "I think this is a map of the West-most Atoll."
Jopsip frowns, moves to look over her shuolder. "That can't be. It was destroyed a long time ago."
"I know, but..." Naim shrugs. "Here it is."
Isa shudders. "Maybe that's where He is?"
"Maybe He's who destroyed it," Tosia murmurs, eyes on the box.
Josip pulls a face. "Maybe." They still, head turned. "I think I hear the Tide coming back."
Sure enough, Eleanor can hear it--the sound of waves coming into shore, sighing in and out.
Eleanor looks for a piece of wood she can sit on, that she can carry over the side to float herself back to shore on. "Ok, it was wonderful meeting you, and good luck in history class. Please be careful out there. Your lives are important, don't risk them needlessly, ok?"
The children seem to find Eleanor's comments a little odd. "Maestros are strange," Naim murmurs, not very quietly, to Josip, who nods. Fortunately, there's no need to float just yet; outside the ship, the waves are only just beginning to flow in around it. Is that Aidan in the distance? Hopefully.
The children, as one might expect of a bunch of sea-children, simply walk out into the approaching water. For half a moment, anyone with Glimmer sees two oceans: their own steely blue green Pacific, and another, deep purple black waves sparked with bioluminescent light. The ship is being swallowed by the later, fading from the former.
By the time they're on the shore, it's gone.
But the box remains in Eleanor's possession, as does something Aidan found when he and Kellan snooped around belowdecks.
Ellie holds tight to the box, and sends off another text to her husband. Something bad is on the horizon. Time to batten down the hatches.
Tags: august-gm dream