You Can't Handle the Truth

[rassafraggin]

The red-tinged dawn hovers above the bronze canopy of the dream ship as she sits becalmed upon a flat blue mirror of a sea. The brothers are standing at the port rail, using spyglass and techoogles respectively to gaze upon a faraway mass of chunky angles, just on the horizon.

My, it's Lirre Windward, AKA the Dread Pirate Merrisol!
His hair is the sun glinting off Manzanil doubloons and grows unruly in the breeze, though he keeps it fashionably trimmed. His jewel-green eyes glitter as much with joie de vivre as crafty plans. His features are somewhat more sensitively drawn than Kerf's, but prematurely lined by grief, guilt, and guardedness. His smiles are dazzlingly roguish, but they hide his feelings rather than bare them; the air of ferocious geniality and wit barely keeps the swift temper in check.
He is tall, but not as towering as Kerf, and strong but not as broad across. His enigmatic justacorps is cardinal red, flashing crimson and vermillion embroidery, a golden vest and buff trousers for contrast underneath. His white blouse is usually covered up except for that mocking puff of ruffled linen at his throat. Piratical boots and a cutlass sheathed in his sword belt completes the look.

My, it's the Marine Revolutionary, Sorensen Fflere!
While the younger, he has a seriousness about him that gives him an older-looking edge over his brother. His hair of frosty gold is short and neatly stirred, and his green eyes, equally pale in tone, are arrestingly focused, their pupils almost the darkest part of his entire appearance. The rest of his features are marble sculpted and fine, well-suited to his quiet watchfulness as well as the glimpses of vulnerability. His speaking accent is truly Begman, deep voice lifted into a genteel register.
He is tall, but not as towering as Kerf, and strong but not as broad across. His uniform is a steel blue flight suit, dark shoulder harness and mesh holding tools to his person. Chunky multi-purpose goggles perch atop his collarbone. His boots are steel-toed and strapped secure to his calves.

Somewhere, nestled snuggly in her bed with her husband, Maggie drifts off into the deep sort of sleep that allows for dreaming. With a shimer of pattern-touched crimson and orange she appears on the deck of the brother's ship. It takes a moment of disorientation before she realizes where she is. Seeking the men, she finds them easily enough. Moving forward, she twitches a smile, "Permission to be aboard, Captains?" As she speaks, she notices the odd shape of the blur on the horizon. Even with squinting, she cannot see it clearly so lets it slide away for the time being as her attention recenters on them. "Hello."

Sorensen turns around first, already smiling. Resting his goggles back upon his collar, the same action reeling in their telescopic function, he frees up his hands for a somewhat awkward gesture that falls somewhere between And You Are Here! and We Are Hugging Maybe? "Hello, Maggie. I'm glad you're here."

His arms begin to make their way back to his sides, as Lirre stirs and says loudly without moving his spyglass off the distant hulk, "You never have to ask permission to be here, Flame. You must realize you are *always* welcome aboard my ship."

Maggie steps forward, her arms extending to each, her delilght in seeing them warm in her eyes. "Thank you. Yes, I know, Lirre, but I thought it more polite than sliding up between you two unannounced." Her arms slip to encircle each waist and she again looks to see what they are doing, "What are you looking at?"

"Pssh... polite," scoffs the pirate, though with undeniably affectionate warmth. As she comes up to administer a very diplomatic and equal share of her embrace, he is ready to sling one arm around her shoulders, and if that should end up hauling her that much closer to him, he won't feel guilty at all. Also it would mean he's perfectly willing to pass the spyglass into her hands.

"And mine," Sorensen amends the previous decree matter of factly, by now accustomed to correcting his brother's many errors in possessive pronouns. Turning back to face the rail as well, he passes off his crestfallen frown as a studious preoccupation with the smooth reflectivity of the sea's surface, and rests his arm gently across Maggie's back, going where she goes. "Something not on the charts," he explains of the mass. "We were making for it to investigate, when the waves just... stopped cooperating. Very odd."

"Meaning it's something we're not meant to see.." says Lirre, glaring across the vast blue expanse, before finally turning his gaze to stray over Maggie's features. "Which only makes me desire to reach it all the more." Naturally.

Maggie accepts the spyglass, though it means that she has to recover both of her hands from where they reasted. "And yours, Sorensen. Thank you both for the welcome." Her tone trails off as she uses the spyglass to try and focus on the mass ahead. "Hmmm," she muses noncommitally. "Yes, I can understand wanting to get to it. I suppose that you have tried to call the wind to fill your sails?" Lowering the glass, she peers over that way with her unaided eye, then lifts it again to try a different magnification.

The pocket lens is already extended for maximum clarity. The mass, however, is obscured by the blinding starbursts born of its own glassy surfaces, a myriad of planes catching and throwing every bit of light back into the sky or scattering them across the placid water. It could be a surfaced whale-like behemoth made of crystal, though it maintains a fixed position on the horizon.

"The wind does us no favours," says Lirre, now lifting his eyes to Sorensen. "And you did try the blasted propellor, didn't you, Junior? Pestered enough about it."

Sorry glances sharply over Maggie's fiery crown. "Of course. As I told you, brother, the battery went dry after just a few minutes. We need to wait for the sun to come back out."

Lirre shakes his head, but his arm tightens a bit around Maggie's shoulders. "How about you hurry on back there and try again.. you know.. kick it over.. and just keep trying. Report back in a day or so."

Maggie continues to look at the sparkles on the horizon for a long moment before sighing, "Whatever it is, it is beautiful." Closing the spyglass, she offers it back to Lirra. Glancing up, she seeks the ship's odd, yet familiar outline. Lowering her tone, she speaks without hesitation, but with caution. "I can try calling the wind." Allowing the tighter hug for a moment, she turns to lean against the railing. Still between the two but more nearly equally so. "Though this realm is tricky for me. And if whatever it is over there is determined to keep us away for now, it might be detrimental. But, I am willing to give it a try." Her smile is both apologetic and filled with a quiet love for them both.

Lirre loosens his arm and lifts it away once Maggie shows determination not to let him get custody of her visiting presence. "All right, all right," he sighs gruffly, setting his hand on the rail, and looks up as well while considering her offer. "I say, go for it, Flame. If you can make the waves move and the masts creak, better than just sitting around, working on our tans.. oh right, we can't even do that." No sun.

Sorensen lingers close for a moment longer, watching her curiously. "Magic, yes... we haven't tried that yet. That must be the reason you've come." He smiles and leans back, reaching over to grasp the nearby arch of the middle 'sail' which rises in a triangular curve as though already full with wind. "Let's give it a whirl, Maggie!"

Maggie pauses as she watches the brothers. For a moment or three she studies their faces, first one and then the other. Then she nod slowly, watching the sail that Sorenssen raises. Once it is in place, she nods and returns Sorensen's smile. Her magic is not like Quinlan's and does not require either somatic or physical gestures back in the waking world. She tends to use gestures anyway as a mechanism for focusing her energy and intent. Here, she is unsure of the results that the Dreaming might grant so begins slowly. Her hands lift, fingers curling gently, as though coaxing a small child or a wayward puppy to come along and play.

The stagnating air does begin to whisper and roll, as seen in the tugging of cloth and ruffling of hair. It's all the encouragement Lirre needs to join in the effort, and he strides away to crank the forward sail shield into position. Sorensen jogs aft to work the rear sail, although the plated deck is already pushing into their soles as the ship bows into forward motion. Another push of breeze, another pitch... and then a jolting shudder. The sea develops shining peaks across its surface one moment, which fracture into a billion cracks in the next, and then stiffen. A million mirror surfaces glower up at the tilted ship, warning it of the folly of persistence. On the wrists of the brothers a silvery manacle appears and burns white hot, shocking them to inaction where they stand. Maggie's own mirror stone, however it manifests, shimmers coldly by contrast.

At first, Maggie is delighted with the gentle response she is getting from the wind. It seems as though the breeze will answer her call here and she inhales deeply, eyes closing to mask the faint hints of pleasure as the elemental power glides through her. Then it goes wrong and the sea rejects their forward motion. Opening her eyes, she waves off the breeze with one hand to keep the ship from being injured on the suddenly rigid waves. Abrupt cold slides from her right wrist up her arm, chilling her to the bone. It is an uncomfortable, unpleasent sensation and she quickly moves to untie the sleeve's lacing at that wrist. The tear-stone is held on by a filigree mesh cage that blends at the base to form the band that twists and wriths over her skin like flames. "Blast it." Her tone is filled with consternation and irritation, "I guess that we are not going to get closer. A glance over her shoulder toward the sea, the horizon, and she sighs. Turning to look at Lirre and Sorensen, she frowns, "Are you alright?" A shiver, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, races through her.

Towards the foredeck, Lirre is staggered into a crouch from the abrupt lunge and half of the ship, and gripping his right forearm in pain. "Aarrrgh the fuck!" He pulls at the shackle as if its appearance has taken him by surprise, then yanks his fingers off, shaking the searing sensation from his fingertips. He grabs the rail next and stares grimly overboard at the sea of solid glass, until the refracting lights striking his jewel green eyes forces him to squint them almost shut. "Flame!" He turns back to midships and makes a groping gesture for her, "Nevermind the wind, get over here!"

From the aft deck, Sorensen is in a similar fix and a similiar glowing shackle. Pale eyes blinded, he belatedly shields his gaze from the shattered waves while hunched over against the rear mast. Once he realizes he can't quickly rid himself of the hot bracer, he also turns to shout, "What happened? Are you alright, Maggie! Can you make your way here? Lirre, get to the bridge!"

Maggie's eyes narrow into a painful squint, tears sliping protectively from her eyes as the sparkle and spangle of the glass reflects what light there is. It seems to be glimmering through the reflective and refractive salt water trying to shield her eyes. "Bladt it," she repeats in consternation. The cold from the tear-stone on her wrist continues to creep up her arm, sending the sensations of shivery ice over her skin. She moves slowly, one foot shifting forward, checking the stability of her stance, then committing to it before the other foot moves in a similar fashion. "I'm trying." The hand that was trying to tug the jewel from her wrist jumps away as the icey feeling starts to permiate that one too. Hearing both of them call for her rends her heart, though she knows that is not the response that they would want. She does not want to disappoint either of them. "Can..." The shiver starts to enter her voice, "Can you come to me?" Her free hand extends before her as she does not know this ship as well as her own despite frequent visits. "Or... yes... Meet on the bridge?" That is something she feels that she can find from her place at midships, port.

The wind is no more, however the sound of thunking bronze sails has been replaced by the loud scraping and cracking coming up from the hull as the hard edges of the swells grind into the brass-banded hull of the foundering Metasepia-Eclipse. Unnatural, alarming sounds, and if the vessel were not hybridized in its current state, a sailor would think she was breaking apart.

Amid the light and noise, the siblings continue to call out, responding to Maggie's voice. Despite the echoed plan of convening on the bridge, Lirre finds her first, his reaching hand hitting her arm, then falling to close about her wrist... jerking back at the cold there. Then he snags at her bodily with the sweeping curve of his left arm. "C'mon!" Staggering for the structure located aft.

Then Sorensen is with them, with goggles on and polarized against the rising glare. "I've got you! This way!" He shepherds them into the spiral stairwell and up into the enclosure windowed on all sides. "The glass is shielded for glare," Sorry assures, pulling off his goggles and moving to check diagnostics. The light within is much less harsh, although it takes some minutes for the flash imprints to fade from their eyes.

Lirre moves out of contact suddenly and follows his brother, swearing. "...What now, Junior? Oh, wonderful.."

Maggie staggers at the unexpected touch when Lirre finds her. The warmth of his hand is shockingly hot and she stifles a cry, turning it into a faint grunt. The ominous sounds from the ship send a touch of impending fear through her, though she shoves it aside. It helps when Lirre's arm scoops about her and she turns to try not to stumble too badly as they hurry together toward the bridge. Hearing Sorensen's call, then feeling him lead them along, Maggie's growing tension eases. It is better when they are all together, at least for her.

Navigating the stairs is a trick when trying to hurry, blinded by glare and shivering with cold. Then they are inside and the glare is lessened. Maggie staggers just a step or two when Lirre abruptly leaves her side. Shivering a little more, she encircles her shoulders with her arms, though that puts the source of the cold on the opposite shoulder. Stepping out of the brothers' way, she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to recover from the flashes and shadows left by the glass sea without. "W.What is it?"

The ship shudders. It feels like she's settling in again, an uneasy inertia returning. The fuzzy shadow silhouettes of two men standing close together at the sensor panels. Bickering, though quietly. One turns, then the other, and both come back to her. A clinking sound, as they reach out to offer some comfort, one hand from each, touching her arms.

Lirre's voice is softer than his normal biting, gruff tone: "Let's sit, Flame. Just gotta ride this one out." After giving her upper arm a rub, he leads the way, taking a knee, entreating her to sink to hers.

Sorensen hesitates, then follows suit with another clink, maneuvering to sit facing them both. "Everything's under control, Maggie. It's really easy to forget that, though, especially when things like this happen."

Sight returns presently with calm, and now the source of clinking is clearly evident. The brother's mirrored bracers have bonded once again by a short link of chain, shackling them together. At least it seems like the heat has faded off to a manageable level.

Maggie shivers though their touches, one on either arm, eases it somewhat. She moves forward, guided by the brothers, sinking to her knees where indicated. The cold from the stone has slowed, though goosebumps still race up and down her arms. She finds each hand with one of her own as a rising panic ebbs and begins to fade, "I... I don't think.k that I've been c.c.cold b.before. I d.don't like it." Hints of mirth, of self-deprecation and, as always, understatement edge her voice. All of that vanishes, replaced by appreciation, affection and gratitude when she adds, "Th.thanks. B.both of you."

There is a shadow over the ship and the sea. Growing rapidly bigger. Is it a bird. Is it a plane. Is it a meteor. No, it is a gun metal mecha which, improbably, popped up into existence just almost above them. It is going for a heroic landing off to... urgh. port side? Fun oh fun! For good measure, it is equipped with blasters for music.

Clustered together like children playing marbles, the current occupants can't be faulted for missing the appearance of even something as large and chonky as a mecha. At least initially.

"Ah, you must know what cold feels like, Flame," Lirre is smirking, but his voice is still low. Like they're hiding in here or something. "It's a sensation, like everything else."

Sorensen smiles as well, adding, "I think Maggie means she's interpreting it as pain, here. Are you feeling better now, Maggie?" His own sober influence does begin to take more of the edge off perceptions in the dream. Even the mean light blasts are beginning to retreat. Everything is fine.

Then. "What in Hell's Blue Bells..." mutters Lirre, twisting at the waist as he notes the spreading shadow that is responsible for blotting out the blinding glow.

The shattered sea takes on a molten gleam with the advent of the mecha's bulk, and the mirrored glass goes liquid just before it hits.

Maggie remains kneeling with the brothers, not yet noticing the arrival of the flying fortress, or whatever it is. She smiles a bit, then nods to Sorensen, "Yeah," before turning to Lirre, "I'm sure that I have felt it before, but not like this." Afterall, Kitzeh is not friendly. As she speaks, she realizes that the cold has faded and relief builds. Leaning forward, she would haave pulled them both into a hug, but for Lirre's exclaimation and twist. Startled, she misses, arms falling as she sits up. Sorensen's shoulder is caught, her hand resting where a hug might have been. He is given a slightly sheepish smile before she turns to look the direction Lirre is, "Well. That's new." Her balance is again tested when the sea slorps back to liquid from glass, setting the ship to rocking. Did the mecha rock the boat?!?

This time around, Sigma took aesthetic influence from Jade, sleek lines glinting in strange reflections like a vehicle commercial as it slid down over and past them, showing off ingenuity of the clever design. The horned demon glory mingled with the beauty of blade's clean lethality and swaths of flourescent neon. True to Raph, a zombie pink bunny is spraypainted on the back with a smiley face and Sorgo 4ever randomly added. before landing Sigma setles in a three points in a crouch, revealing and adjusting massive ventilatores at 'shins' and palm. Sigma, even in a dream, has a practical mind that learns its lessons. Frighteningly silent hum fumes the water directly beneath as the monstrous air grinders soften the last bit of the landing, spraying salt as it hovers just above the surface, at a safe and respectful distance from the vessle. Blasting music. Sigma smug.

The melting effect ripples outward at nearly the speed of light, and off in the distance, the scintillating mass plorps below the fluid horizon. Here at the epicenter, the bronze-sailed ship is still bouncing gravely on the surface, after its initial plunge of displaced volume. She weebles, wobbles, but ultimately does not capsize. She sidles away with every push of the new waves.

On board, the pirate and revolutionary have lurched and lunged to their feet to stare through the glass at the hovering mecha.

"Ahh, it must be Raphaela," exclaims Sorensen, leaning over the sensor panels and all but pressing his face into the window. "She's freed us from the shards!"

"That was our doing, idiot." Lirre gazes with high offense at the crazy stuntbot, and blinks wincingly from the heavy squeals of music battering the bridge. The shielded windows seem to keep it from drowning out their conversation for now. He bends, stretching his brotherly tether, as he gives Maggie a helping hand to stand steady. "I think you know that weird dame, yes?"

Maggie watches as the brothers hurry to peer out and see the incoming, madly warbling mecha. A grin stretches her lips when Sorensen identifies the craft's pilot. Reaching up to take Lirre's hand, Maggie nods as she rises, "Mmmhmm. I do, yes. She is one of my very best friends. Yours too, as it happens." She squeezes the pirate's hand, then moves to Sorensen to try to peer through the smokey glass. "But what is that racket?" Each pulse of the beat makes her wince just a little, "Come on. Let's ask her to turn it down a tad." Spinning, she offers a hand to each, though if they are still shackled together, that might be awkward. They can dance a merry weaveing step down to the deck below. Or not.

Sigma hovers, adjusting the rotating propellers on their axis within frame to circle the ship, stabilizing it from the sidling, gliding as it studies the antique. Music fades out for the air to be filled with nearly subsonic woomphs of the strange tech. "What are you guys doing here? Where did that weird thing go? Why do things get boring the moment I arrive, it is so irritating!" she spinkicks a tidal wave away from the ship. Considerate monstrosity.

"Bananas, Flame," says Lirre succinctly of that best friendy notion. He squeezes Maggie's hand, then releases it, intending to sulk where he is. "G'wan an' see if she's here to send us to the bottom of the sea, like last time. Junior, you need to get these blasted systems in order."

Chained to his brother like he is, Sorensen hesitates, then decides against hauling the bearded manchild fuming and howling down to the deck. He gently lets go of Maggie's hand as well. "I'll see what can be done about this chain, and be down when I can, Maggie."

Maggie squeezes Sorensen's hand too, then releases him, "Okay." Stepping back, she looks at the scowler and the mechanic, her lips twitching into a half smile. Turning, hair rippling, seeming to grow as she turns for dreams are weird that way. By the time she leaves the bridge, her braide is back to the length it should be. Ducking out onto the deck after hurrying down the circular stairs, she makes her way to the port side. Waving to the mecha, she calls, "Raphaela? Come aboard!"

Raphaela spirals in a dance, balancing with grace and calculating just the spot to spray Maggie playfully in a pass, like an iceskater before slowing down the next circle, going into stealth mode hover and parking by the ship on inertia. She certainly is mighty careful. THOUGH SHE WAS THE ONE WHO SUNK last time. Mecha colapses onto itself, folding into a more regular hover on four ventilators with most of it dipping into the water. It's sea worthy! Mirrored visor of the horned helmet, now a cockpit slides open, reflecting the ship as it does. Inside is a mirrored visor of a helmet with cat ears. Raph stretches, in pilots outfit, familiar to them. Short jacket over overalls. Her ponytail drips to mid spine from the helmet. "Hey Maggie. What the hell was that before? And I'd rather not, thank you." It is a pout. yes.

Maggie ducks the splash a little too late and is coated head to toe with sea water. Her hair drips water onto the deck and her clothing, a lovely set of sea-worthy cloth, fails to stick to her form. Lifting a hand, she tries to wipe the water from her eyes, though the prank is met with more laughter than anything else, "What? Oh, the mirrored sea? It..." Looking back up, she frowns, leaving the description off for now, "What? Why ever not?" Yes, she heard that bit about Raphaela sinking the merged ships, but surely that was long ago and an accident, never to be repeated.

Raphaela says "I know your invite is as good as any of theirs, all things considering, but that irritating pest is waaay too touchy about stuff. Mirrored. Sea? Pray tell."
Touchy, irritating pest? She glances back over her shoulder, knowing exactly which of the brothers Raphaela means. Laughing a bit, she looks back, a faint blush touching her cheeks. "Well. Okay. We'll wait." The laughter dies and she nods, "Yes. We were trying to get to the angled blot on the horizon. The sea... or something, objected. The waves turned to glass and our tear-stones... well... objected too. Mine went icy and theirs went hot. And rejoined. So, it is clear that we are not welcome. Though why be here in the Dreaming at all if that were the case." She frowns, arms crossing in front of her as one foot begins to tap. She is the picture of petulance for a moment before sighing, "Anyway. I have a theory, but have not really thought it through yet."

Raphaela grins and leans back on the hatch of the visor, taking off her helmet. Her hair is braided on the sides and crested into a pony tail along the ridge. "Bounce off me." She noticed her glance to the bridge, where supposedly the two are and she offers a lift of a hand and a smile. "Theory."

Maggie nods, moving toward the railing. The water trail follows her along the deck, "Okay. So, see... I think that the stones," she lifts her arm, pulling back the sodden sleeve to expose the tear-stone wrapped in its filigree mesh upon her wrist. But for its recent mischief, it could be a moonstone bracelet, "...are trying to teach us something. I think that we need to react in certain ways to power them and then they will add that power to Martin's grandmother's scepter. So... The first lesson in Dreaming was how to work together. I am not sure that the message was received by all involved, but that is what I got out of it. This one? Well, either we will find a way to get to the blob on the horizon by working together... Or it is a lesson in patience and we will get there eventually. I wanted to have them bracket my wrist with theirs to see if that had any effect, but have not suggested it, yet."

Raphaela arches a brow, folding her arms and ankles in her lean "So.. training leash. And also, a vampiric proxies. You're awfuly trusting this is all benign by default." she frowns "I swear i miscalculated, I did not mean to get you drenched, do you need to change or... blanket or something?"

Maggie looks up at Raphaela, her gaze sharp, "Oh, no. I don't trust that it is all benign, Raph. But, the options are these. Either these tear-stones are as presented, intended to be powerful artifacts that power Martin's scepter or they are not. The woman who had us choose them was not a pleasent person, per se. She was brusk and businesslike with little room for joking around. She outlined the dangers clearly and everything seemed covered. Martin trusted her and I saw no reason then not to follow along with that. He trusted her. Now, it seems to me that the options if they are not benign include death, ruination of Martin's grandmother and her royal line including Martin, potential ruination of Rebma which will impact Amber. If they can be trusted, or at least operate as advertised, means that everyone who holds one will face their greatest fear and have to overcome it... I have not checked with Martin, but I believe that the strength of our reactions to, and effectiveness of our overcoming, our personal horror will determine the strength of the stone's resulting power. I have not run that buy Martin yet, either. Ultimately, everyone who has one will suffer. So, no. I don't trust that they are benign, Raphaela. I am most certain that they are not. But I am convinced that their purpose is to benefit Rebma. So. Onward. But warily."

Raphaela mmms and nibbles her thumbnail, "I don't trust magic anymore I trust the pattern." she says, in dreaming and in contract to a magical creature. " I always feel as if it has its own agenda, no matter for what purpose we think we master it. Call me a merchant." she grins and considers. "Even if they cna operate as advertised, it doesn't mean they operate only that way."

Maggie shakes her head, "And no. Thanks, though. I'm fine." The water has all but stopped drip-dripping on the deck. A laugh begins, though it is not mirthful, particularly, "I don't disagree, actually. I kind of think of it as coaxing a bit of a great something to work with me. Though I am better at the elemental work than some and better with the Pattern than most of my generation." She moistens her lips slightly, "But, no, you are right. I don't think that my presumptions about the stones are the only way they work. Actually, I am not certain that I am right. These are mirror magic things and I know very little about how mirror magic works. Other than what I have picked up... which amounts to 'mirrors hold the past'. Which..." She frowns a little, "Hmm. Now, I wonder if the stones are seeking ways to catch and hold moments of great power or emotion. Since mirrors are history markers, or something. And since we can't go back in time easily to times of great intensity. Maybe making new moments is how they get their spark."

Raphaela ugh "Don't. Time is problematic concept as is." she gets a can of a coffee ant throws it at Maggie, warm, takes another herself. "Well obviously, they do work. Is there a correlation between here and real...there?"

Maggie lifts a hand to catch the coffee can. Warm! Holding it with both hands, she draws in a breath before opening it, "Thank you." A sip is claimed. As the warm liquid is swallowed, she closes her eyes to savour both the flavor and the feeling. Listening, she considers her answer, "Hmmm. Maybe. Actually, almost certainly. We are heading into the inner most node on Begma's path to amber. But, the sea turning to glass? Not really. I can't even come up with a metaphorical correlation for that. Though I might be thinking about it too hard."

Good thing it wasn't fizzy drink. "Rebma is in sea, and water is a mirror. It is often said water has memory, it has scientific truth in it, not sure about magical."
Raphaela adds "Maybe approach from above would see smething reflected, but meh, it melted away."

Maggie glances over to the port side and lifts a brow, "Or, the sea is bigger now and it is below the horizon." Pursing her lips, she lifts her chin, "Would you check? If it is still there, it would be good to know if it has indeed vanished." Good... if by 'good' she means 'disturbing'. "Thank you, Raphaela."

Raphaela nods "After a break." she blinks "For what?"

Maggie tilts her head, "Sure. Are you going to come aboard now?" Wheedle, coax... "Huh? Oh, for being willing to take a peek to see if it is still there. It will help us decide what to do next."

Raphaela says "If that dramatic peacock comes rushing upset at me, will you take the blame?"

Maggie laughs and nods, "Of course, Raph. Come on aboard. I will be your shield." She winks and gestures as she moves back to give the mecha-mistress room to land. "It'll be fine. If it scratches the deck, I'll even help buff it back to its normal glossy shine." What a friend.

Raphaela arches a brow and manouvers with her toes to get resting mecha closer, hopping over into Maggies drenched embrace. "It wont." She didn't tether it, oh no it runeths away. She kept her helmet, though.

Maggie definitely hugs her Raphaela in what would be a warm greeting but for the water still on her clothing. She really should adjust the Dreaming so she is not damp, but she has reasons for not. Releasing her friend, she holds her at arms length for a moment, "Welcome aboard." Then she spies the hoverbeastie drifting off. Releasing Raphaela, she begins a dash for the rails, then comes to a skidding stop. Facing her friend, she asks, "Please tell me that you have some kind of remote control gizmo in that helmet?" Otherwise, she is fully prepared to dive overboard to go get the mech.

Raphaela grins "Why would I have it in helmet, I could lose it." She taps her boot to the deck. "It's gonna haunt us, no worries. Besides. It is a dream." she ponders, "Right?" her suit is water reppelent naturally. She has to keep it pristine matte silver after all. Snoozing Sigma, settles into ship's trail. She studies Maggies weird rock bracelet.

Maggie sighs with relief, "Oh, of course." Naturally one keeps the remote control for an ultra modern, highly armed, music blasting mecha in her boot. Shaking off the remains of her drenching, Maggie nods, "It is a dream, yes." Tilting her head to watch the mecha settle in for a long dream-time nap, she is only peripherially aware of Raphaela looking at her bracelet. Lifting her arm, she tugs at her braide, trying not to quickly shove her sleeve down over the jewelry self-consciously. She is not a jewelry person, it is true, but there is something almost possessive about the urge to hide it.

Raphaela pulls back "You too?" she refolds her arms. "Not that I am not envious you always have an in game I'm not a part of, but what is about that toxic ass stone hiding, it is new habit you guys developed and it pisses me off. I won't steal anything frm you."

Maggie blinks and has to blush a bit, "What? Of course you would not steal from any of us." She takes a step or two closer to her friend, "It isn't that. It's..." Slowly, she extends her arm, the sleeve still up, the stone still exposed. "It is weird. I am not possessive. Certainly not over... stuff. So..." Another step is taken and she keeps the arm up, "Please. Take a look. As for having an in? This? Is because Martin is my cousin and I am active in Rebma. I believe. Or, because I am close to Martin and that link makes me a viable person to activate it."

Raphaela shakes a head and lifts a gloved hand "I know you have an in I am out of, I can't be in or I'd endanger you for some things." she doesn't look... into the stone per se, just at it. "I don't want to know my fears thank you very much. I have enough existential dread as is." She does keep her distance, though. Raphaela is a little mechanic trapped in a magical contract. She retains her utter dismay at magic. At least she didn't spit three times on the deck.

The stone is smooth and reflective. It looks a bit like solid mercury with hints of mica's silvery sheen throughout. It is shaped roughly like a tear but is about two inches by one. It is held in a ilvery mesh of wire with filigree swirls running around it and down around Maggie's wrist. Maggie half shrugs, "Maybe. But as far as I know you are welcome on any adventure you care to come on." Maggie appreciates the lack of spit. That might rile both Lirre and Sorensen and that much drama is exhausting.

Raphaela would never! she'd have them hanging off the horns if either spat on her vehicle. "I'm... sorry I can't be of any help to you... ever." She ponders "So do the stones show things to you, activate on their own? React to things?"

Maggie lifts a brow, "Raph. You are a lot of help to me. Personally. You allow me to vent, for one thing. FOr another, we get to have the occasional cookies and wine girls' nights at your place. Believe me, you help me stay sane." Her hand lowers a bit, then her arm curves so she can look at the stone itself, "We... don't know. Sometimes, when I look at it, it feels as though it is about to show me something. Then it kind of stops. Martin has said that he thinks that they will activate when in proximity to the node that either we, or they, are atuned to. I think that his is in the process of waking up. But, I kind of think that Kerf's is involved somehow. Martin has been acting weird, but I... I think that I have seen a line connecting Kerf's stone to Martin's scepter. But, I don't know if mine looks the same to someone else holding a stone. So... I'm not sure what is up ahead. Just. Something is."

Raphaela grins "I knew it. It's all about the cookies."

Raphaela ponders, "So they are being blocked or obtused... or yknow. Something is luring you in." She pats Maggies squelchy shoulder.

Maggie pfffts, "No. But they are amazing cookies." She winks, then drops her hand. "Maybe. Or they have not activated and we are following Martin's guidelines. He talked to the Dilwen librarian who gave them to us more than I did. I listened, but some of the mirror magic stuff was beyond me."

Raphaela nodnods, "It is hard reconstructing something by going in blind, I would know." she leans back on the rail, folding her ankles again and taps gloved fingers to her lips. "What does it feel looking in it. Does it stirr emotions in you wihtout showing anything?"

The ship's generator hum revs higher as overhead, the curved triangular stretches of bronze begin to lean back, overlapping like scales. With a hollow clamour, the stairway winding down from the raise operations deck bears two tromping fellows to the main deck. Stepping into the enveloping shadow of the ship's carapace, they approach their guests with the silvery chain still clinking between their wrist shackles.

"Hullo again. Hullo Raphaela," says Sorensen, smiling with apology for their odd predicament. "I saw your mobile armor folding down into.. that." He waves his free hand to indicate the trailing hovermech through the gap between canopy and rail. "It's simply incredible."

Lirre says nothing of it, pleasantly enough, although the way his chin is tipped upward juuuust a smidge above level speaks of aloof restraint. He sweeps the sail covering with his gaze, offering, "Don't mind the extra shade, Ladies, we're gathering what sunlight we can. Do continue," he gestures to Maggie.

Maggie inhales and lifts the stone again. "Well." SHe is not looking into it, yet. "When I got it, the prevailing emotion was that someone needed help. Immediate, urgent help. So I tried to catch the hands that were reaching for me. I tried to pull them out. But instead, the stone was placed in my hand and they fell away. So there is that." Lifting the stone, she looks into it. At first anxiety lines her brow, for she does not relish the notion of getting the terror of beings needing help again. The sounds of the ship's generators gearing up startles her into looking up at the sails, then back to the bridge. Spotting the tethered duo, she smiles a warm smile. Is that relief that underscores her look? "Hello, you two." But then Lirre suggests that she continue and she nibbles her lower lip once before nodding and looking once more. She grows still as her initial anxiety fades as she seemingly sinks into the reflections found there.

Raphaela watches Maggie's relief for a second longer before turning to the duo. She arches a brow and squints at Lirre, "Why, hello to you too." then she tilts and smiles brightly at Sorensen "I know right! Hi! Wanna ride?" Her pale gaze drops to the chain. "Not exactly what bondage dreams are supposed to be." she blinks and looks aside "I'd reckon." She settles into carefuly observing Maggie's face.

Sorensen browlifts at the invitation, though the realization that he's not going anywhere with a scowling anchor attached subdues his enthusiasm. "Perhaps next time," he eyerolls. Then his gaze slips back to Maggie, expectantly, since it seems she is explaining a thing.

Lirre's attention lowers until he's studying her wristband. He frowns thoughtfully, and looks around carefully, expanding his scope until he's gazing at the red empty horizon.

Raphaela mutters "Oh, the grump can fit in too, if he promises not to puke."

Maggie's expression holds anxiety once more for she has expectations. But after a moment or two the pucker between her brows eases. Reflections of sunlight shimmering on water dances over her lowered features, sparkling in her deeply green eyes. Tension rises and she shifts ever so slightly from one foot to the next. Once she has found a more comfortable standing spot, she relaxes into looking more closely. As she does so, the tension bleeds away until she could be standing on the deck of her own ship, sailing before a strong wind, free of all care with those she loves at her side.

The brothers stand just where they are, and watch Maggie curiously. Now that the setting isn't trying to kill them, it's actually not a bad sort of dream.

Raphaela perches on the rail. "Maggie, what do you see?"

Mags inhales and lifts her head, "Huh?" There is a dreamy quality to her tone, "What?" Looking at the brothers, then over to Raphaela, she shakes her head, "Nothing." Her gaze lowers, "Oh, well. Not nothing." THat soft smile returns, "Just..." Again she looks up, "Nothing useful. Just scenes of good times in the past. Like going for chili fries with Kerf and Martin. Sailing. Picnics. That sleepover at your place, Raph. Stuff like that... Did I hear that there might be a ride in your mecha available?" Her wrist is lowered and she subconsciously covers the bracelet with her hand.

Raphaela nods "It is." she shakes her head. "Is past that enticing?" she seems unable to comprehend. "Now has all of that still, deosn't it?

Mags grins at Raphaela, "It does. But, memories are good to have too. They are useful if I am feeling gloomy for one reason or another. I can take out a memory, look at it, experience the joy of it and feel better about whatever is going on that made me feel gloomy. I am lucky because I have them. They do not deminish what is now."

Raphaela consider "For fuck's sake, I'm glad I don't have the damn thing then. I can only remember miserable things."

Mags blinks, turning to look at Raphaela. "Well... Wait, really? You didn't have fun when I spent the night last time?" Concern tinges her eyes and she takes a half step toward her friend, "I am sorry, then."

Raphaela uhms "Nono, s just, if I go to memories, the nice ones aren't first ones up is what i'm saying." she flails.

Mags nods, one hand lifting to squeeze Raphaela's shoulder gently, "Ah. Well, that just means that we need to make more good ones, right?" Her smile is quick and easy. Not a bad dream, all told. Now that the sea is no longer brittle shards of murderous glass.

Raphaela is just confused now. "Right."

Mags nods, her concern for her friend still extant, but she is mollified by the agreement to make newer, happy ones to help shove the wretched ones to the side. As if that would really help. But she means well. "Good... Thank you." Glancing back to the mecha, she adds, "Oh, please tell me about your... What is it called? Entirely too accurate and over the top Maggie splasher?"

Raphaela grins "Churner? Sigma? I have a factory in shadow. Made mechas for Golden hunter hunt never camee to be. Quin never saw his I think."

Mags nods, perking up, "Right! THose were so much fun to drive. I am glad that the Golden Hunter is no more, but would have loved piloting one of those. I wonder what else we can do with them..." Her gaze slides to the brothers, a half grin still playing on her features. Looking back, she nods, "We could invite him to try, if they are still around?"

Raphaela headtilts. "Of course. If you have time for such things. And. If Grump won't puke."