Into All the Drinks

[rassafraggin]

Merrisol's tip she lured out sometime sent Raph into burrowing throughout Maggie's ship. People watched the mad scientist as she started setting things up. Limes. Rum... Mint.... "Ice..." Now if only, there was a wizard around...

Quinlan can smell shiny things. And food and drink are always shiny. "Oh hey. 'Sup?"

Raphaela puppy eyes Quinlan over a bucketfull of mojito ingredients. "Oh heeeey Quin! Just who I need most." She leans the bucket "Mojitos if I could find some.... crushed ice?" Certainly smells delicious.

Quinlan hnnns. "You really need a water master for things like ice," he says sadly. "That said, I should be able to manage an acceptably cold slush with some effort. Give me a container for it?"

Maggie walks with Mr. Anderson from the area of the stairs leading up from below. She gesticulates toward the starboard side, then gestures port. He shrugs, but shakes his head. Whatever they are discussing, Maggie is not pleased by her First Mate's reply. He is her First Mate, though and has earned the right to question her plans many times over. He continues talking, and after a few moments, Maggie sighs and nods. The two pause to talk for a few minutes more before they part ways. Turning, heel to toe, Maggie notes her friend and cousin before she spots the arrangement of... what... ingredients? Heading that way, she loses her frown by the time she arrives, "Afternoon, you two. What are you up to?"

Raphaela grins and gets a bucketfull of water, hyper. WOMAN WANTS HER MOJITO! "Hi Mags! I ran ut of cookies, mojitos are good eh?"

Quinlan nods at the bucket, rolling up his sleeves for the Serious Business At Hand. "Right. Slush. Lessee." He starts murmuring Arcanis magic - to purify the water, first (since any additives might affect the freezing temperature) and then to lower its temperature. He's right; he can't seem to manage a block of ice. But a cold, thick slush seems to be forming in the bucket.

RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Change (ARC-CH) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Water (ARC-WA) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Destroy (ARC-DE) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Fire (ARC-FI) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Elementalist (ARC-EM) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Spellmaster (ARC-SM) gift.

Maggie tucks her hands into her pockets, watching Raphaela dart away, then back again, "Hi, Raph. Hi, Quin." Her attention turns to Quinlan. She pays attention to what he is doing and tries to catch what he is saying. Absently, she nods, "Yeah. Mojitos would be great right about now." Blinking, she steps a hair closer to watch the slush form. It is almost mesmerizing.

Raphaela mhms mhms, "I'd cast a salt seal to preserve it cold, but I doubt it will last that long anyway. She is ready with her bucket of crushed mint and lime in rum and when slush is ready, she just dips it all in, and brings over tray of mugs. She ooohs "If we had tequila I have salt for other bucketfull of margaritas!"

Maggie steps back to let the mixology happen. "I can check with the quartermaster to see if we have any in stores, if you would like. I know that we have wine and rum, but I am not at all sure about tequela."

Quinlan is still a bit busy maintaining his peculiar chilling spell; it's definitely stretching what his arcanis can do. But the drinks will be cold at least.

Raphaela mmms and gets cupful of quin's slushalicious mojito an offers it to Mags "Permission to get a portion of people drunk on deck, captain?"

Maggie chuckles as she reaches forward to accept the cup, "Granted, Raph. THis is a good idea." Moving to one side, she makes room for anyone else who wants to join the party. "Where did you find this recipe, Raph? Is it a Sorgo thing?" Claiming a sip, she looks faintly surprised, "This is good."

Raphaela says "I scoured your ship and claimed what I liked." She headtilts. "With permission from the cook." totally.

Quinlan snags his own mojito last of all, happily sipping. "I have absolutely got to figure out how to make a keep-it-stable flask."

Raphaela grins and lifts her mug "To being willingly stuck on an adventure ship with friends!"
Maggie laughs a bit at Raph's statement, "Mouse probably had a fair amount of what you wanted already collected, if I know that young man." She winks slightly at her friend, then turns to Quinlan, "If ever you do, I'd buy one from you." Her glass lifts and she moves forward to offer a clink between the others, "Hear hear."
Quinlan raises his glass too. "I don't drink all that often, but when it's tasty I'm an easy convert. And there's been way too much stress around lately.
Raphaela smiles brightly and sips. "Good. I thought I'd get scolded."
Maggie lifts a brow faintly, "Scolded? Well, maybe... if you were doing something nepharious or we were in a shortage situation." Sipping again, she moves to lean against a barrel that has been lashed in place. The weather is calm, there isn't enough in there to really harm anyone... It has been a bit on the stressful side and... these are very good. Thank you for putting them together."

Quinlan sips contentedly. "...Has anybody been looking in their mirrors lately? I keep thinking I should."

Raphaela says "Clingy jewelery. Worst kind." She adds "Don't have one, won't have one if I can help it."

Maggie pauses just before her glass is high enough to take a sip. She claims it, then lowers the glass again. Resting it against her thigh, she nods once, "Uh. Yes. It has been a bit hard to not do now that I have."

Quinlan looks wry. "That urge to do so is exactly why I haven't," he says. "I'm a little...touchy, about magical compulsions. But...it's Martin's quest. I wanted to know if I should take the hint."

Raphaela grins at Quinlan, "What is worst that can happen?" She is asking seriously.

Maggie licks her lips slightly, her gaze slowly lowering toward the arm where her bracer holds the mirrored stone, "I... don't know that it would hurt, Quin. I mean... It hasn't hurt anyone that I know of. And it isn't a compulsion in the sense that an external force is making you look. You just want to."

Quinlan raises an eyebrow at Maggie. "an external force is making you *want* to," he says. "Unless you've had that desire most of your life and just not said anything." To Raphaela, he says, "Worst case I can think of easily? I get as brainfried as Martin."

Melina hms as she joins the group "merri said there might be other such stones back on Rebma and that perhaps i should consider taking one which i've decided to do if it's possible. i don't relish it but I feel I'm only half in if i don't.. She looks to Quin "so you did sense it to...i'm not nuts...yet"

Dirk is in cat form and walks over to Maggie.

Raphaela nods to Maggie, "You're defending a piece of mirror that compells you." She nods to Quin, "I'd not like you brainfried. You're all fairly powerful, I am not sure I want something using you as batteries."

Raphaela gives out a mug of a mojito slush to Melina. "Dirk want some?"

Quinlan sighs. "Not batteries. Hands. I mean...the control *might* be benevolent, ultimately. Something we need to submit to, to get the job done, that won't do us any lasting harm. But...if I get twitchy about anything, it's surrendering my freedom. I've avoided a lot of attempts to bind me, over the years. I'd hate to lose to a bit of reflective sea-glass."
Dirk nods "I do thank you. "

Raphaela nodnods to Quinlan "Indeed. I am with you there." She sips and then finds a saucer or a bowl to put mojito in for the cat. "Borrowing bodies for purposes doesn't sit well with me."

Dirk drinks his mojito and purrs.

"And no, you're not nuts," Quinlan adds to Melina. "Martin's being messed with. And doesn't seem to be aware that it's happening. Which I have to say *seriously* freaks me out."

Raphaela eyes Maggie.

Melina hms "i know you're not going to bid to make changes without sacrifice or cost that's balance. it's more not knowing what lies beneath the water before it asks you to jump and marty's not the first person i've seen not be aware what's happening. it's sorta part of the process which goes to say if i seem off please whack me one

Dirk walks over to Ralph and gets between her as nd Melina.

Raphaela tips her mojito to her forehead "Will do. I'd give you all salt protections but... I don't think we want to skewer the result it we are riding thru this."

Quinlan sighs. "Trust me when I say I tried that and it didn't work," he says to Melina. "Hence....liiiiittle freaked out. I mean if I'm going to whack a prince upside the back of the head I'd at least like to get a positive result out of it." He nods at Raph. "If I thought it'd help I'd beg for one. But yeah. I don't think it would."

Dirk says "You cant whack me, I am not a Prince."

Melina hms "so i picked it up too so it's not strictly pattern stuff but it was strong like primal strong

Raphaela says to Quinlan "HEy, you know pretty much all my skills, we've been out adventuring enough. If there is anything you think I can be useful with, let me know."

Quinlan smiles. "Stay sharp," he says. "This quest is heavy on mirror magic. That means a hell of a lot of 'things aren't what they seem' and symbolic imagery and situations. Which...I suck at, frankly. But it'll be there, for anyone who can see it, decipher it. You've a sharp mind, and without a mirror, a *clear* mind."

Dirk looks over. "You know the crazy I am good at."

RPG: Raphaela declares that she has the Clear Eyed (SKL-CE) gift.
RPG: Raphaela declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.

Raphaela nods, her general thinking aligns with Quin's she gets all their mugs and bowl and restocks the mojito slushie

Maggie shakes her head, "No... It isn't control, Quin. And it isn't an external compulsion." She inhales slowly, then realizes she is a bit late to chime in. "It is just that..." A blush deepens the coloration on her cheeks, causing her freckles to show gold amid the flame, "Oh... nevermind." She accepts the refill, but gives Dirk a bit of a look. Then again, having a cat on the ship is not bad luck or anything. As long as he keeps the vermin out of the stores.

Raphaela eyes Maggie "Out with it."

Quinlan mmms. "Then what *is* it, Maggie? I'm not trying to judge - although admittedly I probably sound like I already have. I want to understand. It helps with the whole 'gut level terror' thing."

Raphaela patpats Quin's shoulder comfortingly. Pours more Mushito.

Dirk finds a place to curl up and watch...

Melina hms "Yes, please any reason to relax in the slightest that is not chemically induced is of great help
Maggie sighs, her gaze lifting, then lowering as consternation vies with embarrassment. Time ticks by while she tries to put things that are mostly feelings into words. At last, she lifts her hands into a faintly consiliatory gesture, palms out, arms slightly lifted, "I"ve never looked that good in my life. But, it is how I imagine I could look, if I looked perfect." And she likes to look at herself that way. Not... as sane when said aloud as it sounded in her head. And judging by how long it took her to say it? It didn't sound that good internally either.

Quinlan mmms. "So...when you look, you're that person? You become her, for a while?"

Raphaela headtilts "You're perfect as you are." she bops Maggie's nose with Mooshitoo. "But I get the general idea. It is a toxic concept, though."

Maggie starts to shake her head when Raphaela bops her on the nose. The engineer wins an embarassed smile and a quiet, "Thanks. Back atcha, Raph." Then she returns to Quinlan's question, "Um. Not... so far as I've noticed. It's more like I am seeing what could be. Or, perhaps what should be?" She frowns slowly, then tries to logic it through, "Maybe... that is who I will be when the stone is activated and it is my time to face my demons? I wish I knew... but I just don't."

Quinlan doesn't seem too reassured. "You know what I see?" he asks. "Someone who really does have all the answers."

Raphaela shakes head and shrugs. "It toys with desires. And those are often connected to the weaknesses we ourselves have observed within us. I know you keep persuading me, but Maggie, I don't trust anything which preys on weakness. It is manipulation one on one." She sips. "I shuld know, it's my job."

Melina hms "still sound like a bit of a draw to me, but I can't say..." she looks to quin "what one desires most perhaps" She doesn't seem to have gotten the reassurance she was looking for either

Raphaela nodnods, in agreement to Mel.

Maggie blows a breath out, then tries again, "So... I don't think so. Getting the stone was painful. I don't know about anyone else, but it... I thought that people needed help. I could hear them calling to me when I approached the repository. So, I reached in, not to get a stone, but to help them. I tried. I really did. But, instead of succeeding in helping, I was given the stone and they all... Faded away. So, desire? I don't think so. I don't desire people to be in need of help. Truly and deeply, I don't." Lifting up her wrist, she does not glance at the band, but the urge to do so is clearly there. "Now, this? I won't say that I don't want to be the woman in there. She is capable and confident." And painfully beautiful, but she does not say that part out loud.

Quinlan looks wry. "The person we wish we were but know we aren't. Mirror magic is close to illusion magic...and ultimately, illusion magic is based in lies. Maybe...that's why my mirror bothers me so much. I'd love to be the guy that really did have all the answers. All the lore of Dworkin with none of the crazy. It's never gonna *happen*....but it's the goal that sets my road, even so."

Melina hms "The image in a mirror shifts and distorts so the impressions don't have to remain constant I suppose

Raphaela asks "Do you want to help people though?" she shrugs "Unkeepable promises."

"That is exactly correct, Quinlan. This is what mirrors do. They refect an illusion of the past and take we want to be true an present it as truth. These desires within you are ones that have always been there, deep down. It's important to remember that the mirrors store the past. The stones are likely trying to tell you to get past that and that you could be more than your past motivations but I'm no wise sage." Martin states from out of no where. Like one minute he was not there, and the next he is at Maggie's side. Or was he there all the time? He gestures at Raph, "I'll take one of those, thanks."

Raphaela is already sloshing a mug at him.

Maggie pauses and blinks, refocusing on Quinlan, "Wait." She lowers her arm and takes a slightly shakey breath, "You saw a vision of... you with all the answers?" She licks her lips, "All knowledge, the wisdom to understand it and the power to do the right thing. Or provide the right guidance." Her gaze falls thoughtfully and she turns to Raph, "Yeah. I do want to help people. I ..." Pausing, she avoids startling when Martin appeaers as though from thin air. "Oh, hey, Martin." Stepping out of the way so he can get his slushito, she lifts her own to take a long sip. A long, perhaps overly thoughtful sip.

Quinlan laughs quietly at Raphaela's question. "I'm not a Chantris. I just owe the House for letting me into their Library. I believe there's no point to knowledge if it's not used. So - yes. I do want to help people. That's the best use of knowledge." Both eyebrows go up at Martin's comment. "Move *past* that?" he echoes. "Shall I pick up an infinity-plus-one magic sword on the way? The point of the goal is the journey. I know better than to think I'd ever *get* there."

Raphaela says "Maybe stones were testing you to see if you'd be willing to help." she grins at Quinlan.

Dirk says " I want to be my premarital happy happy little homicidal manuac. I was happy then."

Maggie purses her lips, then takes another sip of slushito. Setting the empty glass down, she folds her arms and looks between Martin and Quinlan, then is distracted by Dirk and Melina. Not... going to go there. Back to Martin and Quinlan. It is safer. "Move past... what?"

Raphaela doeos not. allow. cups to get empty. Though bucket is emptier. "Your own hung ups, Mags."

"Mirror magic is tricky, very tricky stuff. That is why it is difficult for people to trust it. It can be a real reflection, or the opposite of a real reflection. In other words, don't take mirrors at face value." Martin eyes Dirk briefly and avoids getting sloshed on after taking the drink from Raph. "Sometimes the more you think about it, the harder it becomes. Also, one can ... one can be trapped in the mirrors. Just ask Llewella and Vialle, it's happened to them both. So be careful, don't stare too long into infinity, and Quinlan, no I don't think that's the point. Somehow you're all supposed to help me do what I need to do using these stones and I honestly don't know how. Supposedly we'll get some kind of guidance from the nodes." He flexes his fingers idly, clearly something bothering him a little. He glances at Melina and then back to Maggie and Raph. "I'm not a powerful mirror mage, I don't have the answers. I only know that the pattern needs connections to have influence over shadow. This is part of how."

Raphaela pokes Martin's shoulder. "Have we consulted more powerful mirror mages before embariking ono this?" She pats Dirk idly, pondering Martin's words.

Maggie glances down at her refilled glass. Lifting it a touch awkwardly, she holds it at about waist level. Listening to the back and forth, she nods to Raphaela, "Apparently. Or our fears." A glance around and she takes a longer sip before seeking Quinlan's opinion on that, though silently.

"A *lot* like glamours, and those that can cast them," says Quinlan, and sighs. "I'll...spend time with my shard. The only way to know what it wants to show me - whether it's true or not - is to let myself see."

Maggie nods, "I... I am sorry, Quin. And Raph. I guess you were right. And Martin is right." She nods to her cousins and her friend, "I guess that I did not want to admit that it has gotten under my skin." She offers a faintly sad smile, that fades when Quin says he will look, "Um... If you want, I can be with you when you look. To shake you a bit if you look for too long. Maybe." Turning to Martin she adds, "Will that help or hurt, do you suppose? It... did help when you thwacked Martin upside the head, actually."

Quinlan blinks at that, giving Martin a measuring - and kind of surprised - look. It has 'really?' written all over it.

Maggie slides Quinlan a glance, then looks back at Martin, "SO... Which part of that is bothering you, Quin?" It is innocent enough a question, though she inhales deeply and not to gain the scent of Raph's mojito.

Martin doesn't seem to know what Maggie is talking about but then again he did say he was in a trump conversation. He puts a hand on Maggie's shoulder, comforting. "It's not surprising if it has, this whole thing has been getting to me a bit too." He smiles a little. He shrugs at Quinlan. "I think what we're doing here is fixings the ... " he fishes for nouns that work here, "bits and pieces that ties everything together? Every little thing helps in the long run."

Quinlan tilts his head. "What Brand calls the 'strings'? That'd be nice." To Maggie, he says, "You can't work in illusions for long without understanding the power of the lie you *want* to believe. So...yeah. I'll do my part and study my shard, but if I start seeming off to you, consider this your blank check to hit me as hard as you decide is necessary. Please don't break my nose or teeth, though, I kinda need them."

The mass in the distance has begun to fill the horizon ahead as expected, and now it can be seen for what it is: Heaps and piles of abandoned machinery, craft, and devices, sloping into peaks, tumbling into valleys. It may have taken hundreds of years or dozens of powerful magnets or exactly one Master Patternite to accumulate all these unique yet inadequate prototypes in one location, but the result is an unnatural atoll of metal and alloy and ceramic technological inventions that never made it to a patent office.

Maggie lifts a brow just a bit, "Dad's strings? That would be nice." She puts an emphasis on 'would' in agreement with Quinlan. The sentiment is underscored by a smile his way. She nods, "Okay. Done." Her attention turns back to Martin, "If we truly are dealing with strings, it is possible that dad could sense what we are doing." She might have gone on, but there is a call from the crow's nest.

"Mess ho!" The voice is powerful, female and carries a sense of confusion. Leaning down, the sailor calls, "It ain't land, Cap'n. But we ain't gittin' by it easy, nohow."

Maggie echos the word, "Mess?" She turns to look forward, "Oh. Yes. It is a mess." Looking at her friends and family, she adds, "Excuse me?" Striding forward, she calls, "Mr. Anderson! Slow ahead. Prepare to stop."

Everyone's mirror seems to feel warm at this time. There's kind of a ... alert alert alert sensation sort of like that sensation you get when you're in a the middle of a dream and the alarm goes off.

Quinlan closes his eyes briefly. Yeah, he's *reluctant*. But. He also promised to help. He takes out his shard to take a look at it. And into it.

The crowing from the nest stirs a secondary reaction up there, and Merri just kind of rises up behind the poor sailor, leaning just over her shoulder as if to sight the deconstructive chaos lying dead ahead. How long had he been up there! When has anyone every seen him monkey all the way up the mast rigging? And why is he swaying like that? From what the posted lookout gal can tell, he may be staring but it's not the mass of quirky failed gadgets he's seeing. One of his arms is raised outwards before him, cradling in his fist a thing that shimmers and winks with reflective light.

Martin sets down his drink without finishing it (gasp) and goes to the railing with an intent expression. He braces his arms on the railing of the ship, frowning, but he says nothing. He can feel it, sense something, it's in his eyes and how tense he is all of a sudden.

Martin sets down his drink without finishing it (gasp) and goes to the railing with an intent expression. He braces his arms on the railing of the ship, frowning, but he says nothing. He can feel it, sense something, it's in his eyes and how tense he is all of a sudden.
Mr Anderson turns when he hears Maggie's call, "Aye aye, Captain." His eyes widen as he spots the sailor in the crow's nest giving Merrisol room to lean. Wider still when he sees the look out lift her hands into position to try and catch the Captain's husband should he overstretch and take a tumble.

Noting her First Mate's astonishment, Maggie turns and looks up. THen down as she lifts her wrist at an unexpected warmth radiating up her arm, "Um... Take the bridge, Mr. Anderson, but try to follow where Captain Merrisol is aiming." Her tone is softer, touched with certainty laced with anxiety. "Looks like this is going to be interesting." Glancing up again, she finds Martin's glass first. Oh dear. Then she finds Martin. Heading toward him, she keeps a weather eye on Merrisol to be sure she is not misinterpreting whatever needs to be done now.

Behind her, Mr. Anderson's more dubious "Aye Aye, Captain," rises. It is followed by the First Mate giving an order to a deck hand, "Let me know if Captain Merrisol's heading shifts. Pay attention, now."
Quinlan gives his shard the stink-eye and puts it away. "Well. You guys want me to go do some recon over that island before we get in close?"

The tearstone comes up level with Merrisol's gaze, and its surface is revealed to him around the opening cage of his fingers. Eyes widened yet still unseeing his outer surroundings and peril, the man teeters unsteadily in the breeze and the pronounced pendulating of the top mast. Mostly it's the muscle memory of an able seaman's legs which keep him from outright staggering to the ledge of the crows nest and going over, but it surely helps that there's a member of the crew ready to haul on his shoulder or push at his chest whenever the Rebman's center of gravity gets the better of him. At last, with the disjointed laxity of a marionette being tugged by its strings, he raises his arm in a high arc and flips his wrist; fortunately he retains enough of a grip on the stone that it doesn't plummet from his palm. Gazing up into its curved surface as it reflects back to him the sea far below, Martin, the deck, his companions, and the edge of the derelict stockpile, he exhales a hard, shuddering sigh of revelation.

Diana stares off starboard, a dreamy expression worn rather than her vizard. The wind, exhaling chilly salt, blows the long strands of pale blonde hair at times away from her face - at times, into it. A beautiful day by most reckoning, with cumulus clouds hanging like great scattered dollops in the blue soup of the sky. The sailors taste the rain, and work quickly to prep for it, but she seems oblivious as to what may blow over them in a few hours.

A high, piercing whistle followed by a low clucking echoes overhead, a great shadow of an albatross passing. The Lethem slowly cranes her head back to follow its lazy path across endless expanses.

Melina fixes her gaze upon merrisol upon his perch in the crow's nest though is perhaps regretting the lack of eyes in the back of her head that would allow her to watch the prince as well, letting out her own breath with merri's exhale though tension still resides on every inch of her face

Maggie tries to keep an eye on both her husband and her cousin, stationing herself nearer to Martin in order to try and catch him should he fall into the same sort of fit as Merrisol. Then again, she is tense, poised for action should the crewmember above fail to keep Merrisol from plunging to the deck. Inhaling, she tries to sense the ebb and flow of magic on the cool, salt-touched air. For her part, she has no attention to spare for the beauty of the day, the presence of a rarely seen blond friend nor the cry of sea birds, omens or not. When Merrisol sighs and his features hint at revelation, she allows a modicum of relief to echo in her being. Her attention remains split, however. Mirrors are tricky things and her stone still rests warm against her skin, held in place by Ruby's gift.

Quinlan has his eyes ahead, not above - not yet. Waiting for word as to whether he should go and scout the weird landmass of spare parts.

Miriam had been below, but comes up now to have a look about her. There's something happening, but she seems to have missed things, and looks to the others for where her attention should be. As usual, her stone is with her as well, clutched in one hand.

Diana has no stones to grasp. She is, though, obviously stoned. High out of her god damn mind. Turned away, it is easy to mistake her as simply pensive or pondering some great mystery and not caught up in an intense state of synthesia. Sky and sea swell together and replace the other's position without rhyme or reason other than the great heap that might be their destination. She wanders away, swaying, seeking rather the instant gratification of company rather than the endless mysteries of her mind. Quinlan is the closest, so she breathes on him a greeting. First, in some broken dialect of Cibolese. Than, in more proper languages. Some he might speak and some that might not be a language at all. "You have prepared some great ritual, Mageling?"

Quinlan knows a seriously high person when he sees one. He used to hang with Liam, after all. He gives Diana a bright smile, and then tugs from his bag what looks like a smooth teardrop-like ruby. Except that it has no facets, and has a faint light in its heart that beats like a pulse. "Fascinating shadows on the Cibola-line." When he catches the stone in his hand, he lets a little trail of glittering motes follow in his fingers' wake. "No great ritual. Just my usual curiosity."

"The most fascinating," Diana drawls. Like syrup pouring from painted lips. Her eyes follow the sparkles of colors, hypnotized. She recognizes the source. Still charmed by the display. Or perhaps the old stone, the color of old blood in his hands. "Where did you come by such a thing? May I see it?"

Hey, there's no monopoly on bananas or nuts on board. Hallucinate if you've got 'em! "Wait... Martin? You're not... you're not him!" Merrisol growls through his bared teeth, squinting incredulity at the upended stone. Not that anyone can get a glimpse of what he's seeing, even if they were as close as say, the crows nest lookout. The secretive and proprietary nature of each bonded stone has been well demonstrated by this time. Merri twists in place, trying to cull more from the reflection by thrusting it further outwards, leaning right to the point of no return and beyond. The sailor lunges to haul him back by fistfulls of his sweater, providing just enough counterweight save his bacon from a long fall and messy splat. "Can't locate the center amidst all this, can you?" he calls in challenge. "The old ones they buried here... they know where it is!"

Martin had been staring off into space again with extreme intesity, enough so that it seems like he's almost a statue if it weren't for the wind whipping his hair. Then the call from above seems to bring him back from whatever he was thinking about. "Merrisol, I'm down here!" He calls as his eyes flash silver briefly from a glint of the sun. It is only fleeting though and he seems, for all intensive purposes, himself. "Be careful!"

RPG: Maggie declares that she has the Observation (SKL-OB) gift.

Quinlan notes Merri's animalistic gesture with some surprise, but he's got a full quota of alternative reality at present. "I watched a man be ritually sacrificed," he tells Diana, a bit absently because half his attention is on Merri. "The villagers chose people to bleed into specially made cups that condensed and crystallized their lifeblood into something that could illuminate their village. Poor guy died to be a flashlight - and outside that shadow it isn't even that much. That was the first time I really saw a powerful magic that wasn't Pattern or Arcanis."

Maggie has been watching both Merrisol and Martin with two different objectives in mind. One, to catch before he is dashed to the deck, the other to catch before he leaps into the sea. Though honestly, Martin did not seem to be heading that way. Still, her attention is such that she hears Merrisol's near-accusation as well as spots a familiar flash of silver in Martin's eyes. Though she turns her head to look up at Merrisol, fear for him clearly evident in her eyes and her lips rounded into a 'o'. The crewman is given a grateful, if tight, smile when Merrisol is held in place. Her lips tighten into a line that could be from Quinlan's rendition of Cibolian horrors to captivate the Royal Executioner lost in her cups. For the moment, she can't spare the pair a glance, though some of that might get filed away in her nightmare closet. That and the vision of Merrisol right where he is, halfway between the relative safety of the 'nest and becoming Merri-paste on the deck. Fun times. Speaking softly, she addresses Martin, "Please stay on the ship." Her voice is tightly controlled which hints at her emotional turmoil. Hoping her cousin, with his silvery flashes of moonlight eyes remains safe, she starts for the rigging at a run. If the old ones that Merrisol mentioned want Martin, she hopes that they wait until Merrisol is safe again on the deck. Reaching the rigging, she starts the long climb as quickly as she can manage it.

It doesn't take long for Miriam to locate the people she wants to locate, and her attention moves amongst them. With, perhaps, slightly more focus on the guy way up there. She blinks a few times, trying to grasp the whys and wherefores beyond just their locations. Finally, her attention moves and stays upwards as she watches what she can of whatever Merrisol's doing. She moves over to get a better view, actually. And seeing him not quite falling out of the nest causes her hands to raise as though preparing. "Is he okay, Maggie?" she calls over to the woman moving for the rigging. "I'll push him to the water, if he falls?" Their travels are weird. She can't really assume that's any safer than letting him smash into the deck. Okay, it's probably at least a little safer than pushing him off the ship into the water.

Martin glances back at Diana and Quinlan, alerted to their conversation by the mention of Cibola perhaps not quite by all Martin's will alone. The scruity is brief, but one who knows Martin gets the feeling that something else might have been taking note even as eyes and ears are presently that of the Rebman Prince. "Of course I will," he responds easily to Maggie as though all is obviously well and he's not sure why she even asked. "We need to find something." He pivots suddenly away from the mast. "That way." He gestures in a vague direction towards the mangle of unfinished projects. "It's there!"

"There are five..." mutters Merrisol.

Perhaps only the sailor hears this, but she helpfully gasps louder than he, "..Five what, Cap'nnnn??" Her last syllable draws out in a whine of strain as she struggles with his greater mass.

"I can... almost. /Almost/." He drags her with him as he all but climbs over the edge. "Just. There..." His arm holding the tearstone trembles. Does he fight with it or does it fight him? "...I got 'em, Marty!" Oh good! And who's got him?

The lookout yelps as they both teeter over the side of the nest and the slowmotionness of the hang time just makes the snap of gravity all the more terrifying. Aaaaaaa-

"The art, and the steps, are less like that of Pattern OR your Arcanis." Diana muses. "I will spare you the rhetoric. Cibola is a land of sacrifice. How was less important than what, in many ways. If that was your first exposure to magic outside your usual experiences, it must have been a memorable one." Her hand almost reaches out to caress the stone but she either remembers herself well enough to resist the impulse, or she forgets the desire as quickly as it came. All the concern being directed to Merrisol finally has her picking him out of the nest of riggings. "Oh, that's quite high."

"Fall." Diana encourages loudly.

"Thank you, Miriam." Maggie's call is clear even though she is climbing as quickly as she can. Her head is tilted up to watch the edge of the crow's nest so she sees it the moment that gravity wins the battle. Scrambling in the rigging, she hooks the foot of one leg and the knee of the other around the ropes and swings out from there in an attempt to catch the two falling figures. Her hands close on Merrisol's arm, tugging him closer to her. She swings lower, pivoting her husband toward the ropes. Upside down and hanging by her entangled limbs, she grits her teeth then cries out as the crewman's grip on Merrisol's clothing is jarred lose. The woman cries out as she hurls toward the deck. Maggie's "Noooow, Miriam!" echoes after her.

RPG: Miriam declares that she has the Wind Strike (WIN-WS) gift.

And there they go. Miriam's eyes are wide as the pair loses to Merrisol's insistence on reaching way past safe, and goes over the edge. Maggie's near enough to grab Merrisol, thankfully. Miriam's ready as well as the woman who has been holding him continues her plummet. There's suddenly an intense change in pressure near the princess as the air around her is sucked into a visible swirling mass between her hands before it's launched hard at the one still falling. The hard shove, of course, meant to push the falling woman right off the ship to land instead in the water.

RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Arcanis Air (ARC-AR) gift.
RPG: Quinlan declares that he has the Mastery of Air (ARC-MA) gift.

"It was," says Quinlan conversationally. "Part of why I keep the stone. To learn magic unlike my own is why I left Pathi, and why I don't go back." Aaand now there are crewmen being launched. He throws out a hand - which *must* just be the habit of dramatic effect or misdirection or both - and uses that Arcanis. His blasts of air are more directed and controlled; those headed for hard (or wet) landings are...

Those who've played it might think of tennis. Or pingpong. It's not *one* blast of air, but *several* angled bursts, to redirect momentum, bounce skyward - and then, last, a vertical but less powerful blast of air to cause a landing on the deck no rougher than the typical superhero. It makes a solid 'thunk', but no harm done. Except possibly motion sickness from all the rapid changes in direction. Can't do much about that one.

Diana seems delighted. That, she has found herself on a boat with so many talented mages; Arcanist or Wild. That a falling meatbag is now being pushed and shoved in a wild midair dance as they are peppered by directed airflows. "I do hope her shirt isn't ripped off with all that acrobatics." Merrisol's can go though? Perhaps his disrobing is simply less of a faux pas.

Quinlan might have been calm and collected while pingponging a crewman through the air for a safe landing on deck - but mention the idea of the wind 'accidentally' ripping clothes off and wow. He can really *blush*. It's an impressive scarlet blush, too. He tries to hide his face behind his hand. It's not working.

Perhaps oddly, Martin doesn't do anything to interfere with the current aid being given. He waits for the others to get themselves to safety and takes a few moments to try and shake himself out of whatever is going on and focus on the fact that his friends are being tumbled to safety. . "What were you doing up there!" He demands, a touch prematurely since no one is down safe yet.

Miriam pushed the woman out of the way of the oncoming deck, but looks surprised and puzzled as her target also then apparently bounces back onto the deck but in a way unlikely to smash her. She's less puzzled when she sees that it's apparently Quinlan's doing, and smiles to him. Once everyone seems to be fairly safe, she just listens to try to understand what happened up there.

Quite likely Merri comes to his senses right about when those senses are all in agreement that they are about to become no senses at all. He gasps and begins his howl in distinctly belated counterpoint to the sailor's, in wretched harmony. Before all else, he remembers his one hand still has the mirror, and closes it in a tight fist. Then he reaches wildly around with his other arm in an attempt to locate his erstwhile supporter, maybe come up with some way to break her fall... and then feels his arm snagged... by Maggie! Torque, momentum, and defiant strength come together and swirl him into the rigging below the ship's captain. He instinctively hooks into the knotted ropes and looks desperately downwards after the hapless crewmate, "NO!" even as Maggie calls upon Miriam. The next dozen seconds are filled with surges of remorse, amazement, and relief by turns, as the sailor is socked hither, caught thither, and bounced about in capricious turbulence. Merrisol takes a moment to pinpoint to whom exactly to be thankful among the scattered babble of companions on deck, before he cranes upright a bit to look at his wife. "Maggie... I don't know how.. but thank you." He relaxes back into the rigging for now, catching his breath so he can tackle Martin's query.

"Your face is like a warm sun." Diana says dreamily to Quinlan. She spills back into Cibolese when she mentions the sun, perhaps only because she prefers how it sounds in the ancient language. Wide, dilated eyes observe the woman's final descent to the deck, a writhing dance in the sky sending her one way or the other on magic's flow, before giving an impressed but properly coached lady of the court. What theatre! The thrill of fear, of Merrisol's and the crew, of Maggie's sweeping heroic with her head full of fire. Merrisol even calling out with a heart-wrenching 'NO!'. Her cackling is entirely inappropriate. At least she doesn't call out for the Couple-At-Sea to make out.

Quinlan gives Diana an embarrassed sort of amused look. "On the one hand, I'm glad you're happy. On the other, I'm a little creeped out that I'm having that effect. Congratulations, on a ship full of mirror-stoned people, you're taking the blue ribbon."

Maggie holds onto Merrisol's arm and twists about to watch despirately as her crewman is sent over to the sea below, then bounced back up and landed safely on deck. She breaths a long, deep breath and will also thank those responsible. Looking up, er, down, at Merrisol, she smiles a faint smile, "You are welcome, Beloved." Not 'any time' for this is not something that she wishes to live through again. Knowing that she should let go, that she should right herself and climb down, that she should find out what the bloody blast happened, does not help her in this moment. For a few agonized moments she is still. Then, she gently releases Merrisol and begins to pull herself back up to untangle her legs from the rigging. A soft, "Oookay," is almost whispered. "Let's go down now and talk to the others." Her voice is just a hair too calm. Might be something some of her friends and certainly her family knows well.

"Right... right." Merrisol regards the empty sky beyond folds of sail and taut ropes, composing his thoughts and recollections. Was that an albatross? Or, is that lucky lookout still airborne? "Alright, let's go, Only." The tearstone gets determinedly tucked back into the leather gauntlet without another look, and he finds some steady footholds to go down before Maggie.