Goo Goo'n to Town

[rassafraggin]

​What Merrisol had neglected to mention when trumping Ruby from the submersible, was that it was submerged at the time. At -2000 feet and counting. The water through the viewport is a dark turquoise expanse of broad ripples stirred up by the Solar Flare's planed descent. A young Begman officer at the nearest station is intent on his sonar mapping, head strapped with padded earpieces with wires in tubes leading from them to the sensory board. "The source of the depth aberrations should be coming into view within 10 minutes, Captain."

The officer then recoils as he notices the giant lady now standing in the center of Ops. Warrgarble!

Ruby is pulled into this much different atmosphere and immediately doubles over as if her head was magnetically attracted to the decking. "Waaaarrrrh!" she yalps, her head feeling like it was made of solid ice. Her feet stamp and then brace herself as waves of vertigo and other less appealing physical phenomena sweep her up and offer free samples. Eyes blinking out of sync, she keeps the palm of one hand pressed to her temple, the other still extended from being drawn through. Her mouth opens and closes, a little clicking sound at the back of her throat as she repressurizes the channels leading from her ears, nose and throat.

Merrisol's grip tightens reflexively and he leans in over the gasping woman with concern and confusion. "It's.. all right, Ruby," he hurriedly reassures her upon gleaning the possible cause of distress. "The interior maintains a sea level pressure.." Then.. "..Oh. And you were down in the Forge." That likely accounts for enough difference in atmosphere to cause a shock of discomfort, and perhaps make one think they were a split-second away from turning inside out. "I'm terribly sorry about that.. here," he turns and shoos young Mr. Moore out of his station, "please sit down."

Meandering through the ship when half-awake is always intriguing and occasionally entertaining. This time, however, it is concerning. A half-stifled yawn (to go with being half-awake) turns into a faint gasp of curiosity and concern when Maggie spots Ruby doubled over. She frowns, then rubs her eyes with her fists as though in an attempt to make the vision in front of her make sense. Sleepily, she moves a bit closer, "You a'right, Ruby?" Even her diction is taking a bit of effort to kick-start. "Want some coffee or something?" Maybe a rum punch...

"Sir!" Moore jumps up from his comfy console chair but keeps his funky headset on, reluctant to stop monitoring the pings and ambient sounds that help him paint a picture of their vicinity in all directions.

Ruby turns her wincing expression this way and that. None too pleased at having to re-establish her sense of where and when and how. Trumping is bad enough sometimes. "What tha bloody 'ell..." she rasps and then manages to focus on something other than the people present. Ah...windows. Windows filled with water. She fixes Merrisol with a beady eye, and then peeks over at Maggie for a moment. She shakes her head and whips her dreds back and forth like an angry octopus. She does go down on her haunches though, so some good advice has sunk in. "S'alright...Didn't 'urt." she lies. "This ain't natural. This bloody boat."

Maggie nods, her gaze flickering between the Ruby sinking to the floor and Mr. Moore, still plugged in, then over to Merrisol. "Uh. Okay." The lie is recognized, but Maggie does not want to call attention to it. Moving forward, she does rest a hand on Ruby's near shoulder, if the touch is allowed, "Let me know if you change your mind, please. I can always nip down to the galley for something." Looking up at Merrisol, she includes him and Mr. Moore in the offer before asking, "Um. What're we looking for down here?" Ruby is then given a quick glance, for what is natural in this group?

Prancing around in a volcano isn't natural. Tooling around the deep sea in a vessel built upon scientific principles is Perfectly Natural! Nevermind it looks like a permanently startled goose-whale, instead of a boat. Merri's frown over the criticism is short-lived, as he turns to regard Maggie as she approaches their newest visitor. "That would be a good idea," he gives her a warm smile, then nods over procuring some refreshment for Ruby. "I've determined that we have come into Rebma far southwest of the capital.. Same direction we had been heading when you took the sub to Terra-Ki," he notes. "Mr. Moore has reported a long series of depth fluctuations, which may indicate a stationary pod of marine animals.. or perhaps, at that size, he has come across the location of a lost city. I have ordered a dive and slowed descent in order to confirm the presence either way, and mark it on the chart, before continuing on our way."

Ruby corkscrews her palm against the side of her temple as if trying to force a cork back into a bottleneck. The other hand lowers to the deck and drags her fingertips against the firm unyielding surface. She doesn't shirk away from the touch, but she does acquire a bit of definition in her shoulders. She blows out a little gust of air and raises her chin. "'Ow can you tell? It's nuthin but deep dark oot there. Wait...wait..." she begins and works the back of her throat. "What Maggah said. You're not aftah sunken cities'r goo-goo'n aftah whales'r jeweled lob-lobs. Then where you take'n this inside-oot boot?"

Maggie nods to Merrisol's smile even more than his words, "Okay." Patting Ruby gently on the shoulder, she truns to start back the way she came, but is caught about half-way to the hatch by a stretch that almost keeps her from hearing the rest of Merrisol's explaination and Ruby's follow up. Once the joint-popping, muscle-warming, tear-inspiring stretch is finished, she looks over her shoulder, "Finding a lost city is exciting. Martin will want to hear about it if that is what he has discovered." She smiles at the crewman, "Well done." Her attention shifts to the viewport, then back to Ruby, "Uh. Well. We didn't come in looking for sunken cities or pods. I was aiming for Rebma City when we came back from Terri-Ki, but didn't get us quite there before I had to sleep. Um. Sorry about that. But, I guess it leaves us open for some adventure. Which... is good." Blinking a bit blearily, she reviews what she said. Mentally. Which should really happen prior to opening your mouth, Maggie. "Uh. Not... that I can necessarily get us close to the capital. But..." Just hush. "Be right back." The blush that tinges her cheeks is visible only as she turns away to flee out the hatch and toward the galley. The quest for snackage clearly gives her an 'out'.

Merrisol gestures Moore back into his chair since Ruby isn't taking it. Just as well, as that would have put her way too close to sensitive dials and twitchy switches. He tips his head significantly towards Maggie, so that the Begman comm officer gets his earpiece adjusted in time to catch praise from the sleepy redhead. Moore turns a bit pink and thumbs-up eagerly at her, before replacing the headset and hunching back over his fine ear work. He therefore misses Maggie's brain-fumble, unlike Merrisol, who headtilts in the opposite direction, this time in bemusement. A smile tugs up after her retreat though, encompassing Ruby, in a non-committal look of 'Yes, uh, let's just move on and try to get past how adorably dopey that was..'. "We are heading for the island, Ruby.. still several hours out through. The realm is quite vast across, not even accounting for the depths. It's plenty of time for you and Maggie to talk over your... project." Girl Project, apparently. No Merris Allowed! Ahrm. The Captain is okay with that. "By the way, yes it does tend to be dark at this depth," he notes, reaching over to the cylindrical periscope control descended from the cable-ridden ceiling. "The Solar Flare does have ways of bringing the sun's light with us, however." He flips a switch, turns a dial, and then through the viewport, the deep sea environment is saturated by a wide beam of natural but red-tinged light. The undersides of huge diaphanous clouds of algae and tiny organisms turn glowing hues of crimson and purple, providing a canopy for deep fish and predators to play their hunter-hunted games. And sprawling beneath it all, only the tallest mineral-crusted spires fully detailed, a grey, dead metropolis lies before the submersible, stretching across a flat abyssal plain.

Ruby blinks and furrows her eyebrows together as she pieces that together. The prospect of poking her nose around in places does have an appeal to it. Then she has to consider the idea that some manner of hocus pocus has been used to move or lead an entire vessel through tricksy means. She slowly stands up and works at the soot under her nails with their close neighbours. "I'm gonna take you oop on yer offah. Drinks. Maybe a wee nibble. Too dark'n deep'n the forge. Nevah know when it be night or day." she mulls over things and prepares to follow after Maggie and try not to get lost or entangled in any sensitive cables and whatnot. Seal the bulkheads! Merrisol's explanation is a lot of jargon to her. Well, some of it. But the little display that Merrisol puts on stops her in her tracks. Resembling something that might live in these depths, she widens her eyes and stares out the glass at what can be revealed. "Bog's balls." she murmers.

Since Maggie does know her way around the sub, she returns fairly quickly. She is carrying a tray with an assortment of stuff on it. A plate piled high with sandwiches, a carafe of coffee with several mugs, condiments for the sandwiches and a variety of things to adulterate coffee with are all included. Stepping through the hatch, she looks up toward the view port and her attention, as well as her forward motion, is arrested. Like Ruby, her eyes widen in surprise and her lips part in a near-o of surprise. Unlike Ruby, her reaction abates fairly quickly. "Oh. Wow." Stepping forward, she slides the tray onto a counter nearby, one hand remaining on the edge to keep it steady in case... "Wow. We should investigate."

While Ruby is off goggling by the viewport, Merrisol has parked himself at the periscope controls to conduct a slow sweep with the beams over the timeless ruins. That many of the buildings have retained their geometric shapes and a variety of storied heights, makes no difference towards the definite feeling of a city terminated of life and purpose. "Yes.. and we will," Merrisol mutters in preoccupation, while leaned into the viewfinder. "But there's still the matter of getting Princess Miriam back to the base before it gets out to her people that she's gone missing again. Terra-Ki.. was definitely fast. It took much longer for us to travel there and back than all the time we spent in that Shadow." He starts to swerve the great sea-horse head up above, to take a look at the beasts and critters in the unobtrusive red light, then pauses and turns, catching the scent of coffee and sandwiches. But for the number of mugs, he might have assumed the repast had been procured for Ruby. Knowing better, he smiles appreciatively and takes a few steps to help steady the tray so Maggie can get closer to the viewport. They might even be able to picnic on the steps, with this fantastic vista laid before them.

Ruby detects the arrival of sustenance. Her eyes remain fixed on the viewports until her nose turning towards the tray forces her to bring along her eyeballs as well. The large woman navigates the strange room and approaches so she can lay hands on some of the sandwiches. She carefully pours herself coffee and takes it black before lifting any solids to her maw. "Prin-cess...You 'auling Prin-cesseseses? Strange cargoo." she pauses and crams her mouth and chews. After clearing most of her piehole, she takes in the bridge again, leaning back against something solid. "I dunno 'alf tha things you all oop'tah. Which be good good. Truth. Bloody interestin."

After Ruby relieves the tray of a handful and lightens the carafe, Merri goes and sets the whole batch down near the top of the broad steps descending to the great lens of the forward view port. Operations is not much for furnishings or comfortable floors, but it leaves plenty of space to move around and for sandwiches be out of the way of traffic. Compared to the glut of churning gears and flashing lights crawling the walls and ceiling, the window itself is elegantly simple and determined in purpose. Two solid circular frames of pearlescent opalwood reinforced with bronze bands, hold the central gently concave glass disc and a wide concentric field in four sections around it. The fitted glass is several inches thick and clear as air from corner to curve, the lens aspect allowing a wider angle of visibility. The reddish spotlights are currently trained upon the 'cloud cover' of the hanging algae and the fauna ebbing and flowing beneath, leaving the city cast in chunky pools of murky darkness. The tallest habitations which rise out from the black are close enough to the hazy layers of scum that schools of fish and other marine animalia are seen to wend in and out of the empty window and places of erosion.

"That sounds about right," says Merrisol as he returns to the periscope controls with a coffee in hand. "I find that half of the things I'm up to, I don't know about either, until we're right upon them. That's the freedom of commanding a private vessel," he admits, then activates some sort of audio channel that runs between the interior chambers. He invites the other two crewmembers and the Tir guests as well to come forward to share the food and drink, as well as the view. "There is only one princess, that I know of, being hauled at present," he informs Ruby. "Miriam, have you met her? She is often at the island, caring for the Kelpies."

Maggie nods slowly to the assertion that they must take Miriam back to Rebma City. There is a wistful quality to her, however, that escapes as a sigh. Following Merrisol to the stairs, she settles where she can reach both sandwiches and coffee should any be left once her curiosity is sated and physical hunger take precidence. Her voice is soft, though hints of laughter sound in her tone, "Comes in part, of listening to me, I think. I don't always plan very well so we sometimes hi off after whimsy. Poor Kerf. I know that is not his very favorite way to get things done." Resting her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees, she watches the schools of fishies wend their ways through windows and coral encrusted doorways. Or are they just larger windows? Maybe leading to demi-balconies? Hard to say when the architecture is designed around three dimensional assumptions rather than two. "Y'know? That is really beautiful. The clouds of algae gives everything a kind of... secretive feel. As though there are wonders just around the corner."

Ruby has the common decency to place her empty mug somewhere not immediately hazardous. She had stalked over to a bank of dials and other fussy techbits, fully intending to lean it haphardly upon a slanted surface. But that seemed odd for some reason to some of her instincts. She then moves towards a crew member and almost hovered, as if he would naturally take it and maybe even refill it. But everyone seems rather busy. As if they were working and paying attention to important things while submerged on the bottom of the bloody ocean. And so, she ultimately she follows Merrisol and Maggie, playing a little catchup after being entranced by the undersea views. And the windows here, not to mention legroom, is much better. She offers Merri an "Uuhhh." as she tries to put a name to a face or situation. She nods slowly. "Maybe. Truth. I someone catch'ah shadow'r echo belong'n to ah femme when I skulk'n aboot. I remembah a wee prin-cess though. I mean, sure she wasn't wear'n full kit'n kaboodle when tendin to them soggy beasties..." she trails off and considers Maggie's words. She seems to nod along much more confidently with that. "Can't plan fer everythin. I mean...I make'ah mark sometimes. I need more bloody shirts such'ass...an then cross oof tha marks, but you goo goo crazy if'n you plan /every-thin/. Truth. Next you start count'n yer beans tha fill yer spoon an b'fore you know't...Flibber-flabber-jibber-jabber nut'ouse." The large woman ceases her yammering to try and see the algae through Maggies' eyes. Through an impossible window. Impossibly deep under the sea.

While Merrisol stands near the hatchway directing Mr. Lockwood and Miss Kirkman towards the comestibles further in, he registers that the conversation has softened into the realm of jibber-jabber, and turns his concentration elsewhere, first consulting with Ms. Cristholm over the present hovering course and how much power drain can be allowed through the solar lamps before it will be necessary to set off. He takes her headings over to Mr. Moore and they confer over the undersea chart, woefully blank over wide swaths except for depth markers. They will need to measure the dimensions of the city in three dimensions, but really, there is no time to descend further to get any real archaeological details, or take an educated stab at picking up anthropological cues. He is accordingly far too busy planning to leave to enjoy the view of the mysterious city, the secretive floating veggie miasma, the teeming night zone ecology, or the gargantuan specter of fluttering, swirling black webby rags swooping down through the cloud layers and twisting its way through the red-lit expanse towards them.

Maggie blinks a few times as Ruby joins them. Slowly, reluctantly, she drags her attention away from the window to the watery cityscape and looks up and up at the towering woman looming above. A smile is offered and Maggie scoots over to give Ruby room to sit on the stairs, if she wishes. Snagging a sandwich, she curls against a bulkhead to consider both Ruby and the window. After a blinking moment's consideration, Maggie nods, "Well. We do want to avoid the nuthouse at all costs, I think. It sounds noisy. And confusing." And a bit like weekends with her father, come to think of it. Some weekends, anyway. Clearing her throat, she refocuses on the view out and down. Things have changed a bit, though. The schools of fishies are flipping something the tail and vanishing into the buildings below. The stir changes the configurations of the algae and plankton clouds, turning them into gossamer and shadow traceries. Or... Wait. Is that part of the plankton cloud, or something with a bit more substance and cohesion? Slowly, Maggie rises from where she was sitting and edges closer to the window. Tilting her head at an acute angle, she narrows her eyes and gestures with her chin, "Ruby? What is that? Can you tell?"

Ruby yalps, "Whut?" She stops in her mid-sit and pads over to peer out through the window, almost pressing her skin against the glass and smudging it up. She squints and turns her head so that each eye can take a turn at getting the best view. She makes a considering rumble in throat. The kind that seems to scream /stalling/ as she observes the collection of fluttering things a-fluttering their way. "I nevah been down this deep. Truth. I mean, that be tha sort 'o memory I remembah. I bet you dogs tah dinnerplates nothin this deep means anythin but 'orrible rendin an dark ends." Ruby continues to try and make heads or tails of what she observes.

Miriam is a little late to the party, and finally makes her way to the bridge. It's possible she was napping. Her guards are nowhere in sight. She smiles to the others, then looks curious as she tries to catch up. "What's going on?" she asks as she peers towards the glass.

Maggie steps back a bit to let Ruby have more room at the view port, "Well... I'm not sure. Things down here come in the same variety of threat as above, really." Turning, she smiles a bit worriedly over to Miriam, "Hi. Sandwiches and coffee are there." A hand lifts to gesture to where Merrisol set the tray near the stairs, "We're trying to decide what something black and fluttery is. Take a look? I'm going to go forward and ask Kerf to turn the light back this way if he can." That's right, Maggie. Get the tasty sub to look at the incoming fluttery-rag weirdness descending on them. That'll scare it away with its big-googly eyes and their /bright light/. Sidling around to the stairs, she lifts her voice a bit, "Kerf?"

​Merrisol is right there, back at Ms. Cristholm's station, planning a route to trace the perimeter of the ruins and mark its dimensions on the exploration chart. He notes Miriam's going by with a quick smile, trusting Maggie to make the introductions between her and Ruby if need be. He becomes aware of the consternation as he looks up and sees Ruby and Miriam close to the view port in study of some common element, and Maggie stepping up closer to the helm. "Yes, Maggie? What have you found?"

Ruby presses her hand against the glass and turns her head to regard Miriam. Her lips purse and she self-consciously uses her other hand to rake through her coils of hair. Ruby is a tad smudged from some manner of sooty work, and the rest of her outfit seems to lean towards the likelihood of physical labour and smithing. Leather breeches with another overlay down the front and back. Torso covered with a top of more leather material over a thin undershirt. Bare arms from the shoulders downwards. She tries out a nod of the head to Miriam. "Yer grace." Her mouth forms the words clumsily. "Aye, whut Maggah said. Can't tell 'ow far away they be. If we was on land, I could spy with me good eye, but down 'ere...could be tricksy, aye? Dead tricksy."

Miriam looks interested in the food, and heads that way to pick a sandwich before looking towards the glass again to try to get a better look at what's going on. She skips the coffee for now. As opposed to Ruby, she's... well, she's pretty much the polar opposite to the large woman. She's small and tidy and beyond pale.

Maggie darts a glance over one shoulder as Ruby catches her attention, "Oh. Sorry. Miriam? That's Ruby. Ruby? That's Miriam." Introductions done. Right? Right. "Kerf?" Her gaze turns back to him and she gestures with one thumb over her shoulder, "Something is coming down toward us. I was hoping you could be able to turn the lights that way. It... Well... It looks like... Uh. If you took one of the Jotuns from Kitezh and made him a woman, then made her about one hundred times bigger and gave her a shawl made of black lace? Then if she lost it in the sea and it got all torn up and scraggly looking? That is what is coming toward us. I can't say for sure, but it looks like it would fill the sub's interior completely. Though it's hard for me to say since I'm not used to judging volume down here. It's... about the same volume as the algae clouds, I would guess." As she speaks, she keeps glancing over her shoulder as though she could see the nebulous whatsis out there. "It isn't algae, I don't think. For one thing, it isn't as poofy as the algae is. For another? I am pretty sure that it is actually coming at us. Intentionally."

Miss Laurenna Kirkman, the systems engineer, has come forward to grab a sandwich and peer out at the strange vista. She spots her favourite silvery princess by the viewport, then pauses in amazement at the sight of Ruby. Someone taller than the Captain? It can't be! She nibbles her sandwich uncertainly, but when Maggie gets to describing an odd critter sighting, Miss Kirkman creeps forward and takes Miriam's other side at the viewport. She first gasps to see the dark impression of a vast city, sprawling far beneath the submarine, then directs her gaze higher and lets out a thin keening sound of dismay. "Lady Maggie is correct, Captain. It's a giant's knitted shawl, coming at us roundabout! Port side of prow!"

Well then. Merrisol had been staring at Maggie throughout the curious description, and only beginning to get a sense of urgency from her words that supports the quick glances she's been making. He has already moved obligingly over to periscope column to direct the red-tinted sunbeams higher and scan the algae clouds, when she gets to her end statement and its alarming indications. He actually double-takes at her bemusedly for leaving that part last. Kirkman piping up much more succinctly to second the observation helps get his mind back in gear. "Evasion, Ms. Cristholm, take us down, and hard to starboard. Mr. Lockwood, trim the ballasts for depth." He takes the control column at that point to find this dark critter himself through the sea-horse head's spy scope.

"Ruby, Miriam, hold on to something!" he barks, just before the propeller kicks into high gear with a shudder through the entire hull. The dead metropolis abruptly fills the view port as the Solar Flare veers away from the skirling black entity and dives.

Ruby was just moving her free hand from her preening and down to the corners of her mouth where she begins to flick and pick at what the corners of her mouth captured before they could be consumed. A quick suck of the finger and she hooks that hand on her hip and slouches next to the window. Cool as a cucumber. She starts addressing the small pale woman, "I 'ear you..." she doesn't have time to finish because everything is going pear shaped. Ruby looks for the nearest support that looks like it's made of metal and grips it with her hands. She utters a few colourful curses and inhales air like a bellows, trying to keep her footing all the while.

Miriam doesn't actually take a bite of her sandwich yet, since there's interesting things going on and she's curious. She smiles to Ruby, and says "It's nice t'meet you." Then she looks at Maggie as the woman explains something of what's coming at them, and looks no small amount of concerned. She smiles then at Miss Kirkman as the woman comes up next to her, before looking first at the moving thing and then towards whatever might be below them. She tilts her head a little as her forehead wrinkles as though something is occurring to her, but before saying anything she finds something to hold onto with the hand that isn't holding her sandwich. "There's also some sort of magic down there. It's odd. Not that I want t'add to th'worry." She looks like she's trying to get some better sense of it, but isn't there yet. As the vessel veers, one might imagine her guards are cursing Merrisol. It's what they do.

​Maggie tilts her head a bit toward Merrisol when he looks quizzically at her. Her silent 'what?' is easy enough to read for the instant that it is there. Turning, she bends to collect the tray of sandwiches, coffee carafe and mugs so she can keep them from scattering to the floor and messing up the decking while they dive and veer to the side. For her part, she has no real trouble keeping on an even keel during the maneuvers. "Ruby, can you see if it is following us?" The mention of magic has her pausing. She frowns and half closes her eyes to inhale deeply. Stepping forward, she sniffs a few times, then a few more before nodding, "There is magic down there alright. Um... It smells... ritualistic. And local to the city. But... I can't tell more than that." Turning her head, she sniffs in the direction the creature is coming from. "Uh. It isn't associated with the... whatever it is. Back there."

The dark creature just might be able to fit inside the sub, theoretically. Its shape is wildly indeterminate, bunching and twisting like the twice-mentioned shawl completely with unraveling ends and webbed gaps in its nebulous thready structure. Nothing like those benevolent-looking red and purple algae clouds suspended heedlessly like layers of atmosphere above the city sprawl. As the sub dips and swings away, the raggedy edges can be glimpsed flickering at the left side of the view port, stretching into thinner and thinner fibers that fail to make enough purchase to halt the Solar Flare's momentum.

Cristholm steers by the light of the figurehead, as the high beams bounce across the nearest towers. By evasion, the Captain means she needs to put immediate distance between the vessel and the creature.. so she rights the sub back to a horizontal plane, flattens the oars against the hull, and guns them headlong towards the gap between two megalithic structures rising from the dark city.

Mr. Lockwood, holding onto the hatchway during the maneuver, now takes advantage of level ground and sprints away to the lobby, followed by Miss Kirkman.

Merrisol has the column twisted full to one side, and rapidly swings back the other way, tracking the flimsy entity. "It's coming around the other way," he calls. "Light's tearing holes in it but it just reforms - it's on an intercept course to starboard, Cristholm! We'll have impact in.. 5.. 4.."
"Right. Mr. Lockwood, I could use a boost!" yells Cristholm into the PA channel. There's no response.

..3.. 2.. The submarine judders with a new burst of acceleration as the rear ballasts let loose like champagne bottles popping their corks.

The SF passes between the buildings just as Ruby might see from her position the elastic entity barreling in on the starboard side of the viewport. It crashes into the tower instead, and black stuff spews from every available window on all sides. Thuds and spatters are felt against the side of the vessel while it clears the gap and then almost flips crazily on its face while the rear ballasts recalibrate balance.

"Magic? Rich-yew-als? Tha's bloody sacrifice'n blood'n death!" Ruby blurts in a worried tone. She does press her face against the viewport uncarring whether she bruises herself or leaves a smudge in an effort to get a hairy eyeball on this ominous sounding shawl. "Blast'it! Flip a thingy...fire'ah spear...shoot'ah cannonball'r sumpthin!" Captain material right here. Everyone take note. "Can we oot-swim't? Make tha bloody oars'r fins'r tail on this thing goo-goo fastah...Bloody 'ell it's squooshin splooshin through tha" Bonk.

Miriam nods to Maggie. "It's Ritual, yes." she agrees, and focuses on the magic rather than at the thing coming after them. She can't exactly do anything about that, after all. There is another nod though, that the two things seem to be unconnected. Magically, at least. She watches the city pass by them, though something Merrisol says catches her attention. "Light's tearing it?" She thinks about that, and starts to glow. It seems to more be a reminder that she can, rather than an expectation that she can do anything to it from inside the sub. Meanwhile, she keeps hanging on.

For her part, Maggie is busy trying to keep the coffee and sandwiches from flipping all over the inside of the observation area. That is, until the Ms. Cristholm calls for speed and there is no answer. Worried, Maggie starts toward the way back to engineering. The whoosh of speed they are given carries her farther along the walkway than she intended going and she has to turn to catch the wall against her back to stop. Without spilling anything. Since Lockwood established himself as 'there, alive and functional' Maggie heads back the way she came, arriving just in time to see Ruby bonk her head on something and slide to the floor. "Ruby! Oh, dear." Setting the tray down, she moves to Ruby's side to feel for a pulse at the large woman's throat. Looking down, she almost misses Miriam's glow. Almost. Looking up sharply, she nods, "Might be a good idea. I wish I was psychic. I'd try to tell it that we are not delicious. Maybe ask it what it wants." Other than lunch.

Sensing Maggie hurrying past, then back again after the speed boost, Merri takes in the commentary from all sides with a certain detachment while he views what he can of the interrupted pursuit. He skids and scuffs his boot heels for purchase on the floor as it starts to go perpendicular to its starting position. He manages to grip the periscope control column for support until Mr. Lockwood, fluid dynamics engineer, has cycled the appropriate amount of sea water back into the compression tanks. The floor being 'down' once more, he checks the vicinity for pursuit, then says, "Thank you, Ms. Cristholm. That was very good. Bring us around, if you please." He steps back and around the column to check on his passengers, almost kicking the food tray aside which Maggie had managed to keep intact. As it is, he makes coffee slosh across a few items, and the bread becomes unforgivably soggy. He regards the glowing Miriam thoughtfully. "Light tore it, yes, Princess.. or rather, it made holes in itself to avoid the direct touch of the light beam," he says, coming down the steps to kneel by Ruby and Maggie. "It doesn't have a mind, Maggie.. I couldn't even find a primitive instinct.. which either means, I need more direct visual contact.. or it isn't really an animal."

Mr. Moore, shaking and pale from the brief chase, is studying the external sound boards, and reports, "There's someone in the city, I think, Captain. I'm hearing.. voices.. it's very faint. Can't tell much more than that."

The Solar Flare is brought about slowly, several hundred yards from the two towers, and in the ambient light from the slanting eye beams, the building on the left is still coated black on the outside well, with runny trails down the other sides where bits had burst out the empty windows.

Miriam has kept a death grip on whatever handhold she'd taken, and somehow also still has hold of her sandwich. She looks at it for a moment as though trying to figure out how she managed that, then shrugs and finally takes a bite. Meanwhile, not really having a job here or immediately useful skills, she just watches everything going on both inside and outside the sub.

The tilting of the sub toward the perpendicular caused Maggie to slide a bit with Ruby as anchor. When righted again, Maggie moves to Ruby's throat once more. Finding the woman's pulse is a chore, but she nods to Merrisol and Miriam, "She's okay. She'll probably have a headache later." Looking around, she rises slowly, "Um. I'm going to get Ruby a blanket and pillow." Her gaze flickers to the port to check on the beastie. But, her gaze does not linger on the view this time. She whips her attention to him, "Wait. It does not have a brain?" Slowing, she looks over Miriam's shoulder at the port. Part of it shows the outside while the other reflects Miriam's glow, "So... maybe it thinks in... I mean... I guess we don't have enough data to wonder, but... Hive mind? Neural net spread through the entire thing?" She's making it up, right? "I... am going to get blankets..."

​The Captain examines Ruby briefly, then glances over his shoulder at Moore. "It looks to be a city rivaling Amber's capital in size.. there's bound to be denizens of one sort or other, or at least visitors at any given time." Sort of like them. "Neural.. net.." he echoes, eyeing Maggie over the use of the weird term. She's definitely right about one thing: They are lacking in data. As she has put Ruby under her care, however, Merrisol rises and moves to stand in the center of the viewport, gazing at the dark grunge plastered to the building. There is about two hundred yards between it and the ship, and without playing the light directly upon the tower, it is too difficult to make out whether the thing is still moving about of its own volition, in its current disarrayed state. "Light will only provoke it if it is still fit enough to pursue," he mutters. He looks and takes note of Miriam munching away on her sandwich. There's a pause as Ms. Cristholm and Mr. Moore seem to hold their breaths, waiting to hear the order 'take us in closer' issued next. Instead Merri says, "Run diagnostics on our starboard propulsion.. there was some impact. Then we'll go closer."

Maggie does not go into what she was envisioning for that neural net. Nope. Though that does mean that imaginations are free to roam wild with it. Still, as the stuff did just glop off in pieces when it hit the building, whatever it is using as netting is not very strong. Maybe that is why it looks so tattered and torn. Netting is supposed to be strong. She shakes her head a bit to dispel the unwelcome and sort of creepy thoughts. Ruby's head is placed on a pillow and the blanket is spread over the large woman's form, then tucked a bit under on either side. Like a faintly fuzzy cocoon. Another shudder ripples through her and she loosens the cover near Ruby's shoulders. Easing the woman's escape route, Maggie decides that enough is enough and stands. Looking from Merrisol to Miriam to the stairs, she spots the sad and soggy bread. "Oh." Moving that way, she claims the tray and turns to take the thing back to the galley for disposal. Anyone for coffee-touched bread pudding? No? Fine.

Merri shakes his head, while manually checking the sea-horse figurehead's maneuverability, with the headbeams switched off for now. The eerie red dawn has receded from the waters. "This is Rebma," he confirms. "Maggie got us back soundly through Shadow, just to the outerlying edges, before the water turns wild. She might have shifted us closer by a couple of hours, to a point. But that's fine, the SF could take it from there." That explains what Maggie had been groggily trying to say earlier, not that Miriam had caught it. It was adorkable. Merrisol glances at the be-puddinged bread as Maggie takes the tray away, and brow-furrows. "Mmm.. mutation.."

Miriam nods to Merrisol's explanation, then looks out again at what she can see of the city around them. "This's another lost city'n Rebma then? Are there lost cities'n Amber, too?" She clearly has no idea. She looks back at Merrisol, then says "If there's any way I can be helpful, just let me know."

Maggie returns trayless from the direction of the galley. Hands pressed into her pockets, she looks first toward where the gloppy shawl is still mushed up against the building, then back to Merrisol and Miriam, "Uh. Did you say mm mutation as I was leaving, Kerf? It sounded like that anyway. Was that in relation to the sandwiches or the thing out there?" Turning to look for it in the darkened waters, she lifts a hand to scratch the back of her head, "Are you thinking that it might be mutated algae? It is about the right size for an algae cloud. Just... Uh... That sounds kind of far-fetched when I say it out loud."

"Like It'rla, yes Princess.. it would appear to be," nods Merrisol. "There are a number of legends in the archives describing the existence of old cities, said to be reflections themselves of other legendary cities of old. Some, like the Sunken City claimed by the Triton race, and the Empty City caretaken by Rebma within the March of Bauquemare, are relatively well-known to us. I'm not certain which of the writings describe It'rla, if any. Likewise, this city might have been previously documented by explorers, or it might be a new discovery entirely." He nods slightly to Maggie. "It does seem unlikely. However.. we have been seeing some exceptionally strange things in Rebma of late. Ms. Cristholm, report?" he turns then to look at his navigator.

"No good, Captain," says Ms. Cristholm after another moment. "The propulsive elements were spackled as we went by. We won't be able to make any low-powered approaches until those are cleared out."

Merrisol grumbles, unsurprised. "I'll go out and have a look." He regards Maggie and nods, as though in presumption of her volunteering to go too. "Princess.. your, ah, glow. Is that.. true moonlight you can exude..?" he wonders then.

Miriam listens to the others, but is obviously out of her depth. As it were. The mention of spackling causes her to look curious and give something a moment of thought. "Spackled by what? That... thing out there? Maybe my light can help?" She nods to Merrisol, and replies. "It is true moonlight, yes. I'll go with you. Let me have a sword, though. It might be useful, if this's a being of darkness."

Maggie tilts her gaze over toward Ms. Cristholm, but the reply is no more than is expected. She nods when Merrisol's gaze falls to her. "Yeah, I'm going with you, Kerf. I'll bring my sword." The one that flames, maybe. Glancing down, she takes a moment to look at Ruby. The large woman has had her head placed gently on a pillow and a fuzzy blanket has been tucked around her to stave off chill or shock. When Merrisol asks Miriam about her light, Maggie looks over to catch the answer, "Moonlight... Wow. That is really neat, Miriam." And impressive. "Oh. A sword. Uh... What kind? I have a shatterglass sword for use underwater, but it has not been tested, yet. I don't think that I have a plain metal one. But, someone aboard probably does. Would the shatterglass one do?"

Ruby stirs within her comfy cocoon. Her slack jaw begins to tighten in increments and a hollow groan seeps out of her mouth. The shape of her pupils drags along the underside of her closed eyelids like little critters trundling around under a dune of sand.

Merrisol turns to Moore's station while Maggie is addressing Miriam's Moonlight. And M, M, M-M-M. "Let's find a quiet spot to touch down. Perhaps put in on one of the broader towers," he suggests. The Begman hunches over his soundboard again and renews his study of the three-dimensional environment and its audible peculiarities. Merrisol employs the periscope to scout out a likely building and sees the outline of a mid-height but wide-roofed structure "There, on our left. Ms. Cristholm, you'll have to make do with the fins." He turns to consider Maggie's offering of glass weapon, and nods. "Swords are impractible under water, and the steel is often not proofed. We have spears and harpoon.. combat knives, a trident, in the armory locker. I do have a cutlass, but I was saving it for a duel." Wouldn't do to hit Maggie with a sword that's been poking at suspiciously black algae.

The SF takes on a slight waddle as it makes for the building indicated. The misty glow emanating off the hull's power lines catches further detail the closer they get. "Huh, that side of it has extra pillar supports, see?" Cristholm points out the structural engineering design, as though it means anything to the others. But maybe Merrisol gets it.

He nods. "For higher load-bearing surface area.. all right, give it a light touch, Ms. Cristholm. Lower the struts."

Miriam thinks, then replies "A glass sword filled with moonlight?" She smiles. "I'd hate t'be a creature of darkness struck by that. But'f that's yours, I don't want to take't and you not have't. My men have normal swords. I can borrow one." She looks at Ruby then, watching as the woman gets closer to conscious. "Someday Martin'll no longer need mine, t'help defend Rebma. Then I'll carry't." She nods to Merrisol about the impracticality of swords, then says "It's what I've been practicing with, though. In and out've th'water."

When Ms. Crisholm mentions that the landing spot Merrisol chose has more columns on one side, Maggie's mind does not immediately go to load bearing potential, but to something else. "That's probably the front." Though in Rebma? Who knows? She does hear Merrisol's comment and does not add the 'so it would be more decrative' comment that hovers. It's prettier is not really relavant to the conversation, right? Right. Drawing a breath, she turns her attention to the nearly moving Ruby, fascinated by the way the woman's eyes shift beneath the lids. She almost misses Miriam's initial comment, "Uh. No, you can use it, Miriam. I will take the other one. I'm more used to it..." Darting a glance over to Merrisol, she amends, "Er. Uh. You two figure out who gets which blade, okay? I'm fine with either of you borrowing the glass one." That Merrisol has a blade for a duel gives Maggie pause and she once more lifts her hand toward her hair, "Anyway... We should get this done as quickly as we can and be out of here. In case."

Ruby reanimates like a record player spinning back up to the appropriate RPMS. Her eyelids take their own sweet time to uncover her peepers. The pupil of her healthy looking eye is a big fat checker that collapses in upon itself as it takes the room back into focus. "Mmmmmrrrruuuut?" curling upwards in an abdominal crunch and blearily looking about for the girder that must have slammed into her frontal lobe. When her forward momentum stops, the tight pocket of dull pain latches itself to the part of her cranium that had an uh-oh oopsie. "Starboard!" she ejects the last of her in-flight recorder and finally catches up to speed to the here and now. "Blades? We boarded?"

Merrisol nods acknowledgement of Miriam's argument for sword-wielding. "I'll be taking Cloudpierce," he notes to Maggie after listening to the almost-confusion. "I'll need both hands free to strip away the blockages. There are diver suits in your sizes, if you would like an extra layer of sea-worthy protection." He's considering Maggie's outfit and then Miriam's dress, when Ruby stirs in her wrapping. He takes a few steps lower to the viewport underwhich she's been bundled, and blinks as she blurts a late warning. "There you are. How are you feeling, Ruby? We're putting down in the city to see to some quick repairs.. seem to have gotten hit by some of the squoosh-and-sploosh," he explains quickly.

Meanwhile, the sub is accordingly descending gingerly onto the building roof, under the steel-nerved and cool-handed guidance of Ms. Cristholm. The first tap of the strut is felt as a thud; she readjusts with a winnow of the side-fins, and a four-point landing is soon after achieved. The rooftop... holds solid. "We're full inside that large circle, Captain. The was a symbol inside, if you hadn't noticed. The two bars with the cross-bar between them," notes the navigator.

Miriam nods, when Maggie says she doesn't need the glass sword. "Thank you, Maggie." she says. The thing about the sword Merrisol is saving for a dual is floated right past, as it were. She is so not adding into that subject. Instead, she looks at Ruby and asks "Do y'need something t'drink? Some water?" When the sub is landed so well, she smiles to Miss Cristholm. "You're so good at that!" she says.

Maggie nods to Merrisol, her glance both accepting and speculative though she does not ask for clarification, "Right. I don't want to use fire on the stuff in case it... Reacts badly." Or solidifies on the glass. Or explodes. Or... Shuddering, she turns to Miriam, "Oh, no problem. Though if you can call the light to brightness quickly, I would recommend not using it to begin with. In case it is the light that lures the stuff." After a moment's thought, she turns to Merrisol and Ruby, waiting for Ruby to be brought up to speed. "Uh..." Frowning, she looks up toward Ms. Crisholm, "We are inside a circle marked on the top of the building? The circle has... what? An H? inside it?" Moving to the viewport, she tries to see the symbol, "Yeah, we should wear protective gear. Uh. Kerf? Shall I get a specimen jar from the lab?" Miriam's enthusiasm wins the Princess a smile.

Ruby drags her fingers and thumbs across the decking until she can find firm purchase. She gives the slightest of nods in order to not tempt fate and the bruise upon her forehead and pride. "Fine. I be fine. It's all still oop there. Nuthin lost this time." she mutters and starts to struggle out of the well-intentioned wrappings. It's unfortunate that there doesn't seem to be anyone else laid out cold. Ruby headlocks the internal frustration of winning the knock-out lottery. "Naw...Naw, thanks all tha same, Miriam. Bein where we be, I ain't eagah fer more wet stoof." she coughs and wipes her mouth with a length of forearm. "Aye, so whuts tah-doo-doo? Fit ass'ah fiddlahcrab. Once 'eadbutted a 'orse." she yammers and does a little mouth-to-mouth on a more confident persona.

Alicea Cristholm flashes a look at Miriam, then compresses a smile herself. "Oh go on with you, milady, and do stay on your guard out there." She looks dryly at Merrisol for a moment, but is apparently very good at keeping her mouth shut when it comes to questioning her Captain's decisions, at least in mixed company.

While Maggie theorizes on the nature of the marking, which might be Thari, or perhaps another old alphabet still seeing usage beyond the Golden Circle... Merrisol spends several seconds examining Ruby's goose-egg and holds out his hand to offer her support in gaining her feet, once she's eschewed her cozy shock-blanket. "Yes, we'll need several containers, or one of the fine mesh bags I use for seaweed collection," he nods to Maggie's question, then says to Ruby, "Well. The majority of our pursuer is still slopped in and around that tower," he says to Ruby. "So we are taking the opportunity to clear some of its detritus from the Solar Flare's propulsive mechanism. There is a fair view of the city as well, which will mean inhabitants, if any, will be able to spot us. Will you step out with us? Those tattoos are gills, I believe.. that will provide all necessary functions at this depth of about three-thousand feet?" He looks at Miriam as well as he makes that query.

Miriam considers, then nods to Maggie. "I won't start out glowing." she promises. "Just in case." She finally finishes her sandwiches, and seems content to let the others make decisions about what they're going to do. Merrisol's question about her tattoo causes her to look unsure. "I... don't know. I've never tried t'use them this deep. Does your kiss provide more protection? Maybe that'd be safer?"

As she can't see the symbol that they have set down on, Maggie stops craning her head around to try. Standing straighter, she nods to Merrisol and heads back. Pausing before ducking through to head for the lab, she turns to look at the others. Her gaze lingers on Ruby, then shifts sideways to Merrisol, then back again. With a nod to no one in particular, she heads off. Specimen things. Check. Diving suits. Check. She makes a mental note to see if any were made for Merri for Ruby to use.

Ruby doesn't want help getting up, but uses what's offered all the same. A little grudging thanks is probably buried within her kerfuffled exterior. "Nevah used'm this deep. Not eag'ah tah try if we be oot there fer a long swim. If'n we git separated'r lost'n they loose their glimmah-glammah, we join Bog fer bloody sure." she admits sulkily. "I once seen sumpthin drudged oop from tha deep trenches. Dun't wanna end oop like tha. Truth. Aye...If'n there be'ah way I kin 'elp, lemme 'elp. I gots'm tatts that'll 'elp me take'ah few things oopside tha 'ead with warnin, but tha big squeezie...tha ain't eas'ah."

Merrisol nods slowly to the uncertainty offered from both sides. "Yes, exactly so, I can grant you as much protection as my own blood grants to me. That would do for this depth and another two-thousand besides, although I would begin to feel a shade of discomfort beyond this point and so would you. Very well, then." The Sea's Blessing for all! "You will still wear the suits for nominal physical protection. Ruby, you may have the use of mine, and outfit yourself from the armory locker as you please. I'll administer the kiss once we're ready to proceed through the airlock," he says matter of factly, turning to follow Maggie out of Operations. No need to use the chamber's pressurizing function, so it will just be like getting flushed straight into the dark vacuum of space.

Miriam nods her agreement that she should wear a suit for some added protection. "Whatever y'think is best." she replies as she follows out to go change. Of course, her guards notice this and there are some unhappy looks. Mostly at Merrisol. It's ultimately her decision, though.



Maggie leads the procession down to the equipment and weapons lockers first. She motions to where they are for those who are not aware, but keeps moving down to the labs. Taking a few minutes to secure some specimen jars and a net or two, she considers some of the solvent. Bending backwards a bit, she waits to see if anyone followed her this far. Securing some of the solvent, she silently debates. Maggie, she says internally, you know nothing about this stuff. Yes, Maggie, she replies to herself, but Mr. Moore says it gets everything out. Out of what, Maggie? No idea, Maggie. Take some? Of course. Though it is not too likely that she went through that entire dialogue, she does end up shrugging and putting some of the probably dangerous chemical into a smaller jar to take with her. With everything packed up, she heads back to the locker to claim her own suit. And to point out which is the glass cutlass that Miriam can use. Though there is probably only one in there.

Ruby thinks maybe she is suffering from a bit of concussion. She narrows her eyes at Merrisol and her broad lips pucker into a thoughful bouquet of skepticism. "Suits, aye. Lockah, aye." she allows a weighty pause, "Whut's this? Whut's this? Swap'n spit?" No one else is clambering for the door or voicing stern disapproval. The large woman turns towards Miriam. Ruby watches everyone set off. Action time. Adventure. She steals a large lungful of oxygen and slowly lets it whistle out of her nostrils before following suit. Upon view of the armory, she immediately regrets leaving her own weapon behind. But as stated earlier, while she wasn't in the state to answer or be cogent of the discussion, her Bashchoppah might not be very effective down here.

Merrisol finds Maggie prepping repair and specimen-gathering equipment, and laying out the peculiar velvety suits developed from somewhat exotic kelp-textiles. Maggie's is fully customized to her shape and height, while the others have a more generic fit for builds ranging from slender to stocky, meant to be close against the skin for maximum insulation. He assists in suiting the team, buckling their equipment harnesses, clipping on a hooded faceplate option with a compressed air supply (um.. why?). The procedures are efficient and professional, and Merrisol at least is Rebmanly unphased by any disrobing that must take place in between changes.. though he is apparently also Begman, so how the heck does that even work?

The airlock is accessed from the catwalk above the lobby, and as promised, Merrisol goes to Miriam with a singular solemnity and intent, leaning down as he cups her jaw line gently and kisses her on the mouth. For Ruby, he doesn't have to bend down.. she does! and he has words for her on apparently her first experience with This Kind of Kiss: "This is my promise to you of the Sea's benevolent protection, Ruby." Assuming she accepts at that point, he does touch her face to get that proper angle and plant one on her lips. MWAH. Tada! What did it, the mere touch of his hand, or the fun part that followed? You'll never knowwww!

Since there is limited room in the airlock, Merrisol takes Maggie with him to go out first. There, while water swirls up into the octagonal-cylindrical chamber, he kisses her and it looks like there might be that other sort of kiss worked into the ritual. Heyyy now. The water has filled the chamber to the top, and he releases her with a smile to open the hatch out the top, to swim on out. He comes back down to help coach Ruby out at least.

Getting the suit on was not the hard part really. It was making sure that all the fastenings are fastened that was a pain. So, when Merrisol steps in to assist, he is given a brilliant smile. Once ehrs is on, Maggie turns to help Miriam and Ruby. While Merrisol administers the Kiss to their friends, Maggie adjusts a belt that hands low over her hips. A sheeth holds her cutlass while a variety of pockets are filled with sample containers, nets, a bit of a scraping tool and some of the solvant she nipped from the lap.

When it is her turn, Maggie takes Merrisol's hand in hers and moves with him to the pressurization chamber. The kiss? Well, judging purely by appearances, it incorporates the ritual gift of the sea with a more traditional sort of communication. When they part outside the chamber, Maggie's smile is warm, her eyes sparkle and her focus remains centered on him for a precious few moments. When he returns to help the others exit the ship, she turns to survey their location. The sub is indeed sitting with its feet resting on the symbol on the roof of the building they landed on. The city-scape stretches around them, the shapes of buildings fading into the dark waters. Above, red and purple clouds of algae waft about, giving the water a look sort of reminiscent of a midnight sky with sunset touched clouds arrayed at varying levels. Turning back a bit, she seeks the black sploosh of wrongness still splatted against a building, "It is beautiful here."

Ruby feels like a huge pillock as she's secured and fastened and made so that she doesn't drown when she exits the craft. Her nostrils are stiff flaring in an agitated kind of manner after getting 'La Selkie dans la bouche'. Or maybe it's the after-effects of the concussion. Stamping about in her suit that seems tight in some places and loose in others, she peers about in the armory for something sharp and pointy. She tries to judge between a harpoon and a trident. But something about the trident strikes her as totally off limits. Taboo. Harpoon, I choo-choo choose you. She grips it firmly and gets in line to disembark into cold and dangerous depths.

It's obvious that Miriam's never worn one of these things before, and she seems more than happy to have what help she can with it. The kiss isn't anything new, and she makes it as simple and painless for the poor man, then borrows the offered glass sword and spends a little time admiring it. And then Merrisol and Maggie go off to kiss, and she smiles warmly when they return. "You've no idea how good't is t'see that." she says to them, then moves her attention to them all leaving the sub.

​- - - - - - - - -

At these depths, the water is cold as the dead of winter, and even with breathing and lung compression made a non-issue, the atmospheric pressure is dire enough to poison the bloodstream. As the sub's interior hatch seals and the outer hatch flips open to draw the team two by two into the new environs, the chill is still there but exacts no damage, and there is only a slight feeling of extra weight upon the body. That just leaves the voluntary drawing of watery breath, an acquired bit of counter-instinct for survival, and Merrisol monitors Ruby for the first few cycles before he nods to her and swims out to survey first the situation around them, then the side of his poor vessel. For himself, he wears a dark green diver's half-suit, kelpy in substance but bearing a scaley sheen. The built-in boots are a bit extended into webbed flippers with clawed toes. Around his waist wraps lengths of brass chain, crossing up over the shoulders to be hooked by a large glass harpoon and a brass hook. A tool harness keeps a knife, scraper, and sample bags in close reach.

The Solar Flare keeps her power lines glowing hot with sunlight energy, providing enough illumination to work by and to see about fifty feet from all sides. Not nearly enough to distance to keep a proper eye on the black shawl currently doing whatever giant mindless organisms do while nobody is watching. The shape of the roof describes an irregular building, L-shaped and circular at one end. Mid-height relative to the rest of the structures, it is firmly within the city, yet still high enough that the streets are deep indiscernible rivers of shadow. The direction of currents are indicated by the way the sediments encrust and build up along the leeward sides of buildings while the exposed sides are swept, sculpted, and polished smooth.

Beyond the strange landing circle currently dwarfed by the bulk of the sub, a large shed of sorts sits near one edge, the entrance missing its door and showing an empty staircase angling downwards into the dimness. Other silent structures upon the roof include squat boxes with slatted perforations through which one can see large fan blades.

The starboard bow's propulsive elements are comprised of bronze-toned arms radiating from the prow like solar rays, rippling serpentine for most of the length of the vessel, leading to the powerful propeller at the back. Parts of the arms are currently hidden under clumps of black crud, from when the pursuing entity crammed against the tower hard enough to spray bits of itself out the windows as the submersible passed by.

Merrisol slips his hooded faceplate over his head and uses un-slimed parts for handholds as he gets in close examine one such clump.

Taking no more time to look around, Maggie turns to be sure that both Miriam and Ruby are out of the sub and that the sub's decompression/compression chamber has cycled closed. Miriam is offered a smile for her half-heard assertion and if there is a blush on Maggie's cheeks, it could be the chill of the water tingling color to her skin. As her gaze lifts to the Flare, however, Maggie's smile fades and dies away. All that glop will need to be removed. Adjusting the play of one kelp-fabric glove, she flaxes her hands and kicks upward. Using one hand to catch a handhold on an external strut, she moves in to examine some of the stuff. Her free hand reaches for a specimen jar while she determines how best to collect some and clean the side of the sub.

Ruby is wary and nervous when all the way out of the Solar Flare. Hesitant and not at all at ease. Her tense form drifts from the hatch like a big bundle of shivering muscles, her legs kicking to propel her in short sharp bursts. Her breathing comes in a shallow pant. Not ready to panic, but feeling that unhelpful whisper at the back of her mind offering to take the reigns and scuttle everything. The sight of the glowing areas of the Solar Flare distract her from some of the anxiety, turning her head and swishing her uncontrolled coils of hair like an anemone waving in an undersea current. She keeps close to the hatch for a few more moments, feeling literally out of her depth, watching Merrisol examine his ship. Ruby does not rush in to help just yet.

Miriam looks all around them once out of the sub, and once she's adjusted somewhat to the pressure, her gaze lingering on those building openings. She looks like she wouldn't mind exploring, though then she turns her attention towards studying the slime as best she can without getting too close. And, while staying kind of close to Ruby in case the much larger woman needs some help. "Let me know," she calls to Merrisol and Maggie, "if you'd like t'see how't likes my moonlight."

Arcing above the ship, the long sectional neck of the seahorse figurehead supports the large cranium at an angle that make it look like it is staring vigilantly at the multi-toned 'cloud cover'. The edges of the floating algae layers have a kind of lining to enhance the imagery, touched by the faint rays of the real sun still cruising the real sky high above. The splattered crud on the hull is having none of that solar jazz, shrunken away from the grooves that contain the glowing power grid.

Merrisol spends some time attempting to commune before he even touches it. He applies the scraper like a spatula to scoop a bit and pry it from one of the propulsive arms. A momentary viscous bond keeps it from separating with ease, but the next moment sees the chunk lifting away like a serving of black sponge cake. Merrisol brings it closer to the light's glow, and the frayed edges curl, some of the substance dissolving. He shakes his head, opening a mesh bag to splat the rest of the clump in as a specimen. Turning away and lifting the faceplate so his voice carries clearly to the others, he says, "I'm getting no sense of animal instinct from it, no mode of communication. However, its physical properties appear somewhat similar to basic plant structure.. It could be a mutated strain of algae, except that it obviously locomoted for us."

Ruby does not like the sound of that, and the sight even less. Still, it didn't actively latch onto Merrisol's face. Feeling emboldened, Ruby kicks her feet to rise alongside the hull. Miriam's comment has her nervously eyeing the woman and what manner of powers are at her beck and call. You'd think she'd loosen up a little at this point, but instincts are hard to submerge. The large woman murmurs experimentally to Miriam, "Tha thing you kin doo. Moonlight...'Ow..." she begins to ask and then stops. Gripping her harpoon she makes her way closer to where samples are being taken. "I'd bettah goo-goo'n earn me keep."

Working nearby, Maggie has pried some of the stuff up off of the ship's side. At first she tried scraping gently with the side of the scraper but the stuff just oozed to one side and back again when the scraper was lifted. Tilting her head to one side, she frowns at the stuff. Looking up in time to see how Merrisol managed, she tries again with more success. Some of the stuff is lifted from the side, the viscous stuff trying to hold it to the side of the ship thinning in strings until it pops free. That bit is settled into one of the nets, the weight of it keeping the specimen bag weighted down. Looking over her shoulder and down, she nods in reply to Merrisol's request.

Slipping to one side, she surveys a new patch of the stuff. Cutting through a bit, she pulls it away from the ship's side, leaving a smaller bit isolated from the rest. Once the piece she cut away is stowed, she motions to Miriam and drifts to one side. The samples bag is anchored to her belt with the bulk of her body protecting it from errant Miriam-Moonlight. "Here, if you please, Miriam?

Miriam watches and listens, very interested as samples of the material are taken. Ruby's question earns a smile, and she explains. "I'm from Tir-Na Nog'th, the Silver City, and carry the essence of th'moon inside me. I can glow with't." She watches Maggie cut away a section and stow it, leaving another section parted from the rest on the hull, then moves closer. Once she's right next to it, she starts to glow with the light of a full moon and watches to see what happens. The glass sword is drawn and ready. Just in case.

The clump is spongy, with webby edges waving in the current. The water around the Solar Flare conveys a hazy version of daytime, so it's already clear the organism is not affected by mere ambiance. Miriam's moonlit glow adds to the visibility in that area, certainly. She is also standing well close enough for the concentrated emanations to touch upon the thready black splat. The top seems to fade away before one's eyes, not shrinking but dissolving away along the webbed clots as more becomes exposed. The Sea carries away traces, so it's difficult to say if those wisps and threads disappeared themselves or escaped.

Ruby slowly acclimatizes better to this new environment. There is a chill that's probably not all to do with the locale that still seems to sap at her usually boundless energy. Maybe the recent exposure to the forge and this polar opposite is to blame. Trying to mimic how well Merri, Maggie and Miriam seem to just accept things and be useful, the large woman goes to join them within closer proximity. Her weapon is held at the ready in case something thinks the group is worth a taste test. When Miriam begins to produce the power she recently explained, Ruby turns her head slightly away from it, wary of the effects. Her hackles raise when she spies the black stuff being more illuminated and in the process of dissapating? "Aye...Aye. 'Ow tha 'ell this stoof do anythin but just stick'n look bloody awfool? What's tha porpoise?" she grimaces.

Merrisol watches the biochemical reaction and effective removal of the clump, and nods thoughtfully. "Well done." The strands flitting away don't appear to concern him. There's a tower over there to the northeast that is beslimed with the stuff, after all. He glances at Ruby as she joins them, then waits until Miriam has glowed the remaining scrap out of existence. "See how the energy lines are all clear as well," he gestures to the gridwork of lit grooves, all of them clear and unmucked by the black strain. "While the thing was whole, it avoided the SF's direct beams by ripping a temporary pathway through itself. These clumps don't appear to function on their own. Perhaps there was a sort of 'neural net' that allowed it to move about as a large school of fish," he muses to Maggie. He looks at Ruby apologetically since the grueling scraping jorb is now obsolete, now that they have the moon solution. "It wasn't attracted by the light, that much is certain.." he says, lifting his gaze higher and like the figurehead now staring up at the cloudy 'sky'. "Large concentrations of these simple plant organisms tend to be caused by imbalances in the environment. Something about this city.. it's supplied them with a great deal of nitrogen and phosphorus." Ah, science. The Warden of the Deep is also Warden of the Geek.

Maggie watches Miriam's power grow, the glow touching the blackness. As bits fray away and the stuff dissolves, she smiles, impressed, "Nicely done, Miriam." Floating a bit closer, she peers at the spot where the stuff was, "I think that even the goo that was holding it to the side is gone." Flipping up and around, her hair trailing after her like streamers of firey rope, she listens to Merrisol's explanation. Her angle is perpendicular to the standard up-down arrangement and she uses the perspective to compare the algae and the black stuff, "If it was not coming after us because of the light, what else could it have been? It did not seem to be just... in our wake." Turning mid arch she resettles down near the others by the sub, "Does the Solar Flare have any byproduct that it might have wanted?" Her gaze flashes to the Solar Flare's port side, as though suspecting the sub of being guilty of some sort of excretory issue. Turning just a bit with unused momentum, her gaze lifts to Merrisol's as he mentions the neural net. She blinks, trying to visualize the net idea superimposed over the shawl and a school of fishies all in the same picture. It does not work so she blinks it away, "Uh." And that is all the attention that notion gets. She smiles at him and nods once, though the odd trailing edges of ideas inspired by flickering fish tails, netting and algae-monsters do not quite go away, "Do we want to stay and see what the city might be feeding them? Or head back to report to Martin?" She knows which Miriam's guards would prefer, but Miriam's guards are not Warden of the Deep. "Maybe we can find out what that stuff is while we are at it."

Miriam watches intently as the moonlight touches the stuff clinging to the side of the sub. She looks pretty satisfied as it dissolves, whatever the reason. She smiles at Maggie, and nods to her. "Thank you. We should have me do this to a sample in one've those bottles, so you can see better what's left over." she suggests, then looks again to Merrisol and asks "Should I remove th'rest from th'ship?" Something else occurs to her then, and she looks in the direction of that ritual magic she and Maggie sensed earlier. "Do y'think that magic is protecting survivors from that thing? Or things?" They don't know how many there are, after all. "Maybe't came after th'sub because've the living things inside?" She's obviously just guessing at it all."

Ruby is more than happy that it appears she won't have to get near the stuff. However, that might be one of the few things she absorbs. She nods along with the words she picks out. Net gets a nod. Fish gets a nod and a grunt. And when Merrisol mentioned the nearby city, Ruby looked at it with what might be considered a thoughtful expression and a non-commital /hmmmm/ that dropped to lower registers more agreeable to whales or bears. "Aye...well, it be ob-vious. Truth. Tha bloody sunken graveyard we stuck'n." she mutters and drifts against the hull, a limb finding purchase here and there, casting a glance over her shoulder as if she expects a large dark fluttering cloak to descend upon them.

Merrisol looks from Maggie, to Miriam, then to Ruby, taking in their ideas. It's Ruby's that provokes a quick nod. "Living survivors and the like.. yes, Mr. Moore had said he was picking up faint voices on the sound board. I'm not certain what ritual is in effect that you're both sensing," he frowns, bereft of such sensitivities. "If it is a deliberate scheme to," he twirls his pointing finger to indicate the canopy high above, "gather these layers, I could imagine a valid reason for doing so - visual obfuscation, namely." No hiding from Moore's depth-pinging skills, apparently. "But.. magic aside.. Ruby is correct. Graves, or the advanced decomposition factor of them rather, create a good deal of nitrogen as a byproduct. A city this size.."

He reaches up to pat a clear section of the hull. The submersible is a solid presence, the body neither wood nor steel, but ceramics and a dense petrified material, shot with intense veins of blue mineral. Rebman Opalwood, it's called. "There are quantities of nitrogen on board the Solar Flare, kept in compression tanks for use in the life support systems and fluid dynamics. It's a component of our breathable air," he supplies for Miriam, "so.. it might have been after that. Not that.." he headshakes, "..that is a typical behavior of algae blooms. They tend to stay put, and die off themselves after nourishment runs low. Creates a bit of a cycle, unfortunately." He nods to Miriam then, with a gesture as though offering to give her a boost to bring her more level with the clotted propulsion. "I can't easily run the eye beams over the hull as it curves away from the front. I'm much obliged to you, Princess."

Maggie considers the black shawl splatted on the building for another few moments before turning a glance over her shoulder back toward the sub. She nods once to Miriam, then focuses on Ruby as the suggestion of an enormous graveyard is brought forth. Frowning, she listens with more than half an ear as her gaze floats out over the city once more, "Well. I would like to find the survivors and see what help they need. If any. Maybe offer to take them to Rebma City if we have the room. Or... see about sending help out here if there are too many for the Flare to carry." Hints and splashes of trouble brewing somewhere register within and are reflected in her expression. "I can't help but wonder if the ritual is to protect them from something or... Or not." Looking up again, she studies the floating clouds of algae, "Makes me wonder what they are hiding down here." Mutter, mutter.

Miriam listens again to the others, she obviously not knowing much about it all. She seems to accept their thoughts on the matter easily enough, and then sets about dissolving the rest of the stuff on the hull. When she can't quite reach a section, she imbues Maggie's glass sword to extend her glow to banish that corner of darkness. There's a nod to Maggie, and she says "We should see what's there. See'f we can help."

Merrisol cannot but agree with the wishes of the others. "Mr. Moore can try to pinpoint a specific direction for the source of these voices. We can't just wander a place this big, or it would take weeks." He sets Ruby to standing guard for predators while he goes to speak to his communications officer.

The seahorse comes alive in a gathering of light energy along its multiple sections. It dips its head and swivels its neck section by section until the fluted face and bulging crystal eyes have found Miriam working her way along the starboard bow. The external sound kicks in with a muted thump, and a tinny voice that sounds like Mr. Moore says, "We'll sweep the front part up to the first rudder, milady. Please stay, ah, upstream, from that section for a few minutes. Captain says this will create a large amount of dissolved matter for the current to wash away." Barring protest, the crew get to work centering the aim of the eyebeams.

Meanwhile, Merrisol comes back up on deck with a different equipment bag, the first intact specimen already deposited in the lab. He has an extra set of compressed air tanks hung off one shoulder. Keeping his face plate down, he stands at the rail to check Miriam's and Maggie's location is safe, then says loudly enough for the sound to be picked up by Moore: "You may begin.. a third concentration in the beams ought to be more than enough."
Sparks like fireflies appear in the depths of those red-shielded globes, building and intensifying until two distorted beams appear, running from the eyes to the splattered hull. Wherever it hits, the stuff crumbles like sand-castles being washed away with the tide.

Miriam is happy to help as much as needed, and then does as asked by Mr. Moore so that she can stay well away from dissolving particles. Just in case anything drifts her way though, she remains aglow so that it's also dissolved. Her attention starts to wander a little though, to the city around them. It's interesting, after all.

Looking up as the soon-to-be-fabled mechanical beast of the sea stirs to life and light. Her gaze travels down the sub's form, marveling anew at the sleekness, efficiency and implied power of the design. When Mr. Moore speaks, she drops her gaze to Miriam. Motioning to the other woman, she floats up and away from the ship's side to give them the working room requested, "Miriam? Would you mind exposing this specimen to your light?" Unclipping the bag from her belt, she holds it up. The bag hangs from her hang like a large tear, weighted down by a slab of black, spongy stuff.

Lifting her attention a bit, Maggie's gaze settles on the sparkling gleams in the depths of the sea-beast's 'eyes'. Turning away before the sparks grow to beams, she shifts her attention to the focusing of the beams as they lance down to illuminate the ship's side. It is strange watching the light melt the blackness away to reveal the smooth sides beneath. Drifting a bit in the chill water, she reorients on Miriam.

Merrisol monitors the strange version of power-washing, and again there are some black wispy bits that float away from the treatment and become lost in the current. Seeing them momentarily in the light beam nags a bit at his consciousness. A minute later, he steps off the edge of the deck and descends gently to the rooftop, turning to survey Miriam's work clearing off the hard-to-reach parts of the bow. Then he goes drifting closer to his exploration team, equipment in tow.

When Maggie heads her way, Miriam smiles though she lets her glow fade at the question about exposing the specimen. She nods, then says "Why don't we do that inside, so th'remains don't just wash away'n you can get a good look at't?" she suggests, then turns her attention to Merrisol. "It's looking good!"

Maggie tilts her head to consider Miriam's suggestion. Looking at the bag, she purses her lips, pushing them to one side in a contemplative 'hmmm' expression. The accompanying sound might be lost to the ocean's depths. Lifting her head, she notes the progress of the power-wash and her gaze follows the black threads as they drift away. "Yeah. That's a really good idea. Thanks. Um. Why don't you two get ready to head out and I'll put this in one of the..." Her coment pauses as Merrisol closes the distance, "Kerf? Did you put a sample in the lab already? If so, we can just eliminate this one and experiment on yours."

"Yes Maggie," he says easily, and the dulling effect of the cold deep waters is still not able to erase the warmth in those words. "A fair-sized wodge. It's sealed in a jar of the same seawater." He nods to the notion that Maggie can give up her own sample, and flashes a grin at Miriam. "It looks terrific. That may well be the last bit to go. I'll get Ms. Cristholm to run the elements a few cycles. Once we're assured of the ability to depart at a good speed, we can go down and have a look around. Mr. Moore says the voices aren't coming from any one direction, and even suggests simply choosing a direction to commence our search, and we'll come across someone."

Miriam looks from one to the other. She smiles again as they speak, enjoying that they're, well, together here. When it's determined that they don't need Maggie's sample, she'll glow again to dispose of it. On the question of where to find the voices, she says "Why not see what's at that ritual? Someone has t'be maintaining it, no?"

The warmth in Merrisol's voice is echoed and returned in Maggie's eyes when she looks up at him. Her smile is a soft thing, almost a private thing, though only for a moment or two. Nodding, she offers a quiet, "Thank you," before holding up the bag she carries. Since the current is going down along the side of the ship and away, Maggie shifts a bit so that she is down-stream of the others before nodding to Miriam.

The silvery-white glow of moonlight grows softly, creeping from Miriam in almost visible inches. As the light baths the specimen, it behaves much as the rest of its ilk did. Shriveling up, it sloughs off into the bag, quickly turning the water within murky. As the particles turn to particulates, they float away on the current and the water clears. Long thin tendrils of black material reminiscent of threads are all that is left behind. As these are too big to be stolen by the sea, they remain within the bag.

Merrisol doesn't attempt to address the question of magic ritual, as there is one present far better equipped than he, to handle the subject. Instead, he gazes with fascination again while Miriam develops her full moon corona and passes it through the fine mesh bag. "That is terribly interesting," he murmurs. "For though the moon does touch land and sea with her light beam, the Solar Flare's panels will only absorb the sun's rays.. thereby restricting her full potential by about half." He pauses as the last of the brittle stuff becomes powder fine enough to escape the mesh, and a couple of those wisps remain. Their lengths do not exceed the dimensions of the slab Maggie had schlorped into the bag originally, and once their algae cover is blown, they just kind of lay there in Miriam's glow, unaffected. "Huh.." Merri frowns. He glances from Miriam to Maggie, drawing in a deeper inhale now that the current has quickly swept their area clean of concentrations of dead plant matter.

Miriam watches with the others, as that stuff dissolves under the light of the moon. She nods though, to Merrisol's comment about what powers the sub. "They are very different sorts've lights. If you want t'do any studying on whether th'Flare could eventually run off moonlight as well, I'd be happy t'help by supplying some." She looks doubtful about whether that's possible, though. She looks interested in those remaining wisps, her eyebrows rising a bit.

Maggie lifts the bag after the water has renewed itself and the tendrils are all that is left. Leaning a bit closer, she sniffs at the bag in an attempt to detect localized magic from the stuff. Her eyes half lid in concentration, though she does hear the offer. Miriam is given a quick smile, "Oh, that's a good idea..." Though as the Flare is not hers, she does defer to Merrisol. Drifting a bit closer to the others, she considers rituals instead of Flare modifications, "Um. Well. It depends, Miriam." Lowering the bag again, she folds it carefully around the tendrils to keep them intact and tucks the bag into her pocket, "Some can be set in motion and let go. Kind of a self renewing thing. Some need to be tended from time to time and others need to be constantly orked on." She shrugs, "Not very helpful, I know. This one?" She looks out over the city-scape, "Well... The magic..." Her tone softens, the words coming more slowly, "...feels as though it is woven into the city itself. Like... Rebma's enchanted water. Are you getting that, too?"

Merri watches the bag get folded up and pocketed. There's no way it can seep from the layers of material and escape, or worse, come in direct contact with Maggie's stuff, or her own self for that matter. And yet.. one wouldn't wrap a chunk of uranium in paper and stick that on their hip. "Maggie. Here.." He removes a glass jar from his pack and offers for her to put the wad inside. "I'm fairly certain nobody wants to be the first to suggest it.. but if it /is/ Black Road, better to be safe about it now." He then joins them on the present topic and glances suspiciously around the tall and short buildings all around their own peculiar landing tower. "Anything else..? About what the magic is meant to affect? I wouldn't want to put to the test that this city offers the same vital adaptations, although it's not unheard of. Emor had breathable water, too." He pauses to the response, then reluctantly excuses himself to briefly test the SF's propulsion.