From Wrecks to Wretches

[rassafraggin]

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Gossip C4Q: Mon Jan 12 14:58:08 2015 by Merrisol (trivial)
GL-Rebma: murmur known by connected, trace cost 1, expires 19 Jan
Title: Murder At Sea
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Nobody would be surprised to hear that people kill each other in Amber, despite the traditional value placed on their lives. This particular drowning death is unusual due to the fact that the man's corpse was found by a naval patrol within the Rebman Triangle, somehow having made it that far out to Sea while weighed down by rocks. Odd.
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The sub had brought the body to be carried upon the docks, the first time, as Merri had remarked at the time, the Solar Flare had ever come so close to berthing at Amber Harbour. She had made off shortly thereafter, while Merrisol and Ruby took the water-bloated corpse to Mandrake for autopsy and identification. Just enough time left over to take in a creepy puppet infomercial, apparently, then rant over drinks at the Knob.

They regain access to the submarine by traveling out to the Great Stair and entering the undersea to meet up at a designated point. As they climb down the hatch and let the water filter out of the sealed airlock, Merri indicates the bandages and remarks tenatively, "You, erm.. mentioned those were a new design. When do you get to see how they function?"

Ruby balances on one foot and then the other. She takes turns wagging her feet of moisture. And as she rids her soles of inconsequential drops of water, she also tries to shake off the experience of carting along the body of the sodding corpse. She did need more than one bracer of ale to help the memory of that spoiled sack of meat and bones sink and slurp down in her memory. She looks down to the gauze and flicks the thumb of her nail under the edge to take a peek. They're really starting to get a bit ratty looking. A limp dressing that the elements have not taken kindly to. Ruby sniffs, "Well, you know them 'orrble things down deep tha catch other 'orrible things? An they glow loike 'ah wee moon? I stuck that in me arm." she sucks on her tongue. "An tha othah one? Won't see nothin unless somethin 'orrible bites me. You know them 'orrible things down deep tha kill you with tha juice'n their fangs'n beaks? I stuck that in me arm." she offers a crooked grin.

Merrisol takes the stairs down from the catwalk, drip-drying with impunity aboard his own ship, besides which the floors are grated for easy sumping. "Phosphoresence, or bio-luminescence.. good, good. I can't think of anything as useful as a source of light," he approves. "I am developing a plant-based gel and powder for use in fire-free lighting." He pauses at the bottom of the steps, pivoting, and pulling a zip on his one-handed travel rucksack. Clothing, still dry, is withdrawn and sorted so Ruby can take whatever she had committed to the bag for safe keeping. "The other.. I don't.. ohh.. the deadly toxins," he realizes, with a concerned browlift. "You created a tattoo ink out of deadly poison..? How, uh, is that safe?"

Ruby shakes her head enthusiastically. "Noh-tat...all!" she grins proudly and takes her dry stuff and flaps it harshly with a smart cracking noise. Spiders. Could be spiders in there. "I dun't know aboot yer bio phos-fours, but it sounds sly'n craftah. I mean, plants...they kin be danger-oos too, roight? An light-nin be sumpthin tha be bloody danger-oos. So we both take'n risk, aye? Tha's good." She scratches at the bandages. "Took sum toime tah find them blue jellies'n too-many-leggies tah squeeze tha tox-ins...tox-oot'ed. An then not kill meself. So I didn't test it on meself. I kin be sly sometimes. Truth." She taps her temple. "Now we back'n ootah Ambah...an safe frum bloody not-alive monstahs made 'o wood'n set tah kill everybody'n their sleep'n steal their eyes'n souls...where be our next destiny-ation?"

Merrisol might have voiced relieved agreement that she should not product-test by just sticking things in her skin, but he cuts it off in a weary inhale.. for the question of what or /who/ did get the business end of the needle comes up next. Either way, when she cues him to stop asking about it, he very willingly does. "Yes.. now that we're beyond all that. We are going on the assumption that some chaos got into the capital as well and corrupted some glass products, such as mirrors. It would mean the common point of its outbreak is the start of the East Rebman Current which runs past the outskirts to the east. We'll swing around Mount Rivlok again and start searching once we're on the other side." He offers Ruby his study to pull any clothes back on, as it's easier for a lady of her dimensions to move around, than within the cramped cabins.

They meet up in Operations once more, when the submersible is entering the bay of Amber, now directly between the topside and undersea cities. North of Rivlok, a shambles of debris remains on the seabed, beneath and sprawling away from the harbour. Hired Rebman salvage crews have been dredging, breaking down, and hauling the ship wrecks, sunken docks, homes, carriages, furnishings, and so on, since a couple of weeks after the disaster. Deep environmental concerns, and also to keep all the illegitimate scavengers from flocking this close to the cities, had spurred the Warden's directive, taking care of business without giving the topsiders a say in things. The swooping ERC does a lot of the work with the lighter chunks, and plenty of loose articles, whether old junk or valuables, dragging and carrying it, and flinging it out willy-nilly, elsewhere in the territory.

Ruby finishes tugging on her more resilient garment when she gets herself back into Ops. The latest side-jaunt off to deal with a body effectively breaking the routine of life about the vessel. "The fact that more of the insidious chaos stuff is worming its way into the apple of the capital doesn't exactly make her feel like she's full of sunshine and rainbows. The amount of debris still being dealt with is quite amazing. Ruby stares out the window whenever possible. An open hatch is much preferable of course, but she isn't choosey. "I still think this bloody boat you got needs more things strapped on-top. Maybe a big bloody bite-choo claw or...gun tha shoots big spikes. We gots sumpthin kin find tha stoof, roight? Compass? Kay-oos compass? or we know't when we see't. Loike tha graveyard city?"

Although Maggie is clearly not rushing into Ops, she does not meander either. Bringing a thermos full of coffee from the galley, she holds her own cup in one hand. There are empty cups held by two fingers and she lifts the thermos / cup hand to offer the beverage around, "Hey, you two. How did it go in Amber?" Her gaze flashes to the viewport and lingers a moment or two. The view of the bay with all the salvage still going on is sort of horrifying and gives her pause. Sadly, it makes her look a bit like a life-like statue to the coffee goddess.

Miriam is following along with Maggie to Ops, a mug of coffee in one hand. She smiles to the others here, and raises her free hand in a wave to them before her attention moves to the viewport and gets caught up in what's going on out there. She frowns a little, but can't seem to look away yet.

Merri is standing by the periscope column, which loses him a bit of peripheral angle that far back from the viewport, but compensates with almost 360-degrees viewing area with the seahorse head. Cristholm is making a slower pass over the wreckage, even though it's doubtful Black Road is lurking in there somewhere, so close to Amber. The distribution of debris has gotten to the point where decay and the overgrowth of algae is a lesser concern. Every now and then something catches the light from above and twinkles, indication that there are still salvage opportunities for some enterprising individual with a taste for trinkets. "I would like to work on additional functions at some point, Ruby," he admits. "Such technological achievement is still beyond my skill.. and will need consult from a Begman of sufficient engineering experience." At that, he almost flashes a gaze directly at Ruby. No, not.. /him/, of course. Well, maybe.

He smiles at the two bearing coffee from the Java Gods. "Oh. It was.. eventful," he replies to Maggie. "After taking the poor devil to Mandrake, I ended up taking the kids to a puppetry event we were hearing about. It was strange, though, nothing to do with strings or even sticks, for the most part. The man was making his wooden creations come to life. Mina was given a dog to take home with her. There was something else though.. even more disturbing than dolls that start moving on their own."

Ruby turns her head to the side a little as Merrisol gives her 'a look'. She narrows her eyes and tries to take the correct meaning. But she's gotten the jist of it. Turning to Maggie and Miriam she squeezes some dampness from a few coils of dreds and picks up some yammering where Merrisol's comments take a pause. "Aye...I dun't know 'ow you stand all them wee ones at once. An I dun't know what tha 'ell we saw there. Weren't no pou-pets. No socks'n garters with boo-tens'n lace'n 'orse 'air. Was them aye-bominable-nation stoof. Carven oop things. Oly-phants'n dawgs'n wee kids runnin with snippahs. And then 'e talkie-talkie aboot make'n full sized femmes tha kin walk around an doo-doo everythin so we don't need to and dun't need tah eat, sleep, talk, firt, bathe, fo...All tha stoof. Next toime we back'n Ambah, it be gone. Wrecked. Burnt. Nuthin but wooden monstahs'n golems. An you kin call me...Fook't! Bollocks!" She works herself up into such a state that she has to stamp over to a corner and brood.

Maggie's attention is wrenched from the vistas out there to the vast layers of whatnot in here. "Wait. What?" Her mind reels in more slowly and she blinks a few times before she can sort Ruby's words into context with what Merrisol described. "Uh." So, she does what Maggie's do. Offering coffee to Merrisol first, she looks up at him, "Any idea who the poor guy was?" And she does mean to try and stick there for the duration, or at least until her poor husband can communicate with her. But, there is a half word cut off by polite misdirection and she blinks at Ruby first. "Uh. Wait. Wait. Wooden creatures that can turn into... No. That are alive? Or animated? And one went home with Mina?" Looking between the two, she tries again, "The kids are great, Ruby." Mostly. Looking back to Merrisol, she adds, "Did the dog do anything? Is it a he or a she?" Would anyone really carve genitalia into a children's toy? "I mean. Did she name it and has anyone checked the animated wooden things for taint? We're looking for taint in Amber, right?"

Miriam also has her attention pulled from the scene through the viewport, to the others. She looks like she isn't really following what they're saying. Especially Ruby. Going by her expression, she's having a real problem understanding a lot of what Ruby is saying. Literally. "Uh." she says, echoing Maggie. "What? What happened?" Yes, she is puzzled.

Merrisol is quiet as Ruby takes over and warms to her subject. He has perhaps heard some of this frothing rant before, but says nothing until the woman has sputtered out in the corner, much like a golem running out of steam. "It was unusual to see statues take on a wide range of animated abilities, however I thought it ultimately similar to other species of ability where the creator embues an object or symbol with a portion of his or her own mystic power. Such as in.." He looks uneasy as he fails to state the obvious examples: Magic tattoos and special forge craft. Both Ruby specialties, and liable to get another rise out of her if compared to the living wood she despises.

"In any case.. our girl ran right up when volunteers were called for, and she made the acquaintance of a large dog statue, brought it to life." Yes, Merri is a super-negligent guardian at times. The kids need bodyguards who can give him a good glaring. "As far as I could see, it behaved like a well-trained animal for her. When that bit of show was done, the large dog was exchanged for a much smaller version. Mina wasn't very happy about that." He pauses there, to see if he's put Maggie's mind to rest, if not Ruby's.

Maggie is still sort of taken by Ruby's vehemance and that spluttered winding down in the corner. A mug of coffee is caaaarefully set near to her hand before Maggie backs away. Maybe it is sort of like a petitioner trying to appease a magnificant goddess of the forge. Once she is sure that Ruby is not going to flail and upend the coffee or back-hand her into oblivion for her insolance, she turns her attention back to Merrisol. Searching his eyes, she nods once. "Okay. Thank you. I'm sure it's fine. And... In a way, it could be a boon. At least the wooden pup should not leave droppings everywhere. Though if we start to see sawdust piles around, we'll have to get Mina to clean them up." She... might be kidding. It is hard to say. Lifting the thermos, she offers, "Coffee?"

Miriam focuses on Merrisol as he explains a little more, and nods to the notion of magic that animates objects. It's probably coincidence that she happens to move a little further from the large, frothing woman. "I'd think there's lots've magics like that?" she replies to Merrisol. "I can make images with my lights. I've never thought've using it t'entertain, but I'm sure I could." She goes quiet, then. Maybe giving some thought to doing so.

​Merrisol nods, recalling Miriam's lit arrow pointing their position out over the rooftops of the Dead City. "There is not much that is more useful than light sources," he smiles. The offer of a cuppa has him turning to Maggie, smirking over the idea of sawdust waste. "That was one of the extolled benefits of a wooden creation," he nods. "No muss, no fuss, and... no responsibility." He holds the mug while she pours, and needs no sweetening. Well.. maybe some sugar. He leans down for the kiss, murmuring a thanks.

He takes an initial sip, then lowers the cup pensively. "The disturbing thing, though. I never said. Over the past few weeks since the wedding, and being able to walk about Amber once more.. I had taken on a small circle of young academics who had taken an interest in the conditions within the Lower City since the disaster. We had some common folk amongst us as well, but that is Ruby's doing more than mine." He glances at the brooding woman with that tentative olive branch. "When you challenged Master Hywel's steam shovel to a demolition derby, it awakened a need in the displaced workers.. to take back some pride and control over their existence.." He moves on, however. It's entirely possible, even probable, that Ruby's personal goal had been to flex her hammering muscles to the full extent of flexingness.

"Anyway. The concerns of the homeless and destitute were quieted somehow, but the questions of the students remained. In particular, how Amber could stand as the prime city, by which all others are but reflections.. with such drastic changes being affected, along with Begman aesthetics. Since we will be traveling through several Golden Circle Shadows, I had a mind to see first hand how these issues were reflected across a selection of Shadow."

Maggie frowns ever so slightly over something, but whatever the thought is flees before it can be nailed down or is lost utterly when Merrisol bends down for a kiss. She answers his thanks just as softly as her thoughts return to the topics at hand. Finding a spot to lean near Merrisol is not horribly difficult, though finding a lean-spot away from the operations consoles and still near the man is harder. She manages. Listening while he outlines his thoughts, the frown returns and settles, "Mmm." The sound could be appreciation of the kiss, approval of the coffee or a vague unease stemming from Merrisol's musings. Every now and then she glances over toward Ruby, then back to Miriam but the bulk of her focus lies with Merrisol. Finally? She just nods, "Let's do it. I would think that Random would want to know what is happening in Shadow. We can stop in other Shadows as well, if you want. I am getting better at shifting... or we can invite Quin along. Or Martin. Either are better than I am."

The next peek over at Ruby shows her craddling the mug between her hands and taking greedy sips of the coffee. She still blows over top it, an unnecessary habit her brain insists on accompanying this ritual of hot beverages. Out of steam but being refueled, she seems in better spirits after her tirade. She frees a hand and scratches underneath her soon to be discarded bandages again. Draining her cup, she closes her mouth around the edge as if she's going to eat it and slowly pulls her lips away. Good to the last drop. Slurp. She asks, "This shift'n...we goo-goo anyplace? Anyplace tha be...or can you only goo goo tah places tha you been? Loike, if someone was tah draw maps or described lots 'o steamin jungles an snakes 'angin from stone arches an stoof. Or 'eard some song from tha place. Or bite-bite some piece 'o Shroomie frum'ah village...Tha work durin this jaunt?" Eyebrow goes up, up, up the forehead.

The moody cast to Merrisol's retelling dissipates after Maggie's declaration, a bold phrase worthy of sports slogans and the decisive spark that ignites grand adventures. Let's do it! He beams affectionately at her, and it's entirely possible, even probable, she'll show up later on with her hair in a fancy French braid. "As I understand it, there is infinite potential for going any place the navigator can possibly think of.. but it's rather complicated and difficult the further from known realities one attempts to go," he says to Ruby presently, with a deferential glance to Maggie to check if he's getting it right. "I am not certain whether someone's secondhand details are enough to go on, although I believe I witnessed Random do just that, once. Myself, I've no ability to tap into the Pattern to make these journeys, however I have, on occasion, been able to reach familiar locations within the Golden Circle, on my own... well. I believe the Sea has seen my desire and granted the ability to become attuned to the secrets of the Single Sea."

Maggie returns Merrisol's smile, though she is clearly not entirely sure why she deserves the high-wattage look. Still, she basks in his affection, returning it with interest. Reading something in his look, knowing him as she does, she has something wonderful to look forward to. French braids are a delight unto themselves but when heralded by that particular look, they are to be treasured. Finally she turns her attention to the topic and shifts her gaze; albeit slowly, from Merrisol to the bosun, "Well... Some of us can use paintings, descriptions and other clues to go to specific places but there is a problem. If we have not been there ourselves, it is more likely that we would find a place that looks right, but isn't. Though... shoot, Ruby, if you have a place you want to try to find, I'm all for it." Blinking, she looks back at Merrisol, studying him closely, curiously, "You can? I wonder if we can use that with my Pattern ability to sort of mystically triangulate and find places more easily. Or find lost places. That would be cool."

Miriam has been listening to the others, though also partly lost in her own thoughts. Or maybe she was having a vision. That happens pretty often. Regardless, she shows that she was paying attention by saying "I wonder'f th'fact that Rebma'n Tir's Patterns were broken affects how much Amber's reflected'n shadow. Rebma no longer really reflects Amber, right? Th'rebuilding's allowed for th'city to regain its own identity, for example."

Merrisol gets his coffee leveled off halfway down the cup, and sets it aside. Easier to glug coffee than form an intelligible response to Maggie's idea for traveling via Wonder-Twin, or rather, Super-Couple powers. "That, uh... would be quite the experiment. I suppose you'd need to be riding me while I..." Stop right there, Merri. Do not pass GO. Collect no cookies. Then there's Miriam de-trancing with another interesting concept, and he focuses on that instead. Maybe. "It's... true. For Rebma.. I'm not certain about Tir. Does Tir have a Pattern at all?" he brow-furrows. "I know there have been messy repercussions with regards to how the Past and Future functions, in any case. And, Rebma is not considered a Shadow, since it does have it's own Pattern.. Maggie?" He looks to his wife for correction or corroboration.

Ruby looks ready to start chewing her mug as she digests the info. Her white teeth clink-clink against whatever the container is made out of. Her eyes glaze over, the milky one and the chocolate both sharing a far off quality for a few moments. "Just curi-oos. Ass'ah..." Pregnant pause. "Cart." frown and snapping back to reality, a smile curling her lips like the pages of a book being set atop a cheery campfire.

​Maggie's attention flashes to Miriam and she tilts her head slightly, "Mmm. I think that depends, honestly. I'm sure that Amber's crown considers Rebma a Shadow, but that may be political rather than functional. I am equally sure that Martin does not necessarily agree with that but the distinction may not be worth the drama insisting on autonomy would cause." She might go on. Probably could go on. But... Turning, she intercepts Merrisol's commentary. Her eyes widen and a blush touches her cheeks, "Uh. We... Could try it." Not that! The other. "You could carry me through the sea and see what happens, maybe." Carry! Though her imagination plays havoc with her visualization centers and her brain short circuits for a moment. Clearing her throat she grabs onto Tir like a drowning woman and shifts that way, "Well. Tir had its own Pattern but it is broken. I don't know how badly, but currently there is nothing there to hold onto. It is still considered a Shadow, but... See..." She moves Merrisol's coffee cup to one side and sets the thermos down, "This is Amber." Moving Merri's cup, she adds, "This is Rebma." Tugging a single hair from her head, she draps it between the two, "This is the connection between Amber and Rebma. It's finer than it used to be. Sort of an echo. I guess." Then she moves her own mug and sets it on the other side of Amber, "Here's Tir." She does not place a hair between Amber and Tir. "Right now? The connection is too faint for even a hair to represent it. It is still there, but..." She shrugs, "It is either fading or inconsequential. Tir matters. Greatly. But, I am not sure that it still holds Amber's future. Nor am I all that sure that Amber is Tir's past." Reaching down, she snags the hair between Amber and Rebma, "Since the Patterns are different between Amber and Rebma, I'm not sure how valid that connection is either. Honestly. Rebma may hold Amber's past, but only up to the point of seperation. I kind of see the three as seperate cities now. And I'm not at all sure that we can put them back the way they were without risking a lot." Looking at the three vessels, she sighs and reiterates needlessly, "A... Lot."

Miriam nods to Maggie's reply to Merrisol about Tir's Pattern. "Th'Pattern in Tir hasn't been redrawn yet. No one knows what'll happen when't is." She considers Maggie's words, then says to her "Everything I've learned says that Tir and Rebma predate Amber, actually. Th'Sky and Sea used t'be lovers, it's said. They lay against one another. They were forced apart, and Amber created between'm. They aren't shadows, though maybe a combination've real and th'reflections of Amber from th'Patterns?" She doesn't seem sure about that one at all. "But now th'Patterns in Rebma and Tir won't be th'same as Amber's, so that first reflection isn't there. Who knows'f that's a good thing or a bad thing. I don't think there's any way t'know yet. But't does mean that Rebma can be more've its own place. And maybe when th'curse is someday lifted from Tir, it can be its own place, too."

Merrisol props his arms over the hand bars of the periscope controls, bowing a bit while he alternates his listening between Maggie and Miriam, and doesn't attempt to interject on concepts he's not quite sure about himself. Although.. he does happen to see Miriam's hope for a trinity of equal nations as a worthy outcome, if somewhat farfetched.

Ruby pushes her lips forward like she was going to make an 'ohhh' sound. Or jam a straw in there. She eyes Maggie with the kind of expression that expects the fabric of reality to start ripping an outline around her silhouette. The visualization about the three different kingdoms is brilliant however, and saves Ruby's mind from yelping back into some dark corner. The only thing that could have improved it is different coloured mugs with big letters painted on the outside. When Miriam takes up the torch and provides more illumination, albeit more romantically and with less hair, the big gal simply tries to soak in the extra bits. The imagery is interesting and poses logistical complications (who's on top?), but it's all good and educationally distracting. But there's only so much she can absorb of the terms and concepts. It's a start. "'Ow many 'o these patterns still workin an not busted? I s'pose not just any femme can goo'n make'ah charcoal copy, aye?"

Maggie flashes Miriam a shrug that ends in a nod, "That's what I've heard as well. Sea and sky existed but whether there were cities there, I could not say. It's possible that when Amber was created the cities of Tir and Rebma came into being. But... I kind of think that is academic in a way. We can't change what happened. All we can do is move forward." She clears her throat a bit, leaving the notion of precidence both sociological and metaphysical alone in favor of addressing Ruby's query, "Uh. I think that there are three. Amber, Rebma and Tir. Rebma and Tir's Patterns were reflections of Amber's by design. Now, Rebma's is different and Tir's is broken so... There are two functional patterns... Or... Maybe only one functional? Though..." Her eyes kind of unfocus, though they do not glaze over. They flicker side to side as a frown grows between her brows and time drifts through its course, ticking away until she draws in a deep, much-needed breath, "There might be only one functional Pattern. Or. There might be two, but they link to two different sets of Shadows." Yay. A blink and she sort of shudders and looks up at Ruby, "Anyone can make a copy of the Patterns, sure. But, they are vast and deadly. We would need to have permission to go to the Pattern rooms."

Miriam nods to Maggie. "That's my understanding, too. That's what I mean by both real, and reflections. I really don't remember anything I was taught about Tir's earliest days. I still only have flashes from before th'curse. And Karm doesn't seem t'have any idea why they sealed off th'land beyond th'Gates." She lets Maggie answer Ruby's question about working Patterns.

Ruby takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it exhale. She smacks her lips and sets her mug down someplace relatively safe. "Sounds loike'ah buggah." She straightens and works some knots out of her lower back with a bit of stretching. "Kraken be vast'n deadlah. Dunno aboot this pattern stoof though. Truth." She gives a few more languid displays of just how fabulously fearless she thinks she is. "This all be worth more than one 'eadscratch. Aye...mebbe you find'ah new one 'idden someplace. Shame tah 'ave wrecked two oot'ah three. If they so bloody rare'n powerfool. S'long as they dun't rip apart tha bloody world'n tha oceans spill inside tha crack." she frowns.

Illegitimate? This is Amber; half the population are literal bastards! Slipping through shattered doorframes and blown-in windows is one particularly legitimate scavenger, or so she'd claim, citing the case of Finders v. Keepers, in which was codified the legal principle of "dibs." A sack over her shoulder, Meijanri picks through the refuse and detritus for anything of particular interest. She's quite picky about what she takes, leaving a good many items of certain value atop piles of trash for the other scavengers to find and do with as they might. Surely she won't be going to bed hungry tonight, no matter the results of this excursion. Mostly, she's taking broken items. Items whose owners had no idea, upon setting them down, that they'd never take them up again. Items with stories. Sad ones. Not that someone casually viewing from a submarine could tell, kooky or otherwise.

The Solar Flare doesn't look to be trawling any layers of detritus, kind of coasting along towards the point where the surface currents are pulled deeper and feed into the rushing undersea river known as the East Rebman Current. The seahorse figure head rests complacently on its S-curve of neck, crystal eyelamps dim while visibility from overhead light sources remains fair. There's a great lens-like viewport set into the bow of the vessel, sectioned by support framework to reduce vulnerability of its surface area. Through it can be seen the command center, speckled with a thousand tiny and probably pointless indicator lights. One might even see the people puttering about within, chattering at each other while someone else does the steering.

Maggie nods once as Miriam confirms that her understanding mostly matches. Her glance twitches to the viewport, though whether reflexively or due to some subconscious recognition of a certain deep-sea scavanger is unknown even to her. "So. Anyway. Dad believes that we need to retether the three together." Her tone places that conversational topic somewhere over there. "In any case. I wonder if looking at the different Shadows will tell us whether Amber still holds pride of place." And that brings her out of her own conversational cul-de-saq. "So. Ruby. Was there a particular Shadow that you want us to try to find? And is that Meijanri?"

Ruby is currently working on yet another mug of coffee when the question is posed to her. She brings the rim up to her lips and starts to gently upend the contents. Drinking always helps to delay a response. Time to come up with an answer. The question is a two-parter though. And then second one short-circuits things. The equivalent challenge of patting the head and rubbing the tummy at the same time. The cup keeps raising and her eyes almost cross. Coffee spills to either side of where her mouth is not carp-like enough to deal with the increased flow. The hot beverage splashes down her torso and when she gets a hint of where Maggie was indicating, she lopes over to the viewport and smashes her face up against the glass for confirmation.

Meijanri is probably Meijanri. Searching among the ruins and wreckage for her form is fruitless; it seems she's simply disappeared. Then suddenly the sub is under attack! Meijanri abruptly sprawls herself across the viewport and puts her lips on it, blowing with a reverberating sound reminiscent of flatus. Looking very pleased with herself, she pushes away from the vessel and swims for the hatch, where she circles patiently and waits to be invited aboard. It's been a while since she's been on the Solar Flare and quite honestly forgets how the doors work. She does not think the captain would be pleased with her, were she to flood the ship and send it to join the rest of the wreckage.

Merrisol appears to be hugging the periscope column. O, the loneliness of command! His head is tipped along one shoulder, observing the others as they speak in turns, and sometimes letting his gaze wander to the viewport.. that wasteland of broken dreams and its twinkles of hope. It takes Maggie's side-query to get him staring at the jumble in the right way, however, and by then he's only treated to Ruby's silhouette sprawled over the center of the glass. "Mmnh," he grunts, straightening up and craning to one side to catch a glimpse of.. *SPLAAAT*! Oh good gracious Lir, they've hit her! This is what happens when you block the navigator's line of sight, people! Ms. Cristholm is gasping a prayer, Mr. Moore is wailing, Captain Merri is even now hatching a Pact of Silence and a quick squeegee and burial of his dear friend within a waterlogged wardrobe... *Bbbbbraaat*! Exhaling his shock, Merrisol shakes out of it and barks, "Mr. Moore, open the external channel... nevermind. Release the outer hatch." He watches Mei slither upwards out of sight, and turns to walk briskly for the main corridor and airlock.

Merrisol is doing a passable Riker impersonation, walking rapidly into the Solar Flare's main corridor, although the hatches aren't flying open just shy of being headbutted. "Uh, yes.. Mei..?" he frowns, before the particulars of the trump connection become clear. "I'm just on my way up." He turns and takes the staircase up to the catwalk and starts to let his concentration wander while he handles the airlock controls to let the water cycle out around the Undine before the inner hatch lock will disengage.

Ruby's pupils go to two very small pinpricks. She reflexively sucks in enough air to inflate her lungs into a dirigible. And then she's windmilling quickly in reverse, her mouth agape and delivering a silent death scream for all to witness.

Miriam's attention drifted again for a moment, but then she focuses again on what's going on around her and has to take a little time to catch up. She's quiet while she does that.

Now Maggie was looking right at Meijanri. Or... she thought she was. Now where did... and then Ruby is there, face plastered against the viewport and Maggie has to take a half step back. The coffee smears on the glass will need to be scrubbed off... And then Meijanri is right... there. Maggie gasps and lifts one hand to her chest as though to fend off heart failure. "Mei!" It is a cry, a whisper, consternation, concern with hints of fear. Bbbrraaattt... Wait. That is not the sound of a corpse giving up its all. No, that's. Relief floods through her, though it is short lived. Ruby's backpedalling, windmilling catches her by surprise and she moves forward into the fray to latch onto one of Ruby's arms, "It's okay. It's okay. She's fine."

Meijanri is allowed onto the ship. Why is anyone's guess, likely so she can receive proper punishment for what was obviously a great prank beloved by all and certainly not the cause for any heart attacks and/or impromptu burials/lifelong secrets. Though burying her out in the wastes surely would have been a good bonding experience for the motley crew. As she slithers out of the airlock she runs her hands through her soggy hair and smiles pleasantly at Merrisol, "Persimmons to come aboard?" Seems someone's in a playful mood. That bag is still around her arm, broken treasures glittering within.

"Hooooooooomybloodygod..." Ruby manages a few more steps and her progress is slowed by Maggie. Her throat is so tight the next steadying breaths she takes sound like they're from a whistle or a drafty door on a windy night. What is that damned sound in her ears. They're about to be trampled by something any second. Oh wait, that's her heart. She starts nodding and struggles to compose herself. Far too many things dropping and bumping into this abnormal boat

Merrisol's focus sharpens as he comes to realize what his mind's eye is seeing is not Mei all bunched up in the chamber like a Snake Inna Can. "Templeton.. beg pardon, I assumed since.." Oh wait, Meijanri doesn't even have his card, does she. "One moment.." And he steps back as the wheel lock spins and Meijanri spills out onto the walkway, with a fruity pun. "Persimmons pomegranated," he replies in harried distraction, and gestures vaguely to the lobby below. "Forgive me, I've got Templeton in my head, I'll see to him first if you would like some assistance down, Meijanri?" He gestures to lift her down the stairs, a risky prospect while one is perceiving dual locations. "Go ahead, Templeton. Speak your mind," he invites.

Maggie's hand leaves Ruby's arm as the other woman steadies somewhat. That is when Maggie's focus shifts and she half lifts her head, "Kincaid. Hello. Oh, sorry, Ruby. I've got my brother in my head. Uh. Cards? Oh, you did? Kincaid... not Ruby. Oh, blast it. One moment. I'm..." She fades a bit back and leans against the metal wall of the sub, "Go ahead, Kincaid? I can help you? What's wrong?" The concern in her tone rises as she begins to seperate local potential crisis from distant potential crisis.

Miriam pours herself more coffee, and seems content to just watch the others for a while. Meijanri gets a smile and wave when she comes aboard, then she looks curious as both Merrisol and Maggie get Trump calls.

Meijanri's trump deck is about as sad as they get. Not so much a deck as a single card, granting her instantaneous communication with... Benedict. That is far from her mind at the moment, and she giggles musically into the back of her hand, "Well played." It does take a little time for her fully exit the chamber, her long body seeking purchase wherever it can be found as she extends one hand to Merrisol for his help getting herself situated. Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she moves about the interior of the vessel, nothing but pleasant smiles to the horrified, angry, and maybe slightly relieved crew. On the floor of the lounge she finds a nice comfy spot to array herself and begins sorting through her salvaged wares, almost like this were all a plan of hers. Everything going accordingly, it would seem.

Ruby eyes the hatchway but sees nothing slithering out of it. Just as well while she contemplates braining everyone in the room with Miss sleepytime (her fist) to erase her embarrassing behavior from memory. Realizing she's got the handle of a mug in her hands, she moves to deposit it somewhere out of sight. She sidles over towards Miriam and watches her pour another cup of coffee. She whispers conversationally, "I dun't like underboats."

Merrisol listens attentively, and briskly nods for his caller's benefit. "Aha.. well that is what's called good timing, at least for the latter issue. Of the Ygrayne murder, I've heard little else, although if you have been seeking Minister-Captain Kell, she is just now joined us, as you've heard. If you are prepared to do so, would you like to step over in a minute or so? You are correct, a lady deserves my full attention. Trump me back, yes?" He proceeds to gather Meijanri down to the main corridor without mishap, whereupon she steals away, leaving him free to take the next call if and when it comes.

Maggie tilts her head a little to one side as she listens to her brother. Both brows lift quickly as surprise settles in her expression, "I don't know what I think about destiny, Kincaid. But... That is neither here nor there at the moment. I'm not on my own ship. Let me check with Kerf to be sure he is okay with company. If not, I can join you. Though the honeymoon? We have not gotten to go on that, yet." She pauses to glance at something seen through the trump, "Uh. Where are you? That's a beautiful place." Maggie? Has never been to her grandmother's homeland.

Miriam turns to watch Ruby, and smiles to her. "It takes some getting used to." she agrees. "I kind've enjoy't, though. I haven't done all that much traveling, so this's been a chance t'do that."

Ruby is quite willing to agree initially with Miriam. She leans up against the side of the sub. Things feeling a little more back to normal. In a submarine. She says to Miriam, "But you not...feel'n tha squeeze? I dun't know mooch aboot where you 'ang yer dress, but it be oop...oop, roight? An this be tha oppo-site." She starts to rake her fingers through her hair and readjusts the leather band securing them.

Merrisol is just getting back to the bridge when he's tapped again. There's some nominal back and forth before he extends his hand and brings the merchant through. From the sights seen through the viewport set into the submersible's bow, there is a wasteland of semi-identifiable ship, building, pier, and carriage wreckage, out there and a whole load of miscellaneous small detritus.

Maggie lifts a brow just a little at some reaction or other. "I'll be glad to help, Kincaid. Just let me check with Kerf. The sub is pretty full, what with one thing and another. But, hold on. Or, better. Let me call you right back, okay?" She glances around and pushes from the wall she was leaning against. Indeed, as she wends her way through the area she is occupying, she has to dodge crew and controls alike.

Mercier steps through with Merrisol's help, pressing one hand to his temple as he deals with the disorientation of the matter, shaking his head a little bit as he survey's his new surroundings, glancing to the crowded compartment, and towards the view ports... "Well, that's certainly a trail..." He furrows his brow cocking his head at the view outside.

Miriam smiles when Mercier appears, and raises a hand to wave to him before she has a small sip of coffee. She looks to Ruby again then, and smiles. "Where I hang my dress? I have a guest room'n here." She doesn't seem to understand some of what the large woman says, though. "Oop? I don't understand."

Merrisol supplies helpfully, "Bottom of the bay, Amber Harbour. It used to be much more cluttered." This is an improvement? The submersible is not lingering over the spot, but is following a curve around the sunken base of the great undersea mountain, Rivlok. The East Rebman Current begins here, as surface currents push the tidal flow down along the basin to feed the rushing river. Once in a while, migrating loose bits from the debris get snatched up and carried along, southeast around the mountain and out of the channel, past the outskirts of Rebma capital.. and then beyond! "We've been back-tracking along the branches of currents to determine the common entry point for all instances of corruption," Merri goes on to explain to Mercier. "It appears to be somewhere along the ERC, if we count the reports of mirrors in the capital malfunctioning with malicious results." He pauses, and glances towards Maggie as she reaches him for a quiet word. After a moment, he leans down and whispers something back.

On hearing Merrisol's reply to her quiet query, Maggie pauses then nods. She takes a step back and turns to head off of ops. "S'cuse me all. Hi, Templeton." The merchant is offered a smile but she does not linger. Slipping back a few paces, she takes the stairs, passes Meijanri's nesting spot and steps farther back. By the angle, she might be heading to the quarters.

Mercier frowns, "It reached the capital?" He says, dubiously, considering this matter, chewing his botton lip, "I wasn't aware it had spread." He notes, before looking back towards the ship, "Well good to see all the debrie actually goes somewhere instead of nowhere." He notes to himself, reaching up to tip his hat towards Maggie, "Captain, a pleasure to see you again." He notes, tipping his hat to Miriam as well, "Milady. Let me take the opportunity to offer my congradulations."

Miriam keeps listening, then watches Maggie go. She looks curious, but then looks again to Mercier and smiles to him. "Thank you! It's good t'see you again. I hope all's going well?" she asks.

Merrisol ponders the question doubtfully. "It's an alarming prospect, but doesn't necessarily point to a nearby presence of Black Water, and it's strange the no other types of contamination have occurred besides the mirrors," he says slowly, almost to himself, as though feeling out a new theory while Mercier is otherwise occupied with Miriam. He looks up. "A fair percentage of mirrors are enchanted. Many are associated through a network, used by one or another group of mages. I wonder.. if it's possible the taint got into some city mirrors through direct corruption of a mirror some other place." He looks disappointed, as the new thought widens the possibilities rather than narrows them. He moves over to the navigation console and directs Ms. Cristholm to follow the path of the ERC from above, without entering it. The bay is left behind as the SF adjusts the side rudders and soars higher, heading around the mountain and skimming the city outskirts. "We do know for certain that tainted substances are borne to various parts of the open territory via the currents, and if not this close to the city, does enter the East Rebman at some point. It looks like we are going to need the services of a chaos-sniffer after all. And me without my Quinlan trump.."

"Perfectly alive and kicking in a mild sort of way." Mercier notes with a smile, "Still not much in a running improvement of my own affairs, but..." He looks out the port holes agains, listening to Merrisol muse, "Though I do seem to be able to keep busy." Mercier shakes his head, "I'm afraid I've never had a nose for scents underwater myself. I can tie a half-way decent hitch, though." He offeres in random consolation, to himself.

Miriam's eyebrows rise, when Merrisol mentions Quinlan's trump. "I have his trump." she notes. "It's one of my few, if you want t'borrow it. My trumps're in my guest room." She looks again to Mercier, and chuckles. "In a mild sort've way? It's good that you're keeping busy, though."

Merrisol nods distractedly to Mercier's remarks, first addressing Miriam's offer. "Ah, thank you, Princess.. I will fetch it from you shortly." He looks back at the merchant. "It's.. not a scent in the regular sense of the term, Templeton.. and it's not magic sensitivity, either, I don't think. I don't know how Quinlan came about his ability to attune to its presence, and yet avoided the direct influence of the Road."

"Life of leisure would be nice, but I'm not one who's allowed to stay idle." Mercier notes to Miriam, before glancing to Merrisol, "Hmm... yes... curious." He notes to himself, "Well, I'm sure he has a fascinating story about it." Mercier keeps his consideration of man's dishonesty to himself for now, but makes a mental note.

- - - - - - - - - -

There is an unusual quantity of names filling the guest registrar, but there's still room, a single cabin to be precise, for one more. Especially if she brings a pickanick basket with her. The Solar Flare is at a middle depth presently and following the East Rebman Current as it rolls away from the Rebma capital on a southeasterly heading. The undersea rushing river is visible as ghostly skeins as faint light glances off random bits, and loose debris and bits of leftover wreckage from the Amber harbour flood still find their way in. These sometimes valuable trinkets tumble along and are now and then ejected from the ERC's grasp to lodge somewhere in the vast seabed for a lucky scavenger to find.

The newest arrival does, infact, come with treats. While not a basket, but a box of what promises to be a delightful collection of sticky delicious awesomeness. Ryika pokes her head into Operations, giving a little ah ha as the directions from an unstartled crew member proved to be accurate and this is where she might find all of those she might be looking for, and more! "Goodness, you've got a full house going."

Sidling up behind Ryika, Maggie smiles and murmers, "Hey, Ryika. How are you doing?" She has her hands tucked into the pockets of her slacks, hair loose down her back. "Good of you to come by." She sounds a little quieter than usual, perhaps subdued even. Her smile is bright, though, the welcome in her eyes clear.

Merrisol looks up from a largely unhelpful map of the known territory, which he has taken to filling in with symbols and arrows, in red and black markers. It is set up to one side of the observation area, leaving an unobstructed line of sight to the circular viewport. "Ryika!" he utters with beaming welcome, perhaps surprising himself a bit with that exclamation point. He puts the marker down and strides across to the hatchway to relay a more personal greeting. "I'm very glad you've come." She knows everyone here, yes, even Mr. Moore and Ms. Cristholm at their stations, who turn to relay polite smiling hullos. Merri looks over Ryika to Maggie, his own smile freezing briefly as he studies his wife's demeanor.

"I am really very well." Ryika starts a little as Maggie comes up behind her and she turns to include her in the smile and the reply. Her brows furrow a touch as she considers Maggie's expression and demeanor. "Alright, what's up? I know that tone." She turns from Maggie to Merrisol and her smile flickers back. "I brought baklava. I figured a wee bit of sweets wouldn't hurt."

Maggie's gaze flickers to Merrisol and she smiles for him. It gradually moves from her lips to her eyes as she relaxes a bit more. Looking back at Ryika as sweets are brought into the conversation, she blinks, "Baklava? Sounds wonderful. Thank you." Then she shakes her head a little, "Oh. Nothing. Really. I just had a conversation with a relative." The shrug offered might say volumns or nothing at all. "Not important. Would you like some coffee? I'm not sure whether we have any of the Alhambran black, but..." Looking up, she smiles at Merrisol, the query clear in her gaze.

Miriam makes her way back to Ops. She's in a blue sundress with large white polka dots. She's sipping coffee again, and looks around to see who is here before smiling at the group. "Hello." she says to them all. "I haven't missed anything, have I?"

It's not that Merrisol's 'Happy To See You!' voice /always/ has a silent adjoinder of '(Because) I Need You!'. Really. Both tones just happen to /sound/ very similar. Er, or.. oh. Yes, Maggie's tone. Something is up. He holds off on speaking just yet so Maggie can respond, but relieves Ryika of her sweets box. The Baklava, it is safe with him. He looks like he gets what Maggie is saying about her recent interaction, pauses, then nods. "Yes, there is a bag of Alhambran roast in the pantry. My crew hasn't given it a chance yet," he smiles. Loyal to Begma Bold Grind, they are. But someday that big tin of gritty grounds will deplete.

He takes a few steps back so as not to cause a traffic jam out of the hatchway, nodding to Miriam as she comes in. "No, Princess, the search goes on still," he notes, glancing back to Ryika to explain briefly, "We are attempting to locate the original source of the chaos taint that has made its way to the Forge and the farther reaches of the realm. By backtracing he pull of the currents, it has been determined to have originated at some point along the ERC. There's some question of what constitutes direct infection, a question that you might be able to answer, Ryika.. regarding your perilous experience with those mirrors." Looking at her, he finds a sturdy section of the sonar console to sit against, bringing his eye-level down closer to hers. "..Also, um.." he adds, somewhat uncertain he should be broaching the subject himself, but it doesn't feel right to /not/ bring it up either.

Ruby can be heard in the passageway that connects with Ops and the rest of the ship, dragging something very heavy about. Every once in awhile she'll poke her head around the hatchway and oogle. The hint of coffee and sweets is a strong draw.

Maggie flickers a glance over her shoulder as Miriam and Ruby come up from behind her. Easing out of the way, she clears the hatch while ushering any who wish to enter in. Looking between Merri and Ryika, she nods, "We did want to ask you about that. The hope is that whatever information you can provide will help us find the source." Her hands move again to her pockets, though hearing that there is some of the Alhambran brew left, she perke up a bit. As her gaze slips from Ryika to the crew, she sobers a bit, "We could brew up some of each to accomodate preference." Touching the tip of her tongue to her lips, she reconsiders the Alhambran-Rebman, "Oh. I did want to ask you something. But, it can wait until we have coffee ready..."

Ryika steps out of the way, into the room properly with a little wave for both Miriam and Ruby as they arrive. "Congratulations on the betrothal, Miriam." She replies first as she offers the box to Merrisol at his taking of it. Safe with him. Riiiight. "I'm fine with either coffee, honestly. Whatever's already brewed." She looks between Merri and Maggie at the erms and ums and the procrastinating of asking something. "Also um? I would be glad to offer what insight I can into the mirror oddities. I've a tiny bit of insight into chaosian taint, a side effect of my life, really, but I'm not sure its anything that's news to anyone else."

Miriam nods as Merrisol replies, then drinks more coffee as he explains what's going on to Ryika. Something occurs to her then, and she starts to say something to Ryika and then pauses. Instead, she smiles and says "Nevermind. It can wait. I hope everything's going with with you?" The congratulations causes her to smile more, and she says "Thank you!"

Through the viewport can now be seen the edge of a great tall forest of broad-leafed Kelp, which begins to fill the scope of the lens on both sides, and extends as far as the eye can see; a vast high-pile carpet of fronds rippling and undulating and casting longer runners of bulbous pods towards the water's surface, still so far away.

As Ryika offers Miriam a kind word about the Princess's engagement to the Regent, Merrisol seems to come to an opposing conclusion himself, that the erms and ums signify a thing that is not his to initiate. He settles back and straightens up, looking over at Maggie and nodding appreciation for her offering hospitality. He gnaws over his lower lip a moment, and looks beyond to Ruby and her new preoccupation... hauling. Which is fine, only.. please, not a body. Not another one. Has anyone seen Meijanri since she got in? "Mr. Lockwood!"

For the fluid dynamics engineer is passing by in the lobby. He peers in around Ruby, and is given the box of sweets. "If you would please, Mr. Lockwood, kindly get coffee on for our guests, and set these out on a tray with serviettes." He seagull-eyes the box, then the man, to let him know he knows just how many baklavas will have come in such a package. Now that Maggie need not excuse herself from the discussion, he holds his hand out to her as he moves past the stations to the more open space before the viewport. "It is more the nature of the mirrors through which you were stalked, Ryika, and your own studied theories that I would like to tap," he clarifies, with a look over the aquatic plantlife expanse. "If you could outline the experience, first, including the locations and the types of the mirrors which behaved in that manner.. it would not only help us trace back to the source of corruption, but in fact tell us whether those incidents are even related."

Ruby swipes her palms together, dirtying up the bandage along her left palm and stalks into the room like a pelican on the prowl for tasty bits just under the waterline. She smacks her lips and watches the handoff before eyeing those present. She balks a little. More faces. Hey, who owns this sub anyways? Admiral Ruby struts about and considers dials, consoles with a hand on her chin and a backwards glance to congratulations being passed back and forth like free Baklava.

Maggie takes Merrisol's hand in hers once he passes the baklava off to Mr. Lockwood, fingers weaving together with his. Her gaze lifts to his for an instant of silent communion. When she looks down again there is a new twinkle in her eyes. There is even a new energy in her step as she moves with him to the more open area near the viewport. Leaning back against the metal bulkhead, she watches Ruby's entrance and tour of the ops consoles. The Admiral is on deck. The smile that Merrisol won remains for the others now that the initial malaise suffusing her has faded. Tilting her head a bit, she waits for the variety of congratulations to make their way from start to finish before focusing on the ambassador, "So... What did happen with the mirrors, Ryika?"

The box is a generous one. A feast if there was only to be three of them sharing, or a snack for many more. There might even be enough for Mr Lockwood to enjoy a wee bit, if he's careful. Ryika finds a place to linger, generally out of the way of things that need pressing or turning, or potential mishaps therein. "I was stalked through a collection of mirrors in Rebma. None yet in Amber or anywhere else. That's been the main distinguishing feature I can link them with. The first ones that I noticed were in my estate in Rebma, when Corwin and I were there discussing what updates and renovations needed doing. There was a wide selection of them on that first encounter, including my own personal little mirror. Subtle at first, a lingering niggle of a suggestion to spend more time at the mirror, not even for anything in particular, just being there. The first attack was that same day at the estate." She pauses a moment, gathering her thoughts and leaning a touch. "I caught just a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eye in the mirror, turned to look and it pounced. I couldnt look away, and it felt like it was pulling energy from me, wisking away life force, as cheesy as that sounds. Corwin had to physically turn me away from the mirror, and I basically collapsed on him at that point. Weak as a tadpole, blinding headache. Enid came to have a look at the mirror, and it fled from her." She quirks a rueful little smile. "I'm a perfectly adquate mage, but apparently Enid is scarier to it. That was the first encounter with it, I had." She pauses there, to see what questions people have.

Miriam watches the passing of the box, curious, then focuses on Ryika when the question of mirrors is raised. She frowns at the tale told, shaking her head a bit, but it's not hard to tell from her expression that she doesn't know enough about that kind of sorcery to ask questions. Instead, she looks to the others for theirs.

While a strong current does branch off and rustle across the lively canopy on a westward bent, the ERC itself is a force that plows a wide path that continues south, sculpting and gradually eroding a tall embankment of the seabed, and keeping the Kelp growth at bay, but for some stubborn, hardy pioneers, leaning and flapping upon their webby holdfasts. Up ahead, a sickly discolouration has overtaken the forest in a wide swath running east-west, right to the edge of the ERC. Instead of the teeming gangs of fish, shrimp, molluscs, and sleek swooping predators, the things within the rotten kelp woods slowly float and shamble somewhat aimlessly.

Merrisol, listening attentively to Ryika's account, has certainly not heard it in such harrowing detail before. He squeezes Maggie's hand then releases it, and studies the small knight-ambassador until she pauses, then takes a moment to turn his gaze to the viewport. "Ms. Cristholm, we are coming upon a large patch of blight, hold steady but cut propulsion," he calls over to navigation. Turning back to Ryika, he asks, "Were all these mirrors involved in the first encounter, enchanted, like your own personal mirrors? Clearly being within the granted estate, they were not instruments made magic by yourself."

Ruby wanders around the edges of the spooky conversation. Nothing being said seems to offer much to smile at or take lightly for that matter. The muscles along her jaw make themselves known when she grits her teeth together. When orders are given regarding trouble up ahead, she grimaces and heads towards a viewport to peer out.

Ryika's attention turns out the porthole to consider the view beyond with a soft little hunh as she does. Her attention returns to Merrisol at the question and she leans a bit, crossing her arms. "All of them were of sufficient quality to work with for mirror mages. We're Ygrayne, even an estate in need of some updating has high quality mirrors. I wasn't attuned to all of them, no. Most of them, but not all." She uncurls her arms then, thoughtful. "Enid had some encounters with the shadowy sense, but it never got near her. She scared it more than enough in the first place, apparently. It went quiet for a while. Then Queen Vialle and I .. er.. well rather went poking." She ahems softly. "It was still there, if you knew to go looking for it. It wasn't quite so bad when I was expecting it, but I still ended up sleeping a day solid recovering. That was all on personal mirrors, I wanted whatever advantage I could get. I haven't gone looking for it since, I've had other things demanding my attention."

Maggie listens to Ryika's description of what she went through and her smile slowly dies. Nodding, she flashes a look to the approaching blight, but looks back quickly. The squeeze is returned, then she releases Merrisol's hand. "So. Where is your estate, Ryika? In relation to the eastern Rebman current? Is your place between the current and the rest of Rebma?" She searches the viewport, though how much she is looking out and how much is contemplating the reflections seen is hard to say. Though Merrisol's questions about magic draw her gaze back to the actual ambassador rather than the reflection. "Was Lady Enid attuned to them? Any of them?" The answers to Merrisol's questions are listened to and considered. The mention of other things wins a quick twinkle.

Miriam also smiles briefly, at the mention of other things demanding Ryika's attention, though her expression is otherwise quite serious as she listens. "I wish mirrors were something I could learn. Maybe help find a way t'help. I don't think I can, though."

"I've heard it being theoretically possible, Miriam, but I don't actually know of anyone having done it. Something to ask Martin about, I'd say. Or Quinlan, but that's because I'm a Quinlan fangirl, president of his fan club and I'm pretty sure he knows everything. Personal bias." Ryika smirks a touch at the last of that before turning her attention back to Maggie's questions. "No, Enid's not attuned to the one's in the estate, unless she was ages ago and never mentioned. I find it unlikely." She gets that faraway look and holds up a hand to the in person questions. "Excuse me just a second. I swear, trumps are a non stop exercise in inturruption."

Merrisol tries to absorb it all with instant comprehension but that is asking too much of his mirror-shy self. Rather than take the time to silently get his thoughts in order, he says, "The challenge we currently" ahaha "face is drawing a line between what appears to be a malignancy in various mirrors in Rebma capital, and the other instances of predatorial contamination we have discovered elsewhere in the territory. I was wondering, is it possible that only one magic-embued mirror in the realm need be infected by chaos, in order for any and all magic mirrors to then have the potential to contain a lurking predator? Due to the travel conduit possibilities inherent in such enchantments.." He might be posing the question to deaf ears, however, as he realizes Ryika has withdrawn to see to her trump.

Miriam considers that, then nods. "Maybe Martin knows a way for a non-Rebman t'learn mirror magic." she says. "It'd be right t'ask him, first." She's quiet again then, to listen to the others.

OOC> Merrisol says, "The ERC by the way doesn't run through the city, it runs past the outskirts which are a mile or so out. Which is why it is a tad far fetched to claim some chaos swished out and went into the city and over to Ryika's estate to infect her mirrors."

Ruby makes a squeaky sound as her skin slides against the viewport for a better view. It starts up again and chirps briefly when she removes her face quickly and peers back at the brainstorming going on about mirrors. "Aye? Bloody mirrors now? Water...mirrors...This stoof bettah not be able tah fly next'r I be diggin 'oles or findin some bloody cave tah sit'n. Truth."

Maggie pushes from the wall and moves toward the station where Merrisol had his map. Leaning over it, she almost motions for Ryika to join her when she looks up and half smiles, "The joys of trumps..." Ryika is given a bit of a wink and Maggie turns back to the map to give Ryika some semblance of privacy. Lifting one hand she runs her fingers through her hair then leans forward to look over the map. "So. If the current whips around here..." She lets her finger trail down along the route the ERC takes then splays her fingers outward from there, "And cross currents cut over it here... Ish... then..." Drawing her hand back, she pauses, "Uh. Wait. Where is the forge from here?"

​Tsunamis are the worst kind of destruction for both under water and over land. Everything gets displaced. Eventually things work out under the sea and life returns to normal and things shift back to where they thrive but the damage has been done. They also reveal what has previously been hidden during such times. Thus providing a perfect set of circumstances for individuals with nefarious purposes to exploit! For the most part it is pretty boring just sitting there waiting, waiting, waiting. It's like a stakeout, only worse because you're in a sub surrounded by the sea. But as all things, eventually whatever is lurking in the deep blue dark begins to sense a light and though it takes time to find it, it eventually does. The submarine's sensors begin to start blinking and fretting... something's out there! And it's a big mass.

​Stake Out! That would have been cool, but in reality Merrisol had just ordered the sub to cut propulsion and hang around above the ERC by the Rotten Kelp Forest, while they peppered Ryika with questions. Timing, the Solar Flare has it. First a weighted drowned body falls on the ship.. then it comes upon a Meijanri scouring the ruins.. and now, it has idled in the right place and the right time to make a new blobby friend. "Sir..!" calls out Mr. Moore as his earphones start wailing with pings and one half of his lite-brite console starts flickering and describing a mass to him. He triangulates in tense silence for a moment, then confirms, "There's something headed our way, hard to get a good read on its shape as it is still beyond the next ridge, but it's big, slow.. and it's in the East Rebman, Sir."

Merrisol has gone over to the periscope upon hearing the first note of alarm in Moore's voice. "Swimming up-current?" he concludes, frowning. "None too smart, then.. but strong.. Cristholm, get power back into propulsion. Can't wait around all day."

Ruby has deemed it very important to lurk near a viewport. Ever since the sub got a surprise zerbert, along with other more unfortunate events, the big gal has decided she wants to see 'it' coming. Whatever it is. She's also doing little odd polishing gestures, as if her palm was an excellent way to buff the window. Her hand slides in patterns. Circles and swirls. Arcs and curls. There's a faint luminescence coming from between her fingers actually. Ruby swivels her head around to the bridge crew with a big frowny face and jerks her hand away from the window in a somewhat guilty manner.

Miriam was mostly just listening to the others quietly, and occasionally her mind seems to wander. It might be little visions, or maybe she's just distracted by some thought. Her attention returns when something seems to be going on though, and she listens more attentively again. "What is't? Is something going on?" she asks, her lips pursed.

Mercier stands in a corner where he can keep an eye on the entire room, arms crossed, coat unbuttoned, hat tilted up casually as he leans against the bulkhead, checking one viewport or another from a distence. He rubs one side of his face, "Death and Doldrums." He mumbles to himself. as the waiting starts, but, at least its not long. He peers curiously at all the flickers and flackers of sensor boards, and pushes off the wall, "Bully or Bygone?"

Maggie still stands near the map, her attention lifted by Mr. Moore's call. Frowning, she flashes her gaze to the viewport as though she could see through the next rise by dint of concentration alone. But, no. There is something there, though. Some nearly indefinable something. Half closing her eyes, she inhales then starts doing that sniff-a-sniff thing that Quinlan is occasionally known for. "There is magic here. Or... there. Heading this way, I think? It is a ..." Leaving her station, she moves toward the port, sniff sniffing all the way. Her aim seems to be Ruby at first, though as the flare fades Maggie's attention slips past, out and farther, "... binding... magic. I think. It is faint, though."

The currents of Rebma are nothing to mess with and generally if you're not a really powerful swimmer and don't have a sub you won't get very far. The big blobby thing on the radar is extremely difficult to see in the water, since it is a big dark mass. It's sort of struggling against the current to get to someplace that way. Every so often something gets caught in it, struggles helplessly and the life is just sucked dry. Thus there are little bits of dead things and flotsham stuck in it sort of along for the ride as it struggles up the current. Let's hope there are no cute cuttlefish about. Life....something to latch on to! Oh hey look! Submarine! Free food! Joy! It slithers one foot forward, then two feet backward and each time it stretches forward again it becomes a little bigger but not denser. It has no real shape and looks a bit a giant blob on the sensors and a formless mass to the naked eye. It's a huge, formless mass almost half as big as the sub. It stretches again, and then POP! Part of it breaks off and the current catches a bit about a foot in diameter and that is now tumbling down the current. If it could just get that one big score, maybe no more bits would break off! Ugggghhh...The current is causing a lot of the thing to stretch again behind it... streeeetch. Pop! there goes another piece. It's getting smaller.

Mr. Moore has one hand up over his right ear, holding the amplifier close, while he continues to fine-tune the range and dimensions of the thing. "No good.. it is as though the wretched thing has no defining form, Captain." Then both range and visual sensors lose track of it as the creature struggles past another obstructing ridge on the embankment. As the submersible scuttles forward to get a clear line of sight through the viewport, the sonar officer's suspicions are confirmed.. Big time.

Merrisol says nothing to the alliterative slang from Mercier at first, unable to guess what Bygone refers to. He nods encouragingly to Maggie trying to take a magic reading, asking, "Binding.. as in House Karm?" That's when the blob blobs into view, and he stares in analytical horror for a moment. "Another corrupted creature or algae, perhaps.." He watches a chunk break off, then another, into the fast-flowing undersea river, and grimaces. "None of that.. Ms. Cristholm, divert thirty degrees and take us over the ridge. We must get that thing out of the ERC before more of that stuff goes whisking through the territory."

Ruby tucks her hand up against her chest and smacks herself in the abs. She fastens up her lip, as it budded in line and went through the wrong button-hole on a shirt. Now her face is all askew. She considers sniffing at herself, and everyone seems to be looking elsewhere now. But no, she used the buck and sponge a week ago. She must still fresh as a daisy. The corners of her mouth droop down like a handle-bar mustache and she slowly turns to look out the viewport again. "We should flippah fastah. Dun't wanna 'it nothin else. Truth." She squints out the viewport and catches a glimpse of the formless mass far off in the distance. "Merri...We ain't gonna 'it tha bloody thing are we?"

Over the hours or days it took to get to its current position from whence it came it has apparently completely lost the ability to stabilize itself. The ERC is not being kind to it and it has very little strength. It tries again and again with almost an animal instinct of some kind, desperate to get closer. There is a sudden whooshing sound then Pop... Pop... Pop... Poor Giant Blobbo stretched itself too thin in its mighty endeavor to navigate the current the wrong way and eventually it becomes lots of little bits of mass. Each piece tumbles into the currents willy-nilly. So much for the grand plan of eating the sub! They don't even have the strength of form to gather back together again. The backlash through rocks the Sub.

Miriam watches Maggie 'sniff' for a moment, then turns her mystical senses that way as well to see what she can find. She looks a little puzzled by what's going on, and is apparently leaving most of it to others to figure out. Aside from her magical sense, of course.

​Mercier is well ignored, as he doesn't have anything to add. He steps closer to a porthole, near Ruby, curiously watching Maggie sniff out.... something, before looking back out the porthole, "Could it capture anything as big as this?" He muses to himself.

Maggie keeps sniff-sniffing, a frown centering on her brow, "Um... Yes, Kerf. I think it is Karm-style magic. The binding magic. There is something else too, but I can't really define it." As the blob snaps into myriad micro-blobs that go a-tumbling off into the current, Maggie shudders. The shudder turns into a stagger that morphs into a pretty graceful two-step as the ship takes the reeling brunt of the recoil. "Woah." Her eyes open about then and she looks out of the viewport to try and find their quarry, "Where did it go? What was that?" See? (Or not.) This is what happens when you sense stuff with your eyes closed.

One trump call becomes more than one trump call and a Ryika stepping somewhere quieter to deal with something or other. Ahh, life in politics. She steps back into operations as backlash rocks the sub and she braces to avoid losing her balance. "Y'know, I should have known with this group all in one location, it was not going to be snacks and conversation for long. Any quick sum up for those of us who have a horrible knack for arriving late?"

The oblique trajectory of the Solar Flare had been meant to give the Blobbo a reason to heave its stupid self out of the current.. but all it managed was to make the amoeboid twist itself to pieces. Merrisol utters an ungentlemanly expletive and grips one handle of the periscope column to keep his balance when the floor heaves and tilts just seconds later. "No," he answers either Ruby or Mercier, belatedly. "But we need to collect one of those!" His hand must have hit something on the controls because the sea horse lets out a woebegone *WHONK* over the demise of its hungry new pal. And then? Life-sucked fish and other debris ejected from the dark mass patter against the viewport and hull.

Ms. Cristholm wrestles with rudder control at the helm, and gets the floor righted, unfortunately for anyone who was enjoying watching Maggie two-step. Mr. Moore has his ears and hands full, getting a sense of the numbers and distance of the new smaller blobs, but he still manages to bleat to Ryika, "A foul organic thing just exploded in the East Rebman Current, Dame Ambassador!"

Ruby flattens herself against the hull when turbulence begins. Bad memories knock on the remember-door in her head. Ruby offers a summation, "We gonna die mebbe!" Her lips pull back from her teeth. She keeps one eye open to the viewport just in time to see the myriad of detritus pelted at the sub.

"I see." Ryika answers after a moment of consideration to that answer. Accurate though it might be, it's not utterly helpful. "Do you need to collect it alive? Or should I be gearing out to go collect a bit of the exploded blobs in a jar or something."

There are many bits of the blob now floating in the currents. Quite a few are just resting helplessly on the sea floor utterly spent and melting into a kind of sickly looking shape a little like dying sea cucumbers. The bits of mass on the floor are quite unstable and water bubbles through them separating the bits further. Some of them are boyant but a few just fall to the sea-bed. The bouyant bits have a bit more coherency although not much. They don't appear to have nearly have enough strength to continue to be cohesive for much longer. Many of them are already breaking apart in the currents. There are, however, a few worth chasing down.

The two-step lands Maggie near the viewport and she rests her hand near the window. Watching, she nods to the summations offered for as unhelpful as they are, they are also fairly accurate. The pelting pings of lifeless detritus against the hull spark a wince and a shudder. Someone will be polishing the hull after this adventure. Nodding to something, she pushes away again and starts back toward the hatch, "Someone needs to go out and collect some of that stuff. And we need a better mage than I am to look at it, I expect." She does look as though she is about to start giving orders... dividing the group into teams. An away team, complete with red-shirt and a bridge-ops team. Then it hits her. She is not the Captain. Clearing her throat, she allows her steps to slow. Merri can assign teams... "Uh. Let me call Quin and see if he has time to pop in." As though such a thing was an every day occurance. Oh, wait. It is.

Won't anybody think of the children! As Moore reports on the scattered and sunken status of many a cute li'l horrorshow, Merrisol assesses the view through the port, and notes, "Whatever it is, it does not appear to be a creature of the Black Road.. see how the broken pieces expire, Ruby. We are not in danger." He nods to Maggie's declarations of need, and starts for the hatch. "I'll get the nets and jars, Ryika. Anyone else who wants to join us outside, you'll suit up with a breathing mask." No way is anyone going to risk inhaling whatever is still bobbing in the waters.

When Merrisol proposes going out there to save... whatever it is, Miriam nods to him. "I'll help. I'll just go change quickly." She's in a sundress, after all." She hurries off then, to put on something more appropriate for swimming.

No further exploding blobs harken on the horizon. It seems to be a good time to explore!

​Maggie takes her trump deck from her pouch and draws a few cards out. She smiles a bit on seeing the first in the deck, but flips past before making contact. Locating a specific red-haired, long and lanky cousin, she lifts the card up and concentrated.

Ruby presses her face up against the glass again. Both eyes open since Merrisol gives some reassurance. She mumbles something, fogging the viewport in a small patch of condensation. She squints through the depths. "..." She does not immediately rush out to chase the unknown 'ick'. So thoughtful is Ruby that she doesn't move for the door. She stays hunkered against the hull and stares.

Merrisol gets the covered glass beakers from the lab, but the rest of the equipment can be rummaged from the lockers in the lobby: Woven nets and divers gloves for handling with loving (and squicking) care. Air-breathing masks so nobody not already aquatic, artificially or otherwise, requires a smooch. And spring-loaded harpoon guns. There may not be any more ravenous blobmonsters coming upstream, but there is a blighted swath of kelp forest, so one must mind the sea lion zambehs.

Ryika is already headed for the door, and the safety equipment that she knows oh so well as part of the Flare. It's almost like she's done this sort of thing more than a couple of times out of the sub. She declines the weaponry, taking a double dose of sample collection gear and moving her way to head out into the water.

Maggie is standing in what has to be the ops section of the Solar Flare. There are panels, controls, lights and crew behind her. Crew being Ms. Crisholm and Mr. Moore. There are also guests and people hurrying off to do... stuff. She smiles a bit, though looks a touch wary, "Hey, Quinlan. Thanks for taking the trump call. Listen... We're trying to track a... thing... in mirrors. Uh. We could use your help identifying it. I smelled some binding magic. Like the Karms use. But, there is more to it. Some of us are going out to try and collect samples. Want to come?"

Mercier glances outside towards the away party, and gives a bit of a shrug, stepping towards Ruby, "Better on the water then under it?" He asks her, with a raised eyebrow, looking back to the Begman crew, "I do think they've got enough undersea denizens stepping out into the inky black. I think we'll stay aboard and ensure the crew has people to be smart and ingenious at."

Quinlan arrives with his hooded staff across his back and his bookbag over one shoulder, holding Maggie's hand. "Wow. Busy."

Miriam gets herself changed quickly, and to the equipment so she can get out there with the others. She is more than happy to wear a breathing thing, because breathing in that stuff out there just does not appeal to her. Ew. Of course, when they get out there she will stay fairly close to Merrisol.

Ruby turns her face so that her mouth is more towards Mercier than fogging the glass. "Aye...Loike most folk. Not'ah fish. Truth." she works her jaw furiously. "I remembah what 'appened tha last toime. Down in tha deep. There was'ah place with tha bloody 'orrble stoof. Got on me kit. Stook there. Couldn't git't oof. Not until late'ah." she mutters, "B'sides...Cap'n Kell on board. Moight need sumpthin." Uh-huh.

Maggie stands in the middle of the ops area, her hand now holding Quinlan's. She releases him once he is stable. "Yeah, it is." Looking around, she nods toward the back, "Kerf is leading a team out there to collect a sample. But you can probably smell the magic from in here if I could." After a moment, she adds, "We can go with them or stay here to wait for them to return. Uh. Do you know everyone?"

Quinlan sniffs the air. "Yeah," he agrees. "Road. Not surprising, that stuff is like thaumaturgical alkahest. Do I want to know how big whatever was being bound is?"

The normally pristine Viewport has just been pelted with what was inside a possibly sentient thing. Bits of skeletons of dead fish... guck... and other stuff. On the seabed below are large blobs of sagging stuff, it looks like they're going to break apart at any moment. Other blobs are floating in the water, some getting carried away by the current. They range in sizes, but there is a lot of them. They are not very dense and certainly translucent dark masses.

"There will be a time for daring later, bosun." He glances out the view port as gunk and eww get smered on it, frowning, and looking back to the away team, "Do be careful out there. I doubt its a pleasent thing to come in contact with." He notes, giving a nod to Quinlan as he arrives, "Milord."

​Aside from their safety diving equipment Merrisol, Miriam, and Ryika are each equipped with heavy sample jars and a woven net bag. The most viable globulus chunks of the strange amoeba are still buoyant and therefore tend to wend away through the water on some current offshoot or other. But after some teamwork, they get their glob, and head back towards the hatch.

- - - - - - - - - -

That was no pleasureable skip through the underwater daisies. The kelp forest here is mottled and riddled with decay, but somehow stay upright upon their holdfasts. The things lurching around under and through the canopy are no less suspicious in their parody of living things. Yet Merrisol decides to keep the Solar Flare hanging about the area, though risen beyond the reach of either rolling river or zombie eels. While the group sees to their individual pursuits aboard until some Next Step discussion can be had, Merrisol returns to Operations in his Captainy outfit. "How have you been, Quinlan? I see your head is back to normal." He notes Mercier and considers him a moment in silence.

Quinlan smiles. "Yeah. I kind of decided it'd be best to stay out of sight, after that party, until it wore off. Been studying in Pathi, catching up on everyone's research."

"Pathi," repeats Merri, reminded. "Is there not some sort of crisis in Pathi currently?"

Quinlan blinks. "Is there?" he asks. "I must have missed the memo. I'm not exactly what you'd call a man of rank in Pathi, you understand. As an Exoterikos I'm just one step above the average foreigner. If something's bothering the leadership, I'm one of the last that'd hear anything about it unless Mom or Brand decided to send me a letter."

The merchant appears unperturbed by any silent regard, content to listen to the two discuss affairs about the Golden Circle, expanding his knowledge that way, as he wanders about the bridge, attempting to look attentive to his surroundings, checking his pocketwatch at least once. Perhaps he's just avoiding looking bored so certain pirates don't realize the's gaining more then he's giving.

​Merrisol frowns as the obvious deference granted the Mage by his friends is detracted by the scorn of his Pathian countrymen. "Ah.. I may have misinterpreted something Maggie had said about it," he admits. "But if all is quiet and serene in Pathi, you could always take in more Exoterikos-type issues with us, Quinlan. After we have determined where this source of chaos is feeding into the currents, it's to the Wave Dancer and into the Shadows for a long while." He looks at Mercier again and sees the pocketwatch come out, and this time queries aloud, "Templeton, are you due elsewhere?"

Quinlan grins. "Which would be why I came when Maggie called. Don't worry, Merri. I knew what I was choosing, when I chose to be Exoterikos, and I don't regret it. I've seen a lot more of the universe than most in Pathi would ever dream of. It's a fair trade."

Merri smiles at that, flashing a more fleeting grin at the end. "I aim to see much more of it than I have so far, by the time we're through.. there are a few Golden Circle stops.. Sukho, Alhambra, and Minos again, of course," he shrugs ruefully. "Then I would like to see more, wherever Maggie is able to take us. And if you are willing to help us get further than that..?"

Quinlan nods. "Generally speaking, the answer to that is 'yes', of course."

Merrisol knew that. "Then, good. You will not be obliged to stay the whole time, but I hope it will be enlightening for us to make a study of these places to see what the drastic changes of the Lower City in Amber have meant for a cross-section of worlds." He catches Mercier once more with a sidelong look but so far is not getting through.