Towering dockside cranes loom overhead, all exposed gears, pistons, and iron latticework, frozen mid-motion. Their long arms stretch over empty berths like skeletal fingers. Chains sway without wind, and at times the machinery blurs, as if two versions of the harbor occupy the same space a heartbeat apart.

Dark brick warehouses line the quay, their iron frames webbed with thick pipes that hiss cold vapor into the mist. Brass pressure gauges still twitch with meaningless life, their numbers unfamiliar and unreadable.

Strange vessels rot at the docks: riveted iron steamships, submersible hybrids, and warped designs that defy classification. Some exist only in fragments — a prow without a stern, a deck fading into nothing. Water passes through half-real hulls, rippling through ghostly bulkheads.

At the far end stands the harbor master’s office, a clockwork tower of iron and stained glass. A cracked brass chronometer hangs above its doors, its hands creeping backward. The building flickers between solid and translucent, sometimes revealing empty desks and dead control instruments within.

The air is layered with misaligned sounds — hissing steam, groaning metal, and the slow lap of unmoving water. In the mist, tall human silhouettes filled with drifting starlight sometimes gather at the ends of the piers, watching in silence. When approached, they unravel into fading sparks, leaving only the faint chime of distant bells.

It is night/span/b/span>65F(18C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The area is wreathed in mist. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Lynch/span/span> There is a waxing crescent moon.

“Ruin women or men for me?” Seraphina asks Teagan, playfully, once they have reached dry, it misty land.

“Ruin women or men for me?” Seraphina asks Teagan, playfully, once they have reached dry, if* misty land.

At some length, the tunnels give way to Biringan’s queer streets — crooked, fading in and out, full of some kind of strangeness. Thomas, as the leader of this expedition, consults some compass, finding his way through the streets that seem to move. The mist is high, and shapes seem to move in it, even if there is no -person- visible here. “Biringan is half here and half out,” Thomas explains to Seraphina, Cyprian, and Teagan. “Be wary you do not step through a manhole that isn’t there, or through a cobblestone that’s gone away,” he says. “I think because it is the most recent city, it doesn’t yet know if it is -here- or if it is -there-.”

“I’d like to say both,” Teagan says thoughtfully, “but certainly men. I don’t have to be reminded about how the female anatomy functions. Things like… center of balance.” She definitely does not mean center of balance, the way she grins at Seraphina. But they have arrived and now follow Thomas through the streets. She does her best to keep an eye on her footing, but Teagan is also distracted by the harbor. “This reminds me so much of that place I go sometimes when I dream…”

For now, at least, the quartet has not yet reached the harbor: but it looms.

“It’s yet to settle,” Cyprian agrees to Thomas with a firm nod, taking his suggestion at face-value and drawing his rapier from his belt, opting to use his it like a cane for the blind to test the steps in front of him, angled diagonally downwards. He glances between Seraphina and Teagan from the corner of his eye as they continue to gaily banter, though his focus seems mostly on taking in the shifting streets.

“I have been here before. The landscape is trecherous. It will be here one moment, and the next, you may end up somewhere entirely different than you’d intended,” Seraphina tells Thomas, adding the latter information for Teagan and Cyprian. She does try to take the lead in the mist, letting her own light be their guide, as she steps about the terrain with fleet of foot.

“It will go best if you pay attention to where you walk. When last I was here, I was telling everyone that it was perfectly fine, and ended up falling backwards into a lake.” Seraphina explains.

Not unlike Cyprian, Teagan uses her staff to test her steps before her. Though she once more lags just slightly behind, largely following the three ahead of her. That way, if someone falls: it won’t be her and she’ll know where not to step! “Cyprian, I have wondered… Where were you before you came to New Haven?”

“So,” Thomas explains as he walks, an eye on the spinning compass. “We are trying to find the things that are said to dwell in the harbor,” he explains. “In truth — I don’t know exactly what they are, what reality they come from. There are theories,” he shares. “Some say that the waters prevented those who lived here from being -taken- to wherever they disappeared to; that some sought shelter in the deep, to cling to their own lives rather than being remade.” He pauses, at that, perhaps caught in some memories. “Others say they are entities from someplace outside our own, pressing in. Regardles…” He pats a bag, swinging by his side. “I have assembled a pair of spirit traps. I am hoping we can catch one,” he says to Teagan, Seraphina, and Cyprian.

“And if they are not spirits, per se?” Teagan inquires, glancing to the bag that Thomas carries.

Cyprian seems to decide he doesn’t trust the environment after a bit longer on the shifting cobblestones, figuring silently that armor seems to be preferable to the alternative. He creaks open the trunk and lags just behind the group, shrugging each piece on and then cinching leather straps tight. As he does so, he calls back to Teagan, “Directly before? I was in Cork, Ireland. Though I travel quite a bit, mostly in Europe and West Asia. Originally, I’m from Surrey.” He says all of this quite truthfully, though focuses much more on the where than the when. Glancing to the Thomas, he nods twice. “Trapping them is the ultimate goal of this excursion, yes? Something a little extra for your Parliament?”

“I see someone’s told you about the Parliament,” Thomas tells Cyprian — perhaps not pleased, with a glance to Seraphina. “No. This is a spirit to consume,” he says. “Not to keep. Perhaps there will be some study–but I believe the half state these things are in is the promise of power,” he explains. “As for what they are?” he asks Teagan. “That’s why I constructed two traps. Sometimes, we need to have a control if we are to experiment,” he shares with her. There’s a look at the compass, and then up ahead. “I think we are almost there.”

Indeed — that is when the quartet, Thomas, Seraphina, Cyprian, and Teagan — turns the corner. The vast, abandoned quays of the city are revealed, then, the fog curling around them all like eldritch tendrils. It is as if the great dockyard was at work, except there are no faces, no people… nothing at all, except strange echoes of some former life that filter through the fog.

“Interesting,” Teagan muses, slowing her stride enough to act as a bridge while Cyprian lags behind so that he is not left alone on the misty streets. “I am curious as to how one consumes a spirit. Particularly one that is neither here nor there. Or both here and there. Spirits often have anchors or unfinished business, do they not? How does the consumption affect that and vice versa?” She glances into the messenger bag at her hip, rifling around in it briefly. Once they are all gathered together properly again, she asks of Cyprian once more: “So you are of… modern times? You’ll have to forgive me. Sometimes people from the past and future find their way to New Haven and you had initially struck me as one of the former.” She does have an eye on the things that move in the fog, though thus far she seems unbothered. Then again, her boyfriend is a mersula. Tentacles are not a concern.

Seraphina shrugs at Thomas’ displeasure. “It is not a very well kept secret these days, Thomas.” She says then, “If they are not spirits, then the trap will not work. Some scholars claim they are the remnants of the souls that lived here, so I am guessing it will work. Even if there are those who might argue that being an in-between, what we come to see here is some odd convergence of reality, and these spectres are, in fact, real, like you and me.” She peers out into the mist, squinting in the glasses she doesn’t need. “Maybe that is true? I don’t know that I believe it, but if so, maybe they see us as this light, too.”

Cyprian lets out a grunt back at Thomas in acknowledgement, rushing up to keep pace with Teagan with a clatter of equipment, tapping along at the cobbles with the tip of his sword and dodging and swerving where a bit seems less solid. He glances back to Teagan. “I was born in eighty six,” comes his little jape, with a pause for effect back to the redhead. He could certainly be a millennial. “Though I’d been under for oh, about a hundred and five. I’ve been in modern times for about ten years,” he says finally, letting her figure out the math from there. Raising his sword into the distance, he points out skywards and says, “Lights, up in the fog. Something out there.”

Approaching one of the docks, Thomas pauses — for hanging from a rack there are four, old-time diving suits, except that instead of a compressor and a line each has some glowing purple-green tank on its back. “Good,” he says. “I was a little worried Sasha wouldn’t come through,” he confesses. At Cyprian’s comment, though, he follows his gaze, peering — and finding nothing. “I don’t see anything,” he says to the man. To Seraphina and Teagan, “Ladies?”

“They must be some form of psychic residue,” Cyprian comments aside to Thomas, looking between Seraphina and Teagan both and explaining, “I get glimpses into the spirits from time to time. They are out there, however. Though I can’t be quite so certain if that’s our quarry to be trapped or not.” Pointedly then, he asks the Librarian, “What sort of spirits specifically are we searching for? How would I know them?”

A different bead in Teagan’s hair might catch the eye. A pattern on it shifts and a painted eye opens as the redhead squints out into the fog. She leans forward a bit, hand sliding up the shaft of her staff to support her as she does so. There’s a shake of her head after a moment as she leans back on her heels, blinking a few times as she steadies her vision. “I’m sorry, no. I don’t see anything out there. Lights? Are you sure it wasn’t just some reflection?” She glances over to Cyprian, looking him up and down for a moment. “When you say under, where exactly do you mean?”

“Dig site. At a Fire Temple. In Persia,” Cyprian tells Teagan in a grunted, terse response. Not that he wouldn’t normally be more forthcoming with this sort of information or long-winded, but the wary side-to-side glances of his eyes seem to indicate he’s wary of attack from any angle, imminently. “Exploring a chamber one minute, waking up in the same chamber in twenty fifteen the next.”

Following Teagan’s gaze, Thomas shakes his head, before turning to Cyprian. “I don’t know what lurks out in these mists,” he says. “For all I know…” A pause. “They are connected to those at home.” He looks to the suits. “We should perhaps get underwater,” he says. “Did you all bring swim trunks?” he inquires of Teagan, Seraphina, and Cyprian.

“I wasn’t aware I needed them,” Teagan notes in a dry voice to Thomas, clearly unsurprised by this. She glances over to Cyprian. “Acquisitions for the British Museum, I take it?” A bit of humor suffuses her tone once more, that mercurial nature of the Fae at work there. But she takes a deep breath and releases it, considering. “Do we have a safe place on the docks to put our things, at least? I don’t intend to dive with my bag. And I may as well leave my clothes up here so I have something dry to change into when we get back up.”

“You said it was all being provided.” Seraphina says to Thomas, pulling her sword out as she takes that tiny step forth. “So no, I don’t have a suit, because you didn’t tell me to bring a suit!”

Seraphina relays to Teagan, “I’m sure it was a ploy.”

Teagan gives a shrug to Seraphina and notes: “Clearly.”

The librarian rolls his eyes to Seraphina. “I brought the diving suits,” he says to her. “Do you expect me to have a swimsuit for you, too?” he says. He nods to Teagan. “There’s a locker here,” Thomas says, indicating the chest. “There are eyes in the mist, belonging to a friend.”

“I asked also, but nooooooo.” Seraphina drags that last word out.

Pausing for a while to consider Thomas’ words, Cyprian nods his understanding, though not without a wince of mild annoyance at the fact that it’s a bit of a snipe hunt. But what comes, will come. He gestures to the old diving suits and taps at one of the helmets with his sword, emitting a soft clink. “Technically speaking, you can put these things on over clothes. Though it’ll weigh you down. I haven’t got a set of swimming clothes, but I suppose some boxer shorts and some steel on my chest will be the safest option, considering. I’ll make do with the extra weight.” He glances over to Teagan’s quip about acquisitions and tells her. “Not for the museum, no. Of a more personal nature.”

Shrugging, Thomas begins to kick out of his clothes so he can pull on one of the diving suits.

“Luckily I’ve got my bra and underwear on,” Seraphina says, smirking a bit over at Thomas. “But maybe next time, be a little more clear, hm?” She begins to remove her shoes, bending over to unbuckle them and step out from them. Then her gloves, and coat, they are set aside by each article. The dress is next to go, sliding up over her legs, hips, stomach, chest then head.

There is a small shake of her head, but Teagan begins undressing. She folds everything neatly as she does, cycling a few things around from her bag to carry with her, perhaps. Primarily, a key with a stone on it that glimmers gets tucked into her bra. And once she has stripped down to her underclothes, everything is tucked into the aforementioned locker before she approaches the diving suits.

takes his helmet off for a moment, waiting for the others to change.

Thomas takes his helmet off for a moment, waiting for the others to change.

Cyprian puts his breastplate back on over bare skin (save for a preposterous amount of dark body hair,) and cinches it tighter, the fit much looser now. Grumbling then he takes up the diving suit and begins to step into it, though eyes do occasionally wander between Seraphina and Teagan as he re-dresses, a bit of silver-lining to his inconvenience. Ultimately, he decides to put his sword belt back on over the diving suit after he changes. Just in case.

Seraphina probably doesn’t actually have this…

Teagan ultimately holds onto a book, as well. When she gets to the diving suit, she considers the interior of it. It will be a tight fit, but she does find a place to squeeze the tome in along with herself, propping her staff up nearby so she can grab it anew in one of the bulky gloves once in the suit.

Thomas explains, “There are small wireless receivers inside the helmet.” He holds it one hands. “So assuming we don’t have any issues with the wireless underwater…” He pauses. “Things should be crystal clear down there.” He pauses. “Once we are in the depths — we will look for these figures,” he says. “They are supposed to be in the deepest, darkest places, but the city is empty.” A beat. “Things will be fine.”

From inside her suit, Seraphina sighs. Those who are wearing their helmets would hear it.

Reaching up, the librarian sets his helmet on his head. Thomas’s confident face disappears.

“Are we looking for a specific kind of figure? Or simply any figures we see will do?” Teagan asks as she wriggles around a bit within her suit, having to cram the book against her abdomen. At least there is a fair bit of space created by the room necessary for her… ample bosom. She has gotten her helmet settled already and glances Seraphina’s way at the sigh.

Thomas says, his voice echoing across the wireless, “Your helmet, Miss Lawson. Then we descend.” With heavy, lumbering footfalls, he walks towards the edge of the pier, the lead weights in his boots making echoing crashes that are swallowed by the pervasive fog.

Encased in his helmet, Cyprian taps on the side with his fingertip, makes sure the seal is good, and says, “Testing testing,” to echo over the wireless to the others, making sure he is ready and then clunking along behind Thomas.

Seraphina is clearly having issues with the wireless, and taps on the side of her helmet.

There is just a gesture of Teagan’s staff: unwilling to bother with removing the bulky helmet just to put it back on immediately. She just opts to follow Thomas, glad for the aforementioned strength. It may not be a lot, all told, but it helps.

Thomas says “Can you hear me now?“

Thomas removes his helmet to speak.

“I heard you fine with the helmet, but am not getting Teag or Sippy.” Seraphina replies.

says, “Can you hear me at all?”

Thomas says, “Can you hear me at all?”

Seraphina nods to Thomas, put points to Teagan and Cyprian with a shake of that bulky helmet.

A pause. Thomas looks at the helmet. “Perhaps the wireless isn’t working,” he says. “We’ll have to work by gesture.”

Stepping closer to the edge, with Teagan, Seraphina, and Cyprian behind — Thomas takes a giant’s stride, topping into the water. There is some terrific stash as he hits the cold harbor, lead boots causing all four to sink rapidly into the dark.

Stepping closer to the edge, with Teagan, Seraphina, and Cyprian behind — Thomas takes a giant’s stride, topping into the water. There is some terrific stash as he hits the cold harbor, lead boots causing all four to sink rapidly into the dark. (re)

Down… Down… Down…

Thomas says “Can you hear me at all?/span/span>Teagan finally steps off the edge to take that plunge. She grips her staff tight as the weight pulls them downward. Here, now, there is that touch of mammalian concern. She pushes past it. “Yes,” she tries, venturing to test the wireless.

Cyprian sinks down along with Thomas, sword drawn, clearly incapable of slashing a goddamn thing with the weight and pressure of the water but possibly able to stab, should it come to that. He speaks to transmit, saying, “I can hear you just fine.”

“Testing,” Teagan tries again.

Cyprian gives a thumbs up to Thomas’ previous attempt to speak, as if it came across to him, and then gestures to his own helmet questioningly.

Though Seraphina can see Teagan’s mouth moving being the thick pane of glass, there comes no knowledge of what she says, and she lifts her hands, so slowly, given the pressure of the water, in some sort of shrug.

Thomas tries again. “It’s cutting in and out,” he says, toggling the wireless as they begin to descend deeper into the blackness. “I can’t hear any of –” There’s a tap at his helmet, and then all four of their boots hit bottom. Lights trigger on the suits, casting crazy beams around the murk. The pilings here loom like towers. … tries, staring around, and then resorts to gestures — pointing at Seraphina with an ok-circle finger, as if to ask if she is alright, followed by making the same OK? gesture to Teagan and Cyprian.

Teagan ultimately just lifts her one free gloved hand to give the knocking motion that is the ASL for ‘yes’ to Thomas. She is OK as can be. Her other hand keeps gripping her staff tightly: clearly that will not be released anytime soon. Ever.

Cyprian points to Seraphina and Teagan both as they descend, tapping the side of his helmet and then shaking it from side to side. But what can they do to fix it, already sinking into the inky deep? He gives up on trying as the hit the bottom, shrugging and giving the OK symbol back to Thomas as he awkwardly grips at his basket-hilted rapier with too-thick gloves.

The shining lights of the quartet reveal a crazy, underwater world. Junk sticks out from beneath the pilings at strange angles. Huge, ghostly amenomes sit on dark muck of the floor, and here and there glint mirror-like pieces of metal, as if something above had shattered. Sometimes, schools of fishes swim by — but scarily, they appear to phase in and out of existence. One barracuda-looking thing swims directly through Cyprian, leaving him with the distinct, slimy sense of its passage.

Seraphina tries to make the ok symbol to Thomas but gives up as she stands at the bottom of a silent sea, black as night but for the illumination of the suit, and whatever of her shine makes it out of the suit she wears.

Seraphina gives Cyprian a helpless look as she tries to speak again, mouth moving, but unfortunate for him and Teagan, unheard. It might be a curse. Who can tell!

Cyprian braces for an impact that never comes, and is left double-taking down at his torso. It gives him pause, and he pats at his chest, but finding no damage he gives the OK symbol back to Seraphina at her evident concern and keeps trudging forward.

Like some deep sea Frankenstein, Seraphina begins to trample along the bottom of the ocean, stirring up some sand with her steps, far slowed by being so deep beneath the water.

Every footfall is heavy, with lead-lined boots. The cold here seems to be an invader, even as the quartet are kept dry inside their suits.

The path of the spectral fish is watched in fascination and Teagan clearly expects it to collide with the man as well. She stares wide-eyed as it goes, taking a few careful strides to look beyond him as it passes through. Her mouth moves, even if the others cannot hear it. Likely some variation of the classic ‘Fascinating’ or similar by the shape of her lips. Turning slowly (trying not to stir up too much with heavy boots), she looks into the murky depths, seeking.

It is Teagan’s light that illuminates a gap between the pillars, leading deeper beneath the quays. Of course — up here, Seraphina, Cyprian, Thomas and Teagan can see the surface. They can escape, if they tug the emergency line on their suits and let their air bring them to the surface like corks, but up ahead? Deeper? There is no escape, if something goes wrong. It is the kind of cold place that welcomes only the drowned and the damned.

Usually the one to trudge ahead before anyone else for the sense of the adventure and the ultimate find, Seraphina hangs back for some time, facing this new deeper darkness.

As his gaze shifts to find the gap that Teagan has illuminated, Cyprian looks between the group, between Seraphina, and then finally Thomas, lifting his sword-arm and pointing at that gap as if asking if they are to proceed in that direction. He doesn’t seem overly eager to do so, at least not without the rest of the group moving along with him.

Teagan stands fixated on that gap. She is not moving forward either. There is a hesitation in her that is visible despite the bulky diving suit.

Those who may be watching Seraphina may see that the little adventuress takes herself a deep and stilling breath, shaking off whatever emotion has caused to stop in her tracks. She turns her head to the side, spotting Cyprian’s pointed sword and nods within that helmet, the same look is given to Teagan.

For his part? Thomas has no hesitation. He strides forward, his heavy footfalls churning up muck. Toggling on his wireless, he says, … None of them can hear it, of course, but more than one of them have heard him before. After all? It will be fine. He should look back to see if they are following, but does not.

When Thomas trudges ahead, taking her spot as the lead instigator, Seraphina/span/span>The sigh from Teagan is surely felt even if it cannot be heard nor seen. There is still enough body language and the way she leans forward before she takes a step speaks volumes. Into the dark they go.

Cyprian keeps trudging forward after Thomas makes his move, thudding of his weighted boots fully muted as he walks in line with the group. What he might feel about the trek is a mystery kept safely secreted away by his helmet, as he focuses on the ground they trod below, making sure his footing is secure.

Deeper, deeper, deeper…

Light seems to fade down here, now, so that it is only the beams of the suit-mounted lights that illuminate anything beneath the piers. Sometimes, as they scan across pilings, there is movement — slippery things, like worms or eels that are just out of sight.

Walking forward into the murk, Thomas/span/span>Thump, thump, thump. It is not only Seraphina’s feet stirring up the sand and the activity of whatever creatures slither amongst the items scattered under the pier. The angel begins to search, slowly pulling out her sword she took with and using it to poke about the sand, creating water movement to work sand away from items for a better look.

Catching the distant gleam, Cyprian thuds ahead, as if walking on the surface of the moon, pointing towards some dancing lights that are likely only seen to him, pointing ahead and catching up to Thomas, beckoning for Teagan and Seraphina to follow along with a slow and pronounced gesture of his free hand.

Trudging along after, Teagan uses her staff once again to prod at the ground before her. Just in case there’s a sudden drop off into even further depths. Finding an unexpected trench could be disastrous, after all. It’s slow going, but it gives her time to look at the ground and into the murk around them all the same. And then there is something around them. She grips that staff but hesitates, finding herself… uncertain.

Suddenly, the water seems to be boiling — slithery, snakelike things seem to appear out of thin air, round squirming nightmares. They have no jaws, just awful holes that try to rip at the fabric of the deep-sea suits the explorers wear. Sometimes, worse, they seem to phase right through the suits, biting down with terrible force.

Several eels attach themselves to Thomas/span>Cyprian does his best to poke at the eels that are starting to swarm Thomas with the tip of his rapier, stabbing as they phase in and out of their plane. He does his best to grab at the tails of the pests to get them to stay in place, but the effort is largely futile, and he simply tries his hardest not to stab anyone near him, hoping his blade finds purchase.

Seraphina trudges through the water, seeking to punch at the eels that swarm, in a frantic slow motion motion, though each punch likely hits hard, if it hits one that hasn’t become transparent.

Screaming in his helmet, Thomas pulls the phase lampreys from him. Of course — neither Teagan, Seraphina, or Cyprian can hear his screams, with the wireless dead and his helmet spattered with coughed-up blood from the inside. He’s fallen to his knees — at least he’s moving, for those watching from outside.

It is evident that Seraphina has been hit quite a few times by the lampreys, her suit showing the signs of damage. The large heavy glove that she was using to punch through them bent, but luckily not broken. She first doesn’t recognize that the fight is over, throwing out yet another punch into the water at a slow pace, but its clear its with force. At Thomas falling to his knees, it is a slower, but yet quickened, momentum toward him. She drops to her knees before him, looking into the glass pane that reveals his face.

Cyprian tears away at newly deceased spectral lampreys latched to his suit, water starting to seep inside from the punctures, his blade still faintly glowing from the heated metal. He looks from the fallen Thomas back up to Seraphina and Teagan, gesturing out and up with his thumb, as if asking if it’s time to re-group on the surface on the attack. How much more of this can they take in these suits anyhow?

It’s hard for Seraphina to see, through the bloody glass — but eventually, emerald eyes meet hers. Thomas mouths words: It’s fine.

The eels get Teagan several times, phasing through her diving suit before she can even move awkwardly in the water. Whenever a beam of light passes over her, the frustration is visible on her features. Her magic is no use under the water. And she can barely move the staff before one of the creatures is gone, moving much better than she ever could hope to. As the last dies (or disappears, it is difficult to tell in the murk), the redhead is just leaning on her staff: the last chaotic seconds (minutes long though they surely felt) having been spent just trying to avoid being bitten and harmed further. Though not as hurt as Thomas, she did not get away unharmed herself.

As the quartet recover from the chaos, something seems to watching them: two figures, human-like, but composed of motes of light. They drift, mid-water, staring down at Seraphina, Teagan, Cyprian and Thomas.

Seraphina shakes her head to Thomas, her gaze soft and full of empathy, and probably a little anger. Maybe for his mouthed words. Because it isn’t. At least he’s not dead like last time. So that’s a plus. She reaches out to touch his suit, but her usual soothing touch means very little when there is no skin to skin contact. Her own suit is damaged, likely having a slow leak. At least that is to say, her bra and panties feel -wet-. Though it could be blood.

Cyprian yells into his helmet, fogging the front up and pointing at the ghostly figures comprised of light, unsure if anyone sees them. The constant plight of being sensitive. Trying to get the attention of Thomas, and the nearby Seraphina, gesturing vaguely with a clap of his arms together. What is he acting out in charades? A mouth? Pacman? Or could it be a trap?

The antics of Cyprian are not needed because Teagan/span/span>For the moment, Thomas has not noticed the glowing figures hovering above the quartet as he tries to get ahold of the pain and blood. Only when Cyprian starts to gesture is his attention called, and then there’s some frothing panic. Wounded or not, he digs into his bag, trying to hand traps over to whoever he can.

Reaching up to Seraphina, Thomas/span/span>Slowly, Seraphina rises from the sand, trying to assist Thomas up, also, her gaze drifting upward to the spirits, their glow splendid and enthralling.

Cyprian huddles up with Teagan and pokes at the keyhole beneath the trap cluelessly, looking over to the other diver with a shrug. His mouth moves. He’s probably swearing in his tin can, but given his attempt has failed, he looks over to match Teagan’s motions, trying his best not to break the delicate thing in the process.

Once you get the hang of it, it’s not hard. There’s a button that opens it, and then the spirit is drawn in. It’s Teagan who figures it out — the hard way, when she opens the trap pointing in the wrong direction. The ghost of one of the phase lampreys is sucked out if its form into the trap, wriggling there. This, however, seems to tip the glowing spirits off as to what is going on — because they both turn, trying to high-tail it towards some murky shape deeper amidst the pilings.

Thankfully, they don’t move too fast. Perhaps Cyprian, Seraphina, and Teagan can get ahead of them, even as Thomas/span/span>

Hacking for the win. Even with weird ghost traps. Seraphina/span>With Seraphina’s coaching, and Teagan’s final use demonstrated, Cyprian is darting away from the group and the wounded Thomas with sword in one hand and the bottle in the other, as quickly as a man in lead boots can dart, and unsure of the range pushes the button with one of his thickly gloved fingers as he pursues, pointing it at one of the fleeing spirits, hopefully in time.

With the lamprey in the trap, Teagan just stares at it for a moment with a flat expression on her features. It might be the pain from the bitey things, but the young woman doesn’t look too thrilled about their mission. She almost misses the fact that the figures are darting away from them until Cyprian begins to move. Cursing (only likely ‘understood’ by the expression that comes with it), she makes to follow after him, fussing with the trap she carries to make certain it’s ready.

In Seraphina’s attempt to try to assist Cyprian, she seeks for him to pass the trap to her, the action for him to do so is slow motion, but she’s trying to mouth to him to give it to her. Give it to her good!

And then Teagan is on it — she is able to capture one of the glowing spirits. It is sucked into the jar, wrestling perhaps with the ghost of the lamprey, as the red-haired young woman now can snap the trap shut, imprisoning the spirit within.

Try as he might to catch up, Cyprian/span/span>Behind the trio, Thomas is lumbering along, chasing but not quite in the mix. Teagan has one spirit captured, while Cyprian’s jar is arcing through the water towards Seraphina. She, at least, is able to catch it without challenge.

Deep beneath the pilings, a shape emerges from the darkness like a stranded myth — some impossible ancient long-oared ship, like a classical galley but with stranger, more mystic lines. Its long, elegant hull resting amid drifting wreckage where no ship could possibly lie. Pale stone plates and seams of dull, golden metal curve together in lines too graceful for any known craft, their surfaces traced with faintly glowing geometric patterns that catch the light like submerged constellations. The vessel lies canted at an unnatural angle, half-embedded in tangled beams and collapsed dockworks, as though it slid sideways out of another age and became lodged in the harbor’s bones. Silt drifts slowly around it, revealing and concealing impossible details ? sweeping fins, sealed viewports, and a prow shaped more like a temple facade than a bow ? a royal ship from a drowned civilization resting intact in a place it was never meant to reach.

It is to this wreck (if it is a wreck?) that the remaining glowing figure seems to flee, disappearing into what must have once been its cabin.

Deep beneath the pilings, a shape emerges from the darkness like a stranded myth — some impossible ancient long-oared ship, like a classical galley but with stranger, more mystic lines. Its long, elegant hull resting amid drifting wreckage where no ship could possibly lie. Pale stone plates and seams of dull, golden metal curve together in lines too graceful for any known craft, their surfaces traced with faintly glowing geometric patterns that catch the light like submerged constellations. The vessel lies canted at an unnatural angle, half-embedded in tangled beams and collapsed dockworks, as though it slid sideways out of another age and became lodged in the harbor’s bones. Silt drifts slowly around it, revealing and concealing impossible details ? sweeping fins, sealed viewports, and a prow shaped more like a temple facade than a bow — a royal ship from a drowned civilization resting intact in a place it was never meant to reach.

It is to this wreck (if it is a wreck?) that the remaining glowing figure seems to flee, disappearing into what must have once been its cabin.

It’s just like play football, if football were under water, and Seraphina/span/span>The trap is closed firmly once the spirit is inside, Teagan mouthing a sort of apology to it. She tucks the trap under her arm, keeping a hand free as she still has not released her grip on her staff. The woman continues to trudge along, dragging her feet along the ground. No longer can she avoid stirring up too much sand; her injuries, her body healing said injuries, and the weight of the suit all serving to begin wearing her down. But she comes to a stop to stare at the ship in what can only be described as awe.

It is to that galley that the glowing spirit is fleeing, disappearing inside the aft hatch into the interior.

Thomas/span/span>Unlike Teagan, Seraphina does not stop, for all her own healing injuries, she pushes herself to the utter limit, following the spirit right into the wreckage. If she were not so determined, she definitely would be stopping short and staring with a sort of giddy awe. But she is focused, and the thrill of the chase has caught her whimsy. What wonders await on the galley. Hopefully no more lampreys…

Where someone swims — well. Thomas must follow, driven on with leaden footsteps.

Where Seraphina swims — well. Thomas must follow, driven on with leaden footsteps.

The aft section of the strange galley is eerily intact. It is here that the glowing figure has fled, into the center of the cabin, hovering over a skeleton now in the wet, ancient air where some strange pocket has kept back the press of Biringan’s depths.

It took a moment to get herself together and catch up, but Teagan/span/span>Well, it is no question as to who the two spirits belong to, the final in which Seraphina chased in a lumbering, but still rather quick fashion into the cabin. The spirit soars toward the two skeletons, clearly lovers when long ago flesh covered thier bones. When a heart beat within their chests. She presses the button in order to draw the spirit in, despite that she has seen the two, and her heart, as an angel is inclined, beats with sympathy, that their fingers do not even touch in death, and she is helping Thomas forever part them in death. Desires are desires.

Entering with Teagan and Cyprian, Thomas watches Seraphina capture that final spirit. The glowing yellow of it fights amidst the jar, caught there — but as musty, centuries old air registers as breathable, he reaches up to remove his bloody helmet. “Lord below,” he says, gravelly voice. “There were a few complications I didn’t expect.”

Seraphina feels. She feels it all. And maybe it isn’t seen by anyone, given these massive diving suits, her eyes are misty.

Seraphina takes in a big breath of stale air, and then it probably becomes apparent that the soft-hearted angel has teared up. She is holding this ghost trap, to her iron clad chest witha clank of it to the piece. “What are you going to do with the spirits?” she asks, eyes on the two long-deceased lovers. She begins to approach them, trying to at least pick up one skeletal hand in order for them to touch, as lovers are wont to do.

Cyprian removes his helmet, soon to be followed by the upper half of his diving suit, checking for punctures and breathing in the ancient air. Having come in after both Seraphina and Thomas, the former having darted ahead and the latter just behind, he shoots him a grin and says, “Maybe next time you’ll recall to brief us on what it is we’re doing, roughly speaking.” That grin fades however, as he sees Seraphina going in for the capture, and then comes the realization of what the spirits are, and his expression steels some. He folds his bare arms over his breastplate, a few new scratches on it from eel bites, and furrows his brow. He doesn’t stop to think for too long, though, glancing around the cabin to double-check for any other dangers around them.

Turning, Thomas/span/span>Thomas is looking at the room, though — crossing to the skeletons, to kneel next to them. Fingers go to the circlets they wear. “These are not travelers from this place, this time,” he says. “One wonders…” He looks around. “Do all these drowned harbors open into some yet-unknown sea of fate?” A beat. ‘What a thing it would be, to sail upon it.”

Teagan, too, removes the diving suit. She passes the spirit trap with the spirit of humanoid and lamprey alike off to Thomas. “Contingency plans, Hale. We should discuss the need for them sometime.” There are angry red marks from the creature’s bites visible in several places on her pale skin, but most are already healing leaving only her freckles to mar her behind. She is already distracted, staff (and blessedly whole book) in hand as she starts approaching the walls and other surfaces in the cabin to study them.

With the skeletons’ hands properly touching, where death had stolen it, Seraphina begins to look over them. The remains drawing out a sigh, or perhaps Thomas’s comment. She can’t help herself, though, drawn to the circlet on what is the female skeletal remains. Slowly, she removes it, her history of sticky fingers getting the very best of her, in hopes that she does not start a series of booby traps like good ole One-Eyed Willy.

Cyprian sheathes his sword and crosses his arms, leaning his back up against the wall of the cabin and taking some time to survey the aftermath, breathe in the peace and the musty air. His eyes half-close. And then he remembers his profession. His eyes dart open and he begins to rummage around, looking for any artifacts of value to loot and sell on the market.

“Contigency plans, indeed,” Thomas admits to Teagan. He has eyes for a circlet — reaching for it to pluck it from the brow of one of the skeletons. “What is this?” he wonders, even as he turns to look at the jars Seraphina and Teagan hold. “I wonder who they were,” he says. “Perhaps I will try to interrogate them, when we get them back to dry land.” Taking the circlet off, he regards it, before he looks back over at Seraphina. “Perhaps there will be many things for us to learn, in the end,” he says. Then he rises, looking to Teagan and Cyprian. “I wonder, sometimes. Atlantis is the oldest of the Cities Between. What happened there, that led in such a waterfall to the Haven we know today?”

“I have theories, but they are all fledgling and entirely unfounded,” Teagan says in an absentminded tone of voice. She is still wholly distracted, standing near one of the walls and tracing fingertips over the patterns etched into the metal.

“We should get back to the surface,” Thomas tells Teagan, Seraphina, Cyprian. “There’s blood in the water. Who knows what other things could find us here,” he says, looking back at the skeletons for a moment. There is a pause, and then he shakes his head, going to put back on his helmet.

“I have my theories too,” Cyprian says back to Thomas, as he ponders the shattered orb of the navigation sphere, kneeling down and examining it. “I have a hunch that the cities between eventually fall with over-exposure to the mundane… too many people begin to find out… the power that lies in obscurity fades away, until suddenly…” He makes a poofing gesture with his hand, nodding to Teagan. “They wipe the slate clean.”

Unlike Teagan, Seraphina continues to hold onto her trap, even as she pilfers jewelry from the skeleton she had just so tenderly ensured touched her lover. “Perhaps so…” she tells him. It is only then that she hands the contraption over. “We can’t continue going on these adventures without a backup plan.” Says the woman who is surely to not follow her own suggestion. She now begins to study the rest of the place, padding along lightfooted.

Cyprian plucks up the navigator’s globe with a nod, tapping its remnants and then setting it aside to put his top half in his diving suit once more. “Well, I think you’re right, time to bugger off to the surface.” He grins back to Thomas and asks, “Any last minute plans you want to tell us before we go up?” It’s mostly rhetorical, as he settles the helmet back on his head.

Helmet fixed, Thomas prepares to go back out into the deep. At Cyprian’s question, Thomas toggles on his wireless: …

Cyprian taps the side of his helmet as if to tell Thomas the wireless is still busted, and shrugs back at him. If they did the hard part getting here, how bad can zipping straight up be?

Reluctantly, Teagan drags herself away from examining the walls. She stares toward the door that would let them go further into the galley, clearly tempted to venture on further… but she finally terminates that line of thinking as well and works her way back into the suit with only minor grimacing.

With heavy, leaden boots, Thomas begins to lead the crew out of the piers, finally ascending up to the quayside.

Climbing up, Thomas removes his helmet again, breathing fresh air, finally. He begins to strip off the suit, bloody and wounded still beneath — but pleased. Oh, so, pleased. “Well done,” he says to each of Seraphina, Teagan, and Cyprian as they climb up. “Well done!” he says. “How wonderfully done,” he says. “I told you — everything would be fine!”

Slowly, Seraphina lifts the helmet of that diving suit, breathing in the fresh air heavily to fill her lungs. The look she casts Thomas is somewhat chilled, a couple daggers his way. “You are lucky that the fae did not take my healing hands away. That is your saving grace.” But after a moment, she admits, driven by Thomas’s own need for it to be fine, “Everything is fine.”

OOC: As soon as everyone is dressed, we can plot finish and start returning up, since we will have 15 minutes of RP on the journey back to Haven.

“Ignoring the fact that you’d almost died to ghost-eels,” Cyprian/span/span>begins to dress, though not without a glance for Teagan and Seraphina. “Swimmingly, indeed!” he crows to Cyprian, in agreement.

Thomas begins to dress, though not without a glance for Teagan and Seraphina. “Swimmingly, indeed!” he crows to Cyprian, in agreement.

Tired enough now to simply get herself out of the diving suit and over to the locker to retrieve her clothes, Teagan does not respond to the cries of success. She just begins the slow process of redressing with limbs that have not yet forgotten the weight of water and the heavy metal of the diving suits.

tells Cyprian, “We switched boots, my friend.”

Thomas tells Cyprian, “We switched boots, my friend.”

Cyprian says “Not my boots.“

Thomas says “Where are my boots, then?“

Thomas says “Lord. “

Cyprian taps the tip of his sword near his wingtip shoes. “I’ve got mine.”

Thomas says “Here we are.“

“Don’t forget your trunk,” Thomas tells Cyprian. “I will distribute, too, notes of what I learn for each of you, if you will do the same,” he says to Teagan, Seraphina, and the other man. Then, producing his compass, he begins to look for the route back to the library.

Not entirely convinced that the danger has passed, Cyprian settles a medieval helmet on his head and latches it closed, with the visor swung open, making himself ready for battle should it come once more, with golden-brown ringlets of curls peeking out from every edge.