Encounterlogs
Ritsukas Odd Encounter Sr Edith 250215
Ritsuka's encounter at the shrine dedicated to the Frostcaller, Fuyukami no Setsuko, takes a surreal turn when she comes across a woman reliving her last moments in an endless loop, unaware of her own demise. The tranquility of the shrine belies the tragic repetition of the woman's prayer, enveloped by winter's cold embrace. Captivated by the woman's serene dedication, Ritsuka attempts to offer solace with her words, a gesture that soon reveals the spectral nature of the woman's existence. As Ritsuka engages in her own ritualistic prayer, hoping to guide the spirit towards peace, the scene shifts dramatically, unraveling the truth of the woman's fate—a sacrifice betrayed by her sisters, leading to her untimely death at a hunter's hand. In a poignant conclusion, with Ritsuka's intervention and the spirit's acceptance of her demise, the ghost finds solace, moving on to join the Frostcaller in the mists, leaving Ritsuka amidst the whispers of the past and a fleeting sense of closure.
Transitioning from the ethereal to the bizarre, Kaven finds himself inexplicably transported to an underwater realm, far from the familiar locales of Haven. Surrounded by a dreamlike, ruined city beneath the waves, the bewildering setting prompts Kaven to navigate the submerged anomalies, seeking a way back to the surface. His exploration is interrupted by the introduction of a bizarre companion—a parasitic presence that reveals itself as the cause of Kaven's abrupt transportation, having used him as a vessel to return to its aquatic home. As the realization dawns on Kaven that his situation may hinge on the whims of this unwelcome hitchhiker, he employs his cunning in a bid to strike a deal. Conjuring the image of what life could be for the parasite with a body of its own, Kaven debates the nature of existence and manipulation, all while exploring the undersea architecture for a potential solution to their intertwined fates. The narrative teases the possibility of cooperation, or further deception, as they face the lurking threat of a predatory shark in the depths.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SREdith):SREdith)
[Fri Feb 14 2025]
At A Shrine to Frostcaller-kami
The air inside the shrine is cool and still, filled with a quiet reverence. This sacred space appears to be dedicated to akami of winter's beauty and the strength of snow. The floor is covered with smooth stone slabs, their surface lightly dusted with fine, white sand, similar to snow. The walls are made of dark wood, while lanterns of frosted glass cast a pale, icy light across the shrine.
At the far end of the room stands a simple but elegant altar. Above it, a wooden plaque engraved with the name Fuyukami no Setsuko in both romanji and japanese letters hangs beneath an ornate torii frame. On the altar, offerings of rice, sake, and evergreens are laid out in white porcelain vessels. An exquisite bronze mirror reflects a soft light.
The room is adorned with symbols of branches of pine and bare plum trees, with a simple beauty to represent the calm and stillness of winter. In one corner, a small basin of water sits still and undisturbed. A delicate wind chime in the shape of a snowflake hangs near the entrance.
It is morning, about 31F(0C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who is unaware of their own death. The ghost keeps reliving their last moments and needs help moving on to the afterlife. Your target must uncover the circumstances of the ghost's death and bring them peace.)
Ritsuka had just made her way out of the house. She huffs, more with frustration than something else, and she does roll her eyes as she steps out to the snow-laden shrine that was once dedicated to the Frostcaller. It is now the sole place that she keeps, to remember the Frostcaller with. She breathes in deeply through her nose and glances around; there is a lot of important memories that belong to here.
It is February 14, 2025, and a hush blankets the shrine to the Frostcaller, nestled quietly across from the bustling roadway of Forest View Drive which carves its way through the mist-shrouded forest that enshrouds the town of Haven within its sinister depths. Outside, the world is alive with the sounds of tires crunching over the remnants of snow, the loose gravel and fallen twigs blown loose from the trees, and the distant honks of vehicles, yet within the shrine, where Ritsuka stands in reverie, tranquility reigns supreme. The chill of winter still lingers in the air, an unspoken promise of the Frostcaller that will never be fulfilled; Of snow to come, and the biting polar winds, as dark storm clouds gather like watchful sentinels overhead. The coolness wraps around Ritsuka like a gentle embrace, the stillness amplifying the sacredness of this space, and reminding Ritsuka of the memories made-- The advice given by that now ascended being. The soft glow of frosted glass lanterns illuminates the shrine, casting a pale, icy light that dances across the smooth stone slabs underfoot, their surfaces dusted with fine, white sand that mimics the purity of fresh snow, the only marring there in from Ritsuka's footfalls. The walls exude warmth, contrasting beautifully with the serene ambiance, as if they themselves are guardians of the secrets held within. At the far end of the shrine, the altar stands; Testament to devotion, still upkept in spite of the passing of the Frostcaller. The simple elegance of its design draws the eye, while the wooden plaque above it-- Inscribed with the name Fuyukami no Setsuko, resonates with the reverence of those who have come before it, the shrine even now finding itself offering tranquility for others as well as Ritsuka In this case, a single woman who makes an offering, head bowed. Offerings of rice, sake, and evergreen branches rest in white porcelain vessels, their colors vibrant against the pristine backdrop, a poignant tribute to winters beauty and strength. The air is thick with the scent of pine from the forest's evergreen trees, and the subtle sweetness of sake, mingling to create an atmosphere that is both calming and sacred, ever present reminders of the Frostcaller's generosity and the devotion she engenders. In one corner, a still basin of water reflects the flickering light, its surface undisturbed, embodying the serenity that permeates the shrine-- And unusually-- Or very common place perhapse, Ritsuka notes that the surface of the water propper has frozen over. Ritsuka's breath is likewise misting before her, cold enough that if this were another time, the Frostcaller herself might be considered to be in attendence. As Ritsuka stands near the entrance, the delicate wind chime-- shaped like a snowflake catches the slightest breath of air, producing a soft, melodic tinkling that resonates like a whisper of winters breath. Its a sound that invites reflection and introspection, echoing the stillness that envelops the shrine. Outside, the cars continue to pass, foot falls can be heard, and the various noises of construction continue from Tsubaki avenue. Ritsuka's attention however is caught by that single woman, who is still praying to the kami of winter.
It is rare for someone to visit here, though it has existed for many months, Ritsuka has been one of the few that did visit here, and though she knows of about a dozen, perhaps more, that have, but as people come and stop by, it ever proves a surprise, especially now where the shrine lies dormant, never to be quite so graced by the Frostcaller again as it once was. But she does make her way over to the women, settling in besides her. Her words are in english as she quietly tells the woman. "The Frostcaller will still hear you, for she is one in the mists. And as you remember her, she, too, will remember you, miss." This she knew for a fact. Whenever a storm passes, be it a literal rainy storm, or a difficult time in her life, her thoughts are always drawn back to the Frostcaller. She remembers her, and somehow, it made this single place the one place she would return to when times prove to be especially difficult.
The morning light filters into the shrine, casting a soft glow that dances gently across the cool stone floor and shimmering unnaturally around the woman and Ritsuka in a most curious way. The air is crisp, and as Ritsuka steps over to the woman, a shiver runs down Ritsuka's spine-- not just from the temperature, but from the palpable sense of stillness that envelops the usually empty, uninhabited space. It feels as though time itself has drawn to a stand-still, holding its breath in reverence for the moment, the only sounds, those from the Tsubaki district, the cars driving up and down Forest View Drive, and the birds from the forest. At the altar, the woman kneels, her presence ethereal and hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity. Ritsuka notices that the faint glimmer of her snowflake amulet catches the light, its intricate design a reminder of the Frostcaller she seeks-- She wears her summer clothes, a stark contrast to the chill that permeates the air... And yet it seems to matter little to her, she is at prayer and this is all that matters, not even seemingly seeing Ritsuka as she comes closer-- not hearing her voice as she speaks those comforting words. Her dark hair falls softly around her face, framing features that are pleasant yet unremarkable, as if she is meant to blend into the background, though of course she doesn't. Her very existance is a contrast by its very nature, and as Ritsuka had noted, the shrine has seen little use these past few months. The ritual she performs is captivating; each motion is fluid and deliberate, a prayer whispered softly into the silence. Ritsuka finds herself drawn to her, beguiled not by her appearance but by the serenity she exudes-- Inhuman cerenety, peaceful cerenity-- The cerenity of those at peace, with no sadness, no loss. The peace of the contentment of the mundane world, though of course, this woman must not be mundane with knowledge of the Frostcaller. Each gesture the woman makes is repeated with precision, as though she is caught in a gentle loop of devotion. The repetition feels sacred; A mantra of sorts, transcending the boundaries of time. Around her, the shrine is adorned with symbols of winter's beauty; The delicate wind chime tinkling softly, echoing the whispers of the frost that lingers in the air. The walls, dark wood contrasting with the frosted glass lanterns, create an intimate atmosphere, inviting contemplation and reflection, and evidently, this reflection is what the woman engages in, her motions repeating once more. As Ritsuka observes the woman, the icy light from the lanterns dances off the bronze mirror, reflecting not just her form but the essence of the shrine itself. Its as if the space is alive, breathing with the energy of winter, filled with the quiet strength of the Frostcaller... Though something is not quite right with that reflection of the woman. Then, those same words-- The same motions repeat again, and Ritsuka becomes aware that there is more to this than there might otherwise be. The small basin of water in the corner remains undisturbed, mirroring the tranquility that envelops the shrine, but its surface is frozen over, condensation freezing to the sides of the bowl, even as Ritsuka looks on. Then, Ritsuka notices exactly what it is. She spots the moment when the air shudders again. Ritsuka sees-- And takes in that this woman is repeating her motions exactly, caught in a single moment of peace and tranquility. More than that though, she is not fully corporial. At first she looked as though she were, but the more Ritsuka watches, the more she sees that this woman's form is not entirely physical... A ghost then-- A spirit. A spectre trapped in a single moment, waiting for something to uncover itself and reveal the truth.
Ritsuka does watch and watches on; there is a sweeter smile that plays across her features, though there is still enough humanity left in her that there, too, is a sadness in her eyes. As it often comes, and this the Japanese's interpretation, everything has to someday draw to an end. And so perhaps does the lady, too. Though she certainly had no offense for the woman to linger, in spirit, a companion with whom she could still go to to share and remember together.
She lets out a long sigh, and just looks to join in. Though hers are her own, far more Shinto in practice - the clapping of her hands, placing the palms together and bowing. Perhaps that may just reveal the route forward, not for the Japanese own sake, but so that the other may come to rest without the use of any rituals.
As Ritsuka looks on, the air is crisp, tinged with the lingering chill of winter. The praying begins, and there is a pause; Brief, though it is as though the very world were taking notice. Even the cars on the roadway of Forest View Drive grow quiet, the sounds of construction from Tsubaki Avenue deaden, and the animals in the forest themselves go silent, as though to listen. as Ritsuka steps closer into the portion of the shrine holding the altar, Ritsuka's shinto prayers joining that of the woman,. Once more, the air quivers, an impending change that suggests more-- This echo is about to change, though what ever it is to become is still in question. The dark-haired woman, her features ethereal and defined by the slight, though growing, ghostly glow emanating from her, stands before the altar, her presence both solemn and captivating, her snowflame amulet glinting as she stills to regard Ritsuka. Clad in clothing that whispers like falling snow, she embodies the serenity of winter itself, cold, frigid, beautiful and yet so calm in her devotion to the Frostcaller. As Ritsuka joins her in prayer, the atmosphere shifts, a palpable tension threading through the air. But Ritsuka had already begun to pray? What is happening? Is Ritsuka being drawn into this most curious vision? The woman's momentary pause sends a ripple of confusion across her fair features, and Ritsuka senses an unease, as if the very fabric of this sacred space quivers in her presence. The frost that clings to her breath mingles with the chill in the shrine, and Ritsuka can almost taste the cold on her tongue, sharp and invigorating-- Too cold for February, too cold for even winter; That of proximity to a ghost who has begun to recognize that not all is at peace... "This isn't how it happened," the woman murmurs, her voice a haunting melody that echoes around the room, laced with the frost that seems to thicken the air around her. "Only I was here..." Her eyes, deep pools of sorrow and loss lock onto Ritsuka's and for a heartbeat, the world outside fades away completely, leaving just the two-- The woman and Ritsuka in this moment-- A moment suspended in time-- An unending series of seconds, of repeated motion that has ground, like a mill stone that has shattered to a stop sudden, grinding stop. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, the shrine begins to twist and warp as though under some ambiant energy unseen-- Though something quite common for Haven, of course. The gates proximity causes issues, and though this is not empowered by the mist, it is still unuaual enough to be just another curious happening for Ritsuka. The icy tendrils of winter recede, giving way to a vibrant summer landscape. Ritsuka hears the cheerful chirping of birds flitting about, their songs mingling with the rustle of leaves in the warm breeze-- The stone slabs beneath Ritsuka's feet shift, transforming from the cool touch of winter into the warmth of sun-drenched earth. The walls of dark wood dissolve into a lush tapestry of green, and the once-frosted lanterns flicker with the golden hues of sunlight. Ritsuka finds herself standing not in the shrine of the Frostcaller, but in a sunlit clearing of the forest, where the sacred space dedicated to Fuyukami no Setsuko is reimagined amidst the verdant splendor of summer. The offerings of rice and sake remain, now glistening under the bright sky-- No, even they have changed. They are now offerings of insense and prayer papers, while the echo of the delicate wind chime-- Shaped as it is like a snowflake, resonates with the gentle rustle of leaves. The basin of water reflects the vibrant blue of the sky, a stark contrast to the stillness it yet holds. It is no longer frozen, but ripples gently, reflections thrown from it as a gentle rain begins to fall, pregnant with the promice of larger, darker storms to come. A sense of peace envelops Ritsuka, yet the woman's presence lingers, a ghostly reminder of the winter that once was. Her gaze, still filled with confusion, shifts to the world around her, as if she too is trying to reconcile this sudden transformation. "What has changed?" she whispers, her voice barely above a sigh, lost in the symphony of summer. "You wern't here." she tells Ritsuka, her voice airy, hardly a voice, but a memory of one. "This is where it happened." the woman continues, far too calm, though in spite of the Frostcaller cultist's serenity, Ritsuka can tell that something hostile is about to happen.
Ritsuka lets out a long breathe, and she reaches up to the artifact the frostcaller had gifted her, that is, with one hand, while her other hand draws up a singular flame that is hers. Her own augmented eyes glance over the one who walked before. "I wasn't. But it is time for you to join the Frostcaller in the mist, miss. She has ascended, your sacrifice was not in vain." The Jappanese listens in and on, glancing around to look out for the danger that makes the hairs in the back of her neck stand up. Death ever greets, though as ever the most likely source tends to be the ghost themselves.
The forest around Ritsuka and the woman is alive with shimmering droplets, each one catching the sunlight as it dances through the canopy. The air is thick with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil, mingling with the faint, sweet aroma of pine and moss. The gentle patter of rain on leaves creates a rhythmic symphony, a delicate backdrop to the haunting scene unfolding before Ritsuka, and this too changes, shifting, the rain falling faster like tears of the Frostcaller weeping for the loss of her fallen follower. At the heart of this forest clearing stands the adhock shrine to the Frostcaller, a humble stump adorned with offerings-- A crown of wildflowers, a handful of shimmering stones, and a small bowl of water that reflects the fractured light of the forest-- The prayer papers and incense beside them. It sits there, a ghostly reminder of devotion and loss, its surface glistening with the rain that falls like whispered secrets, splashing and bouncing around it violently, just as the Frostcaller's storms used to be, the cold wind mingling with the warm summer air to create humidity that sets the very air to glow. As the rain intensifies, the figure stands before Ritsuka, the woman cloaked in the soft mist of memory. Her smile is both serene and tragic, a bridge between the realms of the living and the departed, something all too common in Haven, where the mundane and supernatural blend so smoothly. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice a gentle caress against the rising wind. "Yes, I should move on to the mists." Yet, her gaze drifts into the depths of the forest, where a twig snaps, shattering the tranquility with a sharp crack. Ritsuka's flame is noted, though not commented on, the woman smiling at Ritsuka easily, peaceful and serene as the rested. "This is what should happen," she tells Ritsuka, her fingers gently tracing the contours of the snowflake pendant that hangs from her neck. The weight of her history hangs in the air; A tale of betrayal, of sisters turned against her. A shiver runs through the trees, as if they, too, hold their breath in anticipation of the inevitable, painful and silent, peaceful and so very agonizing. The woman's form begins to waver, becoming more ethereal, as she returns to her ritual, her voice rising in prayer to the Frostcaller-- A melody of sorrow and longing. Just then, the silence is shattered by the sharp report of a single gunshot, echoing through the forest like a death knell. Ritsuka watches, frozen, as the woman crumples to her knees, her gaze piercing through the veil of time to meet Ritsuka's. In her eyes, Ritsuka sees a torrent of emotions-- pain etched into her features, yet mingled with an undeniable sense of peace. "She loved you, too," the woman whispers, her voice barely above the sound of the rain. And then, as if summoned by fate, the hunter strides into the clearing, an ominous presence cloaked in shadows and the sun symbol of the Temple... "You die today, witch," the hunter declares, his voice cold as steel. With a single, ruthless motion, he fires again, and the bullet finds its mark in the woman's forehead with a deadened 'thunk of metal into flesh, silenced and hissing. The light fades from her eyes-- Extinguished like a candle snuffed by the cold wind of the uncaring winter. In that heart-wrenching moment, the world around Ritsuka feels suspended-- Time slows, the rain continues to fall, and a soft winter wind carries her final words to Ritsuka, a haunting echo that intertwines with the rustling leaves. "My sisters told the hunters I was here. This one killed me, but I was unable to move on. I needed to see my beloved Frostcaller-- my dear goddess ascend." As the scene begins to dissolve, the shrine stands steadfast once again, a sentinel of memory, while the forest whispers a final farewell-- A soft, mournful "Remember," carried away on the breath of the trees, leaving Ritsuka in the lingering embrace of the past. All returns to normal, the forest clearing and the woman gone, and Ritsuka finds a peace in the air, as Ritsuka's intervention, willingness to pray, and connection with the Frostcaller finally aided this lost, lingering spirit to pass on into the mists with her eidolon.
(Your target is abducted by a sea creature that's somehow crossed over into our world, it is up to them to survive for long enough that their allies can come help.
)
The air in Haven smelled of salt and woodsmoke, the kind of sharp, briny scent that clung to the bones and never quite left due to the lengthy wintery weather that never quite left the town and forced the resident to keep those chimneys alight for months into the new year. This afternoon, the temperature had settled at a crisp 42 degreesjust enough for breath to cloud in the air but not enough to send people scurrying inside except for Kaven who is busy in the pursuit of renovating his home.
Above, dark gray storm clouds gathered, thick and swollen, trailing in from the ocean like silent sentinels of an approaching squall. The sun still clung stubbornly to the sky, hanging low behind and to the left, casting long shadows that stretched across the road cut through the forests and midsts on the edge of town. It's the sort of weather that leaves very few witnesses on the streets be that paved or packed dirt to see an adbuction...
The clouds up above rumble low and ominiously and a single droplet of water strikes Kaven on his brow. Annoying perhaps but...
In an instant Kaven is somewhere else...
All around him the blurring effect of water, his body the pressure of being submerged, but his lungs... He can breath well it's heavy and uncomfortable but he can breath. He can certainly move his clothing weighing him down as he begins to sink towards the ocean bottom which lays about 20 feet beneath him. Above him he can see only the waning light of day and the fainted hint of rippling waves. Realistically he should be able to see nothing and the entire experience surreal and abrupt might strike Kaven as unreal or obviously supernatural.
The world around him was a vast cathedral of endless blue and black, dappled by strange, shimmering light from an unseen source. Great pillars of stone, covered in luminous coral, rose from the depths like the ruins of an ancient city. The seabed was a tapestry of undulating plant life, its colors impossibly vividswaying tendrils of violet and emerald, glowing anemones pulsing with soft gold light, strange flowers that bloomed and curled in time with unseen currents.
Amongst this surrealist landscape and city Kaven sees nothing else no fish nor underwater mammals just himself deep beneath the waves, sinking lower, and this ruinuous city with him. What is going on? How did he get here? And most importantly how will he leave?
Kaven is stunned for a moment, but gradually the steady imput of new sensation all matching the old seems to induce a state of acceptance in him as hazel eyes scan the area; forward, backward, up, down. He twists every which way, thrusting his fingers through the water. 'Shoulda learned to swim proper.' He doesn't dare open his mouth to say it, not willing to test whether the ocean's waters are kept at bay from his lungs by giving them another avenue to enter. He struggles blindly, trying to mimic someone treading water. What grace and fluidity he's developed for his activities on land doesn't translate though. 'Fuck.' He eyes the city. 'What's 'at 'en? Ah, fuck this is a terrible idea. But that never stopped me before.' He waits until his feet hit the floor of the ocean to begin to walk with struggled steps towards the architecture.
It is a little known fact that after a certain point humans stop becoming buoyant in water and they begin to sink. Given Kaven's lack of swimming prowess it seems he will not be ascending the old fashioned way (if that was even an option to begin with) and so he eventually reaches the ocean depth. The ground clicks up a plume of dust in the water and as he walks Kaven must lean forward so his weight helps carry him forward against the tug of the water. He makes time like someone traveling in slow mo, but at least should he engage his arms there is a speed benefit to swishing them back and forth since water is thicker than air and thus propellant in such an act.
A few things might occur to this 'scholarly' man. Firstly this is not what the actual bottom of the ocean looks like, there are no see through fish with horror milk white eyes and visible internal organs. Second, why is there a generally navigatable path amongst the rocky outcroppings and ravines in the ocean leading towards this certainly dreamlike ruined city. Thirdly and perhaps most importantly how long is this going to take because he is making poor time and announcing his approach rather obviously with the silt like debris on the ocean floor kicked up with each step and swirl forward creating a cloud of dust resettling slowly in the water behind him, like a signal that Kaven cometh and all should be aware.
Due to Kaven's perceptive nature he does spy a plume of dust much like his own but faster. It is to his right and appears to be approaching the runined city at a different angle and at a greater speed. If he'd had to guess whatever it is is likely swimming along the ocean floor, so he is not entirely alone.
Kaven'Right 'en, so there's some blokes I can bargain somethin' for help with.' he thinks to himself. 'Movin' fast, they'll get there first. Maybe distracted by whatever they're lookin' for. That's good for me.' he muses. He doesn't speed his pace, instead trying to minimize the beacon of debris he creates a bit and angle his approach so his coming company might have to glance over a shoulder to spot him. And so he makes way, fishing through his pockets on the way. 'Eh? What's this then?' he muses, finding a small, black LED flashlight. Briefly he tests it on the ground, see if the water hadn't shorted it out. Regardless of the result, he continues his approach.
When did Kaven get so close to the city, just a few minutes ago he was approaching painfully slow now it seems like he's crossing the threshold. However he got her so quickly there is no debris cloud in his wake and his flashlight miraculously is not shorted out. They make those proper in Haven probably because of the whole forest full of mists, monsters, and other worlds. Haven Flashlights when you need them, they work. Oh wait the battery is at 50/... They work until they burn through that tiny battery life! Now that Kaven is within the sphere of the ruined city he can tell that it is uninhabited but well preserved. He can see waterways between the spires that are meant to be swam along to get between the various levels, he can see the ground has narrow paths and is littered with what appear to be crustacean shells of long since expired shellfish creatures. Not humanoid in size but bigger than your average dog, so quite big for a lobster or crab. Possibly crab people? Should Kaven look behind him or try to spot that approaching plume he will find it is still approaching, the plume thin and it is coming up quickly. Given there is no outcroppings or rocky terrain in the way he can see it is some form of white shark luminscent and glowing as if generating its own light. It is large perhaps in the realm of a large truck. While its body is white, its teeth are stained red, and its eyes are black. Ominious. The city around him appears to be in good enough condition that the spirts have porous openings that can be swum into. Others have spiraling exteriors almost like stairs or ramps that can be used to ascend should Kaven bee incapable of swimming. Suffice to say there are numarous spots that a man could hide should he wish too.
Kaven reaches down to snag one of the shells, relying on what little buoancy remains at this depth to lug the large chitinous object with him. 'Bah.' he growls to himself through gritted teeth, finally slightly opening his mouth. 'If this is karmic punishment for last night, or the night before, or the previous, I gotta say... I'm not learnin' any lessons.' he thinks loudly at the universe. That said, he does skitter towards the opening, keeping the flashlight off and stowing it for now as he reaches into his jacket for his knife, holding the shell in the other hand. A regular knight of the round table... Or disproportionately oblong table anyways. Giving up on stealth, he uses his arms to help propel him towards the smallest opening he looks like he'd fit through.
The great white shark with bloodstained teeth continues to approach as Kaven kills the light and is put into a shadowy low light environment. Skittering towards the nearest opening of a large spire he is able to walk into it with some ease. While the space below the waves outside the structure is illuminated enough for low light vision without the flashlight. Inside it is pitch black, but he can feel the rouch stone and coral covered wall and find his way deeper if he wants or stay at the entrance. The shark is perhaps five minutes out and continues to approach with that fluidity and speed of a natural swimmer. Perhaps finally something resembling a clue happens. "That doesn't look good does it. You're probably wondering why God why am I here. Maybe you're expecting to be here for some reason. Have you fucked a mermaid?" the voice is echoey as if it's coming from deep inside Kaven's ear or in his skull maybe. "Well I'll tell you. You shouldn't drink cheap bottled water or tap water because you swallowed me recently and I wanted to go home. Do you know how long I've been swimming around your brain, waiting for a moment for you to be hit by evaporated salt water so I could complete the rite to shadowwalk back here?"
Kaven gives a low growl as a response "If you're in my brain, bad news fella', you're either drunk or high. You consider how yer gonna get outa there? Cause I aint helpin' until I got a way back on land." Out of spite Kaven gives his head a light thump on the nearest surface. Will it likely hurt his hitchhiker? No, but might get the chud's attention. "Tell yah what though; I'm a reasonable fellow. Why don't you get yer wits about yah, figure out a way for me to get outa here, and maybe we can cut a deal?" he asks, flicking on the flashlight to walk deeper into the shadows, seeming satisfied that the shark at least doesn't pose a threat.
An interior of the spire appears to be partially naturally and partially dreamlike in its construction. The superstructure itself is flowing stone with pores and volcanic inclinations worn smooth and infested with coral over the years. The unnatural formations are semi circular floors going up with an open center meant to be some form of internal method of ascension and descenion. There is furniture, long abandoned, made of what appears to be silvery and waxy material some kind of organic material like pearl but larger and shaped into chairs, tables, bookcases, though the shelves have tablets and scrolls not traditional bound books. It is interesting to say the least but perhaps less interesting than the voice in Kaven's head.
"Oh that's what the shark is for. He eats you, after you ate me, and I go into its brain and I have the proverbial hot rod of the ocean for a new ride." it explains apparently unphased by the conking of Kaven's head. The flashlight allows glimpses of the scenario and the opening is likely to small for the shark to get in immediately so the two have some time to discuss Kaven's fate. "If you've a better idea though I'm not heartless. Well I am -heartless- but I'm not unreasonable. I was like you once, humanoid, it's just bad magic and a curse that has me so... portable. I don't wish you ill, though I have to say... Your brain could use a tuneup. Have you heard of Nueroplasty? You should do some mental acuity games or something these creases and folds aren't looking to deep."
Kaven gives a little grunt, settling "So that's how it is, just kinda travel from host to host. Yah happy with that? I mean just bein' in other folks bodies, not making your own decisions?" he asks, adopting a distant, curious tone entirely out of line with the previous ruffianism. "Too bad yah don't have a bloke that knows a thing or three about curses. Not sayin' it could be removed, but... altered, yeah. Curses, they're like duct tape, yeah? Real sturdy if yah try and rip 'em any which way, but they don't hold up if you tear along the grain to make 'em a little smaller." he pontificates. After his meandering commentary on his guests condition he comments "Hey, what'd yah do if yah could move a body of yer own around, yah think? Bet it's been a while since yah fucked. Or had a hamburger." he comments idly. "Must be rough. But I'm sure play Jacque Cousteau for the rest of yer life'll be fine for yah."
"Oh there's the survivalist, the dealmaker, the conman." the echoey voice within Kaven's head says with a hint of curiosity at the topic. "Well you have until you starve to death or the shark breaks its way into this spire. What are you suggesting? How do we get from here to there as they say?" there is an itch behind Kaven's eye then as if hearing this thing has made him aware of it or perhaps just imagining he is aware of it. "I have to say I have enjoyed being in your head insofar as we're so very much alike. Parasites leeching off the others around us. Surviving as best we can. If you could swim you could probably find an alchemy or arcanist spot in this spire somewhere and perhaps we could walk you through reducing this curse unless you've an idea of how to do it yourself."
Transitioning from the ethereal to the bizarre, Kaven finds himself inexplicably transported to an underwater realm, far from the familiar locales of Haven. Surrounded by a dreamlike, ruined city beneath the waves, the bewildering setting prompts Kaven to navigate the submerged anomalies, seeking a way back to the surface. His exploration is interrupted by the introduction of a bizarre companion—a parasitic presence that reveals itself as the cause of Kaven's abrupt transportation, having used him as a vessel to return to its aquatic home. As the realization dawns on Kaven that his situation may hinge on the whims of this unwelcome hitchhiker, he employs his cunning in a bid to strike a deal. Conjuring the image of what life could be for the parasite with a body of its own, Kaven debates the nature of existence and manipulation, all while exploring the undersea architecture for a potential solution to their intertwined fates. The narrative teases the possibility of cooperation, or further deception, as they face the lurking threat of a predatory shark in the depths.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SREdith):SREdith)
[Fri Feb 14 2025]
At A Shrine to Frostcaller-kami
The air inside the shrine is cool and still, filled with a quiet reverence. This sacred space appears to be dedicated to akami of winter's beauty and the strength of snow. The floor is covered with smooth stone slabs, their surface lightly dusted with fine, white sand, similar to snow. The walls are made of dark wood, while lanterns of frosted glass cast a pale, icy light across the shrine.
At the far end of the room stands a simple but elegant altar. Above it, a wooden plaque engraved with the name Fuyukami no Setsuko in both romanji and japanese letters hangs beneath an ornate torii frame. On the altar, offerings of rice, sake, and evergreens are laid out in white porcelain vessels. An exquisite bronze mirror reflects a soft light.
The room is adorned with symbols of branches of pine and bare plum trees, with a simple beauty to represent the calm and stillness of winter. In one corner, a small basin of water sits still and undisturbed. A delicate wind chime in the shape of a snowflake hangs near the entrance.
It is morning, about 31F(0C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target encounters a ghost who is unaware of their own death. The ghost keeps reliving their last moments and needs help moving on to the afterlife. Your target must uncover the circumstances of the ghost's death and bring them peace.)
Ritsuka had just made her way out of the house. She huffs, more with frustration than something else, and she does roll her eyes as she steps out to the snow-laden shrine that was once dedicated to the Frostcaller. It is now the sole place that she keeps, to remember the Frostcaller with. She breathes in deeply through her nose and glances around; there is a lot of important memories that belong to here.
It is February 14, 2025, and a hush blankets the shrine to the Frostcaller, nestled quietly across from the bustling roadway of Forest View Drive which carves its way through the mist-shrouded forest that enshrouds the town of Haven within its sinister depths. Outside, the world is alive with the sounds of tires crunching over the remnants of snow, the loose gravel and fallen twigs blown loose from the trees, and the distant honks of vehicles, yet within the shrine, where Ritsuka stands in reverie, tranquility reigns supreme. The chill of winter still lingers in the air, an unspoken promise of the Frostcaller that will never be fulfilled; Of snow to come, and the biting polar winds, as dark storm clouds gather like watchful sentinels overhead. The coolness wraps around Ritsuka like a gentle embrace, the stillness amplifying the sacredness of this space, and reminding Ritsuka of the memories made-- The advice given by that now ascended being. The soft glow of frosted glass lanterns illuminates the shrine, casting a pale, icy light that dances across the smooth stone slabs underfoot, their surfaces dusted with fine, white sand that mimics the purity of fresh snow, the only marring there in from Ritsuka's footfalls. The walls exude warmth, contrasting beautifully with the serene ambiance, as if they themselves are guardians of the secrets held within. At the far end of the shrine, the altar stands; Testament to devotion, still upkept in spite of the passing of the Frostcaller. The simple elegance of its design draws the eye, while the wooden plaque above it-- Inscribed with the name Fuyukami no Setsuko, resonates with the reverence of those who have come before it, the shrine even now finding itself offering tranquility for others as well as Ritsuka In this case, a single woman who makes an offering, head bowed. Offerings of rice, sake, and evergreen branches rest in white porcelain vessels, their colors vibrant against the pristine backdrop, a poignant tribute to winters beauty and strength. The air is thick with the scent of pine from the forest's evergreen trees, and the subtle sweetness of sake, mingling to create an atmosphere that is both calming and sacred, ever present reminders of the Frostcaller's generosity and the devotion she engenders. In one corner, a still basin of water reflects the flickering light, its surface undisturbed, embodying the serenity that permeates the shrine-- And unusually-- Or very common place perhapse, Ritsuka notes that the surface of the water propper has frozen over. Ritsuka's breath is likewise misting before her, cold enough that if this were another time, the Frostcaller herself might be considered to be in attendence. As Ritsuka stands near the entrance, the delicate wind chime-- shaped like a snowflake catches the slightest breath of air, producing a soft, melodic tinkling that resonates like a whisper of winters breath. Its a sound that invites reflection and introspection, echoing the stillness that envelops the shrine. Outside, the cars continue to pass, foot falls can be heard, and the various noises of construction continue from Tsubaki avenue. Ritsuka's attention however is caught by that single woman, who is still praying to the kami of winter.
It is rare for someone to visit here, though it has existed for many months, Ritsuka has been one of the few that did visit here, and though she knows of about a dozen, perhaps more, that have, but as people come and stop by, it ever proves a surprise, especially now where the shrine lies dormant, never to be quite so graced by the Frostcaller again as it once was. But she does make her way over to the women, settling in besides her. Her words are in english as she quietly tells the woman. "The Frostcaller will still hear you, for she is one in the mists. And as you remember her, she, too, will remember you, miss." This she knew for a fact. Whenever a storm passes, be it a literal rainy storm, or a difficult time in her life, her thoughts are always drawn back to the Frostcaller. She remembers her, and somehow, it made this single place the one place she would return to when times prove to be especially difficult.
The morning light filters into the shrine, casting a soft glow that dances gently across the cool stone floor and shimmering unnaturally around the woman and Ritsuka in a most curious way. The air is crisp, and as Ritsuka steps over to the woman, a shiver runs down Ritsuka's spine-- not just from the temperature, but from the palpable sense of stillness that envelops the usually empty, uninhabited space. It feels as though time itself has drawn to a stand-still, holding its breath in reverence for the moment, the only sounds, those from the Tsubaki district, the cars driving up and down Forest View Drive, and the birds from the forest. At the altar, the woman kneels, her presence ethereal and hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity. Ritsuka notices that the faint glimmer of her snowflake amulet catches the light, its intricate design a reminder of the Frostcaller she seeks-- She wears her summer clothes, a stark contrast to the chill that permeates the air... And yet it seems to matter little to her, she is at prayer and this is all that matters, not even seemingly seeing Ritsuka as she comes closer-- not hearing her voice as she speaks those comforting words. Her dark hair falls softly around her face, framing features that are pleasant yet unremarkable, as if she is meant to blend into the background, though of course she doesn't. Her very existance is a contrast by its very nature, and as Ritsuka had noted, the shrine has seen little use these past few months. The ritual she performs is captivating; each motion is fluid and deliberate, a prayer whispered softly into the silence. Ritsuka finds herself drawn to her, beguiled not by her appearance but by the serenity she exudes-- Inhuman cerenety, peaceful cerenity-- The cerenity of those at peace, with no sadness, no loss. The peace of the contentment of the mundane world, though of course, this woman must not be mundane with knowledge of the Frostcaller. Each gesture the woman makes is repeated with precision, as though she is caught in a gentle loop of devotion. The repetition feels sacred; A mantra of sorts, transcending the boundaries of time. Around her, the shrine is adorned with symbols of winter's beauty; The delicate wind chime tinkling softly, echoing the whispers of the frost that lingers in the air. The walls, dark wood contrasting with the frosted glass lanterns, create an intimate atmosphere, inviting contemplation and reflection, and evidently, this reflection is what the woman engages in, her motions repeating once more. As Ritsuka observes the woman, the icy light from the lanterns dances off the bronze mirror, reflecting not just her form but the essence of the shrine itself. Its as if the space is alive, breathing with the energy of winter, filled with the quiet strength of the Frostcaller... Though something is not quite right with that reflection of the woman. Then, those same words-- The same motions repeat again, and Ritsuka becomes aware that there is more to this than there might otherwise be. The small basin of water in the corner remains undisturbed, mirroring the tranquility that envelops the shrine, but its surface is frozen over, condensation freezing to the sides of the bowl, even as Ritsuka looks on. Then, Ritsuka notices exactly what it is. She spots the moment when the air shudders again. Ritsuka sees-- And takes in that this woman is repeating her motions exactly, caught in a single moment of peace and tranquility. More than that though, she is not fully corporial. At first she looked as though she were, but the more Ritsuka watches, the more she sees that this woman's form is not entirely physical... A ghost then-- A spirit. A spectre trapped in a single moment, waiting for something to uncover itself and reveal the truth.
Ritsuka does watch and watches on; there is a sweeter smile that plays across her features, though there is still enough humanity left in her that there, too, is a sadness in her eyes. As it often comes, and this the Japanese's interpretation, everything has to someday draw to an end. And so perhaps does the lady, too. Though she certainly had no offense for the woman to linger, in spirit, a companion with whom she could still go to to share and remember together.
She lets out a long sigh, and just looks to join in. Though hers are her own, far more Shinto in practice - the clapping of her hands, placing the palms together and bowing. Perhaps that may just reveal the route forward, not for the Japanese own sake, but so that the other may come to rest without the use of any rituals.
As Ritsuka looks on, the air is crisp, tinged with the lingering chill of winter. The praying begins, and there is a pause; Brief, though it is as though the very world were taking notice. Even the cars on the roadway of Forest View Drive grow quiet, the sounds of construction from Tsubaki Avenue deaden, and the animals in the forest themselves go silent, as though to listen. as Ritsuka steps closer into the portion of the shrine holding the altar, Ritsuka's shinto prayers joining that of the woman,. Once more, the air quivers, an impending change that suggests more-- This echo is about to change, though what ever it is to become is still in question. The dark-haired woman, her features ethereal and defined by the slight, though growing, ghostly glow emanating from her, stands before the altar, her presence both solemn and captivating, her snowflame amulet glinting as she stills to regard Ritsuka. Clad in clothing that whispers like falling snow, she embodies the serenity of winter itself, cold, frigid, beautiful and yet so calm in her devotion to the Frostcaller. As Ritsuka joins her in prayer, the atmosphere shifts, a palpable tension threading through the air. But Ritsuka had already begun to pray? What is happening? Is Ritsuka being drawn into this most curious vision? The woman's momentary pause sends a ripple of confusion across her fair features, and Ritsuka senses an unease, as if the very fabric of this sacred space quivers in her presence. The frost that clings to her breath mingles with the chill in the shrine, and Ritsuka can almost taste the cold on her tongue, sharp and invigorating-- Too cold for February, too cold for even winter; That of proximity to a ghost who has begun to recognize that not all is at peace... "This isn't how it happened," the woman murmurs, her voice a haunting melody that echoes around the room, laced with the frost that seems to thicken the air around her. "Only I was here..." Her eyes, deep pools of sorrow and loss lock onto Ritsuka's and for a heartbeat, the world outside fades away completely, leaving just the two-- The woman and Ritsuka in this moment-- A moment suspended in time-- An unending series of seconds, of repeated motion that has ground, like a mill stone that has shattered to a stop sudden, grinding stop. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, the shrine begins to twist and warp as though under some ambiant energy unseen-- Though something quite common for Haven, of course. The gates proximity causes issues, and though this is not empowered by the mist, it is still unuaual enough to be just another curious happening for Ritsuka. The icy tendrils of winter recede, giving way to a vibrant summer landscape. Ritsuka hears the cheerful chirping of birds flitting about, their songs mingling with the rustle of leaves in the warm breeze-- The stone slabs beneath Ritsuka's feet shift, transforming from the cool touch of winter into the warmth of sun-drenched earth. The walls of dark wood dissolve into a lush tapestry of green, and the once-frosted lanterns flicker with the golden hues of sunlight. Ritsuka finds herself standing not in the shrine of the Frostcaller, but in a sunlit clearing of the forest, where the sacred space dedicated to Fuyukami no Setsuko is reimagined amidst the verdant splendor of summer. The offerings of rice and sake remain, now glistening under the bright sky-- No, even they have changed. They are now offerings of insense and prayer papers, while the echo of the delicate wind chime-- Shaped as it is like a snowflake, resonates with the gentle rustle of leaves. The basin of water reflects the vibrant blue of the sky, a stark contrast to the stillness it yet holds. It is no longer frozen, but ripples gently, reflections thrown from it as a gentle rain begins to fall, pregnant with the promice of larger, darker storms to come. A sense of peace envelops Ritsuka, yet the woman's presence lingers, a ghostly reminder of the winter that once was. Her gaze, still filled with confusion, shifts to the world around her, as if she too is trying to reconcile this sudden transformation. "What has changed?" she whispers, her voice barely above a sigh, lost in the symphony of summer. "You wern't here." she tells Ritsuka, her voice airy, hardly a voice, but a memory of one. "This is where it happened." the woman continues, far too calm, though in spite of the Frostcaller cultist's serenity, Ritsuka can tell that something hostile is about to happen.
Ritsuka lets out a long breathe, and she reaches up to the artifact the frostcaller had gifted her, that is, with one hand, while her other hand draws up a singular flame that is hers. Her own augmented eyes glance over the one who walked before. "I wasn't. But it is time for you to join the Frostcaller in the mist, miss. She has ascended, your sacrifice was not in vain." The Jappanese listens in and on, glancing around to look out for the danger that makes the hairs in the back of her neck stand up. Death ever greets, though as ever the most likely source tends to be the ghost themselves.
The forest around Ritsuka and the woman is alive with shimmering droplets, each one catching the sunlight as it dances through the canopy. The air is thick with the earthy scent of rain-soaked soil, mingling with the faint, sweet aroma of pine and moss. The gentle patter of rain on leaves creates a rhythmic symphony, a delicate backdrop to the haunting scene unfolding before Ritsuka, and this too changes, shifting, the rain falling faster like tears of the Frostcaller weeping for the loss of her fallen follower. At the heart of this forest clearing stands the adhock shrine to the Frostcaller, a humble stump adorned with offerings-- A crown of wildflowers, a handful of shimmering stones, and a small bowl of water that reflects the fractured light of the forest-- The prayer papers and incense beside them. It sits there, a ghostly reminder of devotion and loss, its surface glistening with the rain that falls like whispered secrets, splashing and bouncing around it violently, just as the Frostcaller's storms used to be, the cold wind mingling with the warm summer air to create humidity that sets the very air to glow. As the rain intensifies, the figure stands before Ritsuka, the woman cloaked in the soft mist of memory. Her smile is both serene and tragic, a bridge between the realms of the living and the departed, something all too common in Haven, where the mundane and supernatural blend so smoothly. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice a gentle caress against the rising wind. "Yes, I should move on to the mists." Yet, her gaze drifts into the depths of the forest, where a twig snaps, shattering the tranquility with a sharp crack. Ritsuka's flame is noted, though not commented on, the woman smiling at Ritsuka easily, peaceful and serene as the rested. "This is what should happen," she tells Ritsuka, her fingers gently tracing the contours of the snowflake pendant that hangs from her neck. The weight of her history hangs in the air; A tale of betrayal, of sisters turned against her. A shiver runs through the trees, as if they, too, hold their breath in anticipation of the inevitable, painful and silent, peaceful and so very agonizing. The woman's form begins to waver, becoming more ethereal, as she returns to her ritual, her voice rising in prayer to the Frostcaller-- A melody of sorrow and longing. Just then, the silence is shattered by the sharp report of a single gunshot, echoing through the forest like a death knell. Ritsuka watches, frozen, as the woman crumples to her knees, her gaze piercing through the veil of time to meet Ritsuka's. In her eyes, Ritsuka sees a torrent of emotions-- pain etched into her features, yet mingled with an undeniable sense of peace. "She loved you, too," the woman whispers, her voice barely above the sound of the rain. And then, as if summoned by fate, the hunter strides into the clearing, an ominous presence cloaked in shadows and the sun symbol of the Temple... "You die today, witch," the hunter declares, his voice cold as steel. With a single, ruthless motion, he fires again, and the bullet finds its mark in the woman's forehead with a deadened 'thunk of metal into flesh, silenced and hissing. The light fades from her eyes-- Extinguished like a candle snuffed by the cold wind of the uncaring winter. In that heart-wrenching moment, the world around Ritsuka feels suspended-- Time slows, the rain continues to fall, and a soft winter wind carries her final words to Ritsuka, a haunting echo that intertwines with the rustling leaves. "My sisters told the hunters I was here. This one killed me, but I was unable to move on. I needed to see my beloved Frostcaller-- my dear goddess ascend." As the scene begins to dissolve, the shrine stands steadfast once again, a sentinel of memory, while the forest whispers a final farewell-- A soft, mournful "Remember," carried away on the breath of the trees, leaving Ritsuka in the lingering embrace of the past. All returns to normal, the forest clearing and the woman gone, and Ritsuka finds a peace in the air, as Ritsuka's intervention, willingness to pray, and connection with the Frostcaller finally aided this lost, lingering spirit to pass on into the mists with her eidolon.
(Your target is abducted by a sea creature that's somehow crossed over into our world, it is up to them to survive for long enough that their allies can come help.
)
The air in Haven smelled of salt and woodsmoke, the kind of sharp, briny scent that clung to the bones and never quite left due to the lengthy wintery weather that never quite left the town and forced the resident to keep those chimneys alight for months into the new year. This afternoon, the temperature had settled at a crisp 42 degreesjust enough for breath to cloud in the air but not enough to send people scurrying inside except for Kaven who is busy in the pursuit of renovating his home.
Above, dark gray storm clouds gathered, thick and swollen, trailing in from the ocean like silent sentinels of an approaching squall. The sun still clung stubbornly to the sky, hanging low behind and to the left, casting long shadows that stretched across the road cut through the forests and midsts on the edge of town. It's the sort of weather that leaves very few witnesses on the streets be that paved or packed dirt to see an adbuction...
The clouds up above rumble low and ominiously and a single droplet of water strikes Kaven on his brow. Annoying perhaps but...
In an instant Kaven is somewhere else...
All around him the blurring effect of water, his body the pressure of being submerged, but his lungs... He can breath well it's heavy and uncomfortable but he can breath. He can certainly move his clothing weighing him down as he begins to sink towards the ocean bottom which lays about 20 feet beneath him. Above him he can see only the waning light of day and the fainted hint of rippling waves. Realistically he should be able to see nothing and the entire experience surreal and abrupt might strike Kaven as unreal or obviously supernatural.
The world around him was a vast cathedral of endless blue and black, dappled by strange, shimmering light from an unseen source. Great pillars of stone, covered in luminous coral, rose from the depths like the ruins of an ancient city. The seabed was a tapestry of undulating plant life, its colors impossibly vividswaying tendrils of violet and emerald, glowing anemones pulsing with soft gold light, strange flowers that bloomed and curled in time with unseen currents.
Amongst this surrealist landscape and city Kaven sees nothing else no fish nor underwater mammals just himself deep beneath the waves, sinking lower, and this ruinuous city with him. What is going on? How did he get here? And most importantly how will he leave?
Kaven is stunned for a moment, but gradually the steady imput of new sensation all matching the old seems to induce a state of acceptance in him as hazel eyes scan the area; forward, backward, up, down. He twists every which way, thrusting his fingers through the water. 'Shoulda learned to swim proper.' He doesn't dare open his mouth to say it, not willing to test whether the ocean's waters are kept at bay from his lungs by giving them another avenue to enter. He struggles blindly, trying to mimic someone treading water. What grace and fluidity he's developed for his activities on land doesn't translate though. 'Fuck.' He eyes the city. 'What's 'at 'en? Ah, fuck this is a terrible idea. But that never stopped me before.' He waits until his feet hit the floor of the ocean to begin to walk with struggled steps towards the architecture.
It is a little known fact that after a certain point humans stop becoming buoyant in water and they begin to sink. Given Kaven's lack of swimming prowess it seems he will not be ascending the old fashioned way (if that was even an option to begin with) and so he eventually reaches the ocean depth. The ground clicks up a plume of dust in the water and as he walks Kaven must lean forward so his weight helps carry him forward against the tug of the water. He makes time like someone traveling in slow mo, but at least should he engage his arms there is a speed benefit to swishing them back and forth since water is thicker than air and thus propellant in such an act.
A few things might occur to this 'scholarly' man. Firstly this is not what the actual bottom of the ocean looks like, there are no see through fish with horror milk white eyes and visible internal organs. Second, why is there a generally navigatable path amongst the rocky outcroppings and ravines in the ocean leading towards this certainly dreamlike ruined city. Thirdly and perhaps most importantly how long is this going to take because he is making poor time and announcing his approach rather obviously with the silt like debris on the ocean floor kicked up with each step and swirl forward creating a cloud of dust resettling slowly in the water behind him, like a signal that Kaven cometh and all should be aware.
Due to Kaven's perceptive nature he does spy a plume of dust much like his own but faster. It is to his right and appears to be approaching the runined city at a different angle and at a greater speed. If he'd had to guess whatever it is is likely swimming along the ocean floor, so he is not entirely alone.
Kaven'Right 'en, so there's some blokes I can bargain somethin' for help with.' he thinks to himself. 'Movin' fast, they'll get there first. Maybe distracted by whatever they're lookin' for. That's good for me.' he muses. He doesn't speed his pace, instead trying to minimize the beacon of debris he creates a bit and angle his approach so his coming company might have to glance over a shoulder to spot him. And so he makes way, fishing through his pockets on the way. 'Eh? What's this then?' he muses, finding a small, black LED flashlight. Briefly he tests it on the ground, see if the water hadn't shorted it out. Regardless of the result, he continues his approach.
When did Kaven get so close to the city, just a few minutes ago he was approaching painfully slow now it seems like he's crossing the threshold. However he got her so quickly there is no debris cloud in his wake and his flashlight miraculously is not shorted out. They make those proper in Haven probably because of the whole forest full of mists, monsters, and other worlds. Haven Flashlights when you need them, they work. Oh wait the battery is at 50/... They work until they burn through that tiny battery life! Now that Kaven is within the sphere of the ruined city he can tell that it is uninhabited but well preserved. He can see waterways between the spires that are meant to be swam along to get between the various levels, he can see the ground has narrow paths and is littered with what appear to be crustacean shells of long since expired shellfish creatures. Not humanoid in size but bigger than your average dog, so quite big for a lobster or crab. Possibly crab people? Should Kaven look behind him or try to spot that approaching plume he will find it is still approaching, the plume thin and it is coming up quickly. Given there is no outcroppings or rocky terrain in the way he can see it is some form of white shark luminscent and glowing as if generating its own light. It is large perhaps in the realm of a large truck. While its body is white, its teeth are stained red, and its eyes are black. Ominious. The city around him appears to be in good enough condition that the spirts have porous openings that can be swum into. Others have spiraling exteriors almost like stairs or ramps that can be used to ascend should Kaven bee incapable of swimming. Suffice to say there are numarous spots that a man could hide should he wish too.
Kaven reaches down to snag one of the shells, relying on what little buoancy remains at this depth to lug the large chitinous object with him. 'Bah.' he growls to himself through gritted teeth, finally slightly opening his mouth. 'If this is karmic punishment for last night, or the night before, or the previous, I gotta say... I'm not learnin' any lessons.' he thinks loudly at the universe. That said, he does skitter towards the opening, keeping the flashlight off and stowing it for now as he reaches into his jacket for his knife, holding the shell in the other hand. A regular knight of the round table... Or disproportionately oblong table anyways. Giving up on stealth, he uses his arms to help propel him towards the smallest opening he looks like he'd fit through.
The great white shark with bloodstained teeth continues to approach as Kaven kills the light and is put into a shadowy low light environment. Skittering towards the nearest opening of a large spire he is able to walk into it with some ease. While the space below the waves outside the structure is illuminated enough for low light vision without the flashlight. Inside it is pitch black, but he can feel the rouch stone and coral covered wall and find his way deeper if he wants or stay at the entrance. The shark is perhaps five minutes out and continues to approach with that fluidity and speed of a natural swimmer. Perhaps finally something resembling a clue happens. "That doesn't look good does it. You're probably wondering why God why am I here. Maybe you're expecting to be here for some reason. Have you fucked a mermaid?" the voice is echoey as if it's coming from deep inside Kaven's ear or in his skull maybe. "Well I'll tell you. You shouldn't drink cheap bottled water or tap water because you swallowed me recently and I wanted to go home. Do you know how long I've been swimming around your brain, waiting for a moment for you to be hit by evaporated salt water so I could complete the rite to shadowwalk back here?"
Kaven gives a low growl as a response "If you're in my brain, bad news fella', you're either drunk or high. You consider how yer gonna get outa there? Cause I aint helpin' until I got a way back on land." Out of spite Kaven gives his head a light thump on the nearest surface. Will it likely hurt his hitchhiker? No, but might get the chud's attention. "Tell yah what though; I'm a reasonable fellow. Why don't you get yer wits about yah, figure out a way for me to get outa here, and maybe we can cut a deal?" he asks, flicking on the flashlight to walk deeper into the shadows, seeming satisfied that the shark at least doesn't pose a threat.
An interior of the spire appears to be partially naturally and partially dreamlike in its construction. The superstructure itself is flowing stone with pores and volcanic inclinations worn smooth and infested with coral over the years. The unnatural formations are semi circular floors going up with an open center meant to be some form of internal method of ascension and descenion. There is furniture, long abandoned, made of what appears to be silvery and waxy material some kind of organic material like pearl but larger and shaped into chairs, tables, bookcases, though the shelves have tablets and scrolls not traditional bound books. It is interesting to say the least but perhaps less interesting than the voice in Kaven's head.
"Oh that's what the shark is for. He eats you, after you ate me, and I go into its brain and I have the proverbial hot rod of the ocean for a new ride." it explains apparently unphased by the conking of Kaven's head. The flashlight allows glimpses of the scenario and the opening is likely to small for the shark to get in immediately so the two have some time to discuss Kaven's fate. "If you've a better idea though I'm not heartless. Well I am -heartless- but I'm not unreasonable. I was like you once, humanoid, it's just bad magic and a curse that has me so... portable. I don't wish you ill, though I have to say... Your brain could use a tuneup. Have you heard of Nueroplasty? You should do some mental acuity games or something these creases and folds aren't looking to deep."
Kaven gives a little grunt, settling "So that's how it is, just kinda travel from host to host. Yah happy with that? I mean just bein' in other folks bodies, not making your own decisions?" he asks, adopting a distant, curious tone entirely out of line with the previous ruffianism. "Too bad yah don't have a bloke that knows a thing or three about curses. Not sayin' it could be removed, but... altered, yeah. Curses, they're like duct tape, yeah? Real sturdy if yah try and rip 'em any which way, but they don't hold up if you tear along the grain to make 'em a little smaller." he pontificates. After his meandering commentary on his guests condition he comments "Hey, what'd yah do if yah could move a body of yer own around, yah think? Bet it's been a while since yah fucked. Or had a hamburger." he comments idly. "Must be rough. But I'm sure play Jacque Cousteau for the rest of yer life'll be fine for yah."
"Oh there's the survivalist, the dealmaker, the conman." the echoey voice within Kaven's head says with a hint of curiosity at the topic. "Well you have until you starve to death or the shark breaks its way into this spire. What are you suggesting? How do we get from here to there as they say?" there is an itch behind Kaven's eye then as if hearing this thing has made him aware of it or perhaps just imagining he is aware of it. "I have to say I have enjoyed being in your head insofar as we're so very much alike. Parasites leeching off the others around us. Surviving as best we can. If you could swim you could probably find an alchemy or arcanist spot in this spire somewhere and perhaps we could walk you through reducing this curse unless you've an idea of how to do it yourself."