Plotlogs
Deep Sea Synergy Sr Lilah 241011
In the hazy depths of the Atlantic, a clandestine mission unfolds on the storm-lashed drillship, Aegir's Wrath. An eclectic group, brought together by different motives yet united in their cause, converges beneath the tempestuous surface: Novel, Ritsuka, Emmanuel, and Euphemia, each offering unique talents to the endeavor. However, their plan quickly becomes entangled in the ancient, mystical world of the sirens.
Their descent into the deep is marked by a fleeting alliance with merfolk, who, driven by their own relentless vendetta against environmental exploitation, guide the group towards the drill’s vulnerable heart. Yet, as they prepare their explosive retribution, an unforeseen adversary emerges from the shadows. A sleek, torpedo-like device dispatched by unseen forces above seeks to thwart their mission, capturing the mer-boy guiding them with a silver, electrified net.
In a poignant display of bravery, Emmanuel, a Templar, makes a sacrificial choice, forsaking his own safety to free the imperiled mer-child using a grenade. The detonation, muffled by the dense water, inflicts harm upon him and fails to secure the boy's freedom. Rendered unconscious, Emmanuel drifts amidst the chaos, a specter of mortality in the abyss.
As peril mounts, the mer-matriarch invokes the primal force of fire beneath the waves, igniting the charges with a torrent of Novel's demon-infused blood. The impending cataclysm promises to reshape the ocean floor, a testament to their defiance against the corporate leviathan above.
Amidst this turmoil, the group, along with the unconscious Emmanuel, is shepherded through a mystical portal by the sirens, a gateway shimmering with the promise of safety. Euphemia, her celestial light flickering in the aquatic gloom, and Ritsuka, wielding a razor's edge with untold grace, find themselves hurled into the unknown alongside Novel, each grappling with the weight of their actions.
They emerge on a distant shore, Haven’s familiar coastline greeting them with the stark reminder of the world they've momentarily left behind. Rescued from the brink of death by a siren's breath, Emmanuel’s life hangs by a thread, a stark emblem of the intricate dance between humanity and the mythic.
As the narrative weaves to its close, it leaves us to ponder the intricate balance of sacrifices and alliances forged in the depths, a reminder of the unseen battles that rage beneath the surface of the sea, and the unforeseen consequences they may yield.
(Deep Sea Synergy(SRLilah):SRLilah)
[Thu Oct 10 2024]
In the newly painted Living Room of Apartment 104
The area is bright.
It has cheap decor.
The small, unassuming living room now feels refreshingly inviting after a thorough clean-up. The aged furniture has been carefully arranged, giving the room a sense of balance. Any fixable blemishes have been meticulously addressed, with scratches in the paneling smoothed out and surfaces polished to a subtle shine. Though the ceiling still bears some blotchy discoloration from water stains , a few strategically placed houseplants draw the eye away and bring in a touch of nature.
A crisp, fresh coat of white paint covers the walls, illuminating the space with a newfound brightness. The once-dated decor has been carefully integrated into the rooms aesthetic: the green-glass table lamp now adds a quirky vintage charm, while the overly floral watercolor painting is offset by modern, minimalist touches a soft gray throw on the couch and a sleek wooden coffee table. The overall result is a charming blend of old and new, with the apartment feeling lived-in but lovingly cared for.
It is about 55F(12C) degrees.
Novel grumps at Lilah's statement, starting to wake up, the initial sedating from various chemical influences and good company slowly wearing off as he stretches out. "That's awful." He tells Emmanuel, flatly. "You should learn how to fucking cook properly dumbass. But at least you do it there and not in goddamn here."
"Cooking good food makes life a lot better, Emmanuel," Ritsuka quietly says, offering a more gentle smile once the disgust does fade, somewhere after Novel grumps. "I did eat a little too much yesterday because I made very delicious food." She chuckles, looking a little embarrassed "I didn't want to move. It was too much."
"Ah, I do non have the time, hm? Or the brain space." Emmanuel relates back to Novel, raising a hand to tap at his brow, "It is full with quips, and the sarcasm, non?" With that said, the fellow lowers his hand, and moves over to fetch a big ol' bag that was sitting just out of sight. Funny that. It clinks, and it clatters, and it's clearly heavy. "I am thinking that it is the /eating/, and non the cooking, hm?" He reasons back to Ritsuka with an amused quirk of the lips, "But for now? We are having work to do."
"That's how I feel every day!" Lilah protests to Ritsuka, patting her belly with another laugh. "I never want to move any more. But... I usually manage. Yesterday though, I was totally lazy too."
As soon as the last of the group arrives and has settled in at apartment 104, a young woman dressed in hiking boots, worn jeans, and a heavy flannel briskly raps on the door. "Sofia," she introduces herself without any aplomb, giving just a simple dip of her head in greeting. "Hey Lilah. Hi everyone. Lilah said you all needed a hand getting out to the drillship? Come on then." She holds out her hands, waiting for each person to link into the living chain, and then steps forward, into the gloom and leaving the very pregnant redhead behind, all by herself to watch TV on Emmanuel's couch.
The moment they enter, the familiar world dissolves around them, replaced by the dark, mist-filled landscape of the path. Ghostly trees loom tall on either side, their twisted, leafless branches stretching out into the thick fog like skeletal fingers. The air is cool and damp, carrying scents that can't quite be placed; it definitely smells like no other place, anywhere on Earth. The ground beneath their feet feels firm, like a well-worn trail, but the mist swirling around them seems to shift and pulse with each step, keeping the way forward almost invisible for those who don't know the way. "Don't lose sight of me," Sofia warns as she leads the way, walking with the confidence of one whose done this many times. Her warning is well-placed; every time she gets more than two or three steps ahead, the mists threaten to swallow her from sight entirely.
Distances seem to blur, with the world beyond the mist unreachable, and time itself feels distorted. After what feels like both moments and an eternity, the dark forest begins to thin, and the muffled roar of ocean waves becomes clearer.
As they step out of the path, the oppressive mist gives way to the reality of the storm-tossed Aegirs Wrath. The rain immediately lashes against them, too, and the deck of the drillship sways underfoot, alive with sound in the aftermath of the hurricanes that've pounded the Atlantic. Luckily, there's shelter from both the inclement weather and the crew's line of sight behind some crates stacked up against the wall of a modular station.
Novel remarks, mostly to himself, "Hey! I've been in this fucking forest before! It shows up when I'm REALLY high!" He unhelpfully fills in, ambling along the path without any real problems as he trails after the girl names Sofia without too much trouble. He reaches into his pocket, to pull out a glass pipe packed with white powder... and then he trails a look over whom he's traveling with and then sliiiiides the crack pipe back away. He reaches back behind him to grasp the wrist of someone if they trail too far, thumping along before they fall upon the rain. He staggers in the weather, cursing just like the sailors who likely liver there, ranting more to himself, "FUCKING HELL. I WISH I HAD BROUGHT MY PONCHO." As he lifts his leather jacket up and over his head as he ducks against the crates, huddling in like a drowned rat.
Ritsuka does come to slide up and makes a "Hai!" to Emmanuel and then a new person comes and stops by. She returns the dip of her head "Konbanwa, Sofia-san." And listens. She does glance to Emmanuel and Novel, and then to Euphemia before she huffs in a breach and reaches out for the living chain with a tender, cautious hand and she makes a sort of cute-ish 'woah' sound when the familiar world dissolved around her. The mist does cover far too much for her own liking, in such a manner that she really cannot see beyond the brief distance, and once prompted to not lose sight of the leading woman, she follows at a brisk pace, coming and looking to try and stay only a foot away from Sofia. She doesn't glance around beyond the initial look, to the skeletal hands that vie for the sky leaflessly, or the grimace that creeps over her face when she tastes the particular unique 'smell'.
Then comes the sea, and she reaches up to pull the hood of her hoodie over her head. Rain pellets over the one visible shoulder and she adjusts the pullover just a little bit to cover up furtively. With the hurricanes, the umbrella would only prove a hindrance, and so, it disappears into her satchel. There is some noise, that she can hear, and she looks to Novel, but the words are difficult for her. Closer to the ship now, she affords a look back, and from Novel, her gaze goes back to Emmanuel, and then to peer for Euphemia.
There is always something unsettling about moving through the woods between worlds and places, and that strange feeling serves to smother a lot of the banter that Emmanuel would normally be providing as they wander along the path. Much like Novel, the Frenchman is very wary of anyone being distracted, or led astray, and quick to bump them back into moving as he lugs along his giant bag of goods.
Emmanuel doesn't even quite realize that he'd been nearly holding his breath until he steps back out into reality, and into the storm. "Hurk!" He nearly gets jerked over by the sudden pounding of wind and rain, until he manages to find his footing, and shut his mouth, blinking rapidly through the air. "This is why I brought my hat!" He chirps over toward Novel, drawing a bucket hat out of his giant bag. 'Rather be fishin' it says, and is only allowed about two seconds to be envied by the others before it's whipped right off of Emmanuel's head, and disappears into the sea.
"..Merde." Emmanuel mutters.
Euphemia raises her hands to pull the fabric of her hood over her head, concealing long tresses of golden rays of sunlight beneath the crimson fabrics she wore. Her glacial gaze remains fixated upon the path ahead... Weariness evident in her expression... but maintaining a professional degree of cold calculation as she surveys the landscape unfolding before them. She remains a few paces away from Emmanuel's side, lowering both hands to rest within the pockets of her hoodie... a small, wavering smile lightening her features only as her eyes land upon Ritsuka. She says nothing, simply offering her a quiet nod of greeting.
The rain beats down in heavy sheets, turning the deck of the drillship into a slick, treacherous surface, though there's some shelter to be found from the worst of it for our daring adventurers! The aftermath of the hurricane still lingers, the ocean churning beneath them as waves slam against the hull of the Aegirs Wrath. The storm hasnt fully passed, and the relentless downpour blurs the horizon. Emerging from the shadows of the ship, a man in a waterproofed, grease-stained uniform approaches, his expression unreadable, but his movements deliberate. He stops in front of the group, looking them over with a calculating gaze.
"You finally made it," he says, his voice rough, cutting through the steady roar of rain. A bundle of similar uniforms lands at their feet, complete with bright orange life vests and fluorescent safety striping. "Put these on. If you want to stay invisible; it's the best chance youve got. Vetr Group isnt exactly forgiving to outsiders right now, and neither are these mercenaries." He scans the deck, his eyes darting toward the towering drill, the sound of its machinery a constant hum in the background.
"This is the Aegirs Wrath," he continues, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the storm. "Its one of the rigs Vetr Group has running, cutting deep into the ocean floor. But you already know that the sabotage has them on edge - yeah, thats been coming from people like you. Slow and steady. Too slow though. Too fucking slow. They're fixing it as fast as it's being broken down." he chides as if Emmanuel, Ritsuka, Euphemia, and Novel were solely and wholly to blame for things not going to plan in the past. "Now there's rumors that the mer have been sighted down below. That some of the damage to the pipes has been caused by them. Vetrs put a bounty on their heads, especially the sea-witch and her tribe. Dead is preferable to alive, if you believe whats circulating." His eyes narrow, the weight of the words hanging in the air, in a palpable warning. "Means they aren't going to be playing games, either. Stakes are damn high. Damn high." he repeats, slowly shaking his head.
There he pauses, lighting up a cigarette without offering one to any of the group. It's not long enough for them to cut into his rant, though. He's in a hurry! Ignoring any that try, he exhales a plume of smoke and continues: "Youve got a small window to move. The crews shaken from the storm and the damage to the ship is what's buying you time, but it wont last. Vetrs mercs are already on edge, and if they catch wind of you, itll turn ugly fast." He takes a step back, crossing his arms, giving them a final look. "Do what you came here to do. Do it fast. But keep your eyes open - if the sirens out there, shes not the only one watching." That said, without waiting for questions, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the hatch leading to the storm-darkened interior of the ship. "And - if you get caught? Keep my name out your mouths."
There's no time like the present, and Emmanuel will need to stop mourning the loss of his super cool hat in order to focus on the task at hand. He nods over toward the man, taking his words at face value, and then immediately starts stripping down to his underwear in order to dress himself in the more waterproofed outfit of the uniform. He nearly falls over in the process, but ends up jutting out a hand toward Euphemia to help stabilise himself. Only once he's fully dressed once more does he move to scoop up the giant bag he'd brought with him.
"I am thinking we have a look around here, non? And then maybe we go down into the waters? I've brought tanks." The Frenchman explains to his compatriots, and their friendly saboteur as he gives that big ol' bag a jerk. "Or maybe we don't risk being found, and go straight into the drink, non?"
Euphemia offers some support and stability to the man as he reaches for her hand, her cold gaze falling upon his semi-nude figure with an expression of silent consideration. Whatever she's thinking, now is not the time to be voicing it. And it is only as Emmanuel finally finishes changing into the suit that Euphemia begins to dress herself as well. Euphemia, however... takes a different approach. Discarding only her hoodie, her shoes, and her socks... before attempting to pull the uniform over the remaining clothes she already wore. A little big, for her sickly, lithe frame... But Euphemia seems relatively unfazed, nonetheless. Tucking her compass into a pocket before pulling the suit on.
Novel makes an eyeroll at the uniforms, mostly because the man in a leather jacket is pretty hard to mistake for anything what he was - but he follows suit with Emmanuel, his body a horrifying wreck of scars and injuries, and kevlar strapped over his torso and groin hiding most of rest of him. He bundles up his shit in a bag and then draws on the uniform, moving quickly and bitching, "Fuck this rain, fuck these uniforms, why the fuck do they make them so tight in the goddamn crotch," and straps the orange over it as best he can in at least a vague attempt to fit in. Now instead of looking like a wet, out of place bedraggled thug in leather, he has the appearance of a wet, bedraggled Vetr-Corp thug. He's only half-listening to the guy rambling on him, and then remarks, "So, who are we stabbing?" As he readjusts the knife back onto a higher layer of clothing.
Bending to reach for one of the uniforms and life vests, Ritsuka reaches up to keep her hood in place before lifting one of them up and begins going through the process of putting it on - in fact over her already worn clothing, and it fits far too uncomfortably loosely over her thin and fragile form that is even so for Japanese beauty standards. It looks horrible, like a branch struggling to keep to its leaves while it wishes to break and fly away and the only item she adjusts is a concealed weapon. She listens to the man, though her eyes do tell that he is no familiar face to her and that any of the previous events are entirely unknown to her. Her gaze does not speak of feeling as if she was accused or spoken about on the mention the oil rig being fixed as if it was an accusation, and truly, she has naught to do with it.
She breathes in through her nose on the mention of merfolk and the sirens and glances her today's companions over, particularly the uniform for those that put it on. "I am assuming there is no non-lethal option if fighting breaks out?" She says, trying to be louder, not shouting, but louder. Her gaze does go to Emmanuel when he says and her eyes narrow as she tries to listen closely to him. Her lips purse, but she keeps words within.
Dressed like the rest of the workers on board, though Euphemia and Ritsuka might stick out as physically being a bit small for the manual labor occurring on deck, the group will probably be able to blend in well enough. Along the wall of the ship, however, cameras and alarms are set up, designed to alert immediately in the off-chance that someone is swept overboard - or merely jumps on purpose.
Beyond that, so long as the foursome is careful, exploration of the ship and the potential to find other means of getting themselves into the water are open. Easily noticeable from here, the moon pool takes up much of the central part of the ship's deck, and the door leading down below decks to the crew's cabin has been left wide open, despite the wind and rain. It wouldn't take much either for them to realize that the wall they're sheltering against is that of the drill cabin, though it is likely manned despite the late hour as Vetr drives its employees to make maximum money at maxiumum speed.
They have time to decide, so long as now crew members spot them 'slacking off' back here.
"There is always a non-lethal option, non?" Emmanuel chirps back over toward Ritsuka as he click-clacks his dorky bum bag around his waist, and then unzips one of it's many, many pouches. Nestled inside, safe from the storm so far, is the plastic shape of a tranq pistol. Just in case. He pets it. The Frenchman doesn't seem to mind the uniform all that much, really, maybe the crotch is less of a problem for him than Novel. Poor Emmanuel.
Emmanuel turns his gaze out towards their surroundings, squinting through the whip and drizzle as he spots the various cameras, indicating each to his compatriots, before gesturing over towards the door leading downwards, into the crew cabin, "We could have a poke inside here, hm? See if there is anything useful?"
Euphemia says, nodding to Emmanuel, and lowering herself to the ground, "I did not exactly bring any of my gear. I hope a fight is not what this is going to turn into."
"You did good to bring that," Ritsuka chirps, relaxing when she sees Emmanuel take up a tranquil weapon over something that would be lethal, and it does come with an approving nod. She has to lean against the wind whenever it changes the direction for a moment, though with hurricanes they fortunately rarely ever do. Her gaze follows Emmanuel's and she, too, has to squint. "I think it might be a start and it will get us out of these horrible Winds. But there might be a lot of crew. If someone asks me I will probably answer I no speak english. It has helped so far not once!" It draws a little bit of a soft smile to her, with the squint against the lashing winds and rain. She does glance to Euphemia "I will try to knock them out if I can if it goes bad. I am stronger than I look. A spirit gave me its blessing."
Novel is thug, the muscle. He does have a brain, it's just usually fried with drugs and over-stimulated because under-stimulated Novel gets bored - and a bored demon blooded isn't good for anyone's health, especially the people near him. "Sounds good to fucking me," He answers easily to Emmanuel, giving Euphemia and Ritsuka assessing looks - before he just strides over towards the open doorway like he owns the place. Shoulders square, walking along, he has places to be and people shouldn't bother him because he's in a bad mood.
Novel heads out. Do the others follow? As he strides across the deck, a worker moving in the other direction, just ducking out into the wet from down belo calls, "Hey man. You off duty? Lucky bastard." He, apparently has the overnight shift. With a bark of laughter and a dry, "The stew's awful, as always, but the coffee's hot man!" he disappears down the deck to wherever it is he's supposed to be.
Unlike the man who'd met them behind the crates, this worker has the good grace to shut the door behind him, keeping out the rough weather. Luckily for the intrepid explorers, it isn't locked. It open easily beneath Novel's hand, revealing a dimly lit hallway, with multiple rooms branching off.
Please go ahead and join the new place, if you're going to head that direction. If anyone's branching off to do their own thing, join the place that appeals to you!
OOC Emmanuel - I think we were actually headed to below deck? Unless Novel changed his mind?
Well, Emmanuel falls into step behind Novel, wandering over with him and flicking a knowing nod toward the other bloke who wanders past, "Work, work, eh?" He does his best attempt at an American accent back to him, and then nods again. Then they're wandering down and into the bowels of the vessel, hunching his shoulders somewhat as if worried that he'd bang his head on the lower roof - despite there being more than enough room for him. It's a psycological thing.
Euphemia continues to trail behind Emmanuel in silence, the dock worker's swift departure easily written off as ultimately something that was 'not their problem'. Her own objectives are clear. Focus on the mission. Keep Emmanuel safe. And try to find any diplomatic solution she can to this mess they are literally about to dive into.
Letting out a sigh, Ritsuka starts to hurry on after Novel, and mutters something unhappily in Japanese. It is about the weather, and she does try to walk on closely behind Emmanuel, pulling the hood on her head just a little deeper, as much as it may, because really, she stands out far too much with the artful waterproof make up she wears. It also means she keeps her gaze a little lowered. At least no one would recognize her later if it came down to it. Her form does visibly relax when the uniform does not blow against her attire anymore, and it instead begins to hang a touch horribly on her upper body in particular.
Within, she keeps behind and keeps her gaze onward, and still a little lowered, only the blues of her irises glance to the sides of her eyes, never settling onto someone for too long. She carries an analytical look, trying to figure out who might be guard and who not.
Once inside, it is both drier and warmer, though those still wearing their clothes beneath the pull-on uniforms might find it a bit uncomfortable to have their clothes clinging to their bodies and trapped there by the overlayer.
Their feet echo off the metal flooring as they walk, but eventually they're going to have to make a choice of where to head next. The gym? The mess hall? Try their luck in the crew's sleeping quarters? A little distance further on, a very solidly locked hatch reads MAINTENANCE in bold letters. Or maybe they'll head back up? It's all up to them!
As they walk, a pair of crew members turn past them, out of one of the sleeping quarters, walking side by side toward the mess hall. "Another cable snapped down in the moon pool yesterday," the first man mutters, his arms hanging limp at his sides and every step plagued with exhaustion. "Third one this month. Were lucky it didnt take someones head off."
Novel immediately mimicks the men. He doesn't even think about it. He lists to one side, his eyes lid, and he adopts the slouch of the zombie, the still-living, the one who needs coffee and food and a full night's rest. And he beelines towards the hatch. He's not taking people who will IMMEDIATELY blow their cover, and then he glances back to Emmanuel as he props himself up to keep watch nearby.
They /are/ lucky it didn't take someone's head off, that's for sure, and that's what the little sound that Emmanuel makes communicates. It's not quite a hum, or a grunt, something in between. Something manly. Emmanuel is feeling very manly dressed in his manly rig-worker clothes. He struts over towards the room labelled MAINTENANCE as if it were actually reading, SNEAK IN HERE EMMANUEL AND BREAK THINGS, because this is how it reads to him.
Euphemia seems content to simply hang behind the others and allow them to lead -- not that silence is a trait particularly unusual to the average corporate slave. There is a silent, thoughtless nod of agreement -- a casual (borrowed) tool held to the side, and a slouching step to follow Emmanuel's lead. Face directed to dutifully admire the metal flooring below.
Ritsuka trails after Emmanuel and after Euphemia and the ocean blues of her irises perk towards the crew members that wanders past them, and a certain sadness crosses over her features on the mention of being 'lucky it didn't take someone's head off'. Her stature remains the same, unchanged, gaze lowered and trailing after the other two, at least until Novel suddenly bee-lines towards that particular hatch, and she turns to walk towards the mess hall, not too far, if it is too far away, though if it is close enough, her gaze will go around the room looking for the source of coffee.
Oh, it is the sort of place that does scream for troublesome Frenchmen and daredevil demonborn, isn't it? That locked MAINTENANCE hatch that's going to take some clever fingers to get open. But while Novel stands guard, and Emmanuel gives in to the temptation to explore, the path to the mess hall is left wide open for the two girls to head in that direction. Or, if Euphemia is heading to the maintenance hatch, the young Japanese girl can head off on her own.
Novel does not have clever fingers. Though he IS tempted to try wrenching it open, that would probably have... consequences. And he watches Ritsuka go with concern and slightly furrowed brow - and then he shrugs it off. Eh. She can take care of herself, probably. She's a grown woman. He lounges there, waiting for Emmanuel, settling back into his hooligan state of malingering while trying to communicate to Euphemia exclusively through facial features and eyebrows. Unfortunately, he is probably unable to convey anything useful.
Turning towards the mess hall, Ritsuka does give Novel the most subtle of a nod. She stands out, it would be no good if she stayed while the others try to be covert, that much may perhaps be evident on its own. Her gaze remains lowered as she steps into the far more utilitarian space with long metal tables and benches until they find the coffee station and it is there that her own steps turn to. Her steps remains slow and cautious, and it is the one thing she does share with the rest of the crew- it is a weary one.
Once at the coffee station, she looks the station over, trying to get herself a cup- probably of plastic to pour whatever coffee there is into it, but only halfway.
Emmanuel /does/ have clever fingers, and it's these clever fingers that are deployed against the maintenance hatch, as he leans in closer to inspect it's lock, if there is one, and goes about trying to convince it to open up for him. He seduces the thing in low, French mutters, while working at it with his handy-dandy lockpick.
"Eheh-hon, hon." Emmanuel cannot help but laugh a little under his breath, his eyes going wide as he comes across the stacks of explosives. There's little pussyfooting around at this point, as he moves to start opening the crates, if possible, and rooting around inside to score them a few explosive advantages for their ongoing attempts.
Raising the plastic cup to her lips to raise a little bit, to make it look like she is taking a sip, Ritsuka does listen on to the group. Her own fragile form moves, as if exhausted towards the table to sit down for a moment, taking another seeming sip from the cup before she rises again. She does not give anyone else a look, or her precise attention to anything other than her cup. But she listens. When the conversation turns away from the topic, she does rise again, looking at whatever clock there is before drawing towards the hallways again, attempting to slide out and leave the mess hall.
Ritsuka glances to the group and she makes an apologetic look, her next words are in English, of course "I sincerely apologize if I was rude leaving like this." She rolls her shoulder and makes a pitiful expression while holding a hand over it "I thought this job would be easier but it is very difficult. I am not built for this but I thought it would be good money." She palms her hands together again "I apologize again but I really need to get back to work, I will be in huge trouble if I am one more minute here."
Ritsuka spins around and now hurries on with a quicker pace away from the mess hall, not so much that she is fleeing, just in a rush, short on time. She does come to a stop and turns towards the original exit, glancing that way to see if there is people, and continuing that way until she has passed them if there are, before glancing back to look to the maintenance hatch, and if there is problems there. If there isn't, her way leads her back towards it, gaze lowered.
"..Maaaaybe." Emmanuel answers back while very obviously rustling through the explosives. Yes, they are definitely planning something or other. He's absolutely been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Ritsuka, Euphie? We've found a friend, mon amies," The man whisper-speaks into their shared comms, tapping at the device behind his ear before letting his hand fall back toward the explosives. "There was mention of the mer suffering, non?" He opines to Novel, apparently deciding that they should at least hear the child out.
(repost for Ritsuka "The whole sea suffers!" the boy exclaims at Emmanuel's claim, his chin lifting and sea-green eyes, very familiar sea-green eyes glinting with anger at this. "If they drilled into the center of where you lived, you would feel the same!" But that anger is gone a heartbeat later, as he watches the two men grab up explosives. He claps his hands together, his laughter bubbling and delighted. "We will leave a mark they won't soon forget, with all of that. Come, come! I came for you!" There's no more hesitation now, though he stiffens, cocking his head slightly at something or other and then... he's gone. Just gone.
Or not quite gone, as a moment later, a tiny little blue-furred mouse with sea-green scales along its tail scurries out of the corner. It looks like a little white mouse fell into a pitcher of Kool-Aid, really. It hurries out, racing between Emmanuel's feet, before trying to scurry its way up Novel's uniform leg. High-pitched little squeaks urge them on.
Ritsuka winces to seeing that the hatch may be ajar but that it would be a little difficult for her to get there. She raises a hand up and pinches the bridge of her nose before letting out a little bit of a sigh. She looks across the hallway, and then to the hatch. Looking for the right opportunity to slide over without drawing too much attention. And so, she may just barely manage to slip on through, trying to subtly draw the door closer.
"Some detonators have gone missing. And the crew thinks it was odd that the explosives were placed here. But they do know something isn't right. They are kept clueless by their superiors, but have suspicions." She did not hear most of what the boy shared, and did not even see him, only the rat that is now squeaking at Novel and her own tone is more subdued, quiet, cautious.
"They might be for blowing up people, instead of rocks, hm?" Emmanuel ventures in response to the information shared by Ritsuka, then adding, "Good work, hm?" With a quirk of the lips, there's a few attempts to avoid the fae-mouse getting too close to him then, and he looks relieved when it climbs onto Novel instead. "Oh, this little mouse is our friend." Emmanuel notes back to Ritsuka, hefting up some explosives and making to follow the mouse and man into the further hatch.
Novel is happy to pile himself up with bombs. He does love his explosions... and then he's climbed on by an animal. He squints down at it suspiciously, and then flashes broad white teeth as he follows along the trail. Hell, someone's telling him to destroy things. Today promises to be looking up after all that shitty rain. Never mind that most of the people on board are probably normal and many of them will likely die. That isn't -his- problem. He came here to do a job, and to kick Vetr-Corp figuratively in the balls. Literally, if he could manage it. "Hey, Ritz? Oh yeah? That's fucking handy. I mean, I'd be sus as hell about this job, but I wouldn't have come here in the fucking first place..."
Did Emmanuel just call a Fae creature friend? Surely not. But the little mouse, in its efforts to scurry up to Novel's shoulder, squeaks rapidly, then turns, leaping through the air to land on a crate, then off the crate to duck through the door and into that very, very narrow, claustrophobia-inducing auxilliary hatch. It's a very agile little creature, but once it's gone into the hatch, only those occasional squeaks can be heard in its efforts to hurry the others on, as someone fills them in on what she's learned.
Suddenly, from behind the hatch there's a hiss of very human-sounding breath and a hushed, "Be hurrying! You have enough. They are coming now. Humans! We must go!."
Did Emmanuel just call a Fae creature friend? Surely not. But the little mouse, in its efforts to scurry up to Novel's shoulder, squeaks rapidly, then turns, leaping through the air to land on a crate, then off the crate to duck through the door and into that very, very narrow, claustrophobia-inducing auxilliary hatch. It's a very agile little creature, but once it's gone into the hatch, only those occasional squeaks can be heard in its efforts to hurry the others on, as Ritsuka fills them in on what she's learned.
Suddenly, from behind the hatch there's a hiss of very human-sounding breath and a hushed, "Be hurrying! You have enough. They are coming now. Humans! We must go!."
"This is probably enough to destroy the platform, but the foreman needs to go and the innocent evacuated," Ritsuka adds, her eyes looking over the white mouse with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "I would volunteer to to hunt the foreman. Get access to the speaker-" And then the warning. She adjusts her concealed weapon a little bit, readying it just in case and then gives to make a nod to Emmanuel and Novel, falling to silence.
Novel moves to follow, grunting in response, "All right, all right," His long-legged stride eating up distance as he immediately moves down the hall - and away, intent to drag the explosives to the next locale and plant them. He was just getting materials!
"It is being a matter of timing, hm? Too early, and we reveal our hand. Too late, and, well," A bunch of people destroying the environment while working for the Man may die. Not ideal. But also, you know, it's not like they're /innocent/. "..We will find a way, hm? To get into their comms, if needing be." Emmanuel allows aside to Ritsuka, and then moves to wander down the tunnel at the words of their new fri- guide. Not friend. Guide. Just a guide.
The auxiliary shaft is a narrow, dimly lit passage tucked away deep in the ships lower levels, almost forgotten by all but the maintenance team. The walls are slick with condensation and streaked with rust from years of exposure to the salty sea air. Overhead, thick bundles of cables and pipes twist and weave along the ceiling, some patched hastily with tape, others humming with the ships low mechanical vibrations. The air is thick and humid, carrying the faint smell of oil and metal, and the floor, a grated metal walkway, is damp and slippery beneath hurried feet.
The shaft twists and narrows further as it goes, the light from the occasional flickering bulb growing fainter the further it stretches. It isn't long however, before it becomes obvious that the shaft slants upward, winding through the ship toward the upper decks. As they hurry on, led by the blue-haired boy, the smell of brine and sea grows stronger, until finally the passage way opens into a grated doorway, giving a view of the moon pool, just beyond it.
"Here." the boy says succinctly. "Into the sea and we will teach these greedy humans a lesson!" There's a hint of malice in eyes too young to hold such things. "If we are quick, they will not see. Will not know until it is too late. It doesn't sound like -he- has any plans to cooperate with Ritsuka's desire to give warnings."
(ugh) "Here." the boy says succinctly. "Into the sea and we will teach these greedy humans a lesson!" There's a hint of malice in eyes too young to hold such things. "If we are quick, they will not see. Will not know until it is too late." It doesn't sound like -he- has any plans to cooperate with Ritsuka's desire to give warnings.
The bag that Emmanuel had been hucking about on his shoulders is twisted, and tossed to the side, before Emmanuel leans down and begins dragging equipment out of it. Temple branded technology. Stuff that isn't quite on the market yet. The breathing apparatus is like an open-faced helmet, that extends down over the torso and has small, well compressed breathing tanks on their back. He hands one of these out to each of the party, but not the child. They likely don't need help breathing under water.
Feel free to join the pool, if we're heading that way!
Novel nabs the gear from Emmanuel, pausing only a moment to stack up all those boxes of delicious tre- I mean, explosives and slide it right over his head and face and then make sure it's clipped right in place. And THEN he'll grab the boxes, lifting his head up to anyone who isn't carrying one. "Grab one, will you?" Before he steps on over after the kid. He is speaking his LANGUAGE. "Thanks for fucking having these, Frenchie. Way less goddamn awkward than the other bullshit..."
Euphemia offers a slight nod of appreciation to Emmanuel, blinking away the haze that seems to have overtaken her in the past few moments of unexpected silence. Euphemia releases a weary sigh... reaching back to affix the tank over her shoulders... and reaching up to affix the mask over her face. She seems to struggle a little with the mechanisms involved, unfamiliar with the usage of said tools. But Euphemia seems intent upon figuring it out on her own.
Ritsuka affixes the mask to herself with little trouble, she looks the mechanism over before adapting it, and then she joins beyond the grate into the pool. For now.
Much like the others Emmanuel slides on his own set of breathing gear, and tests the onboard comms with a few little chirps and buzzes, then checks on the others. Once everyone is set he slides the now empty bag back onto his back, and goes about hefting the boxes of explosives, then following toward the moon pool.
As the others don masks, the boy darts quickly to the edge of the moon pool, unobserved in the moment as the pipeline is currently setting, settling, and being cemented into place. He looks back, hissing below the noise of grinding machinery, "We really must hurry!" And then he's jacknifing into the water with the skill and agility of an Olympic diver.
A moment later, some bags of woven seaweed, so tightly knit as to be completely water proof are thrown up onto the side of the moon pool. But the child doesn't resurface. It's up to this little crew now, to decide what to do.
Whatever they do, they need to decide quickly, because that simple movement, that dive over the side, has triggered an alarm somewhere - or something else did. The sirens start to blare, and workers drop their tools and look around, already starting to panic.
Novel is calm, casual. When everyone else is getting excited, he's focused and productive, getting things done without any sense of urgency. Mostly because he's fighting to keep a gleeful grin on his face, cramming his electronics that might get damaged into a bag. THe bomb boxes go into the other, though his electronics bag has room. He only waits for others to follow suit - Emmanuel, Ritsuka, Euphemia - before grabbing both and dropping right into the water.
Euphemia swiftly adjusts the straps of her gear, ensuring everything present remains firmly affixed to her body. With a deep breath to test the efficacy of her oxygen tank... and a sideways glance to the others... Euphemia retreats a few paces... before running past and diving into the water with zero hesitation. Seems Novel missed his chance.
There's a wary glance around at the alarm that goes off, before Emmanuel breaks the seal on his mask just long enough to shout out, "Fire! Oh non! Fire! Abandon ship!" Well, hopefully that throws a little more confusion into the situation. The explosives, and anything else sensitive are placed into the waterproof bags, before Emmanuel wanders over to the edge of the pool, and prepares to just fall into it, a little haphazardly, though he waits to ensure Euphemia and Ritsuka have managed their submersion first.
Ritsuka puts some explosives into the bag that is there for her, and then sinks on under, too. She does not consider a reason to hesitate with alarms going off, but she is no athlete when it comes to swimming.
From one of the modular cabins, right as the foursome drop into the water, stalks a man dressed from head to toe in black. It's so traditional that it's cliche. Black suit, black shirt, black tie, black fedora that doesn't blow off his head like poor Emmanuel's fishing hat did, black shoes, and a black briefcase in his hands. He stalks across the deck like the weather doesn't bother him one bit, and finds himself a spot to crouch on the edge of the moon pool.
*Click*
The briefcase opens, revealing a touchscreen on the upper half, and a small, sleek, black device on the lower. This he takes out, and merely drops into the water, before sitting back and watching on his screen.
Below the water, as they drop into the clouded depths of the sea, light begins to fade. It gets darker and darker for those that can't see in the murky gloom. But soon enough Emmanuel, Euphemia, Novel, and Ritsuka can -feel- if not see, bodies swimming up against theirs. And then there's light, a soft greenish sort of glow, brought on by luminescent fish attached to... leashes.
Ritsuka swims downwards on her own until she notices something, of course, if not for the swimming devices Emmanuel provided it would be far more difficult. The translucent fish swim and the single free hand tries to reach out for one of them before her gaze looks towards whichever being is holding the leash for it. "We brought some gifts." She says, as much as someone can into a breathing device.
Emmanuel taps at the helmet of the breathing setup, knocking on the attached lights that he'd totally forgotten to mention earlier, but geez, they are convinient, non? The man paddles under the waves, pausing to glance over at the bioluminescent fish with a wary look, and another at the leashes. "Mmm.." There's a quiet grumble in the back of his throat.
Novel says something. It comes out as burble burble burble, gurgle gurgle. He ties the bag full of his shit to himself, then hefts up the back on the other hand. He gives the puppies an excited look. There's more murmbling. He gives up. Usually he's full of talking and swears but this just isn't working as he mouths the air thingy and shoves forwards one of the bags fulla bombs. He probably should have remembered to dose them with his blood. Oops oh well.
As Euphemia swam deeper, the fading light above sent a chill through her spine, the growing darkness pressing in from all sides. Her breathing slowed, steady despite the eerie gloom enveloping her. The brush of bodies against her own made her heart quicken, a sense of unease creeping in with each fleeting touch. The murky water swallowed most of her vision, leaving her relying on instinct more than sight. When the soft greenish glow appeared, Euphemia's eyes locked on the luminescent fish, the light offering a strange, almost calming contrast to the oppressive dark. The eerie glow illuminated just enough for her to feel a cautious awareness, but the unknown still lingered in every shadow around her.
They're just fish... lights. Fishlights. But that's all they are, some sort of domesticated glow-in-the-dark pet, brought out to help in the moment. Nearest Ritsuka is the blue-haired mouse-boy they'd met before, though now he's absolutely resplendent. Scales trace down the center of his chest and belly, sweeping across his shoulders and back in a pattern of stipes, and gild his long tail as well. Talons extend from the tips of webbed hands, and fangs that jut slightly past his lower lip, are easily seen, along with razor sharp teeth when he smiles. They weren't before, surely? Surely.
With him are three others, all female, all older, though none of them look like they're much older than mid-twenties at best. Two have red hair and those same sea-green eyes as the boy, with lithe and freckled bodies that are absolutely bare from the waist up except for the mossy scales of their tails - and doesn't water's buoyancy do wonders for that nudity? The third, with the same dark, dark blue hair as the child, has matching scales, leaving her a sleek, dark thing in the water. Her eyes are rich, dark and cunning, and they alone -scream- her age as something far, far more than decades.
When Novel holds out his bag, the dark beauty says something that can't be heard through the human-helmets, and all four of the mer surge forward, wrapping arms around the less limber humans. They dive down, down deep, following the outline of the currently silent drill, into depths that are likely to get uncomfortable for those same humans. At least with those powerful headlamps, they can see where they're going!
Ritsuka offers no resistance to being dragged down into the depths, her ears try to perk up, but though she shares her blood in a different way, she was the descendant of another entity entirely different from them. They also hate water. But there is no point, and so down down it goes, down into the water pressure of discomfort.
There's a few complicate emotions and thoughts that pass through Emmanuel as he peers aside at the transformed boy, and then the others sirens as they approach. Those talons. Those teeth. Those tits. How many men had been dragged down into depths by these creatures, and their kin? Harvested for their seed, murdered, eaten? Emmanuel flinches away from their grappling hands as they surge forward, a brief moment of panic overcoming him before their intent becomes clear. They aren't going to eat them. Yet.
Novel opts to not resist because fighting off a bunch of random t3s and over while underwater in unfamiliar territory is probably a death sentence. And hell, he's carrying a fuckton of explosives. There's probably a lot to it. So he grits his teeth and bears it and hopes his innate demon-bloodedness can deal with nitrogen poisoning.
As the surrounding darkness became overwhelming, Euphemia glances around to the accompanied party... her eyes softening somewhat as she acknowledges Emmanuel's concern. Without a word, her body began to glow... a soft, radiant light blossoming beneath her breast... outlining her veins with flickering flames that glimmer subtly beneath the skin. The glow spread across her form, illuminating the murky waters around her. The soft golden light cutting through the oppressive gloom, revealing glimpses of the strange shapes that swam nearby. Her body casts a serene, steady glow, pushing back the shadows and allowing the others to see just enough in the dim depths. The light flickered gently, reflecting off the water in shimmering patterns as Euphemia moved, her lithe musculature rippling with every downward stroke.
What those headlamps and Euphemia's own light reveal is that there's something else there with them. It's not a fish. It's not one of the siren-kind. It's a sleek, torpedo-shaped black... thing. It swims around and between each of the beings that plunge toward the depths. The merfolk don't even seem to notice it.
Deeper they go, until even Novel and Euphemia with their supernatural bodies can barely take the pressure of it, and that's where the sirens stop, and a soft little call from their matriarch. She turns, gaze sweeping across the four before she reaches out for Novel without a moment's hesitation. Taloned, webbed fingers lash out, raking across his arm, tearing through the jumpsuit and the skin beneath. As his blood starts to spread into the water, her smile grows bolder, brighter, and she curls that lithe, sensual body around him, pressing her lips to the wounds and holding him tightly as she fills her mouth with his blood.
Ritsuka tries to grab for the black thing that swims around them when it draws close to her. She tries to hold her palm over its front to take a look over it, trying to figure out what it is, if she can manage to grab it.
Does Emmanuel notice? Non. He's struggling with the pressure, and the strange sickness that comes from descending under so much water so quickly, and further more? Novel is being snacked on by a topless woman. How many times has Emmanuel told the man that he is literally unresistable, and here is proof yet again. There's a concerned buzz from the Frenchman as he watches, reaching toward his bum bag for his knife, just in case.
Blood behaves strangely at these pressurized depths. A different medium. Less dense then water. Hot, a tendency to rise. But then the force and pressure pushing downwards, crushing on every side of his body, pushing back. The work of his heart forcing it out in a strange pulsed timing to that beating heart. And then, after, the current, a strange sort of drifting. At first there is a jet. Panic and pain in the man's features and then - he clamps down. The pain fades. It's replaced with focus as his hand reaches out to grasp the woman's hair. A mouthed 'what the fuck' comes out from him, squinting in raw annoyance from Novel.
Emmanuel squints
As the wound seals beneath her mouth, the sea-witch chooses not to reopen it with her fangs. Instead, she uncoils from Novel, her lips clamped tight, the red washing from her face as easily as a movement in these depths. But it's clear that mouthful she's stolen, for no permission was asked, is not swallowed. She holds it there, in the cradle of her mouth, as she gestures her hands towards the bags that the group holds. A wave of one hand down, towards the depths, towards the cemented in root of the drilling pipes. A mimed gesture of a closed fist opening.
She waits, while the two other females swim around the group, tapping their webbed hands on the bags containing explosives that each person is carrying - or some of them, at least. They tap, then tap again, a demanding little insistence that mirrors the open hand drop a moment later.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to anybody while Emmanuel worries over his friend's safety and virtue, the little device continues to dart about the gathered group until Ritsuka grabs for it. For a moment, her hands can indeed close around it, though the sleek device doesn't appear to be much of anything, to the average eye. There is, however, one tiny little flap on what appears to be the underneath.
Novel releases his grip on the woman's hair, his blood tasting strange and distinct of fire and oils for a brief moment - and when she lets go, as does he. Relinquishing on her hair and rolling his eyes as he grunts. The wounds unnaturally being forced closed, the bleeding stopped. The injuries still there, waiting to be torn open once more, but for now, controlled without bandages. He tucks his bag of electronics, holding onto that, and dropping the other bag of bombs without so much as a hesitation. Though he doesn't look particularly happy at the moment.
The gear within Emmanuel's pressure-addled brains click over slowly, and it takes him a moment or two longer than the others to quite cotton onto what the very obvious hand signal means. But, in Emmanuel's defence? He's only human. Mundane. He doesn't have quite the hardiness of the others, even with his enhanced organs. The Templar does as the siren bids, and gives her the load that she yearns for, tossing his bag of explosives down towards the spot indicated by the woman. He turns to glance aside to Ritsuka, and Euphemia, directing them to do the same with hand gestures.
Ritsuka turns the little thing around, examines it. She evidently does not recognize how it works but she holds assumptions. The bag that she was holding is simply passed away, almost without paying too much attention to it or the nude woman that demands for it, and then, with one hand, she attempts to press the flap closed and hold on to it while her other tries to stabily hold on to the device. She can't crush it here, she doesn't know what kind of battery is in it, or how dangerous it may be to crush this thing down here. But she does look to Emmanuel and Euphemia and gives them a suspicious nod to the device she is trying to keep a hold of.
Euphemia offers over what little she carries to the woman floating before her. Sky-blue eyes linger upon Emmanuel for a little longer than they should... as if fighting some unspoken urge to rush to his side. Instead, even as her body directs her towards him -- her attention shifts to Ritsuka, swimming over to examine the device she held. She extends a hand, offering to take it from her grasp... though not deigning to do so by force.
There's no apology forthcoming to Novel. None of the four that've accompanied the Haven quartet look even slightly as if they think anything wrong has occurred. Novel's bag drops, then Emmanuel's follows it, though perhaps it's not the only thing these femme fatales would appreciate, this evening. One by one, the bags begin to fall, and one by one, they're chased by the three sirens, with the blue-haired matriarch bringing up the rear.
The boy remains with the humans, though his curiosity is quickly piqued when he sees what Ritsuka has caught hold of. As she tries to show it to Emmanuel and Euphemia, he reaches out for it, giving it a tug with those webbed hands of his. Perhaps it's all about timing, or perhaps between he, Ritsuka, and Euphemia, they touched something they shouldn't. But a taser-like pulse rockets out from the device, shocking all within the vicinity.
It hurts. It incapacitates, however briefly. It doesn't stop anyone from breathing, thank goodness, but in those few moments when arms go limp, the device powers out of their hold, rocketting for the surface. Recovering quickly, perhaps only slightly more quickly than Novel, whose been tazed a few times in his life, the boy shoots up after it.
Euphemia recoils, shuddering violently for the slightest millisecond as the electricity courses through her veins... the soft, lminous glow shining through her pallid skin flickering momentarily as the celestial lights within her threaten to blink out of existence. But in those few moments that Euphemia falls limp, her motionless body drifting towards the surface... the flames within her seem to surge. The younger woman whirling back around in the water just in time to see the young boy's aquatic figure rocketing out of view.
It's hard to decide what to look at, really. The half-naked ladies armed with their explosive looks, and explosive bags, or the strange device that Ritsuka has captured. As such Emmanuel is glancing this way and that, trying to drink it all in, until that pulse goes off. He shies away, raising his hand defensively, and then does his best to doggy-paddle in closer to Euphemia and Ritsuka, extending hands to try and catch them before they can drift away into nothingness, as he's unsure of just how stunned or damaged they may be.
Ritsuka whimpers when this stupid thing causes her palms to open. Maybe crushing it had been the better choice, after all, even with the risk to her well-being, but this is not something she has the knowledge for. She huffs in a breathe, her eyes look at Emmanuel and there is just this shrug of her shoulders and a hand that gestures up. She mouths something in his and Euphemia's direction, there is definitely an a, her mouth opens wide, then closes into a sort of purse, an m maybe and then widen as her lips open a little, an e, and then at an a again, as far as can be visible from lip motion.
Novel first spazzes out again, jotling himself this way and that, but he manages to - switch to a breaststroke. Okay. He's dropped off his explosives, right? Right. He's done here. Let's see... glance at everyone. Glance at the eels. Glance up. A squint up at the kid - okay. Fine. He does his mostly human best to swim up after the kid that's just riding on up to what is probably a deathtrap. He's not going to pop out of the water. That is insane. But if there's more shocky shitty things, he MIGHT need to put his knife to work.
As the boy shoots upward after the device, another - clearly dropped into the water after the first - approaches from the side. This, Emmanuel and other Templars may recognize all too well, despite its odd shape, for the torpedo-like design furls open, shooting out a net that appears to be pure silver. Electrified silver. The sort of silver that, the moment the net wraps around the boy, he arches and screams, and his tail... disappears. Aside from the tiny traces of blue-green scales on his arms and legs, he's entirely human and, in the depths of the sea, entirely helpless.
Though the divemask wearing humans can hear nothing, the sirens clearly did, for down in the depths, the three look up. One of the redheads goes incredibly pale and sways, while the other shoots upward toward the helpless, drowning boy. But the blue-haired sea-witch? Despite a look of true, potent rage, she remains where she is.
Her tail thrashes on the sea floor as she lifts her hands. And then, something startling, perhaps, as she throws back her head and spews that mouthful of blood back into the water, across those bags of explosives: her hands begin to glow, and then a stream of fire shoots, through the water, towards all of that 'boom' in the bags, waiting to happen. Fire engulfs the bags and the massive pipe that buries itself into the seafloor.
Then, despite everything that's happening with the boy above, the siren looks back with a flicker of empathy across her face. She shifts in her tracks, swimming down toward the group of humans, all in definite reach of that explosion, when it occurs. She reaches out in a hurry, careless about just how she grabs each of them. Hair, clothes, whatever. It doesn't matter. She grabs. When Novel seems inclined to get too far away, she whips her body around, trying to corral him with her tail, to force him back in. A bubble forms around her, around them. It swells and grows.
Templars kill monsters.
That's what they do, it's part and parcel of their task to protect humanity from the supernatural menace. But this child? They didn't ask to be born as a monster, and while they should be chipped, and taught, and watched over? Drowned might almost be a step too far, even for Emmanuel, for now, at least. He's kicking his legs, and skittering through the water before he even quite knows what he's doing, darting toward the child surrounded by the neutralizer, and attempting to free them. He's human, it can't hurt him. The stubborn Frenchman even goes so far as to drag his breathing apparatus off, and shove it through to the child as he cuts and stabs, and tries to disarm the device.
Novel produces an exasperated huff in response to the siren, rolling his eyes and then he does what he can do. His hand seizes the blade - and the throws it with as much force as he can towards the net before back into the bubble he goes, shoved on down. He sort of - shrugs, helplessly. And he waves at the siren, smirking to be annoying, waving with one hand and doing the thumb and pinkie thing to the side of his head in the standard 'call me' gesture.
Ritsuka gets dragged on her arm, her head is still hooded, she never pulled that back and wet strands of hair certainly float and cling within that space, uncomfortably, but when she is close, there is no grander need to hold on to her, because her own hands reach for the Siren instead, to try and sling a hand around her waist. She holds on there, not curling it around as if it was a motion that would be sexual, it simply is, lacking of the usual nuance that would make it different.
And then, she looks to the Siren, and gestures towards the others, the boy. A hand reaches around herself, and though this will hurt the blade tremendously, being in so much water, comes forth her own little weapon, sharp as a razor and the intended use is to do as Novel and Emmanuel are.
Euphemia is already swimming towards the boy at the first opportunity available to her -- though with her lack of aquatic familiarity and the developing strength in her arms, Euphemia can't quite parse through the water nearly as swiftly as the other men might. A singular motion of the Siren was all it took to catch Euphemia mid-ascension... pulling her back into the depths with a gargled scream... until the bubble enveloping them all silences her voice. An arm outstretches towards Emmanuel, and the boy caught in the net... as the darkness begins to envelop her once more.
The siren shakes her head, not at all intending to let Ritsuka go. As the bubble grows and Novel tries to throw his knife beneath the waves, she rolls her eyes - someone knows -some- human culture, clearly. Then she's pushing the three of them down, including Euphemia, in towards that bubble and through, if she can to what they can all see is a shimmering visual of the sea, looking toward Sidney Beach. There's Hometown in the distance. The push is forceful, the air and water at their back determined to send them through.
The other two sirens shoot upward, the twin redheads whipping through the water, away from the mess of explosives that are just now beginning to be set off. The first pulse of water pushes them upward, but soon after it's searing heat and so much pressure. This is likely to set off a tsunami somewhere, but all three females are too engrossed in other matters like saving humans and one small boy, to worry about the repercussions right now. Is that a bad choice? Probably. The pipe shudders, rocks, sways, and starts to crumble, as explosion after explosion rocks its base.
Emmanuel manages to get that mouthpiece to the child in time to prevent him from dying, but that leaves the human Templar in one hell of an awkward position. Did he just give up his own life for a monster? A child monster but still... There's noise from overhead, hooks spiralling down into the water to catch hold of that net, and the boy contained within it. One of the sirens screams, her arms outstretched and a look of intense agony on her face. She can't get there in time. The other whips around to swim to Emmanuel.
Up goes the net. Up and up, toward the surface. Emmanuel's metal knife can't cut through it, even as finely woven as it is, and so he's got a choice to make. Up to the surface to meet whomever is controlling this device, or down, with his peers, to that bubble of safety showing Haven's shoreline?
It can not be said enough that Emmanuel is not always a smart man. He makes bad decisions. He runs his mouth. He picks arguments against literal roomfuls of monsters.
He reaches into his straps, and produces a frag grenade. This is a bad decision. His lungs are starting to burn as each moment ticks on by, but the pin of the thing is pulled out, and he holds the grenade up and toward the various hooks that catch onto the netting.
One.
Two.
line The grenade is released, and Emmanuel curls himself around the net and the body inside, using his body as a shield and screwing his eyes shut. The concussive force of the explosive should be lessened in the water, surely, so he shouldn't burst like an overly ripe watermelon dropped off a ledge. He hopes.
Ritsuka would sigh, and so she breathes in as bubbles go up again from where the air escapes and rises beyond and up. Her gaze is turned towards the boy and Emmanuel, but she makes no move to resist the Siren. A light shiver crosses over her form, and her armed hand lowers again. Down here, there is no way that she can sheath the blade back into its saya again. She watches Emmanuel move to explode the damn net, and watches with a certain, difficult to describe expression.
Euphemia screams into her mask, the water beginning to boil around her as the lights within her begin to pulse dangerously in tune with the ferocity of her snarl. She drives a trembling fist into the hands that force her through that bubble, fighting to tear her way past water and flesh to claw her way back towards the silhouetted figures above. But Euphemia is pulled away too swiftly to react. The water forces her through that illusory landscape... ASSUMEDLY disappearing from view as Euphemia is transported elsewhere.
It's one hell of a try, that's for sure. It's the sort of life-saving rescue attempt they write ballads about - just not in the Temple. The grenade explodes and there's definitely damage done. Unfortunately, some of that damage is to Emmanuel, himself. The blast doesn't kill him, not in the water, but it does indeed knock him out, blasting him and the net and the boy backwards. Unfortunately, it's not enough to completely destroy the machinery whirring above, pulling the boy and the net upwards.
As Emmanuel floats off, lungs bursting for air and no longer impeded by a conscious brain, he'd drown and die, and sink slowly to the sea floor, perhaps one day to become part of an oil deposit himself...
But there's a siren there. Not the one keening over the disappearing boy, but her twin, the other of the redhaired pair. She wraps Emmanuel's limp body in her arms, seals her lips over his mouth, and as she pushes back down into the depths, and the bubble that offers safety and security across the seas, she breathes air into his lungs.
Euphemia will indeed end up on the other side with Ritsuka and Novel - but so will a limp, but alive, Emmanuel.
// Thanks for coming along, guys! One second here, and time for wrap up emotes.
Their descent into the deep is marked by a fleeting alliance with merfolk, who, driven by their own relentless vendetta against environmental exploitation, guide the group towards the drill’s vulnerable heart. Yet, as they prepare their explosive retribution, an unforeseen adversary emerges from the shadows. A sleek, torpedo-like device dispatched by unseen forces above seeks to thwart their mission, capturing the mer-boy guiding them with a silver, electrified net.
In a poignant display of bravery, Emmanuel, a Templar, makes a sacrificial choice, forsaking his own safety to free the imperiled mer-child using a grenade. The detonation, muffled by the dense water, inflicts harm upon him and fails to secure the boy's freedom. Rendered unconscious, Emmanuel drifts amidst the chaos, a specter of mortality in the abyss.
As peril mounts, the mer-matriarch invokes the primal force of fire beneath the waves, igniting the charges with a torrent of Novel's demon-infused blood. The impending cataclysm promises to reshape the ocean floor, a testament to their defiance against the corporate leviathan above.
Amidst this turmoil, the group, along with the unconscious Emmanuel, is shepherded through a mystical portal by the sirens, a gateway shimmering with the promise of safety. Euphemia, her celestial light flickering in the aquatic gloom, and Ritsuka, wielding a razor's edge with untold grace, find themselves hurled into the unknown alongside Novel, each grappling with the weight of their actions.
They emerge on a distant shore, Haven’s familiar coastline greeting them with the stark reminder of the world they've momentarily left behind. Rescued from the brink of death by a siren's breath, Emmanuel’s life hangs by a thread, a stark emblem of the intricate dance between humanity and the mythic.
As the narrative weaves to its close, it leaves us to ponder the intricate balance of sacrifices and alliances forged in the depths, a reminder of the unseen battles that rage beneath the surface of the sea, and the unforeseen consequences they may yield.
(Deep Sea Synergy(SRLilah):SRLilah)
[Thu Oct 10 2024]
In the newly painted Living Room of Apartment 104
The area is bright.
It has cheap decor.
The small, unassuming living room now feels refreshingly inviting after a thorough clean-up. The aged furniture has been carefully arranged, giving the room a sense of balance. Any fixable blemishes have been meticulously addressed, with scratches in the paneling smoothed out and surfaces polished to a subtle shine. Though the ceiling still bears some blotchy discoloration from water stains , a few strategically placed houseplants draw the eye away and bring in a touch of nature.
A crisp, fresh coat of white paint covers the walls, illuminating the space with a newfound brightness. The once-dated decor has been carefully integrated into the rooms aesthetic: the green-glass table lamp now adds a quirky vintage charm, while the overly floral watercolor painting is offset by modern, minimalist touches a soft gray throw on the couch and a sleek wooden coffee table. The overall result is a charming blend of old and new, with the apartment feeling lived-in but lovingly cared for.
It is about 55F(12C) degrees.
Novel grumps at Lilah's statement, starting to wake up, the initial sedating from various chemical influences and good company slowly wearing off as he stretches out. "That's awful." He tells Emmanuel, flatly. "You should learn how to fucking cook properly dumbass. But at least you do it there and not in goddamn here."
"Cooking good food makes life a lot better, Emmanuel," Ritsuka quietly says, offering a more gentle smile once the disgust does fade, somewhere after Novel grumps. "I did eat a little too much yesterday because I made very delicious food." She chuckles, looking a little embarrassed "I didn't want to move. It was too much."
"Ah, I do non have the time, hm? Or the brain space." Emmanuel relates back to Novel, raising a hand to tap at his brow, "It is full with quips, and the sarcasm, non?" With that said, the fellow lowers his hand, and moves over to fetch a big ol' bag that was sitting just out of sight. Funny that. It clinks, and it clatters, and it's clearly heavy. "I am thinking that it is the /eating/, and non the cooking, hm?" He reasons back to Ritsuka with an amused quirk of the lips, "But for now? We are having work to do."
"That's how I feel every day!" Lilah protests to Ritsuka, patting her belly with another laugh. "I never want to move any more. But... I usually manage. Yesterday though, I was totally lazy too."
As soon as the last of the group arrives and has settled in at apartment 104, a young woman dressed in hiking boots, worn jeans, and a heavy flannel briskly raps on the door. "Sofia," she introduces herself without any aplomb, giving just a simple dip of her head in greeting. "Hey Lilah. Hi everyone. Lilah said you all needed a hand getting out to the drillship? Come on then." She holds out her hands, waiting for each person to link into the living chain, and then steps forward, into the gloom and leaving the very pregnant redhead behind, all by herself to watch TV on Emmanuel's couch.
The moment they enter, the familiar world dissolves around them, replaced by the dark, mist-filled landscape of the path. Ghostly trees loom tall on either side, their twisted, leafless branches stretching out into the thick fog like skeletal fingers. The air is cool and damp, carrying scents that can't quite be placed; it definitely smells like no other place, anywhere on Earth. The ground beneath their feet feels firm, like a well-worn trail, but the mist swirling around them seems to shift and pulse with each step, keeping the way forward almost invisible for those who don't know the way. "Don't lose sight of me," Sofia warns as she leads the way, walking with the confidence of one whose done this many times. Her warning is well-placed; every time she gets more than two or three steps ahead, the mists threaten to swallow her from sight entirely.
Distances seem to blur, with the world beyond the mist unreachable, and time itself feels distorted. After what feels like both moments and an eternity, the dark forest begins to thin, and the muffled roar of ocean waves becomes clearer.
As they step out of the path, the oppressive mist gives way to the reality of the storm-tossed Aegirs Wrath. The rain immediately lashes against them, too, and the deck of the drillship sways underfoot, alive with sound in the aftermath of the hurricanes that've pounded the Atlantic. Luckily, there's shelter from both the inclement weather and the crew's line of sight behind some crates stacked up against the wall of a modular station.
Novel remarks, mostly to himself, "Hey! I've been in this fucking forest before! It shows up when I'm REALLY high!" He unhelpfully fills in, ambling along the path without any real problems as he trails after the girl names Sofia without too much trouble. He reaches into his pocket, to pull out a glass pipe packed with white powder... and then he trails a look over whom he's traveling with and then sliiiiides the crack pipe back away. He reaches back behind him to grasp the wrist of someone if they trail too far, thumping along before they fall upon the rain. He staggers in the weather, cursing just like the sailors who likely liver there, ranting more to himself, "FUCKING HELL. I WISH I HAD BROUGHT MY PONCHO." As he lifts his leather jacket up and over his head as he ducks against the crates, huddling in like a drowned rat.
Ritsuka does come to slide up and makes a "Hai!" to Emmanuel and then a new person comes and stops by. She returns the dip of her head "Konbanwa, Sofia-san." And listens. She does glance to Emmanuel and Novel, and then to Euphemia before she huffs in a breach and reaches out for the living chain with a tender, cautious hand and she makes a sort of cute-ish 'woah' sound when the familiar world dissolved around her. The mist does cover far too much for her own liking, in such a manner that she really cannot see beyond the brief distance, and once prompted to not lose sight of the leading woman, she follows at a brisk pace, coming and looking to try and stay only a foot away from Sofia. She doesn't glance around beyond the initial look, to the skeletal hands that vie for the sky leaflessly, or the grimace that creeps over her face when she tastes the particular unique 'smell'.
Then comes the sea, and she reaches up to pull the hood of her hoodie over her head. Rain pellets over the one visible shoulder and she adjusts the pullover just a little bit to cover up furtively. With the hurricanes, the umbrella would only prove a hindrance, and so, it disappears into her satchel. There is some noise, that she can hear, and she looks to Novel, but the words are difficult for her. Closer to the ship now, she affords a look back, and from Novel, her gaze goes back to Emmanuel, and then to peer for Euphemia.
There is always something unsettling about moving through the woods between worlds and places, and that strange feeling serves to smother a lot of the banter that Emmanuel would normally be providing as they wander along the path. Much like Novel, the Frenchman is very wary of anyone being distracted, or led astray, and quick to bump them back into moving as he lugs along his giant bag of goods.
Emmanuel doesn't even quite realize that he'd been nearly holding his breath until he steps back out into reality, and into the storm. "Hurk!" He nearly gets jerked over by the sudden pounding of wind and rain, until he manages to find his footing, and shut his mouth, blinking rapidly through the air. "This is why I brought my hat!" He chirps over toward Novel, drawing a bucket hat out of his giant bag. 'Rather be fishin' it says, and is only allowed about two seconds to be envied by the others before it's whipped right off of Emmanuel's head, and disappears into the sea.
"..Merde." Emmanuel mutters.
Euphemia raises her hands to pull the fabric of her hood over her head, concealing long tresses of golden rays of sunlight beneath the crimson fabrics she wore. Her glacial gaze remains fixated upon the path ahead... Weariness evident in her expression... but maintaining a professional degree of cold calculation as she surveys the landscape unfolding before them. She remains a few paces away from Emmanuel's side, lowering both hands to rest within the pockets of her hoodie... a small, wavering smile lightening her features only as her eyes land upon Ritsuka. She says nothing, simply offering her a quiet nod of greeting.
The rain beats down in heavy sheets, turning the deck of the drillship into a slick, treacherous surface, though there's some shelter to be found from the worst of it for our daring adventurers! The aftermath of the hurricane still lingers, the ocean churning beneath them as waves slam against the hull of the Aegirs Wrath. The storm hasnt fully passed, and the relentless downpour blurs the horizon. Emerging from the shadows of the ship, a man in a waterproofed, grease-stained uniform approaches, his expression unreadable, but his movements deliberate. He stops in front of the group, looking them over with a calculating gaze.
"You finally made it," he says, his voice rough, cutting through the steady roar of rain. A bundle of similar uniforms lands at their feet, complete with bright orange life vests and fluorescent safety striping. "Put these on. If you want to stay invisible; it's the best chance youve got. Vetr Group isnt exactly forgiving to outsiders right now, and neither are these mercenaries." He scans the deck, his eyes darting toward the towering drill, the sound of its machinery a constant hum in the background.
"This is the Aegirs Wrath," he continues, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the storm. "Its one of the rigs Vetr Group has running, cutting deep into the ocean floor. But you already know that the sabotage has them on edge - yeah, thats been coming from people like you. Slow and steady. Too slow though. Too fucking slow. They're fixing it as fast as it's being broken down." he chides as if Emmanuel, Ritsuka, Euphemia, and Novel were solely and wholly to blame for things not going to plan in the past. "Now there's rumors that the mer have been sighted down below. That some of the damage to the pipes has been caused by them. Vetrs put a bounty on their heads, especially the sea-witch and her tribe. Dead is preferable to alive, if you believe whats circulating." His eyes narrow, the weight of the words hanging in the air, in a palpable warning. "Means they aren't going to be playing games, either. Stakes are damn high. Damn high." he repeats, slowly shaking his head.
There he pauses, lighting up a cigarette without offering one to any of the group. It's not long enough for them to cut into his rant, though. He's in a hurry! Ignoring any that try, he exhales a plume of smoke and continues: "Youve got a small window to move. The crews shaken from the storm and the damage to the ship is what's buying you time, but it wont last. Vetrs mercs are already on edge, and if they catch wind of you, itll turn ugly fast." He takes a step back, crossing his arms, giving them a final look. "Do what you came here to do. Do it fast. But keep your eyes open - if the sirens out there, shes not the only one watching." That said, without waiting for questions, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the hatch leading to the storm-darkened interior of the ship. "And - if you get caught? Keep my name out your mouths."
There's no time like the present, and Emmanuel will need to stop mourning the loss of his super cool hat in order to focus on the task at hand. He nods over toward the man, taking his words at face value, and then immediately starts stripping down to his underwear in order to dress himself in the more waterproofed outfit of the uniform. He nearly falls over in the process, but ends up jutting out a hand toward Euphemia to help stabilise himself. Only once he's fully dressed once more does he move to scoop up the giant bag he'd brought with him.
"I am thinking we have a look around here, non? And then maybe we go down into the waters? I've brought tanks." The Frenchman explains to his compatriots, and their friendly saboteur as he gives that big ol' bag a jerk. "Or maybe we don't risk being found, and go straight into the drink, non?"
Euphemia offers some support and stability to the man as he reaches for her hand, her cold gaze falling upon his semi-nude figure with an expression of silent consideration. Whatever she's thinking, now is not the time to be voicing it. And it is only as Emmanuel finally finishes changing into the suit that Euphemia begins to dress herself as well. Euphemia, however... takes a different approach. Discarding only her hoodie, her shoes, and her socks... before attempting to pull the uniform over the remaining clothes she already wore. A little big, for her sickly, lithe frame... But Euphemia seems relatively unfazed, nonetheless. Tucking her compass into a pocket before pulling the suit on.
Novel makes an eyeroll at the uniforms, mostly because the man in a leather jacket is pretty hard to mistake for anything what he was - but he follows suit with Emmanuel, his body a horrifying wreck of scars and injuries, and kevlar strapped over his torso and groin hiding most of rest of him. He bundles up his shit in a bag and then draws on the uniform, moving quickly and bitching, "Fuck this rain, fuck these uniforms, why the fuck do they make them so tight in the goddamn crotch," and straps the orange over it as best he can in at least a vague attempt to fit in. Now instead of looking like a wet, out of place bedraggled thug in leather, he has the appearance of a wet, bedraggled Vetr-Corp thug. He's only half-listening to the guy rambling on him, and then remarks, "So, who are we stabbing?" As he readjusts the knife back onto a higher layer of clothing.
Bending to reach for one of the uniforms and life vests, Ritsuka reaches up to keep her hood in place before lifting one of them up and begins going through the process of putting it on - in fact over her already worn clothing, and it fits far too uncomfortably loosely over her thin and fragile form that is even so for Japanese beauty standards. It looks horrible, like a branch struggling to keep to its leaves while it wishes to break and fly away and the only item she adjusts is a concealed weapon. She listens to the man, though her eyes do tell that he is no familiar face to her and that any of the previous events are entirely unknown to her. Her gaze does not speak of feeling as if she was accused or spoken about on the mention the oil rig being fixed as if it was an accusation, and truly, she has naught to do with it.
She breathes in through her nose on the mention of merfolk and the sirens and glances her today's companions over, particularly the uniform for those that put it on. "I am assuming there is no non-lethal option if fighting breaks out?" She says, trying to be louder, not shouting, but louder. Her gaze does go to Emmanuel when he says and her eyes narrow as she tries to listen closely to him. Her lips purse, but she keeps words within.
Dressed like the rest of the workers on board, though Euphemia and Ritsuka might stick out as physically being a bit small for the manual labor occurring on deck, the group will probably be able to blend in well enough. Along the wall of the ship, however, cameras and alarms are set up, designed to alert immediately in the off-chance that someone is swept overboard - or merely jumps on purpose.
Beyond that, so long as the foursome is careful, exploration of the ship and the potential to find other means of getting themselves into the water are open. Easily noticeable from here, the moon pool takes up much of the central part of the ship's deck, and the door leading down below decks to the crew's cabin has been left wide open, despite the wind and rain. It wouldn't take much either for them to realize that the wall they're sheltering against is that of the drill cabin, though it is likely manned despite the late hour as Vetr drives its employees to make maximum money at maxiumum speed.
They have time to decide, so long as now crew members spot them 'slacking off' back here.
"There is always a non-lethal option, non?" Emmanuel chirps back over toward Ritsuka as he click-clacks his dorky bum bag around his waist, and then unzips one of it's many, many pouches. Nestled inside, safe from the storm so far, is the plastic shape of a tranq pistol. Just in case. He pets it. The Frenchman doesn't seem to mind the uniform all that much, really, maybe the crotch is less of a problem for him than Novel. Poor Emmanuel.
Emmanuel turns his gaze out towards their surroundings, squinting through the whip and drizzle as he spots the various cameras, indicating each to his compatriots, before gesturing over towards the door leading downwards, into the crew cabin, "We could have a poke inside here, hm? See if there is anything useful?"
Euphemia says, nodding to Emmanuel, and lowering herself to the ground, "I did not exactly bring any of my gear. I hope a fight is not what this is going to turn into."
"You did good to bring that," Ritsuka chirps, relaxing when she sees Emmanuel take up a tranquil weapon over something that would be lethal, and it does come with an approving nod. She has to lean against the wind whenever it changes the direction for a moment, though with hurricanes they fortunately rarely ever do. Her gaze follows Emmanuel's and she, too, has to squint. "I think it might be a start and it will get us out of these horrible Winds. But there might be a lot of crew. If someone asks me I will probably answer I no speak english. It has helped so far not once!" It draws a little bit of a soft smile to her, with the squint against the lashing winds and rain. She does glance to Euphemia "I will try to knock them out if I can if it goes bad. I am stronger than I look. A spirit gave me its blessing."
Novel is thug, the muscle. He does have a brain, it's just usually fried with drugs and over-stimulated because under-stimulated Novel gets bored - and a bored demon blooded isn't good for anyone's health, especially the people near him. "Sounds good to fucking me," He answers easily to Emmanuel, giving Euphemia and Ritsuka assessing looks - before he just strides over towards the open doorway like he owns the place. Shoulders square, walking along, he has places to be and people shouldn't bother him because he's in a bad mood.
Novel heads out. Do the others follow? As he strides across the deck, a worker moving in the other direction, just ducking out into the wet from down belo calls, "Hey man. You off duty? Lucky bastard." He, apparently has the overnight shift. With a bark of laughter and a dry, "The stew's awful, as always, but the coffee's hot man!" he disappears down the deck to wherever it is he's supposed to be.
Unlike the man who'd met them behind the crates, this worker has the good grace to shut the door behind him, keeping out the rough weather. Luckily for the intrepid explorers, it isn't locked. It open easily beneath Novel's hand, revealing a dimly lit hallway, with multiple rooms branching off.
Please go ahead and join the new place, if you're going to head that direction. If anyone's branching off to do their own thing, join the place that appeals to you!
OOC Emmanuel - I think we were actually headed to below deck? Unless Novel changed his mind?
Well, Emmanuel falls into step behind Novel, wandering over with him and flicking a knowing nod toward the other bloke who wanders past, "Work, work, eh?" He does his best attempt at an American accent back to him, and then nods again. Then they're wandering down and into the bowels of the vessel, hunching his shoulders somewhat as if worried that he'd bang his head on the lower roof - despite there being more than enough room for him. It's a psycological thing.
Euphemia continues to trail behind Emmanuel in silence, the dock worker's swift departure easily written off as ultimately something that was 'not their problem'. Her own objectives are clear. Focus on the mission. Keep Emmanuel safe. And try to find any diplomatic solution she can to this mess they are literally about to dive into.
Letting out a sigh, Ritsuka starts to hurry on after Novel, and mutters something unhappily in Japanese. It is about the weather, and she does try to walk on closely behind Emmanuel, pulling the hood on her head just a little deeper, as much as it may, because really, she stands out far too much with the artful waterproof make up she wears. It also means she keeps her gaze a little lowered. At least no one would recognize her later if it came down to it. Her form does visibly relax when the uniform does not blow against her attire anymore, and it instead begins to hang a touch horribly on her upper body in particular.
Within, she keeps behind and keeps her gaze onward, and still a little lowered, only the blues of her irises glance to the sides of her eyes, never settling onto someone for too long. She carries an analytical look, trying to figure out who might be guard and who not.
Once inside, it is both drier and warmer, though those still wearing their clothes beneath the pull-on uniforms might find it a bit uncomfortable to have their clothes clinging to their bodies and trapped there by the overlayer.
Their feet echo off the metal flooring as they walk, but eventually they're going to have to make a choice of where to head next. The gym? The mess hall? Try their luck in the crew's sleeping quarters? A little distance further on, a very solidly locked hatch reads MAINTENANCE in bold letters. Or maybe they'll head back up? It's all up to them!
As they walk, a pair of crew members turn past them, out of one of the sleeping quarters, walking side by side toward the mess hall. "Another cable snapped down in the moon pool yesterday," the first man mutters, his arms hanging limp at his sides and every step plagued with exhaustion. "Third one this month. Were lucky it didnt take someones head off."
Novel immediately mimicks the men. He doesn't even think about it. He lists to one side, his eyes lid, and he adopts the slouch of the zombie, the still-living, the one who needs coffee and food and a full night's rest. And he beelines towards the hatch. He's not taking people who will IMMEDIATELY blow their cover, and then he glances back to Emmanuel as he props himself up to keep watch nearby.
They /are/ lucky it didn't take someone's head off, that's for sure, and that's what the little sound that Emmanuel makes communicates. It's not quite a hum, or a grunt, something in between. Something manly. Emmanuel is feeling very manly dressed in his manly rig-worker clothes. He struts over towards the room labelled MAINTENANCE as if it were actually reading, SNEAK IN HERE EMMANUEL AND BREAK THINGS, because this is how it reads to him.
Euphemia seems content to simply hang behind the others and allow them to lead -- not that silence is a trait particularly unusual to the average corporate slave. There is a silent, thoughtless nod of agreement -- a casual (borrowed) tool held to the side, and a slouching step to follow Emmanuel's lead. Face directed to dutifully admire the metal flooring below.
Ritsuka trails after Emmanuel and after Euphemia and the ocean blues of her irises perk towards the crew members that wanders past them, and a certain sadness crosses over her features on the mention of being 'lucky it didn't take someone's head off'. Her stature remains the same, unchanged, gaze lowered and trailing after the other two, at least until Novel suddenly bee-lines towards that particular hatch, and she turns to walk towards the mess hall, not too far, if it is too far away, though if it is close enough, her gaze will go around the room looking for the source of coffee.
Oh, it is the sort of place that does scream for troublesome Frenchmen and daredevil demonborn, isn't it? That locked MAINTENANCE hatch that's going to take some clever fingers to get open. But while Novel stands guard, and Emmanuel gives in to the temptation to explore, the path to the mess hall is left wide open for the two girls to head in that direction. Or, if Euphemia is heading to the maintenance hatch, the young Japanese girl can head off on her own.
Novel does not have clever fingers. Though he IS tempted to try wrenching it open, that would probably have... consequences. And he watches Ritsuka go with concern and slightly furrowed brow - and then he shrugs it off. Eh. She can take care of herself, probably. She's a grown woman. He lounges there, waiting for Emmanuel, settling back into his hooligan state of malingering while trying to communicate to Euphemia exclusively through facial features and eyebrows. Unfortunately, he is probably unable to convey anything useful.
Turning towards the mess hall, Ritsuka does give Novel the most subtle of a nod. She stands out, it would be no good if she stayed while the others try to be covert, that much may perhaps be evident on its own. Her gaze remains lowered as she steps into the far more utilitarian space with long metal tables and benches until they find the coffee station and it is there that her own steps turn to. Her steps remains slow and cautious, and it is the one thing she does share with the rest of the crew- it is a weary one.
Once at the coffee station, she looks the station over, trying to get herself a cup- probably of plastic to pour whatever coffee there is into it, but only halfway.
Emmanuel /does/ have clever fingers, and it's these clever fingers that are deployed against the maintenance hatch, as he leans in closer to inspect it's lock, if there is one, and goes about trying to convince it to open up for him. He seduces the thing in low, French mutters, while working at it with his handy-dandy lockpick.
"Eheh-hon, hon." Emmanuel cannot help but laugh a little under his breath, his eyes going wide as he comes across the stacks of explosives. There's little pussyfooting around at this point, as he moves to start opening the crates, if possible, and rooting around inside to score them a few explosive advantages for their ongoing attempts.
Raising the plastic cup to her lips to raise a little bit, to make it look like she is taking a sip, Ritsuka does listen on to the group. Her own fragile form moves, as if exhausted towards the table to sit down for a moment, taking another seeming sip from the cup before she rises again. She does not give anyone else a look, or her precise attention to anything other than her cup. But she listens. When the conversation turns away from the topic, she does rise again, looking at whatever clock there is before drawing towards the hallways again, attempting to slide out and leave the mess hall.
Ritsuka glances to the group and she makes an apologetic look, her next words are in English, of course "I sincerely apologize if I was rude leaving like this." She rolls her shoulder and makes a pitiful expression while holding a hand over it "I thought this job would be easier but it is very difficult. I am not built for this but I thought it would be good money." She palms her hands together again "I apologize again but I really need to get back to work, I will be in huge trouble if I am one more minute here."
Ritsuka spins around and now hurries on with a quicker pace away from the mess hall, not so much that she is fleeing, just in a rush, short on time. She does come to a stop and turns towards the original exit, glancing that way to see if there is people, and continuing that way until she has passed them if there are, before glancing back to look to the maintenance hatch, and if there is problems there. If there isn't, her way leads her back towards it, gaze lowered.
"..Maaaaybe." Emmanuel answers back while very obviously rustling through the explosives. Yes, they are definitely planning something or other. He's absolutely been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Ritsuka, Euphie? We've found a friend, mon amies," The man whisper-speaks into their shared comms, tapping at the device behind his ear before letting his hand fall back toward the explosives. "There was mention of the mer suffering, non?" He opines to Novel, apparently deciding that they should at least hear the child out.
(repost for Ritsuka "The whole sea suffers!" the boy exclaims at Emmanuel's claim, his chin lifting and sea-green eyes, very familiar sea-green eyes glinting with anger at this. "If they drilled into the center of where you lived, you would feel the same!" But that anger is gone a heartbeat later, as he watches the two men grab up explosives. He claps his hands together, his laughter bubbling and delighted. "We will leave a mark they won't soon forget, with all of that. Come, come! I came for you!" There's no more hesitation now, though he stiffens, cocking his head slightly at something or other and then... he's gone. Just gone.
Or not quite gone, as a moment later, a tiny little blue-furred mouse with sea-green scales along its tail scurries out of the corner. It looks like a little white mouse fell into a pitcher of Kool-Aid, really. It hurries out, racing between Emmanuel's feet, before trying to scurry its way up Novel's uniform leg. High-pitched little squeaks urge them on.
Ritsuka winces to seeing that the hatch may be ajar but that it would be a little difficult for her to get there. She raises a hand up and pinches the bridge of her nose before letting out a little bit of a sigh. She looks across the hallway, and then to the hatch. Looking for the right opportunity to slide over without drawing too much attention. And so, she may just barely manage to slip on through, trying to subtly draw the door closer.
"Some detonators have gone missing. And the crew thinks it was odd that the explosives were placed here. But they do know something isn't right. They are kept clueless by their superiors, but have suspicions." She did not hear most of what the boy shared, and did not even see him, only the rat that is now squeaking at Novel and her own tone is more subdued, quiet, cautious.
"They might be for blowing up people, instead of rocks, hm?" Emmanuel ventures in response to the information shared by Ritsuka, then adding, "Good work, hm?" With a quirk of the lips, there's a few attempts to avoid the fae-mouse getting too close to him then, and he looks relieved when it climbs onto Novel instead. "Oh, this little mouse is our friend." Emmanuel notes back to Ritsuka, hefting up some explosives and making to follow the mouse and man into the further hatch.
Novel is happy to pile himself up with bombs. He does love his explosions... and then he's climbed on by an animal. He squints down at it suspiciously, and then flashes broad white teeth as he follows along the trail. Hell, someone's telling him to destroy things. Today promises to be looking up after all that shitty rain. Never mind that most of the people on board are probably normal and many of them will likely die. That isn't -his- problem. He came here to do a job, and to kick Vetr-Corp figuratively in the balls. Literally, if he could manage it. "Hey, Ritz? Oh yeah? That's fucking handy. I mean, I'd be sus as hell about this job, but I wouldn't have come here in the fucking first place..."
Did Emmanuel just call a Fae creature friend? Surely not. But the little mouse, in its efforts to scurry up to Novel's shoulder, squeaks rapidly, then turns, leaping through the air to land on a crate, then off the crate to duck through the door and into that very, very narrow, claustrophobia-inducing auxilliary hatch. It's a very agile little creature, but once it's gone into the hatch, only those occasional squeaks can be heard in its efforts to hurry the others on, as someone fills them in on what she's learned.
Suddenly, from behind the hatch there's a hiss of very human-sounding breath and a hushed, "Be hurrying! You have enough. They are coming now. Humans! We must go!."
Did Emmanuel just call a Fae creature friend? Surely not. But the little mouse, in its efforts to scurry up to Novel's shoulder, squeaks rapidly, then turns, leaping through the air to land on a crate, then off the crate to duck through the door and into that very, very narrow, claustrophobia-inducing auxilliary hatch. It's a very agile little creature, but once it's gone into the hatch, only those occasional squeaks can be heard in its efforts to hurry the others on, as Ritsuka fills them in on what she's learned.
Suddenly, from behind the hatch there's a hiss of very human-sounding breath and a hushed, "Be hurrying! You have enough. They are coming now. Humans! We must go!."
"This is probably enough to destroy the platform, but the foreman needs to go and the innocent evacuated," Ritsuka adds, her eyes looking over the white mouse with a thoughtful tilt of her head. "I would volunteer to to hunt the foreman. Get access to the speaker-" And then the warning. She adjusts her concealed weapon a little bit, readying it just in case and then gives to make a nod to Emmanuel and Novel, falling to silence.
Novel moves to follow, grunting in response, "All right, all right," His long-legged stride eating up distance as he immediately moves down the hall - and away, intent to drag the explosives to the next locale and plant them. He was just getting materials!
"It is being a matter of timing, hm? Too early, and we reveal our hand. Too late, and, well," A bunch of people destroying the environment while working for the Man may die. Not ideal. But also, you know, it's not like they're /innocent/. "..We will find a way, hm? To get into their comms, if needing be." Emmanuel allows aside to Ritsuka, and then moves to wander down the tunnel at the words of their new fri- guide. Not friend. Guide. Just a guide.
The auxiliary shaft is a narrow, dimly lit passage tucked away deep in the ships lower levels, almost forgotten by all but the maintenance team. The walls are slick with condensation and streaked with rust from years of exposure to the salty sea air. Overhead, thick bundles of cables and pipes twist and weave along the ceiling, some patched hastily with tape, others humming with the ships low mechanical vibrations. The air is thick and humid, carrying the faint smell of oil and metal, and the floor, a grated metal walkway, is damp and slippery beneath hurried feet.
The shaft twists and narrows further as it goes, the light from the occasional flickering bulb growing fainter the further it stretches. It isn't long however, before it becomes obvious that the shaft slants upward, winding through the ship toward the upper decks. As they hurry on, led by the blue-haired boy, the smell of brine and sea grows stronger, until finally the passage way opens into a grated doorway, giving a view of the moon pool, just beyond it.
"Here." the boy says succinctly. "Into the sea and we will teach these greedy humans a lesson!" There's a hint of malice in eyes too young to hold such things. "If we are quick, they will not see. Will not know until it is too late. It doesn't sound like -he- has any plans to cooperate with Ritsuka's desire to give warnings."
(ugh) "Here." the boy says succinctly. "Into the sea and we will teach these greedy humans a lesson!" There's a hint of malice in eyes too young to hold such things. "If we are quick, they will not see. Will not know until it is too late." It doesn't sound like -he- has any plans to cooperate with Ritsuka's desire to give warnings.
The bag that Emmanuel had been hucking about on his shoulders is twisted, and tossed to the side, before Emmanuel leans down and begins dragging equipment out of it. Temple branded technology. Stuff that isn't quite on the market yet. The breathing apparatus is like an open-faced helmet, that extends down over the torso and has small, well compressed breathing tanks on their back. He hands one of these out to each of the party, but not the child. They likely don't need help breathing under water.
Feel free to join the pool, if we're heading that way!
Novel nabs the gear from Emmanuel, pausing only a moment to stack up all those boxes of delicious tre- I mean, explosives and slide it right over his head and face and then make sure it's clipped right in place. And THEN he'll grab the boxes, lifting his head up to anyone who isn't carrying one. "Grab one, will you?" Before he steps on over after the kid. He is speaking his LANGUAGE. "Thanks for fucking having these, Frenchie. Way less goddamn awkward than the other bullshit..."
Euphemia offers a slight nod of appreciation to Emmanuel, blinking away the haze that seems to have overtaken her in the past few moments of unexpected silence. Euphemia releases a weary sigh... reaching back to affix the tank over her shoulders... and reaching up to affix the mask over her face. She seems to struggle a little with the mechanisms involved, unfamiliar with the usage of said tools. But Euphemia seems intent upon figuring it out on her own.
Ritsuka affixes the mask to herself with little trouble, she looks the mechanism over before adapting it, and then she joins beyond the grate into the pool. For now.
Much like the others Emmanuel slides on his own set of breathing gear, and tests the onboard comms with a few little chirps and buzzes, then checks on the others. Once everyone is set he slides the now empty bag back onto his back, and goes about hefting the boxes of explosives, then following toward the moon pool.
As the others don masks, the boy darts quickly to the edge of the moon pool, unobserved in the moment as the pipeline is currently setting, settling, and being cemented into place. He looks back, hissing below the noise of grinding machinery, "We really must hurry!" And then he's jacknifing into the water with the skill and agility of an Olympic diver.
A moment later, some bags of woven seaweed, so tightly knit as to be completely water proof are thrown up onto the side of the moon pool. But the child doesn't resurface. It's up to this little crew now, to decide what to do.
Whatever they do, they need to decide quickly, because that simple movement, that dive over the side, has triggered an alarm somewhere - or something else did. The sirens start to blare, and workers drop their tools and look around, already starting to panic.
Novel is calm, casual. When everyone else is getting excited, he's focused and productive, getting things done without any sense of urgency. Mostly because he's fighting to keep a gleeful grin on his face, cramming his electronics that might get damaged into a bag. THe bomb boxes go into the other, though his electronics bag has room. He only waits for others to follow suit - Emmanuel, Ritsuka, Euphemia - before grabbing both and dropping right into the water.
Euphemia swiftly adjusts the straps of her gear, ensuring everything present remains firmly affixed to her body. With a deep breath to test the efficacy of her oxygen tank... and a sideways glance to the others... Euphemia retreats a few paces... before running past and diving into the water with zero hesitation. Seems Novel missed his chance.
There's a wary glance around at the alarm that goes off, before Emmanuel breaks the seal on his mask just long enough to shout out, "Fire! Oh non! Fire! Abandon ship!" Well, hopefully that throws a little more confusion into the situation. The explosives, and anything else sensitive are placed into the waterproof bags, before Emmanuel wanders over to the edge of the pool, and prepares to just fall into it, a little haphazardly, though he waits to ensure Euphemia and Ritsuka have managed their submersion first.
Ritsuka puts some explosives into the bag that is there for her, and then sinks on under, too. She does not consider a reason to hesitate with alarms going off, but she is no athlete when it comes to swimming.
From one of the modular cabins, right as the foursome drop into the water, stalks a man dressed from head to toe in black. It's so traditional that it's cliche. Black suit, black shirt, black tie, black fedora that doesn't blow off his head like poor Emmanuel's fishing hat did, black shoes, and a black briefcase in his hands. He stalks across the deck like the weather doesn't bother him one bit, and finds himself a spot to crouch on the edge of the moon pool.
*Click*
The briefcase opens, revealing a touchscreen on the upper half, and a small, sleek, black device on the lower. This he takes out, and merely drops into the water, before sitting back and watching on his screen.
Below the water, as they drop into the clouded depths of the sea, light begins to fade. It gets darker and darker for those that can't see in the murky gloom. But soon enough Emmanuel, Euphemia, Novel, and Ritsuka can -feel- if not see, bodies swimming up against theirs. And then there's light, a soft greenish sort of glow, brought on by luminescent fish attached to... leashes.
Ritsuka swims downwards on her own until she notices something, of course, if not for the swimming devices Emmanuel provided it would be far more difficult. The translucent fish swim and the single free hand tries to reach out for one of them before her gaze looks towards whichever being is holding the leash for it. "We brought some gifts." She says, as much as someone can into a breathing device.
Emmanuel taps at the helmet of the breathing setup, knocking on the attached lights that he'd totally forgotten to mention earlier, but geez, they are convinient, non? The man paddles under the waves, pausing to glance over at the bioluminescent fish with a wary look, and another at the leashes. "Mmm.." There's a quiet grumble in the back of his throat.
Novel says something. It comes out as burble burble burble, gurgle gurgle. He ties the bag full of his shit to himself, then hefts up the back on the other hand. He gives the puppies an excited look. There's more murmbling. He gives up. Usually he's full of talking and swears but this just isn't working as he mouths the air thingy and shoves forwards one of the bags fulla bombs. He probably should have remembered to dose them with his blood. Oops oh well.
As Euphemia swam deeper, the fading light above sent a chill through her spine, the growing darkness pressing in from all sides. Her breathing slowed, steady despite the eerie gloom enveloping her. The brush of bodies against her own made her heart quicken, a sense of unease creeping in with each fleeting touch. The murky water swallowed most of her vision, leaving her relying on instinct more than sight. When the soft greenish glow appeared, Euphemia's eyes locked on the luminescent fish, the light offering a strange, almost calming contrast to the oppressive dark. The eerie glow illuminated just enough for her to feel a cautious awareness, but the unknown still lingered in every shadow around her.
They're just fish... lights. Fishlights. But that's all they are, some sort of domesticated glow-in-the-dark pet, brought out to help in the moment. Nearest Ritsuka is the blue-haired mouse-boy they'd met before, though now he's absolutely resplendent. Scales trace down the center of his chest and belly, sweeping across his shoulders and back in a pattern of stipes, and gild his long tail as well. Talons extend from the tips of webbed hands, and fangs that jut slightly past his lower lip, are easily seen, along with razor sharp teeth when he smiles. They weren't before, surely? Surely.
With him are three others, all female, all older, though none of them look like they're much older than mid-twenties at best. Two have red hair and those same sea-green eyes as the boy, with lithe and freckled bodies that are absolutely bare from the waist up except for the mossy scales of their tails - and doesn't water's buoyancy do wonders for that nudity? The third, with the same dark, dark blue hair as the child, has matching scales, leaving her a sleek, dark thing in the water. Her eyes are rich, dark and cunning, and they alone -scream- her age as something far, far more than decades.
When Novel holds out his bag, the dark beauty says something that can't be heard through the human-helmets, and all four of the mer surge forward, wrapping arms around the less limber humans. They dive down, down deep, following the outline of the currently silent drill, into depths that are likely to get uncomfortable for those same humans. At least with those powerful headlamps, they can see where they're going!
Ritsuka offers no resistance to being dragged down into the depths, her ears try to perk up, but though she shares her blood in a different way, she was the descendant of another entity entirely different from them. They also hate water. But there is no point, and so down down it goes, down into the water pressure of discomfort.
There's a few complicate emotions and thoughts that pass through Emmanuel as he peers aside at the transformed boy, and then the others sirens as they approach. Those talons. Those teeth. Those tits. How many men had been dragged down into depths by these creatures, and their kin? Harvested for their seed, murdered, eaten? Emmanuel flinches away from their grappling hands as they surge forward, a brief moment of panic overcoming him before their intent becomes clear. They aren't going to eat them. Yet.
Novel opts to not resist because fighting off a bunch of random t3s and over while underwater in unfamiliar territory is probably a death sentence. And hell, he's carrying a fuckton of explosives. There's probably a lot to it. So he grits his teeth and bears it and hopes his innate demon-bloodedness can deal with nitrogen poisoning.
As the surrounding darkness became overwhelming, Euphemia glances around to the accompanied party... her eyes softening somewhat as she acknowledges Emmanuel's concern. Without a word, her body began to glow... a soft, radiant light blossoming beneath her breast... outlining her veins with flickering flames that glimmer subtly beneath the skin. The glow spread across her form, illuminating the murky waters around her. The soft golden light cutting through the oppressive gloom, revealing glimpses of the strange shapes that swam nearby. Her body casts a serene, steady glow, pushing back the shadows and allowing the others to see just enough in the dim depths. The light flickered gently, reflecting off the water in shimmering patterns as Euphemia moved, her lithe musculature rippling with every downward stroke.
What those headlamps and Euphemia's own light reveal is that there's something else there with them. It's not a fish. It's not one of the siren-kind. It's a sleek, torpedo-shaped black... thing. It swims around and between each of the beings that plunge toward the depths. The merfolk don't even seem to notice it.
Deeper they go, until even Novel and Euphemia with their supernatural bodies can barely take the pressure of it, and that's where the sirens stop, and a soft little call from their matriarch. She turns, gaze sweeping across the four before she reaches out for Novel without a moment's hesitation. Taloned, webbed fingers lash out, raking across his arm, tearing through the jumpsuit and the skin beneath. As his blood starts to spread into the water, her smile grows bolder, brighter, and she curls that lithe, sensual body around him, pressing her lips to the wounds and holding him tightly as she fills her mouth with his blood.
Ritsuka tries to grab for the black thing that swims around them when it draws close to her. She tries to hold her palm over its front to take a look over it, trying to figure out what it is, if she can manage to grab it.
Does Emmanuel notice? Non. He's struggling with the pressure, and the strange sickness that comes from descending under so much water so quickly, and further more? Novel is being snacked on by a topless woman. How many times has Emmanuel told the man that he is literally unresistable, and here is proof yet again. There's a concerned buzz from the Frenchman as he watches, reaching toward his bum bag for his knife, just in case.
Blood behaves strangely at these pressurized depths. A different medium. Less dense then water. Hot, a tendency to rise. But then the force and pressure pushing downwards, crushing on every side of his body, pushing back. The work of his heart forcing it out in a strange pulsed timing to that beating heart. And then, after, the current, a strange sort of drifting. At first there is a jet. Panic and pain in the man's features and then - he clamps down. The pain fades. It's replaced with focus as his hand reaches out to grasp the woman's hair. A mouthed 'what the fuck' comes out from him, squinting in raw annoyance from Novel.
Emmanuel squints
As the wound seals beneath her mouth, the sea-witch chooses not to reopen it with her fangs. Instead, she uncoils from Novel, her lips clamped tight, the red washing from her face as easily as a movement in these depths. But it's clear that mouthful she's stolen, for no permission was asked, is not swallowed. She holds it there, in the cradle of her mouth, as she gestures her hands towards the bags that the group holds. A wave of one hand down, towards the depths, towards the cemented in root of the drilling pipes. A mimed gesture of a closed fist opening.
She waits, while the two other females swim around the group, tapping their webbed hands on the bags containing explosives that each person is carrying - or some of them, at least. They tap, then tap again, a demanding little insistence that mirrors the open hand drop a moment later.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to anybody while Emmanuel worries over his friend's safety and virtue, the little device continues to dart about the gathered group until Ritsuka grabs for it. For a moment, her hands can indeed close around it, though the sleek device doesn't appear to be much of anything, to the average eye. There is, however, one tiny little flap on what appears to be the underneath.
Novel releases his grip on the woman's hair, his blood tasting strange and distinct of fire and oils for a brief moment - and when she lets go, as does he. Relinquishing on her hair and rolling his eyes as he grunts. The wounds unnaturally being forced closed, the bleeding stopped. The injuries still there, waiting to be torn open once more, but for now, controlled without bandages. He tucks his bag of electronics, holding onto that, and dropping the other bag of bombs without so much as a hesitation. Though he doesn't look particularly happy at the moment.
The gear within Emmanuel's pressure-addled brains click over slowly, and it takes him a moment or two longer than the others to quite cotton onto what the very obvious hand signal means. But, in Emmanuel's defence? He's only human. Mundane. He doesn't have quite the hardiness of the others, even with his enhanced organs. The Templar does as the siren bids, and gives her the load that she yearns for, tossing his bag of explosives down towards the spot indicated by the woman. He turns to glance aside to Ritsuka, and Euphemia, directing them to do the same with hand gestures.
Ritsuka turns the little thing around, examines it. She evidently does not recognize how it works but she holds assumptions. The bag that she was holding is simply passed away, almost without paying too much attention to it or the nude woman that demands for it, and then, with one hand, she attempts to press the flap closed and hold on to it while her other tries to stabily hold on to the device. She can't crush it here, she doesn't know what kind of battery is in it, or how dangerous it may be to crush this thing down here. But she does look to Emmanuel and Euphemia and gives them a suspicious nod to the device she is trying to keep a hold of.
Euphemia offers over what little she carries to the woman floating before her. Sky-blue eyes linger upon Emmanuel for a little longer than they should... as if fighting some unspoken urge to rush to his side. Instead, even as her body directs her towards him -- her attention shifts to Ritsuka, swimming over to examine the device she held. She extends a hand, offering to take it from her grasp... though not deigning to do so by force.
There's no apology forthcoming to Novel. None of the four that've accompanied the Haven quartet look even slightly as if they think anything wrong has occurred. Novel's bag drops, then Emmanuel's follows it, though perhaps it's not the only thing these femme fatales would appreciate, this evening. One by one, the bags begin to fall, and one by one, they're chased by the three sirens, with the blue-haired matriarch bringing up the rear.
The boy remains with the humans, though his curiosity is quickly piqued when he sees what Ritsuka has caught hold of. As she tries to show it to Emmanuel and Euphemia, he reaches out for it, giving it a tug with those webbed hands of his. Perhaps it's all about timing, or perhaps between he, Ritsuka, and Euphemia, they touched something they shouldn't. But a taser-like pulse rockets out from the device, shocking all within the vicinity.
It hurts. It incapacitates, however briefly. It doesn't stop anyone from breathing, thank goodness, but in those few moments when arms go limp, the device powers out of their hold, rocketting for the surface. Recovering quickly, perhaps only slightly more quickly than Novel, whose been tazed a few times in his life, the boy shoots up after it.
Euphemia recoils, shuddering violently for the slightest millisecond as the electricity courses through her veins... the soft, lminous glow shining through her pallid skin flickering momentarily as the celestial lights within her threaten to blink out of existence. But in those few moments that Euphemia falls limp, her motionless body drifting towards the surface... the flames within her seem to surge. The younger woman whirling back around in the water just in time to see the young boy's aquatic figure rocketing out of view.
It's hard to decide what to look at, really. The half-naked ladies armed with their explosive looks, and explosive bags, or the strange device that Ritsuka has captured. As such Emmanuel is glancing this way and that, trying to drink it all in, until that pulse goes off. He shies away, raising his hand defensively, and then does his best to doggy-paddle in closer to Euphemia and Ritsuka, extending hands to try and catch them before they can drift away into nothingness, as he's unsure of just how stunned or damaged they may be.
Ritsuka whimpers when this stupid thing causes her palms to open. Maybe crushing it had been the better choice, after all, even with the risk to her well-being, but this is not something she has the knowledge for. She huffs in a breathe, her eyes look at Emmanuel and there is just this shrug of her shoulders and a hand that gestures up. She mouths something in his and Euphemia's direction, there is definitely an a, her mouth opens wide, then closes into a sort of purse, an m maybe and then widen as her lips open a little, an e, and then at an a again, as far as can be visible from lip motion.
Novel first spazzes out again, jotling himself this way and that, but he manages to - switch to a breaststroke. Okay. He's dropped off his explosives, right? Right. He's done here. Let's see... glance at everyone. Glance at the eels. Glance up. A squint up at the kid - okay. Fine. He does his mostly human best to swim up after the kid that's just riding on up to what is probably a deathtrap. He's not going to pop out of the water. That is insane. But if there's more shocky shitty things, he MIGHT need to put his knife to work.
As the boy shoots upward after the device, another - clearly dropped into the water after the first - approaches from the side. This, Emmanuel and other Templars may recognize all too well, despite its odd shape, for the torpedo-like design furls open, shooting out a net that appears to be pure silver. Electrified silver. The sort of silver that, the moment the net wraps around the boy, he arches and screams, and his tail... disappears. Aside from the tiny traces of blue-green scales on his arms and legs, he's entirely human and, in the depths of the sea, entirely helpless.
Though the divemask wearing humans can hear nothing, the sirens clearly did, for down in the depths, the three look up. One of the redheads goes incredibly pale and sways, while the other shoots upward toward the helpless, drowning boy. But the blue-haired sea-witch? Despite a look of true, potent rage, she remains where she is.
Her tail thrashes on the sea floor as she lifts her hands. And then, something startling, perhaps, as she throws back her head and spews that mouthful of blood back into the water, across those bags of explosives: her hands begin to glow, and then a stream of fire shoots, through the water, towards all of that 'boom' in the bags, waiting to happen. Fire engulfs the bags and the massive pipe that buries itself into the seafloor.
Then, despite everything that's happening with the boy above, the siren looks back with a flicker of empathy across her face. She shifts in her tracks, swimming down toward the group of humans, all in definite reach of that explosion, when it occurs. She reaches out in a hurry, careless about just how she grabs each of them. Hair, clothes, whatever. It doesn't matter. She grabs. When Novel seems inclined to get too far away, she whips her body around, trying to corral him with her tail, to force him back in. A bubble forms around her, around them. It swells and grows.
Templars kill monsters.
That's what they do, it's part and parcel of their task to protect humanity from the supernatural menace. But this child? They didn't ask to be born as a monster, and while they should be chipped, and taught, and watched over? Drowned might almost be a step too far, even for Emmanuel, for now, at least. He's kicking his legs, and skittering through the water before he even quite knows what he's doing, darting toward the child surrounded by the neutralizer, and attempting to free them. He's human, it can't hurt him. The stubborn Frenchman even goes so far as to drag his breathing apparatus off, and shove it through to the child as he cuts and stabs, and tries to disarm the device.
Novel produces an exasperated huff in response to the siren, rolling his eyes and then he does what he can do. His hand seizes the blade - and the throws it with as much force as he can towards the net before back into the bubble he goes, shoved on down. He sort of - shrugs, helplessly. And he waves at the siren, smirking to be annoying, waving with one hand and doing the thumb and pinkie thing to the side of his head in the standard 'call me' gesture.
Ritsuka gets dragged on her arm, her head is still hooded, she never pulled that back and wet strands of hair certainly float and cling within that space, uncomfortably, but when she is close, there is no grander need to hold on to her, because her own hands reach for the Siren instead, to try and sling a hand around her waist. She holds on there, not curling it around as if it was a motion that would be sexual, it simply is, lacking of the usual nuance that would make it different.
And then, she looks to the Siren, and gestures towards the others, the boy. A hand reaches around herself, and though this will hurt the blade tremendously, being in so much water, comes forth her own little weapon, sharp as a razor and the intended use is to do as Novel and Emmanuel are.
Euphemia is already swimming towards the boy at the first opportunity available to her -- though with her lack of aquatic familiarity and the developing strength in her arms, Euphemia can't quite parse through the water nearly as swiftly as the other men might. A singular motion of the Siren was all it took to catch Euphemia mid-ascension... pulling her back into the depths with a gargled scream... until the bubble enveloping them all silences her voice. An arm outstretches towards Emmanuel, and the boy caught in the net... as the darkness begins to envelop her once more.
The siren shakes her head, not at all intending to let Ritsuka go. As the bubble grows and Novel tries to throw his knife beneath the waves, she rolls her eyes - someone knows -some- human culture, clearly. Then she's pushing the three of them down, including Euphemia, in towards that bubble and through, if she can to what they can all see is a shimmering visual of the sea, looking toward Sidney Beach. There's Hometown in the distance. The push is forceful, the air and water at their back determined to send them through.
The other two sirens shoot upward, the twin redheads whipping through the water, away from the mess of explosives that are just now beginning to be set off. The first pulse of water pushes them upward, but soon after it's searing heat and so much pressure. This is likely to set off a tsunami somewhere, but all three females are too engrossed in other matters like saving humans and one small boy, to worry about the repercussions right now. Is that a bad choice? Probably. The pipe shudders, rocks, sways, and starts to crumble, as explosion after explosion rocks its base.
Emmanuel manages to get that mouthpiece to the child in time to prevent him from dying, but that leaves the human Templar in one hell of an awkward position. Did he just give up his own life for a monster? A child monster but still... There's noise from overhead, hooks spiralling down into the water to catch hold of that net, and the boy contained within it. One of the sirens screams, her arms outstretched and a look of intense agony on her face. She can't get there in time. The other whips around to swim to Emmanuel.
Up goes the net. Up and up, toward the surface. Emmanuel's metal knife can't cut through it, even as finely woven as it is, and so he's got a choice to make. Up to the surface to meet whomever is controlling this device, or down, with his peers, to that bubble of safety showing Haven's shoreline?
It can not be said enough that Emmanuel is not always a smart man. He makes bad decisions. He runs his mouth. He picks arguments against literal roomfuls of monsters.
He reaches into his straps, and produces a frag grenade. This is a bad decision. His lungs are starting to burn as each moment ticks on by, but the pin of the thing is pulled out, and he holds the grenade up and toward the various hooks that catch onto the netting.
One.
Two.
line The grenade is released, and Emmanuel curls himself around the net and the body inside, using his body as a shield and screwing his eyes shut. The concussive force of the explosive should be lessened in the water, surely, so he shouldn't burst like an overly ripe watermelon dropped off a ledge. He hopes.
Ritsuka would sigh, and so she breathes in as bubbles go up again from where the air escapes and rises beyond and up. Her gaze is turned towards the boy and Emmanuel, but she makes no move to resist the Siren. A light shiver crosses over her form, and her armed hand lowers again. Down here, there is no way that she can sheath the blade back into its saya again. She watches Emmanuel move to explode the damn net, and watches with a certain, difficult to describe expression.
Euphemia screams into her mask, the water beginning to boil around her as the lights within her begin to pulse dangerously in tune with the ferocity of her snarl. She drives a trembling fist into the hands that force her through that bubble, fighting to tear her way past water and flesh to claw her way back towards the silhouetted figures above. But Euphemia is pulled away too swiftly to react. The water forces her through that illusory landscape... ASSUMEDLY disappearing from view as Euphemia is transported elsewhere.
It's one hell of a try, that's for sure. It's the sort of life-saving rescue attempt they write ballads about - just not in the Temple. The grenade explodes and there's definitely damage done. Unfortunately, some of that damage is to Emmanuel, himself. The blast doesn't kill him, not in the water, but it does indeed knock him out, blasting him and the net and the boy backwards. Unfortunately, it's not enough to completely destroy the machinery whirring above, pulling the boy and the net upwards.
As Emmanuel floats off, lungs bursting for air and no longer impeded by a conscious brain, he'd drown and die, and sink slowly to the sea floor, perhaps one day to become part of an oil deposit himself...
But there's a siren there. Not the one keening over the disappearing boy, but her twin, the other of the redhaired pair. She wraps Emmanuel's limp body in her arms, seals her lips over his mouth, and as she pushes back down into the depths, and the bubble that offers safety and security across the seas, she breathes air into his lungs.
Euphemia will indeed end up on the other side with Ritsuka and Novel - but so will a limp, but alive, Emmanuel.
// Thanks for coming along, guys! One second here, and time for wrap up emotes.