Sub-Terre-Fugue
The Solar Flare had been coursing along at impressive undersea depths with only the occasional rattle-groan as the Rebman-treated materials its hull adjusted to the new atmospheres of pressure. Through the observation windows the empty darkness of deep waters is alleviated by the glimmer of clustered fish as they pass close enough to the sub's powerful headlamps to reflect and dazzle; then there are the runners of kelp just winding up from unknown depths and into unknown heights.. the Flare passes close enough to those, and it's like a hundred leathery tentacles slapping and groping along the hull. Nature's carwash!
Merrisol points out a southerly direction, or so he claims, and says Morfilod's ancestral holdings lay in a great swath that way.. and one can almost see how the world of water in that direction sort of ~glows~ with an abundance of life. They won't be going there today, but soon. They will need House Morfilod's resources and manpower to conduct a proper raid. Today, it's just scouting.
The sub dips again and is enclosed on both sides by a deep and winding canyon run, scattering flocks of ghostly jellyfish, and disturbing large-scale shellfish and molluscs carpeting massive carcasses of monsters and growing gigantic themselves. This, Merri says, is the migratory path of whales they are following. If they go far enough, it is said there is a way into Minos. But they aren't going to Minos.
Finally, the Solar Flare creeps towards a gulf, a huge basin of half-lit ocean with distant cliffs and shelves rising protectively upwards. The headlamps have snuffed out a while back, giving them only side running lights to monitor obstructions that might be overlooked by the Begman-style sonar. Merrisol seeks some landmarks that are on his 'acquired' map, and directs his crew to navigate into a narrow nook full of cushioning soft corals and indignant crabs. "Last stop. Time to get wet," Merrisol announces, having handed out the inky green, soft, and membranous wetsuits they'll be using for this. No flashy electric blue bikinis allowed!
Well. No bikini? Shocking. Liya however does get into the wetsuit she's provided without complaint, amusement on her face. And whatever kissing is done, is done, that can just be figured out later. Ahem. "It's kind of eerie down here," she says, tucking her hair into a circle braid, so it's nicely stuck where it won't get in the way. She's curious, but not entirely sure if she will be of any help, though her sense of nature is of course working in this area since she's been spending enough time in Rebma to have it settle in. "And this suit is - kind of odd." That's the only thing she has to say as she looks to Merri to see what they are going to do now.
The trip through the glory of the undersea world has Maggie mesmerized. Some people may very well live their lives surrounded by this sort of beauty and while it is undoubtedly true that those above the water have their own sort of delights, this takes her breath away. She tries to stay out of the crew's way, but moves from view port to view port or just stares up through the volcanic glass when something catches her attention. One or more of the crew might snicker at the flatlander who ducked when the kelp began smacking the sides of the sub, but she does not care. Enthralled, it took her a few moments to realize that the wetsuit had been put into her hand. When she does, she blushes a bit, darts a glance around and then takes it down to the cabin to change. Getting it on is a bit of a chore as the stuff is skin tight and fits like a slightly cool, rubberized glove. Wandering back, she has her hands lifted in an attempt to tame her own mass of flame-colored hair into some semblance of a braid. When she gets to where she can pull it forward to finish the weave she looks up. "Are we there yet?" That is said with a faint smile toward Merrisol. Harbingers of things to come, perhaps.
Yes, we're here! Everyone better have peed in Amber, 'cause we're not turning back now! Merrisol brings out the watered carrier holding their favourite jaguar-cuttlefish, and hands it to Liyandra. He carries several harpoons in a long duffel bag strapped diagonal across his broad back. Wordlessly, he hands out netted caps to cloak their fabulous hair.. at least his and Maggie's. Liyandra's dark locks are probably okay now that they're braided up... Merri did that. No, he didn't. Back to the rolodex with you, false-memory! In the depressurization chamber, Merrisol conducts the.. whatever kissing of whomever, after the water rises over their heads. His way of doing it would be singularly familiar, of course. Knowing that Maggie and Liyandra already trust him to do it, the solemn ceremony beforehand can be dispensed, and it's just the tried and true Glub, Touch, Smooch, Flood. The outer hatch releases, and instead of being excruciatingly reminded that this place is both freezing and under a weighty amount of atmospheric pressure, they are all able to swim out and back to the side-branch of that migratory canyon.
"It is eerie," Merri admits to Liyandra. "We are so far away from any allies or neutral settlements, and the things that grow here are different than what you might be used to. Don't make contact with anything strange if you can avoid it.. and take care with directing your words and keeping to cover.. sonar will betray us easier than visual sighting now." When the half-lit runs across their satiny suits, it absorbs the shine and sort of ripples a reflection of the surrounding environment. It's nothing close to Mimic's abilities, but it tries. With a wave to go 'silent running' mode for now, he takes them into the yawning basin, dipping into the natural trenches where possible.
Liya nods to Merri, a bit bewildered by it all. She stays quiet, tries her best to mimic the Rebman silent swimming style. Flatlanders for the win. Even the Island Girl isn't used to this. She has the poor cuttlefish with her, giving him a little empathic send of greeting. As the water pressure adjusts to match that of the outside, she keeps watch on the little critter, making sure he's okay. And then she slips out, Mimic with her. The little cuttlefish is happily pulsing electric blue alternating with jaguar spots, which has Liya trying not to laugh.
Taking the netted cap from Merrisol, Maggie coils her braid on top of her head. Pulling the cap on, she arefully tucks stray curls into it, her fingers slipping around her hairline to be sure that none has been missed. Once she has finished, she looks up to see if Merrisol missed any of his sun-bright hair. Picking up a long, slim package, she holds it easily in one hand. Seems she has muted her cutlass in some of the rubberized material and means to take it with her. Entering the depressurization chamber, Maggie waits her turn for the ritual that gives her life beneath the waves and when it is finished, she follows the others out into the deep.
Listening to the others as she swims, Maggie ducks into thet side channel to scout a little ahead then fades back to rejoin Merrisol and Liyandra. She is in time to hear the admonition to silence and the caution that they are far from friends and family. Her already sober mein grows more so though she does nod interest in the way the wetsuit behaves when light touches it. Cool. Nodding her readiness, she prepares to take up the rear guard spot so Merri can lead and Liya has some protection from both sides. Mimic is cool an' all, but even a very clever jaguar cuttlefish is not very handy with a sword.
The basin rises and falls in dark, veiny mineral formations that are oddly sculpted that it must have taken countless millennia for the sometimes steady, other times mutating currents to get them just that way. Caves and columns, natural bridges and crazy slides, and even a trench they must slip through that makes no sense at all... full of arbitrary carvings like a titan child had claimed the place for its own personal playdough paradise. One part is so deceptively shaped, Merrisol has to call a halt, and send the slimmer Liyandra through on her own, to make sure it eventually gets wider, or he is definitely going to get trapped. Maggie has the option of going through with her or staying.
This is most certainly wriggle, twist, and squeeeeze territory. Should have brought an earthmage.
Liya might be curvy, but she is still petite. And fit. And totally amused over the terrain they are swimming so carefully through. It's like an amusement park for the psychedelically challenged. She swims ahead, once Merrisol comments, though Mimic darts through ahead, swimming swiftly, as Liya wriggles, twists and shimmies to get through.
Gliding over the terrain, Maggie darts and floats as need be after the others, her eyes peeled for trouble. Still the whimsical charm of the odd landscape is not lost on her. Looking up at Merri, she offers him a quick smile, then ducks to follow Mimic and Liyandra through the passages. Merrisol is thus treated to the wriggle and twist, perhaps even a bit of a shimmy, though he might miss the squeeze that finally gets her through.
Drat! Watching, for scouting purposes OF COURSE, Merri can gauge the amount of room that is available just by eyeballing (shutuuuup!) the spaces relative to the widest parts of his companions. So far so good, until... oooof. Liya sliiiiiips through a somewhat tilted, somewhat crescent shaped crevice, and then Maggie wiggle-waggle-wriggles her way through it, and Merrisol slowly blinks, then shakes himself. He finds his trump for Maggie amongst his suit pockets and contacts her. "I need to backtrack," he says. "How are you two doing? Can you make it back the same way?"