MAP ROOM/DECK

Texas? He didn't look like any Texans she'd ever seen. Then again, she hadn't seen many, not so far out in the country. So she was willing to buy that, Chris from Texas it was. It didn't at all help to describe their situation, however, in fact, it only made it more confusing. How had she ended up on a boat with a Texan, and wherever the hell the rest of these people -and cat freak- were from.

"Aye," she nodded. "Fell asleep there, woke up here. Didn't have any enemies really."

That was a lie, that was one hundred percent a lie. She'd conned so many miners out of their hard-earned gold that she was almost convinced this had nothing to do with them. If they'd have caught her, she wouldn't have woken up on a ship in god-knows-where. She wouldn't have woken up at all, in fact.

She walked back to the map, blinking away a sudden sting that accompanied her passage through a dustier portion of the room. She however chalked it off as nothing more than the salty air. When she looked down to the large paper, she paid more attention to the little things. Not the map itself per say, lord knew she couldn't read a map, let alone this map, but blood was identifiable fairly easily. Licking a finger, she touched the coffee stain and brought it back to her tongue cautiously. Blood and coffee, someone had poured effort into this table, whether it was the map or not.

The interesting thing she saw was the pendulum's direction, and how it seemed to view the map with a particular interest to a certain direction. The ship's sway seemed to have no effect on it, but she didn't trust the thing to withstand a major pitch. So, she scanned it over and committed the place the pendulum pointed to to memory, and then put it on its side. A monopoly on information did her good everywhere else, why not here?

Reaching down, she meant to roll up the map and take it with her, but the sides caught her palm at an odd angle, and gave her a thin slit beneath her fingers. Ugh, paper cuts, as if she didn't get enough of that in cards. She rolled it up properly then, and folded it to fit under her shirt.

"If those two ain't dead, we oughta go an' find the wheel, see if we can't turn this big lug around," she said. "Might take us a bit t'get back, but that big foker with the beard -you see that guy?- that one, I'll bet he knows how to captain a-"

The last of her words drifted from her lips, and while at first she was speaking to Chris, by the end she was just staring forward. Moss could not, for the life of her, feel her head. When she tried to step, the odd balance had her stumbling back into the table, free hand scrambling for a grasp, but all she found was the pendulum and the remaining bone dust. By chance her footing stabilize and she leaned against the table. There were voices coming from somewhere -no, not somewhere, up. They were coming from above.

"Someone's...there's a...fok..." her composure was only coming back slowly, but the lightheaded feeling would just not go away. She shut her eyes, waiting for a moment, taking a deep breath only to choke on the god damned dust she'd kicked up. As if the wind wasn't bad enough at that already. Really, screw the ship, screw the sea.

When her eyes opened, she gasped, for she was not one to often scream when startled. For the sliver of a moment, before her head rocketed around to try and see it fully, she caught a glimpse of...something. Something terrifying, or at least when whole, terrifying, for she only caught a ghost of a glance at it.

The hammer was clutched tighter. Never mind, screw this room first of all things. "We should go outside, out o' here. I'm goin' outside. I'm gonna walk. What's the worst that could happen?" her words were breathed and shaky, and the first couple steps she took were hardly stable. But by the time she reached the door her conviction to be absolutely anywhere but in there overcame her induced imbalance, and she was outside in the thick air. It took her a good couple moments to get her bearings, but she did see the big fellow and the jumpy girl, at least until the jumpy girl took a little tumble out of sight.

MAP ROOM

As he was hidden in the pile of papers he felt something sharp as he flinched a bit moving around as it cut him, he nearly cried as he dug around and found a strange shiny silver weapon. He finally had something to defend himself with as he held out what he did not know at the time was just an ordinary silver key. When he looked he noticed the red beast girl called Moss which was a strange short name so maybe she was from the outside where they make short names cause they too tired to make longer names, though Elin was not long he felt the extra syllable was a lot. Having not even told them his name or said much to them he put his weapon carefully into his pocket as he looked around more carefully.

He noticed a small drawing but ignored it as he did not like looking at pictures of clones who were all born bald in his homeland of the Society. Outside of his sheltered existence things changed and it was time for him to take action, time for him to focus.

He began to notice mumbling and footsteps above them as he looked up as some dust went into his eyes as he rubbed his eyes against his sleeve. He did not understand what was going on, but he needed to find things to survive as his mind began to realise that right now his only source of food were these strangers. He began to search around for something that might make a good tool for hunting, he did not know much about it but right now his food was not appearing in front of him like usual. He had to do what they did in history books and attack with weapons in order to hunt and eat other people.

He then kicked into something hard which hurt his foot as he sat down and saw what he needed, a weapon of mass destruction as he picked it up and pointed it towards the guy with glasses as he slowly moved towards a ticking sound. He was curious as it bothered him a lot, he was holding the gun the wrong way as the hole was actually pointing at him as he was holding it like a hammer. He made the mistake of not understanding what a gun was, but since no one used those in the society he could not figure it out. He finally reached the ticking object and picked it up and also pocketed it, but it kept ticking so he took it out and kept fiddling with it until the ticking stopped. He had clicked something which stopped it so he figured it was a noise maker to distract wild animals. He did not realise in a sense that it did just that in distracting him as he held the gun the wrong way still before thinking about it as he stalked his prey.

He began to duck behind tables and piles of papers, books, and other things as he moved in closer and closer until he was at least about five meters away from the guy with glasses called Chris. He then through the gun at him as it flung into the air as he was aiming for the guys head but it would fall short aiming closer to the guy's back or abdomen if he turned around. He was hunting his only source of food as he needed to escape, he needed to survive, he needed to eat.

The room gave a sudden lurch, throwing them all across the room, and wind rattled against the walls from all sides.

Christopher's body was launched across the room like a helpless rag-doll when his forehead hit off off the bookshelf that he had been admiring earlier. There was a small gash about a 1/4 inch long where a small trickle of blood started to roll down his face. Christopher yelled at the top of his lungs "SWEET BABY JESUS! WHAT A DAMN SHIP!" He finished his rage by knocking all of the crumbling books that rested upon the bookcase in every direction of the room. The only book that remained was the only new book that was titled "The Reapers Lie". It was unlike any book that he had seen the few times he visited his local library for a light read it was bound in fancy looking leather which he never seen a book bound in one of those before. He was so enraged about hitting his head off the bookcase that he was determined to leave it completely naked as he felt deep down. Stripped of his knowledge since he knew nothing about his current situation and ultimately vulnerable. He grabbed onto the book with both hands and used his feet as leverage and placed them on the next row on the shelf and he tugged with all of his might. It was the most annoying book that he had ever come across, Christopher had got annoyed with the book and punched it before he turned away from it angrily.

Christopher had used quite a bit of energy trying to get the book off of the shelf and decided to lie down on the ground for a minute. While he was down there he could hear other voices but he thought that he was losing his mind, being stuck wherever the hell he was stuck. The collection of people that he had with himself didn't truly help any, a short Egyptian lady who spoke decent english with an accent, a male apiarist that he couldn't understand what he was saying through poor language and also an accent, a extremely young male who looked mortified that his electronic device wasn't working properly and a chick who still hasn't come to yet who Christopher was worried that they might not have survived the trip on this ship.

As he was lying on the ground he thought that it might be because he was hungry and thirsty since it was god knows how long it has been since he ate food or consumed water since the last thing he ate was a double cheeseburger 5 hours before he was drinking Captain and Cokes all night. As he lay on the floor daydreaming of another cheeseburger he could hear the voices again this time he could make out words.

"Someone's...there's a...fok..."

It seems that the five people in this room were not the only people on this boat which could be a good or bad thing, it could be their captors or on the other hand it could be more captured people in the same situation as themselves. Christopher had tried knocking on the bark floor in a rhythmic pattern so show that it would be a human knock since he didn't know how to do something called Morse Code.

So maybe it was a mistake afterall.

If she had not rushed out that door, maybe she would not be in this predicament, slowly and painfully writhing around in the salty wet... bushes? Wat? This was craziness! Cray, yes, but one thing for sure she knew this was not; a dream. Pain did not hurt so painfully in her dreams.

In memories however, yes, she did remember pain. Her ribs screamed in memory of the time when she was in pyramid formation with her cheer squad. Tamara-Jane was at the top. The others were to spill away and Matty and Di were supposed to catch her in freefall. But Matty and Di got all tangled up and TamTam landed awkwardly on the others. Fail de Epic kinds... ouch. Ribs screamed in memory and a broken forearm sung backup as she remembered the white hot pain when she landed.

But this... Tamara-Jane rolled up to her hands and knees when her strained hitching sobs faded and she finally caught her breath. She was no stranger to having the wind knocked out of her, no matter how much she wished she was a stranger to such an experience. And this time, having the wind knocked out of her was especially uncomfortable with sore, possibly, bruised ribs and a sharp throbbing pain in the small of her back where she had landed upon the lever.

The water on the shrubbery laden deck washed back and forth with the rocking of the boat and TamTam noticed that the water that swished beneath her was coloured pink. Something neath the floor boards rumbled and clanked away but she paid that no mind because her big baby blues took in the sight of her ripped up denim sleeves all the way down to her hands. She was torn up pretty bad. Bleeding too.

A couple of headshakes she gave herself to clear out the stars impeding her vision and she watched more blood fall into the water neath her. A scratched up bloody hand went to her chin and she winced. That was a good cut.

“Awwww... can't try out for Miss Canada with that kinda' ugly on ya, TJ...! Hahahaha...!”

The warm sound of Kaylee's teasing voice in her head brought a smile to her face regardless of the pain rollicking through and over her. Then the scent of strawberries hit her and bitter tears threatened to fall once more, and the sting in her nose she fought. Strawberry blonde was her older sisters hair colour. Ooooohhhh... Kays... miss muh big sis soooooooooo mu--

A pitter patter of something coming near her made her gasp in surprise and then once again in pain as her ribs and back reminded her not to do that unless she liked to feel more pain than necessary. But she braced herself and rolled away towards the big ol' rusty cannon despite the screaming white hot jolts in her body and landed on her round butt with a splash.

Big blue eyes widened when she saw what pitter pattered on over.

Suddenly the teen girl knew she was not ever going to see Mom, Kaylee, Di, Matty, Chels or Mo ever again. There was a reason everything was soooooo crazy right now. And no, this was not a dream. No, for really reals...

... because Tamara-Jane Winstanley knew she was dead.

Because there she was. Big baby blues unleashed tears once again because there she was. Even all blurred up and obscured by her own salty wet waters in her eyes, she could see that before here was simply the most beautiful thing she ever seen. Period.

So maybe it wasn't a mistake to rush out that door and onto the deck afterall.

After all this time, TamTam had kept that stuffed bunny. She had altered it, stitched strings to it so it could be slung around her body. It was a very special gift from someone very special. And stitched upon the bunny's white fuzzy chest was a message to be read aloud when that gift was returned... returned upon a very special day. Like today.

Upon that bunny's chest was the message: 'I love you for now and hey, baby, hey, I love you for when--'

“...for when I see you again in Heaven...” she whispered fondly and softly with trembling pink bloodied lips.

Because there she was. Tamara-Jane's dead first love. And so now there she was to receive that gift she had given Tamara-Jane on their first and only anniversary. Tamara-Jane's dead first love had given her an adorable white stuffed bunny, and Tamara-Jane had given her first love a fox... that chick had such an obsession with kitsune...

Back to a kneeling position went the dark haired teen, wet black locks plastered across her forehead and choking back heavy sobs. Rough choppy seas continued to rock the creakng boat. White frothy water sprayed her several times. Slowly, yet deliberately, a trembling hand reached out rainbow coloured fingertips to stroke the darling fuzzy face of the fox that she knew was not a fox but her love in disguise carrying that stuffed white bunny. Finally she whispered, spurned on by the wavering strength of a broken heart:

“Hey, baby, hey... I knew... I just soooo knew I'd see ya again, I swear... I missed you LynLyn... I'm... I'm soooo...sosososo sorry, baby... I didn't mean to get you killed. I'm soooo sorry...”

Zosime lacked the frame of reference to understand that the brass-ball device was a model of the solar system - in Zosime's world, the universe was a series of spheres with the Earth another globe at its centre. But... made of aeres? Air? She shook her head. Innocent had an unusual accent, not at all like her Roman tutors. He must have meant the metal, brass. She approached cautiously, and reached out her right hand to touch the one different globe, the one in the third orbit with the smaller sphere circling it. Her finger had just made contact when the ship gave a significant lurch, and the Egyptian stumbled away, tripping over the fringe on her ankle-length chiton and falling to her hands and knees. More of the little leaves and shoots snapped off under her hands, releasing a sweet scent that Zosime had never encountered before, but found pleasant.

"Potens Sekhmet, quid istum accidit?" Mighty Sekhmet, what was that? She rose unsteadily, more aware than ever of the rocking of the room and the ominous creaking of the floor and walls. Across the room, Christopher appeared to be fighting with the bookshelf, and Zosime watched in interest as the rectangular objects on the shelves turned out to be many thin sheets of incredibly fine papyrus cosseted between layers of stiff leather. She'd never seen anything like them. Were they like scrolls, filled with knowledge? What a strange way to store pages!

Her lurch across the room had placed her closer to the pillar. She wanted to lean on it, but her dignity forced her to remain ramrod straight and upright. "Fortasse, nolite itaque amittere obiecta?" Maybe you shouldn't be throwing things? she directed at Christopher.

The scribe turned back to the pillar. She could hear voices from below, and knew that meant there were other people around. But at the moment, she had no idea if they were friend or foe, captor or fellow prisoner. So she decided to deal with them, whoever they might be, later.

The pillar looked like it had been carved, once; she was very familiar with carvings, though she didn't work with stone herself. It looked like the bark had grown over the carved surface like sea weeds over sunken statues. She wondered if the carvings would be clearer if she could somehow remove the bark, but the bald woman had no tool with which to attempt such a feat.

Circling the pillar, she eventually came to the recessed hand-print. Unable to resist her curiosity, Zosime raised her left hand, her dominant hand, the one that she had touched the leaves when he first awoke, and pressed it against the matching marking on the pillar.

Observatory.
A sliver of good fortune had positioned Innocent beside the brasswork-bearing table in the same direction that the floor swung, giving him something to hold on to. Though his feet slipped out sideways between the table legs, he caught himself at a kneel and braced against the floor. There he stayed a few seconds, head spinning, not sure if the floor was stable of if they would all keep tipping sideways until they fell through the roof, or perhaps through the roof and up into Heaven. Sidwell's dreams hadn't prepared his expectations well for a place so surreal.

Standing up to the complaints and questions of his fellow dead, he readjusted his hat silently, feeling numb. Perhaps I have run through my stock of shock, he thought, bringing down his hand to find a wisp of silver-grey resting on it in perfect, contagious calm. ...And for what sin did you need to fall from grace, little angel? The insect avoided the question, flitting back upwards and onto the brim of Sidwell's hat where so many others had rested in the past.

A sound of knocking wood tugged his attention back to the room. Zosime had put her attention back to the pillar, but Christopher was tapping on the floor like a door. Listening in as closely as he could, Sidwell could hear what Christopher had picked up on before him, though of course, he did not recognise the voices. Many die and few go straight up, so it's a small wonder that the grave is crowded, he explained to himself, but did not stoop down to listen to the floor. The voices could wait until he found their owners, wherever they were.

Innocent had only explored part of the room around the pillar, and with two of the other three wakeful lost in their own worlds of exploration (The boy still seemed to be fiddling with his dull black jewellery; The poor fellow was likely stunned by shock), he thought it appropriate to follow suit. The books in the walls were, as Christopher had shown to his frustration, adjoined to their shelves, and to try and remove them himself when Christopher had already tried felt like it would be a slight against all his effort. Besides, there was an odd, shifty quality to the vines that he didn't like, as if they were crawling around when they knew he wasn't watching. Sidwell left them be and continued to the far side of the pillar, where a door waited for him. He knocked, to no reply other than the snapping of some leaves on the wood, which smelled familiarly of strawberries.

Facing the pillar again to address the others, perhaps ask their thoughts on opening this door, Innocent's eye caught on a gleam in the dark on the top of the pillar device. The shape was too small and distant to make out easily until it moved, and Sidwell squinted at it. A little tailed animal, perhaps a rat, glinting like the flutterby on his hat and just as still. He let go of the doorknob he didn't realise he'd been holding, but the animal was too far to reach, and Sidwell was not a cat, that he could climb up and look for it. Still distracted, he put his hand back on the doorknob, neglecting to use Latin when he stated that "...I am going to open this door and see what's outside."

The door opened with more of a wooden creak than a hinged metal one, and dull light shone in, dazzling the night-eyes he'd been using since he awoke. The scene was a mangle of conflicting elements. The leaves and vines in his awakening room were a shadow of what he saw here. The ground was almost completely overgrown with roots, and trees were rising. This wasn't a forest, though, for at the edges of it all was a railing, and beyond that railing, seething grey. It took landlocked Sidwell several seconds to recognise the movement as water, unholy amounts of water that stank of salt and mysteries.

"Et dedit mare mortuos qui in eo eran." And the sea gave up the dead that were in it. From the Apocalypse of Saint John, from the very end of life and the Good Book. Sidwell didn't take his eyes from the water as he walked down to it, nearly tripped by the stairs between the deck and the domed observatory. His hands clutched the railing and he watched the sea, unafraid of the mute idiot mass of water crawling below him. He was dead, and had nothing to fear from this natural world.

The sound of tears didn't reach him for quite some time. Innocent turned his head without averting his stare from the water until he caught sight of a human figure in the periphery of his gaze. His rapture broke and his tense body slackened back into small, humble Sidwell. The woman was kneeling in front of a fox, talking in distress, mourning her lost child to it. “...Soso sorry, baby... I didn't mean to get you killed. I'm so sorry...”

Wavering, he stepped a little closer and spoke, unsure of exactly what he was interrupting. "Forgiveness comes to all good souls," he offered, trying to compensate for the regret the woman was clearly showing. No doubt this was the sin which she rests in Purgatory to pay off.

Engine Room

When the floor suddenly moved under her Risa she crashed into pipes. When she heard the hiss she grabbed a pipe that was nearby. She looked around in a panic. She did not care if the other person was holding a tool, there was something else here, something more dangerous. She looked around suspiciously holding the pipe close to her.

In her paranoid state she saw the leaves move at the top of the ladder. Whatever was in here she was sure it was there. She was relieved that it was up there. She was scared of heights and was not sure if she would be able to climb up a ladder to get away. As long as that creature stayed up there she would not have to use her pipe against another person.

She grabbed a nearby lamp, not sure if should would find a way to light it, but when she had a way she would have a light source if it got really dark.

She slowly backed away to the speaker. Once she got there she looked away for the first time. "Hey, is anyone there? There is something down here. Get us out of here," she yelled out. She was still not sure if there was someone there on the other side, but someone out there should be able to help them get out of here.

The papers showing things from a different era were interesting. That wasn't something he quite expected, though everything else so far had been unexpected. Being a mostly visual learner he scanned over the pages in case there was something helpful on them. Their contents didn't immediately tell him anything, the monsters were an odd sight and not something he understood. Symbolism perhaps? Moss' behavior drew his attention though and he looked up. She stumbled but managed to recover her footing. He was going to ask if she was alright when he also heard the voices above. So they weren't the only ones on the ship. There was no way to tell if they were the crew or maybe more people like themselves.

In a sudden change of heart Moss started to talk about leaving. Given their conversation a minute ago her quick exit was unexpected. The door yet again opened the plant life began to grow. Not as distracted by other things and better able to see Chris crouched down and watched their rapid growth. His movement meant that Ein's "attack" missed and passed over his head. The thump from the pistol made him look back as it dropped before him. Following its flight path back he met the cat boy's eyes. Snatching the weapon he stood up but did not point it at him, preferring to stay non aggressive. "What the hell? Are you trying to hit me or something?" He glanced at the flintlock for a moment to see if it was primed. He had some knowledge of how such a thing operated. Loading such a weapon would be another thing so if it was actually loaded it would only be one shot without some supplies and instruction.

Any thoughts Connor had of knowing more about the skittish girl staying away from the rest disappeared when a sudden, violent lurch sent him flying into a tangle of cables which thankfully prevented him from slamming straight into the mess of pipes behind. As he slowly got to his feet and tried to steady himself, a cable which had managed to wrap itself around his right ankle brought him crashing to the ground the minute he tried to take a single step. This time, there was nothing to break his fall and he felt his whole body ache as he stood back up.

"Bloody feck," He muttered to himself as he straightened out his clothes. "Someone somewhere has a wicked sense of humour."

He was interrupted by a strange, hissing sound. Surrounded by so many pieces of machinery, most of them unknown to him, Connor initially wrote it off as just ambient noise. However, he briefly saw an oddly shaped creature darting up a wall. It moved faster than any man Connor knew, and he knew someone on the Shetlands who could outrun a horse for brief periods of time, so that was indeed saying something. The creature had disappeared from sight, but Connor kept his eyes on it's last known position, near the top of a ladder.

"Anyone else saw that?" He asked, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "There's something else here with us."

Gulping, he slowly backed away and drew his bayonet. Despite the tense situation, he noted that the blade of his weapon looked a little bit shinier than usual. Perhaps that sludge Corporal Brekker had convinced him to drown his bayonet in a week ago had actually done some work. "Whatever you're doing," He called out to the writer, who was trying to call for help via the horn. "I hope to God it actually works, otherwise I'm going to start cutting things and hoping for the best."

a cable which had managed to wrap itself around his right ankle brought him crashing to the ground the minute he tried to take a single step.

The cable wrapped around Connor's ankle was wrapped around a lever which protruded from the mass of gears and cogs in the floor. And so, when the cable was pulled with the force of Connor's fall, the lever was upset in its position only slightly -- enough to slowly release a chain one link at a time.

clink . . . clink . . . clink . . . clink . . .

When she heard the hiss she grabbed a pipe that was nearby. . . . She grabbed a nearby lamp, not sure if should would find a way to light it, but when she had a way she would have a light source if it got really dark.

The oil sloshed inside the brass lamp, and there was still enough of its ashen wick to light, should she desire to do so. As this was a boiler room for the likes of a steamship, of course there were ovens -- and therefore, there were a variety of ways by which Risa might light her newfound lamp: boxes upon boxes of matches, stacked inside a cabinet opposite the closet of coal, for one. For another, a gadget hanging on the walls behind the boilers that appeared to be a pistol but was very much someone's humorous reinvention of the flamethrower. But again, this was not immediately apparent upon first observation.

A quivering voice sobbed through the speaker:

She slowly backed away to the speaker. Once she got there she looked away for the first time. "Hey, is anyone there? There is something down here. Get us out of here," she yelled out.

Gulping, he slowly backed away and drew his bayonet . . . "Whatever you're doing," He called out to the writer, who was trying to call for help via the horn. "I hope to God it actually works, otherwise I'm going to start cutting things and hoping for the best."

The glint of the bayonet glimmered in the red eye of their observer by the ceiling: the curled dark lizard that watched and listened and quite probably had a set or two of very sharp teeth. The flash of the slightly-sparkling blade sent the lizard skittering along the ceiling -- yes, running upside-down above their heads like a freakish insect -- and it rushed directly toward the two hapless prisoners. Its red eyes glinted.

Here, where the beast was closer and more easily observed (not that Connor nor Risa would generally be so inclined to carefully observe an unknown animal rushing at them upside-down) it was clear that the beast was not as big as it might have first appeared. It was indeed as long as a man from head to tail, but was sinewy and shimmering black, with little legs that skittered while it slithered. Its head was no bigger than a small melon, its jaws just big enough to perhaps take off a person's hand. Its blood-red eyes took up half its head and were focused intently on Connor's bayonet.

It stopped on the ceiling just above Connor and Risa, and then it suddenly lashed down at them, snapping at Connor's blade with a mouthful of needle teeth. Like a cat entranced by a laser, it only had eyes for the sword and could care less who wielded it. At least now it was away from the ladders and the trap doors in the ceiling.

. . . she scanned it over and committed the place the pendulum pointed to to memory, and then put it on its side. . . . Reaching down, she meant to roll up the map and take it with her, but the sides caught her palm at an odd angle, and gave her a thin slit beneath her fingers. . . . She rolled it up properly then, and folded it to fit under her shirt. . . . then she tried to step, the odd balance had her stumbling back into the table, free hand scrambling for a grasp, but all she found was the pendulum and the remaining bone dust.

Unbeknownst to Moss, the application of her blood on the map had caused it to begin to change. Whenever she desired to open it again the map would show her an island in a spot that had been very much blank before -- the spot to which the pendulum had been pointing so earnestly.

Moss' name had been written beside the island, just as beside the other islands were lists of others' names. Hers was the only one that had not been crossed out.

. . . put [the silver key] carefully into his pocket . . . He finally reached the ticking object [pocket watch] and picked it up and also pocketed it, but it kept ticking so he took it out and kept fiddling with it until the ticking stopped. He had clicked something which stopped it . . .

To Elin, there were certainly no consequences to stopping the pocket watch which annoyed him so. And yet, there were consequences indeed.



The walls and ceiling of the map room writhed and stretched like snakes wriggling for the best view of the sunlight newly opened in the room above.

Oh, but that was not the least of the disaster that would befall them all should the pocket watch continue to be silent. It had ticked for thousands of years, and had been meant to tick for thousands more.

He then threw the gun at [Chris] as it flung into the air as he was aiming for the guys head but it would fall short aiming closer to the guy's back or abdomen if he turned around.

Snatching the weapon he stood up but did not point it at him, preferring to stay non aggressive. "What the hell? Are you trying to hit me or something?" He glanced at the flintlock for a moment to see if it was primed. He had some knowledge of how such a thing operated. Loading such a weapon would be another thing so if it was actually loaded it would only be one shot without some supplies and instruction.

The pistol was indeed a flintlock, indeed primed, and indeed loaded -- but not with common shot. The stuff that filled that pistol was bluish in color, a type of stone that had been shaped into pellets for the purpose of shooting. There was no more of it in this room at all -- but then, there was a whole ship to explore.

From the ceiling came a rhythmic knocking sound.

. . . a small trickle of blood started to roll down his face. . . . He finished his rage by knocking all of the crumbling books that rested upon the bookcase in every direction of the room. . . . He grabbed onto the book with both hands and used his feet as leverage and placed them on the next row on the shelf and he tugged with all of his might. It was the most annoying book that he had ever come across, Christopher had got annoyed with the book and punched it before he turned away from it angrily.

Of course, the forehead tends to bleed quite a lot even when it is only nicked. So it was that even though Christopher had only a minor injury blood trickled down his face in a steady red stream. It flecked on the books he cast aside, and it dappled the leaves of the saplings that he crushed underfoot. Books fell open all around him, bloodspattered pages crumpled, plantlife crinkled under their bindings.

One such book -- spattered with particularly more blood than the others -- lay open on the floor with rich drawings presented on its pages. On each page of the book were illustrations of events from Christopher's own life.

And the book that he punched? It squeaked on its hinge and a hidden compartment popped open. Inside this compartment, sitting on a velvet cushion, was a single pearl.

She approached cautiously, and reached out her right hand to touch the one different globe, the one in the third orbit with the smaller sphere circling it. Her finger had just made contact when the ship gave a significant lurch, and the Egyptian stumbled away, tripping over the fringe on her ankle-length chiton and falling to her hands and knees.

Unbeknownst to Zosime, at the moment her finger touched the globe the orrery had stopped -- but it wasn't her fault at all, not really (it was, incidentally, entirely Elin's fault). The ticking stopped. And while the ship lurched, the representation of the Earth glimmered beneath the shining shape of a fingerprint. The fingerprint glowed for a moment and then dissipated, as if absorbed. And yet, deep within the little marble, something glowed and burned like fire.

She wondered if the carvings [on the pillar] would be clearer if she could somehow remove the bark, but the bald woman had no tool with which to attempt such a feat. . . . Circling the pillar, she eventually came to the recessed hand-print. Unable to resist her curiosity, Zosime raised her left hand, her dominant hand, the one that she had touched the leaves when he first awoke, and pressed it against the matching marking on the pillar.

Electricity.

It tickled and zapped her palm, and it wasn't entirely pleasant -- but Zosime would find that she would not be able to pry her hand away no matter how she tried, no matter how much the ripples of shocks pricked her palm.

Above them, the ceiling clinked and ground, and a square opening in the dome soon flooded the room with light. The saplings in the floor and ceiling grew rapidly, greedy for the light. The telescope whirred and clicked and came to life, notching itself upward to gaze up at the swirling clouds through the new hole in the ceiling. Only when the telescope clicked into place did the pillar release Zosime's hand.

It was only a matter of a few steps up to a platform to look through the telescope's lens -- and to see Zosime's home through the clouds, as if looking down on her loved ones from above.

The mechanical mouse jumped down to the floor and scurried underneath the door to the outside.

Tamara-Jane rolled up to her hands and knees when her strained hitching sobs faded and she finally caught her breath. . . . She was torn up pretty bad. Bleeding too. . . . Slowly, yet deliberately, a trembling hand reached out rainbow coloured fingertips to stroke the darling fuzzy face of the fox that she knew was not a fox but her love in disguise carrying that stuffed white bunny. Finally she whispered, spurned on by the wavering strength of a broken heart:

“Hey, baby, hey... I knew... I just soooo knew I'd see ya again, I swear... I missed you LynLyn... I'm... I'm soooo...sosososo sorry, baby... I didn't mean to get you killed. I'm soooo sorry...”

The fox ducked to avoid her hand; it skittered and dodged her, and jumped backward with the rabbit still damp and dangling in its teeth. Bits of fluff drifted on the sea wind. It stared at Tamara-Jane -- and then it ran. The fox bolted a few feet across the deck, then stopped and looked back at her as if to ensure she was following. But it looked quickly to Sidwell with a spark of fear or annoyance before it sped off and disappeared down a staircase at the opposite end of the deck.

. . . by the time she reached the door her conviction to be absolutely anywhere but in there overcame her induced imbalance, and she was outside in the thick air.

Wavering, he stepped a little closer [to Tamara-Jane] and spoke, unsure of exactly what he was interrupting. "Forgiveness comes to all good souls," he offered, trying to compensate for the regret the woman was clearly showing.

Tamara's reply would be cut off by a shout from a brass speaker on the wall near them. The same voice emitted from a similar speaker on the wall beside Moss. It was a female voice, panicked and afraid.



A male voice muttered behind the voice in the speaker, and there was a distinct sound of mechanical clinking and the skitter of claws.

Two long thick poles began to fan out, click by click, from the sides of the ship. There were shimmering, glimmering, undamaged sails attached to those poles. They fluttered above the breaking sea like wings.

Peculiar patterns formed in the shapes of the clouds that swirled above -- like several storms spinning at once high above. The air was becoming electric.

The waves crashed all around them, and the ship tossed while the wind howled.

The butterfly on the rim of Sidwell's hat fluttered its extravagant silvery wings, as content as on a quiet spring day.

Christopher has never been a fan of the unknown, even worse was when there was something in front of him that was unknown to him but he couldn't figure it out what it was. This what seemed like a boat by the way that it moved and how the environment smelled seemed to be especially good for, having a lot of unknown. That was the case with that stupid book with such a weird name "The Reapers Lie". There were voices that appeared to be human on a different level of the floor but it didn't seem that anyone had responded to his knocking on the floor boards, so maybe they hadn't been human or even real voices at all but instead Christophers mind playing a trick on him. Maybe that's what all this was, just some crazy dream since he did have a pretty crazy night with those ladies. He thought maybe that he would just lay on the floor and wait for this dream to end and him to wake up in his comfortable bed. It didn't last long before he got tired of lying on the floor bleeding all over himself and his white dress shirt that he had worn out to the club before going unconscious.

He decided to stand up and jump on the floor three times to indicate to the people below them that they were here. As he performing this action there had been a book that lay open next to his foot and each time that he stomped on the ground a few more specs of blood fell from his chin down onto the open book. Christopher hadn't looked down at the book that was there and it was a good thing because what was there might have frightened him quite well. After Christopher stomped on the ground he was going to have a round two with the book that he couldn't take off of his mind, but the book was not in the same condition before he had laid down. It looked like it popped open a bit like maybe he opened the binding that kept it closed. For the first time since he had been here a smile broke across of his face, he was about to solve the unknown about this book and examine its contents even if he recognized what it said or not. To his astonishment it wasn't a real book at all but it looked like a small safeguard for little items, when he looked inside he was completely floored. There had been a single pearl that was sitting there staring at him, it looked like it had been begging for him to take it. He didn't really mind what the others thought about the contents of this or if he even told them about it but it was his doing that had given up its hidden contents. Having appreciation for the finer details in things as much as he thought that the title of the book was stupid he now had seem the poetics in it now. Another thought entered his mind instantly after the first, hopefully it was purely poetic instead of symbolic. "The Reapers Lie" Hopefully they weren't truly dead and being kept prisoner by "The Reaper" as the "Lie" aspect was true as it wasn't truly a book but a secure place to the pearl.

Christopher was now getting slightly annoyed with the cut on his forehead since it kept getting in his eye. There didn't seem to be anything that he could use around the room and he didn't really thing that parchment would be a benefit for him so he ripped off both of the sleeves on his shirt and wrapped one around his forehead. Even though it was white and would soon turn red given how steady the flow of blood had been, probably didn't help that he had worked himself up by demolishing the contents of the bookshelf and getting his heart rate higher pushing more blood around.

Christopher had started to walk over to the rest of the group to discuss what there the best plan for them to do would be, whether it be to explore the rest of this small room or to try and find their way out while trying to locate where the voices had been coming from. Maybe they would have a few more answers then them. If anything else there might be more of a chance that someone else spoke English as well as he did, which seemed fairly likely given what little he could make out from through the floor boards. While making his way over he stepped on a book, he couldn't ignore the book since maybe it had something hidden in it also since it seemed pretty thick if he wasn't mistaken it seemed about as thick as "The Reapers Lie" when he bent down it on both of the open pages there had been pictures instead of words.

It looked harmless like a picture book that you would show a child but without any captions or words to explain what the pictures showcased. When Christopher had looked down at the pages that the book had fell open to it looked like he had seen a dozen ghosts at once. This was something that had come from his past that only a handful of people knew about, the only ones were his parents, his siblings and himself. On the picture there was the most dark piece of Christopher whole life, he was standing at the feet of a deceased male impaled with a fire poker with his two siblings behind him with his arms spread out protectively. Looking at this image he knew it was about him since he could picture that moment in his mind vividly as it had just happened.

He had collapsed to his knees but he couldn't put the book down, as he flipped the page he had seen another images from his past, when he flipped a few more times he could see himself walking through his apartment door with two women in his arms but they were only silhouettes but they hadn't been wearing what the image in this book portrayed, they had little horns and a tail like many woman had dressed up for Halloween. Like little devils. When he flipped the page once more there had been an image that he didn't remember happening in his mind at all. Like it hadn't happened yet, or happened after he had been with those ladies because he usually had an impeccable memory but this didn't ring any bells. When he turned the next page to see if anything else followed it every single page after it had been ripped from the binding of the book.

Moss jolted at the sounds and sight of the side-wings extending out. She scurried over to the railing, looking down at them with skeptical fascination. That wasn't where sails went, boats didn't have bloody wings, and they sure as hell didn't have trees in them either. Part of her wanted to hop down onto them and see what sort of bits they were attached to, but then something else caught her attention.

The sky was furious, she'd never seen clouds like those that had begun to rage above them. The deck and in fact the whole ship was rocking, their great vessel at the mercy of the waves and the gales. This was going to get very bad very fast if they didn't get a grip on this ship. Before she could move to the odd girl and the priest-looking guy, a sudden, panicked voice nearly jumped her out of her skin.

--"Hey, is anyone there? There is something down here. Get us out of here!"--

Well, at least whoever that was seemed to be on the same level as everyone else. She made her way back to the speaker, giving it a tap before leaning in close. The metal gave her lips a static tinge at first, but she ignored it.

"Aye, I hear ya," she said back. "Just sit uh...sit tight, where are ya?"

Engine Room

Well, at least if they died right then, Connor could go knowing that he had been right about there being some sort of creature skulking in the shadows. It was little solace - or it would have been, if he had the time to even think about it - as he desperately did his best to alternate between fending off the creature and putting as much distance between it and him as possible. The most preferable option would have been to find a way to kill the damn thing, but firstly, Connor doubted he had the stomach for it and secondly, he did not even know if the thing would die like a human.

"Engine room!" Connor shouted in the general direction of the horn, hoping whoever that was on the other side would be able to hear him. "We're in the fecking-" He was rudely interrupted when the creature made a swipe towards him, forcing Connor to back away even further. "We're in the fecking engine room!"

The creature lunged for Connor once more, and in a panic, he backed away until his back touched the wall. Connor only wished he knew why the creature was so intent on chasing him, rather than the girl. She was the one who was unarmed, after all. It made more sense for the creature to attack her instead, but then again, Connor wondered if his and the creature's sense had anything in common. Keeping his eye on the creature, Connor used his free hand to search his surroundings for anything that he could use to, at the very least, spite the creature before he was torn to bits.

His felt his hand grab onto what felt like dusty stones, but they would have to do. With a shout, he spun his body and put as much force into throwing a handful of the stuff - it looked like coal, he noted - at the creature. Connor had been aiming at the eyes, but given how large they were, he did not really need to be precise. Taking advantage of the creature's temporary blindness, pain or whatever that was causing it to reel, Connor ran past it. "Any help you can give would be sure as feckin' helpful right now, missy!" He said to the girl as he looked around for anything that could be used.

There was a pistol-shaped object hanging from a wall behind a series of boilers, and immediately Connor knew that he was going to need that. The problem was that it meant he had to run past the creature again, and now he had nothing to work with. "We need that pistol," He said to the girl and gulped, his fear showing through.

MAP ROOM/DECK

He missed as the fear took over, his ears pointing straight up and a bit to the sides as his body felt tense. His tail moving slowly as all the hairs stood up. The man asked if he was trying to hit him and not really understanding the whole process of lying he answered with, "en" which translated into yes. He did not know what he would do as he even felt something else, something he had not felt before as he began to feel an even deeper fear as something began to call to him as he started moving slowly to the sides as he began looking around at all the strange maps, it was then that he took a chance and dashed for the door. With a huge thud as he hid shoulder first making a soft yelping sound he flew out the door into a new world, a world he had never seen before as some blood dripped on the floor as he was not used to taking any hits.

He thought he escaped the dangerous man with the glasses he thought were meant as a scanner to help the man figure out everything around him, to find his weakness and eventually when he lets his guard down eat him. In the end his fear grew as he looked outside at first over the deck for the first time. The wind blew violently through his hair, though it was more the fact that he had just freshly dashed into the outside and never really encountered the true unaltered outdoors before. He saw strange foamy like, water that had a strange salty smell he still did not understand. Large branches from trees which looked similar to that one thing inside the place he was before. There was no way for him to know where he was but he had to be in the outsiders world, the land of the violent and merciless primitive beasts who used to be humans.

He had shoes on initially but they had gotten damaged as they were made to cushion his feet and were not really made for real out doors as he did not even notice until he felt a stinging and tingling sensation in his foot as tears flowed from his eyes as he moved in confusion tripping over a root sticking out of the wooden bark of the strange deck. He was crying and sniffing as he had a salty wind blowing up his nose and the smell of leaves was something that was making his eyes water too. His body was not used to all of this as his right foot was bleeding underneath, his one shoe was left behind in the map room all torn. Meanwhile his left shoe was not much better off as it had also been mostly torn and he was nervous.

In the process of receiving way too many new sensations everything began to be interpreted as pain, since his understanding was not made for the outside world and his hunger did not make things any easier as he did not even bother to look around him anymore and shouted in a loud high pitched voice. "aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!" which was translated to mean "Help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" as he did not even know what to do anymore, he did not understand as he was sitting their his foot in pain, he did not even notice how dirty he was as the ground they stood on did not even sit still, the gravity was strange and there were lots of strange weirdo's all around him. Someone had to come save him and someone had to come look after him or at least help him in his now vulnerable state.

This was when he began to feel the one thing all creatures understand, the feeling of being alone and helpless in an unknown world.

Map Room

And just like that the cat boy ran off. Out the door he went in a panic it seemed. Seemed like a confession to him. Not that he really would have done anything. Oh well, now he actually had the chance to look around in peace. He felt the ship rock pretty hard to one side and he braced himself with the shelving. This wasn't his first time on a boat but it would take a bit to get his sea legs. Still able to hear a little of what was going on through the open door he figured they were close enough that ce could catch up to them if he needed. For now he set the silver box back where he found it.

Pocketing the pistol he caught the globe that had been rolling around and wedged it in a corner. He had heard a knocking on the ceiling not long ago. Carefully he stepped up on one of the chairs and knocked back with the same pattern. He made sure to get back on the floor quickly well another wave catch him off guard. There were a lot of things to look over but not all of them seemed immediately pressing. He walked over to the door and took the keys from the wall. First off they might end up being useful and second he was tired of hearing them jangle around. Placing that in another pocket he turned to the far end of the room. Moss seemed to have a change of heart when looking in that direction. Cautiously he circled around. He left the door open for some extra light.

The pillar had a one eyed teddy bear. A slightly odd item he thought. He didn't have a use for it but picked it up anyhow. It wasn't unheard of to hide things inside stuffed animals. So far nothing seemed to be on the other side of the pillar other than a door. It was opened a crack and he carefully nudged it open some more so he could see the contents. Nothing jumped out so he opened it further and found it full of food. Finally something that made sense. At least they wouldn't starve or have to resort to fishing right away. Pulling out the bags to see what all there was he spotted the ladder going up. That was the direction the knocking had come from. But there was no telling who was there. It hadn't been the aggressive kind though where you want someone to quiet down. So far there had not been any sign of a crew.

Lightning, angry and demanding cut the spiralling, storming heavens above her and TamTam cringed even more than when the giant poles grumbled forth then swept from the hull and out across the rough seas. Like angel wings attempting to pacify a greyed out, murderous beast, they hovered and the blue-eyed teen could not help but feel strange comfort upon seeing the unblemished material of the outstretched posts. But the sounds of them unfurling. Oh shudder!

She had bumbled up to a standing position, reaching out after the fox who she thought was not a fox but her love in disguise. But this fox darted this way and that, eluding her desperate attempts to caress its fuzzy frame. Her jaw dropped open and baby blues widened in alarm when the fox nimbly dashed away from her.

Tamara-Jane then scowled and pulled up at her torn denim sleeves as if ready to get down and dirty, “Oh nonononono...! I've been waiting for this moment for sooooooooooo long now, LynLyn!! I don't thinks so! You are sooooo not getting away again!”

She took two steps then she heard someone speak and promptly came to a skidding halt.

“Forgiveness comes to all good souls...” spoken from the lips of an angel.

Quickly she wheeled about and held her bloody chin with both hands. She felt the sting of pressing tears again but held them back for even though he sounded like one, TamTam did not see an angel before her. No wings... but a butterfly on his hat...?

A soft smile she offered the dude, this AngelMan and inhaled deeply before she spoke--

--"Hey, is anyone there? There is something down here. Get us out of here!"--

Tamara-Jane jumped then held a blood-smeared hand where her heart thudded away. Heart?! LynLyn! Baby blues widened again and she swiftly glanced over her shoulder. The amber eyes of the fox stared into hers and Tamara-Jane's lips pouted with wistful affection. Oooooh... of course... you're waiting for me...

“Hey, baby, hey...”

Wet black hair re-plastered against her forehead as she turned back to face the Angelman “Thank you. My name is Tamara-Jane Winstanley. TamTam. And TamTam needs that forgiveness, please, I'm sure you must understand. That's why I need to be with that fox in Heaven. Crystal-Lynne, that's her... I just know it... Please understand... and please--” TamTam pointed at the speaker, “--save them too. Please.”

"Aye, I hear ya," It was Les Mis! "Just sit uh...sit tight, where are ya?"

"Engine room! We're in the fecking-- We're in the fecking engine room!"

She nodded graciously at the Angelman then took leave in the direction of the fox. As she moved, she spied in the distance, between the shrubbery and tree trunks, Les Mis near the speaker tube thingy and just behind her Neko-Chan sprung out from the doorway, mewling, all saddened and lost looking. They did not look so scary out here in light of the raging storm above them and churning sea neath them. And Les Mis was going to save people too. Looking up towards them, a flash of a smile and a slender, but bloodied hand she raised for them, before turning around and bolting away, chasing the fox (bunny still lolling from its mouth) wherever it may lead her down those steps.

“LynLyn! Foxy lady! Wait up, chick! I'm going with you!”

DECK

Moss was about to begin her search for the Engine room when the sudden, ear-splitting shriek of the freak rose above the sounds of the brewing storm, and damn near scared the life out of her. Teeth grit together, she whirled around, summoned up all the breath she had, and yelled back.

"Shut the fok up! Stop for christ's-sake, ya fine, ya alive!" she held angry eyes on the freak-boy, but there wasn't any more fear left in them. "I don't know if ya can even fok'n understand me, but pay attention, aye?"

She jabbed a finger at him, and then jutted the thumb back at herself. "Stay with me. Before shite gets absolutely fok'd, we have to start gatherin' folks together, or we're all gonna sink, ya understand me?" She made the same motions with her fingers once again. "Stay with me, got it? Stay. With. Me."

A mental note for her was made then to never have kids. At least no weird, moon-man-language-speaking freak kids.

That settled, she heard the shouting of another voice, familiar and no longer uttering sobbing words. The strange girl, Tam-Something, seemed to be in a hurry of her own. Well, they had to gather, and though all of this sudden buddy-buddy shite was way out of Moss's own comfort zone for interactions, she much preferred the awkward bout of courage to swimming in brine.

"Fine, aye, good," she said quickly, giving the strange girl her attention. "Do ya know where we can find this damn Engine Room?"

ENGINE ROOM

Risa heard the chain clinking, but she was more interested in lighting the lamp. She saw that matches and she wanted nothing more than to walk over and grab a match and light the lamp right now, but that meant getting closer to the creature. She felt safe here for now. That was until she heard the creature start to move again. While she could not tell where it was she gripped the pipe in her hand. When it moved to attack Connor, she could not help but be relieved.

She knew that she should help him, but she could not move. She did not want to see a person hurt bedside her, but she did not want to put herself in danger. She was not that kind of a person, not unless she had a weapon that she could use. That was when she heard the voice over the speaker. There was someone else there and worse off these people did not know where they were. She looked at Connor and then back to the speaker.

"You need to hurry, there is a giant lizard attacking Connor. Please help all we have weapon wise is his sword." she said in a panic. She was going to say more, but Connor started to talk to her. She turned to him and looked around for something that she could use. Maybe something that would allow her to attack from a distance.

When he mentioned a pistol she looked in that direction. She had never used a gun before, but if it meant that she could stop the lizard she was more than willing to use it. She slowly moved over to the boiler making sure that the lizard was paying attention to Connor. She managed to get behind boiler and grabbed the pistol.

She got out from behind the boiler and held the pistol up. She had no idea if it was loaded, but if she did nothing she would end up the next target of this lizard. She hold the pistol and pressed the trigger.

DECK

He stopped for a moment when he heard a beast cry out about something being shut up and stopped, as well as something it for being Chris's sake whoever that was being fine and alive. He noticed her eyes seeming to glare at him as she said she was not sure if he understood her as she told the little Elin to pay attention. He looked at her as he sniffed a bit the tears still running down his face, she then pointed a finger at him as he was already sitting he jumped up before falling back hard against the door which happened to have closed again. He watched as she then pointed back at herself and that was when he felt really scared.

He misunderstood and thought that she claimed him as her slave, he remembered hearing stories about how the outsiders enslaved people to do the work of machines, like cleaning, feeding and protecting them. He did not even understand what those were completely either as he struggled and slowly crawled to her on all fours mostly out of instinct and partially out of fear that she would beat him if he did not obey. He then felt a bit less scared when he saw the normal looking girl Tam Tam as he pointed and spoke. "Tam...Tam...", he did not have a word in his language for her name but having heard it somewhere along the line he picked it up. He then pointed nervously at the other red haired beast girl and said, "Mosh" as he was not too familiar with using the 's' sound.

She also said something about gathering folks, which translated badly as fok which was untranslatable in his language sounded the same as folks to him, so he figured fokd meant there were a lot of foks which was actually folks, but he was not really able to make a better choice so he then learnt that fok meant people. Outsiders had a weird language, he tried using her language again to answer her when she asked if he got it and he answered her with.

"Shtay wif Mosh, gaffer foks ......", he was aboutto cry as he was struggling to say together for some reason and just said "uhn" which translated to together. It was confusing to outsiders where "uhn","en" and "ehn" can all mean the same thing depending on the frequency and pitch in which it is said.

He was beyond confused, but he was learning the language of Mosh and maybe one day he will also understand the confusing weird language of TamTam

Deck.
The fox was soon gone, a limp white mass in its jaws at which the woman yelled but turned herself from to see Sidwell. Voices had followed him, though now their source was focused in a horn-like device more than they were easily discerned from the floorboards. Another child, this one thin with ominous red hair, looked to be seeing to them, but he didn't listen. The woman was his greater concern, and the growing wind was interfering with his ears. She spoke like the man with the arm markings, a loose hybrid of Anglish and components he didn't know. "You'll find your fox in heaven if your heart is pure," he accorded to scripture, but beyond that he could only nod back as she gestured to the voices. Save them. I can only try to help them save themselves now.

The woman Tamtam (Tamara? Perhaps the other names were merely titular) was quickly off in the direction of the fox again, which- Perhaps unknown to her- Was being pursued in turn by the same gleaming mouse as had been resting in Innocent's waking room. A second time he failed to go after it, leaving himself with the voices, of which a louder, male aspect had taken over, talking back to the child. Sidwell could see the burgeoning maelstrom in the sky, early and distant flickers of lightning shattered and reflected in the roiling water, but as he was still stepping back to the strange girl, a much closer voice turned both of their heads.

The girl with the red head reacted first, and aggressively, spouting a curse much harsher than Sidwell was comfortable with, the name of the Christ. He said nothing, and stood by watching the sails unfold as the girl disciplined a frightened, dirty boy who had screamed. Innocent supposed it was of interest that the boy had bluish hair and ears like a cat, but it was hardly less strange than the red haired girl, or the tall stories he'd heard third-hand from sailors. People from all parts of the world ended up dead and under judgement, to no surprise. The sails weren't like those he'd been told about. They certainly weren't canvas sheets hung between mast and rigging, and they certainly weren't glass. No glass could ever be so pure and clear, let alone supple. They were air made solid. The rising wind made Sidwell hold on to his hat. "Fly away then, cloudship," he murmured as the feisty red girl finished her tirade and whirled back, clearly expecting to see Tamtam still around.

Sidwell answered as if he'd been the addressee, though parts of the red girl's speech hiccuped in his translation. He could recognise the spoken word engin, cleverness, but the voice in his head insisted it meant 'device'. Both descriptions fitted his waking room, the one with the books and the brass contraptions. "There is a room with devices up there." Sidwell gestured to the structure from which the toy mouse had run, observing that its roof had opened up somehow, but hesitated before starting back.

Save them too. That was the order he'd been left with, and it was a powerful command. He knew he'd just left that place. The voices were coming from underneath it. And now that the roof was open, it offered no shelter from whatever rain this storm could offer. "...But the people there aren't the ones we're looking for. They're below that. I think we should avoid this storm." It was against his grain to contradict himself, to make a suggestion other than the easiest route. But he'd been told to go save people, and he supposed Red Girl and Blue Cat Boy were part of that. The advice was good, though it wasn't meant for him- Stay with me. Gather folks together. Beckoning to the boy, who was in confusion or terror attempting to crush together more than one language, Innocent Sidwell turned his back on the waves and the storm and stepped towards the stairway where Tamtam had disappeared in her chase, gently resting his free hand on the trees as he walked.