(event) WAY DOWN WE GO

[vestigemods]

EVENT LOG: WAY DOWN WE GO

AUGUST 14TH - 24TH

► THE BASICS

Not halfway into the month of August, the lake starts to recede - slowly at first, but then in great leaps and bounds until only a foot and a half of sun-warmed standing water remains. The lake going dry is concerning, for certain, but it's hardly the least of our problems... because on the lake bed is a hatch, askew and emblazoned with an unknown but eerie insignia, and beyond that hatch lies nothing but trouble.

Over the next few days, a brave and reckless team of explorers delve into the cave beyond - what is later revealed as a maintenance tunnel, just before the ceiling of that very tunnel caves in and traps them from both sides. Their supplies are limited, and phone signal is shaky at best. And what's worse, not more than a day or so later, the lake begins to fill back up, water pouring down into the open hatch. Can those who remain stage a rescue in time to save the explorers from drowning?

► MOD NOTES

• This log is a general dump for all log threads pertaining to August's Way Down We Go event - and in lieu of the lack of catch-all for August, you can feel free to do non-event log threads here as well! Go ahead and utilize vestigenet for any event-related network posts you'd like to make.
  
• The main chunk of the event takes place between the IC dates August 17th (reveal of the hatch) and August 22nd (the latest the spelunkers can be freed before they drown). No rush leaping on this event post, since I know most folks are honestly still plotting about it.
  
• All event information can be found on the July Event Infopost!
  
• Please take special care in this event to label your top-levels with identifying information such as the IC date, any prompts specifically pertaining to event roles (spelunker, rescue efforts, etc), and/or 'non-event' for any non-event prompts you may include. Just trying to keep things organized!
  
• I'm going to help solidify the plotting efforts over the next few days to help make sure everyone's on the same page, but none of it will be set in stone just in case latecomers want in too. If you want in, chime in on the spelunkers, rescue efforts, or support roles top-levels as applicable!
  
• Any questions can be directed to this top-level or, for a quicker response, to Trace on discord/plurk.

Comments

gilia st. loe | open

[seaboard]

i. wandering aimlessly
Gilia has no sense of this place. It is not home, it is not anywhere she knows, and no building in it makes sense to her. But as time goes on, and she calls and calls and calls for her brothers and sisters, her fathers, and then at last to the Sea-Father himself, she begins to realize, no one is answering her. There is no one at all that she knows.

So then she must swallow propriety and the deep dislike of talking to people to whom she has not been introduced too and with a light touch get their attention. Turning her eyes on them - though she is an imposing woman of herself, not that she would ever think so. Dressed in plain colours and her hair tightly wrapped back, she is a stiff-looking woman, holding her skirts in one hand as she speaks so very softly.

"I do not mean to intrude upon your space. Or speak to you out of turn, but I am quite without hope or reason - please, I am looking for my family? I cannot find them. They would not have left me, and I do not know how I wandered so far from them."

ii. by water's edge
Of course, it becomes apparent, no one knows where her family is, and she is left right back where she started, hours later. Now hungry and lost. But she can't ask for help twice, that would simply be too much.

There is a lake, however, and that means she isn't totally helpless. It's unseemly, but she doesn't have much of an option unless she wants to wade in her heavy silk and wool gown, so instead she sheds it down to her thin white undergarments. Taking stockings off after it, folding them all neatly so she could retrieve them afterwards. Her wimple and veil done away with the reveal her half-wild hair. Unbound curls that spiral in every direction. Shivering against the cool air, she has everything set up, she turns to the water and begins to wade in.

Up to her knees and then a little bit further as she lowers the rest of her body. Letting the water lap up her body as she swirls her fingers into it, her shift clings to her thin frame, the water ripples in dark circles and with a shift in the air. Gilia closes her eyes and curls her fingers up. Lifting her palms skyward.

With her, pockets of water rise. Bubbles of water that suspend themselves aloft. Gilia pants to hold them, and the purpose of them is plain: inside one or two of them, is a fish. A healthy trout by the look of it.

She tries her hardest to keep it, but she has control of the water - not the fish. They are obviously terrified, and thrash about and in one flick of their tail - "No! No, stop! I just want one! No! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please - just one - !"

The fish throws itself out of the water bubble and back into the lake. Her control breaks and all the pockets of water suspended in the air lose their hold and splash back down. She knew she should have learnt to do this as well as Nikolai did. She knew it.

Covering her face to get her bearings, this time, she lowers herself down again and sinks lower, like she might get a better grip on the water itself to hold it.

iii. resting
When all is said and done, if she has eaten and if she hasn't, she goes back to land in her shivering thin dress and goes about making a fire. That she can do far easier. The maids couldn't always be up earlier enough for her and she'd never ask them too, so she had learned that well enough. Gilia builds it to something as well as she can and sits in front of it, letting it dry off her clothes and hair.

And in turn, she never would think to take a house for her own, just not her nature. Instead, she finds home is best when it is near to the water, regardless, and going further away from the water now that she can't find her family, seems terrifying.

So by the fire, near the lake edge, feet half in the water still, curled up against plants and her clothes, half sodden, she makes do. Curling up on her side, dress underneath her, she lays there saying her nightly prayers. "Father, please hear me, take me back home. I am your servant, I am your daughter, take pity on my lowly state, and return me home. I am lost without you. I long to lay in the salt of your embrace."

iv. wildcard
Want to mush things together? Please go ahead. Or send me a message to this account or at aeneia!

gimme that wata

[fishbreath]

Gilia has an observer. Maria's been unable to help herself from investigating the lake upon her arrival, and that's what she's at when she feels -- something. Something prodding at, capturing the water. It's an alarming sensation, so Maria makes it her business to swim quickly to find its source, and ... huh. A human. A human? Someone doing something strange with the water from a shallow depth, anyway. It's a reassuring finding.

The water bursts, the fish go quickly on their way, and Maria rises from the lake smoothly and quietly, like a remarkably inoffensive swamp creature. She's naked -- nearly. She wears some version of a bikini bottom, as well as a tight-fit mask around the bottom half of her face. Water runs down her not-quite-hair, and a few locks of it are brushed aside with a webbed hand.

She tilts her head at Gilia, and eschews any kind of greeting to leap straight for, "Have you never learned to fish?"

Honestly. This seems like so much more work.

[seaboard]

Gilia makes a definite squeak as she turns in alarm at the voice. She wasn't expecting a audience of any kind. Alarmed, she crosses her arms over her chest and holds herself in tight.

"We - I - That is - Not as well as my brother's do. They can flick their wrist and take ten fish like this."

[fishbreath]

The answer doesn't seem to impress her. An interesting ability is one thing, but being bad at it is another entirely. Maria simply watches her for a few long seconds, unmoving at about 20 feet from shore ... then sighs.

"Can you cook them?" she asks, and any doubt she might feel about the answer manages not to make it into her gentle tone.

[seaboard]

That at least - she nods quickly and sharply. Though the tone makes her want to curl away and wince. "Yes, yes of course."

[fishbreath]

Maria nods as well, satisfied with the answer.

"Then I will get fish, for us both. You will cook," she says. She doesn't exactly need the fish cooked, but variety is the spice of life, and all. And it will behoove her to make friends here. She takes a step back toward deeper water, but, just to make sure they're in agreement, "You will prepare a fire?"

I. Wandering Aimlessly

[singularwidower]

On his way back from the Gas Station toward his cabin near the lake with a new set of groceries vanished, Daemon rather looks like he is also wandering aimlessly with only the clothes on his back. He has his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, his white silk shirt rolled up his forearms. And he is wearing, rather than any proper shoes, the most hideous of neon orange flip-flops. They slap noisily against his heels and announce his presence from a surprising distance.

The sound of his footsteps slow when he catches sight of the newcomer--for what else could she be? He has not seen anyone wearing anything like her garb here as yet. He remains silent-but-friendly as he approaches her with a mild expression on his face and tilts his head to listen to her request for help.

"You are not disturbing me," he reassures her to begin with, very obviously looking over her and her clothing. It is a professional assessment, not a lecherous one, but he does not hide that he is evaluating her. "If they wear similar garments to you, then I have not seen them. What names would they go by? You might be in luck and have had them brought here with you--for I am sorry, but you were, indeed, brought."

[seaboard]

Gilia grasps both her hands in front of herself as he speaks to her. Proper as station requires, she keeps her eyes fixed lower than his face directly. She is no stranger to being examined, it is her position that the one most forward facing. More in the line of others than her brother.

"Yes, they would dress as I do." But to his question she does look up, meeting his eyes with such clear and clarant hope that he might be able to help her, and thankfulness that he was taking the time to do so. "Nikolai is my eldest brother - he has a dark look about him, but a kind smile, he has many markings covering his face since his marriage. Then there are my two younger sisters, Elspeth and Farfalee. Elspeth is a little older, and she is very sweet of face, and Farfalee never sees why she must put back her hair, and it is easy to tell note her hair, it is light red and full of curls. Then there is Leif, my younger brother. He is not past ten but shares Nikolai's smile."

[singularwidower]

Daemon's eyebrows tick towards each other as she speaks, leaving a furrow between his brows. His expression is intent, not just polite, but he very carefully does not give any indication that he does or does not recognize the names until she has finished relating the details of the family she is missing. Something about her manner and her dress tickled Daemon's memories.

Only when she's done does he glance down at his bare toes and then back up to her face. "I'm sorry, but I recognize none of those names. Unless they've appeared and I haven't met them yet, you might be alone here." He lifts one shoulder in a partial wince and corrects himself, "Not alone, forgive me, but without those you're familiar with. Those who run this place seem to take great delight in plucking between a single individual and a handful and placing them here."

[seaboard]

It does her no happiness to hear it. Her hands lift, cupping her mouth in the shock of hearing it. Shaking her head in disbelief. She cannot leave, she cannot. There is too much at stake, it is her position, and if she does not, then who? Elspeth? She would not wish her fate on her sister, her carefree, younger sister.

"No, please, you must understand. I must return. Surely, there must be a way? Please?"

[singularwidower]

Helpless in the face of her pleading, Daemon rubs a hand over his face. He taps long black-lacquered nails against his cheek for a moment, considering. On his finger is a thick gold signet set with a large black stone that pulses with an inner fire, and he shifts his hand to press it thoughtfully to his lips as he thinks.

"There is no way," he says finally, cutting straight to the heart of her plea. "We were brought here and cut off. Even I cannot return home at my whim."

He doesn't stop speaking, though. "Come back with me to my cabin and rest for a moment. I'll make you something to drink. Tea. Or something alcoholic, if that's your preference. They left us information. A pamphlet for us to read that will answer some of your questions."

resting

[mannerless]

It's the campfire that draws Wei Wuxian's attention. Perhaps it might not have during the proper day, but dusk has nearly set by now and the flicker of light faintly illuminates the wall across from his window. The briefest peek is stolen out his window, if only to ensure that it isn't someone he'd best not disturb (Jiang Cheng, he means Jiang Cheng), before he slips into his boots and heads out the door.

The man who approaches is dressed in robes, the comfortable low-grade sort that a commoner might buy on a well-off year. His posture in nonthreatening, both hands wrapped politely around what looks like a flute just below the small of his back as he strolls toward the fire and the woman lying in beachfront shrubbery beside it. She seems to be murmuring something, some sort of entreaty to those above or beyond, and Wei Wuxian at least has the courtesy to slow down a bit so that she can finish by the time he's in speaking distance.

"Ah - your feet are still getting wet, did you know?" It's not much for a greeting, but once he noticed it, it couldn't go without mention. She seems to be trying to warm up by the fire, after all. "Might be tricky to warm up like that." If she glances his way, he'll offer what he hopes is a reassuring 'i'm no danger' sort of smile in lieu of his proper 'hello'.

[seaboard]

Gilia stirs at the voice, with a startled yelp like she has been caught with her hands on sweet bread. Pulling herself half up from where she had resolved herself to sleep for the night.

"Oh - oh I am sorry. I did not mean to put my feet in the water."

As if that is something she needs to apologize for. "I hope I did not disturb you."

[mannerless]

The startled yelp stops him short in his tracks, hands lifting palm-out to show that he's not carrying a knife or something (though the thumb of one still curls around his flute). He opens his mouth to apologize for startling her, but she seems to beat him to it, apologizing for.... getting wet?

His brow knits in faint bemusement, but then she follows up with something quite a bit easier to answer. He shakes his head, hands dropping down to his sides now. "Not disturbed, no. I saw a fire, thought I might investigate." A beat, and then the slightest tilt of his head. "You've just arrived, am I right?" If not for her prevailing jumpiness, he wouldn't discount the possibility that someone was just in the mood for a campfire, but adding to that the fact that she's clearly ill at ease?

...Wei Ying realizes now that he should perhaps consider not standing aimlessly at the edge of the firelight, so he also tacks on, "Ah, would you mind if I sit?"

[seaboard]

Gilia nods in answer to his question, pressing her lips together as she listens. "Not a half day ago, I think. I was walking with my siblings - and now..."

She has been told that she is alone here from them. Though that is very uncharitable, she is hardly alone without any company at all, she knows. But alone in the matter that is of most importance to her - she is far from her duties, her people, her position.

His request, of course, is met with a most serious nod, as she raises up. Hospitality is of most importance, that is the rule her mother had always insisted upon. Gilia clears a spot for him, "please, I would be glad of your company."

She can't offer him much. The leftovers of the fish she had caught earlier that she had set aside for later, and no - well no physical cup.

Instead, she goes about making him one. The phial of water she keeps at her side is to her - all tools to her as she curls her wrist, and lifts it up to float in the air. Water could, after all, be as hard or soft as she needed it to be. So she forms him a goblet out of it, a water goblet made out of water for him to drink from since she cannot give him a cup. That in turn, she reaches for the lake water to fill. Swirling it around the air to clean it. It takes tremendous control, to make the cup of water in the shape of one hand and clean the water with the other - but she is not Daughter Sea for nothing. To know water, to be water, it is birth-right.

That she presents to him to drink from. "I hope this serves. It is clean, and safe to drink."

[mannerless]

The welcoming and clearing of a spot earns a grin, and he's moving to sink down crosslegged in the space she so courteously cleared. Quite honestly, the fact that his company is welcome at all is more than enough - this isn't her home, she isn't expected to host in any shape or form - and for that reason, he watches what she's doing (is that water floating?) with unabashed intrigue and no idea that it might somehow be on his behalf.

Wei Ying is well and truly fascinated by the time she offers the cup out to him, and for a moment he thinks she's just trying to show him until she offers her words as well. A flicker of surprise crosses his face, a 'oh, no, you don't have to-' forming and dying on his lips. After she's done all that, how could he refuse?

And so he reaches out a hand, accepting the fancy cup as carefully as if it might dissolve into water the moment she lets go of it, but no - it's still a cup. He exhales a laugh-breath of wonder, holding it between him and the fire for a moment to watch the firelight reflect through the crystalline surface. "This is- amazing. You're fantastically talented." Surely she already knows that, but he's saying it anyway before he finally brings the marvel of magic to his lips to take a sip from it.

water's edge

[kinkprofessor]

He was actually going out to collect more samples of the lake water. Despite not having any real directive, it's hard to take the Xenobiologist instincts out of him. He wants to learn all he can about this strange place he's found himself in. It's not unusual for people to be down at the lakeshore.

He doesn't recognize this woman. He's been trying to make himself familiar with everyone here in their little community but also been preoccupied with his own work. It's all but forgotten, however, as he watches her display of manipulating the water.

Interesting.

"Do you need a hand?" It's call from land but he's already taking off his shoes in preparation for wading in. "I have several I could offer."

[seaboard]

Gilia turns her head, water clinging to her thin robes and moulding them to her body - and yelps, immediately pulling back and attempting to cover herself with her hands and arms.

"Sir. I - I am not sure - we should be - that is - I am quite fine - not that I am not glad for your, your offer to - but I do not - not that I do not need - I'm -"

Whatever she's trying to say doesn't come out easily, and she settles for throwing herself further down into the water to hide. Perish this thought - caught! Caught in her underthings. She thought she had been alone.

[kinkprofessor]

Oh. She's shy. Innocent. It excites him more than it has any right to, really, but he doesn't let it show. Instead, he stops his steps towards the water and raises a hand to hover in front of his glasses.

"My apologies," he says, tilting his head and smiling. "My culture is a little more open about our state of dress." A beat, considering. "Or lack thereof." While it isn't an outright lie, he might be exaggerating a bit. People on Zenith don't go around in their underthings; at least, not in public.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I only wanted to help."

[seaboard]

"Thank you, sir, I am sure you meant no ill to me." That she takes at face value, just a misunderstanding. "I was simply trying to fish, not expose myself in any way indecently."

She's just head and shoulders above the water, treading it easily, letting it lap at her chip as she keeps her face down towards the edge. A cool relief on her bright pink flaming cheeks and how her whole body was hot with embarrassment.

[kinkprofessor]

"Of course," he replies, smiling all the while. "My offer still stands though, actually. I can help. I might not look it, but I'm practically made for underwater excursions."

He doesn't look it in the slightest. All she'll see at a glance is a rail-thin, professionally dressed man. "I can even keep my eyes closed, if that helps. And to even the playing field a little-"

Oh, he's. He's stripping. That's a thing he's doing now. Eyes still closed, as promised, he begins to unbutton his shirt.

iii

[obeir]

As has become K's habit, at some point during the day and then sometimes again at night, he makes a circuit around the lake keeping an eye out for any changes. Just in case. On this day it isn't the lake itself that's changed, but he detects the presence of a captive he's never seen before. Possibly a new arrival?

He approaches at a deliberately slow pace, taking care to walk in such a way that his normally silent footsteps are now audible, and notes the woman's attire (or... lack thereof) with a curious look. Despite the fire, he feels compelled to inquire, "Are you cold?"

[seaboard]

She's a thin shivering thing, in her wet clothes that cling to her body half transparent in the water against the fine linen. It hid very little all told.

Which is why, when he steps close enough, and speaks, she gasps and whirls, desperately clutching her arms to her body. Then dropping herself into the water so only her head and shoulders were visible.

"No, no I am... not."

[obeir]

Well, damn. Her frantic reaction immediately makes him feel bad, and he raises his empty hands in what he hopes is a non-threatening manner as he takes a step back. Then, realising she may have been in the midst of bathing, averts his eyes to be polite.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Or... interrupt," he says, sounding uncertain. "Would you like a towel? Or a blanket?" Even though she claims not to be cold despite that contradictory shivering, it hasn't escaped his notice that she doesn't appear to have anything to dry off with.

[seaboard]

"My clothes are... just there." It's ventured slowly, from the water her chin lifting to indicate since she didn't dare to lift her hand out of the water less she cause the impropriety of it.

"Please, I could hardly impose but if you... I would be glad for something to dry with. Or if not, could you turn around.. And permit me to dress? So I may... speak with you... In a more decent way. Though I would not be ungrateful if you closed your eyes."