Coral Maiden, Coffin Mine [Ponytail, Talea, Charis, Missy]

[Vanitypirate]

There was neither resistance nor aid in Charis's stripping of his coat, shirt, and boots. Ponytail was only vaguely aware of the motions of her precise, exacting, nursely hands, specifically trained for the single purpose of keeping a body alive.
He did not have the breath to spare to thank her. Reduced to wearing nothing but his trousers (mercifully for the good Missy), presuming that Charis had concluded her business with him, he would slump to lay on his side, arms hugged close tight to him.

He was, expectedly, fairly well-muscled: his legs were used to running impossible distances, and strong arms and broad shoulders were necessary to go toe-to-toe to creatures made of teeth and claws. As though a testament to that need, about his shoulders were pink, albeit barely-visible scars, where some creature had evidently scored across his skin, that had long since healed.

For all his skill in chasing, hunting, fighting, it certainly did not help him now. He was a bedraggled, wet boy curled up and shivering on a cold, cave floor, struggling through each pained, forced breath.

[Machevelli]

Missy paces around the group, trying to ignore the near-nude Ponytail and focus on her thoughts, which were pretty much entirely of the strange siren song she had just heard. She briefly worried about the time, seeing as the party had been in this chamber for a little while now, and the tide was bound to come in at some point.

The sound of clothes shuffling broke her train of thought, pulling her back to the real world where she had almost bumped into Charis. She sat down and meowed, suddenly filled with the strangest urge to lick her own foot, but she suppressed it and sat still in the cool air.

[EtherealNoire]

Bidden to dress, Talea layered herself in the blouse like petals to a blossom and a stem made of tanned and narrow matter. It clung to her legs, smooth as snake skin after shedding scales, and left her ankles naked against the damp stone. With the garment buttoned, the tightness girdled her chest, threatening to bite should she draw too deep a breath against its snare.
In the new shell, Talea found warmth, yet also chagrin. For with her garb removed, she stood silhouetted and exposed. A remnant of her former mystery stripped to mottled clothes, dripping tresses and a single skull pining for what she once was.
A spirit, now forged mortal in the firelight.

[twostepsback]

Charis finishes wringing out Ponytail's clothes and hands them back to him. Retrieving the lit torch from its makeshift sconce, and drawing her shortsword from its sheath, Charis says, "So, to recap, I noticed that there were things in the river that were moving from the left tunnel to the right one, while Missy noticed that there was a glow coming from the left tunnel... Given that any lights down here, other than our own, are probably just the living lights of sea creatures, I think we should head to the right." She reasons.

[Vanitypirate]

Dazed, Ponytail watched as Charis tended to the group, took the helm and bore the torch. The sword in her hand glinted in the firelight, like a beam of embers. It was an odd thing to see the mind of a great hunter in the body of a small girl. Had she been born a continent south, she would have stalked the most elusive creatures.
The only thing she missed was the joy in it. She went about her duties with a grim matter-of-factness.

Closing his eyes, wrapping a bare arm around his aching head, he resigned any input he could have given. His mind was swimming with the images he had seen in the water, the same water that presently choked his lungs.

[Machevelli]

Missy meowed at Charis in agreement, then walked back over to Talea who had donned her borrowed-from-Tilly clothing instead of her wet clothes. She purred and promptly sat down on top of Talea's feet, curling into a furry lump on the ground. She largely ignored the coughing Ponytail, although she did feel a little sad for him. She was still very confused as to why he had jumped into the water right after he warned the party to stay away from it, but maybe it was some courage or pride thing.

[twostepsback]

"... Might as well..." Charis mutters half to herself, before saying in a louder voice, "I saw a trunk full of alchemical supplies in the pool, but I noticed some errors and inconsistencies that allowed me to shake off the enchantment. Would I be far wrong in guessing that you two saw something out in the water as well?" She asks as she offers the torch to Talea.

[EtherealNoire]

Each query carved through Talea's heart, clawing ravines where memories still seared like open wounds. She longed to burn them amidst the flames. Yea though it trembled against her flesh, the torch consumed her pain no more than the darkness consumed the light. Still the shadows danced in her hair, sheltered her eyes, and the taste of smoke coated every thought that fell from her tongue.

"Twas nay a truth cast within the depths, but a spell from which seldom dost escape. The cavern wields such ancient hearts as one who commands the longings of souls. We must guard our spirit well, lest next solemn sonnet brim with death."

[Vanitypirate]

Ponytail had found some breath again, but every rise and fall of his chest pained him.
It certainly burned less than the cursed knowledge, now, that this was not an individual bout of madness, but some malign spirit that looked deep inside him, found the brightest hope that moved him, and with cold exactness made a weapon of it.

He took a deep, rattling breath and spoke hoarsely,
"I felt... the sun, I saw it. I saw a blue sky..." He didn't dare lift his face from beneath his arm, "I saw my family. I may never see their faces again..."

[twostepsback]

Charis gives a contemplative hum. "Ponytail, do you feel well enough to move?" Charis asks as she listens out for any dangers lurking outside of the light of the torch.

[rosallora]

The cave had quieted, the slow dripping of water and bubbling of the stream the only sound to be heard for some time. Then a voice started up again, clear and clean. It echoes through the cave, audible to all, for the time being.


On the pier I thought we’d make some sweeping escape,

But the irons were solid and so was their weight

words should've been sweet but they choked me with brine,

Coral maiden, coffin mine

[twostepsback]

Charis stiffens with surprise. "Okay... That is probably the Siren..." She says flatly. "Let's hope that hearing the Siren sing is the closest we'll get to actually encountering her."

[Machevelli]

Missy walks away from the party slightly, positioning herself so her back is facing the party when she transforms back into a human. She sits on the ground and looks over her shoulder at the group.

“Actually, I heard the first verse of the song earlier. It ended with those same four words too... I’ve never heard that song before.” Clutching her knees to her chest, she continued speaking. “It was very soothing music though. I just felt all my worries melt away for a few seconds as she sang.”

[EtherealNoire]

The words swept through the cave. A tide whose gentle rhythm bore the life of the ocean and the salt of the sea. And in its breath, it married sorrow.
Torn between fire and shadow, Talea ached to join its melody. The notes played against her throat but she turned away, toes skimming water where the chill stung her flesh. At first her motions in the dark were patterned like moths, fluttering before a flame. Then as her body warmed, she glided silent betwixt the shade. A star. Destined to cross the heavens.  Bright against the cosmos, falling with tails of  scarlet.

Talea danced in graceful arcs, against the thrumming deep beneath the earth. To forego cold and siren speech. To find warmth amidst the ice, she swayed. Yet the verses lingered on Missy's tongue, a regret like poison in its presence. Thus she moved with the torchlight, following the rays. Clothes nor creature could confine her. For she was a spirit free to dance where fear could not dim the fire  in her heart.

[Vanitypirate]

Ponytail had heard tales of Sirens before, how they lured good men to a watery grave-- strikingly, just as had been done to himself. He recalled being awake during long nights, as a boy sailing across the great Middle Sea, fearing for his father and the crew on the deck.
In the Siren's solemn dirge, he found some resolve as he silently vowed to be the one to put a sword through her heart. Perhaps not today, under the threat of the tide-- but he did himself no good now laying in a cold puddle on the ground.

It pained him, and his vision vignetted as he rose to sit upright, but he pressed on. His soaked rifle and pistol needed tending to, lest they rust.
He struggled against his choked breath as he set about dismantling them, cleaning their parts of moisture and setting his gunpowder out to dry.