13856/Birthdays on a boat: Divine Detour (Part One)

Birthdays on a boat: Divine Detour (Part One)
Date of Scene:	05 October 2021
Location:	M/Y Surprise, Gulf of Corinth, Greece
Synopsis:	Surprise, Surprise! Peril awaits M/Y Surprise... Serious Magical and Divine aid is summoned! To be continued...
Cast of Characters:	Jax Miller, Kit Killovarras, Nightingale, Poseidon

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Jax Miller has posed:
    It is, all in all, a beautiful day to be yachting through the Mediterranean. One could argue that any day is a good day, but the locals around these parts might disagree. They historically disagreed on quite a few things, and still do on many topics even centuries after topics have ceased to have any meaning, but one thing they all agree on: the sea can be dangerous. Even a place looking as placid as the Gulf of Corinth, on a day as fine as today.

    But all this might pass the casual modern mariner by, especially on a yacht like Surprise. When you range just over one hundred and thirty feet along the range of the deck, it's easy to feel safe. On the bridge, the Captain is keeping a weather eye out, Gregor has disappeared down below to the engine spaces quite some time ago and seems to be happily tinkering with something, Guillaume is in the kitchen and Stavros is puttering back and forth to see to the comfort of the guests. It's all quite peaceful, quite relaxed... quite civilised.

    Up on the foredeck, Jax sits with his legs up on the height adjustable table of the Portugese Bridge, enjoying the sensation of the wind ruffling through his fur. A mocktail in his left hand, sunglasses perched high on his forehead, he's slouched in the port side of the settee that runs nearly the full beam of the foredeck (minus the gangways, of course), under the windows of the wheelhouse proper. History is all around, and soon the yacht is to put into port for a trip to the ancient shrine of Delphi.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Having been lounging a bit, writing in one of his notebooks a little while prior, the yeen has decided to be social! Or more accurately, he's decided to wander around the ship, eventually coming up near the foredeck himself. He's wearing his typical shorts and tank top and not much else, choosing to let the wind mess with his fur a bit.

It's too tempting, Jax is relaxing and Kit is being his typical silent self, so what's he do? Well, why not try and sneak up on the feline? It's an attempt made at very least, to come up behind Jax as quietly as he can, but his clumsy nature can get the better of him at the worst of times.

THWUMP! Somehow, the massive yeen winds up falling over the sitting area near Jax, his footing entirely lost and half of his body winds up in a weird, rather uncomfortable looking mass beneath the table while his legs are sticking up over the back of the sitting area...

How graceful!

Nightingale has posed:
     Ah, the Gulf of Corinth. Indeed, a place rich in history, steeped in lore--and some might even say a touch of the Divine. It was Corinth that chose the God of the seas for their patron, and so these waters out of all might well have some on edge. But not Shannon. No. She's in a long cream-colored maxi dress, loose and flowing, sleeveless and with a modest scoop neckline. It's bedecked with subtle silver-and-white embroidery around the hem and neckline, swirling motifs suggesting the sea. At the bow of the ship, she leans over the railing, her hand trailing out briefly over the waves, sprinkling a small offering of barley in acknowledgement of Whose waters these were.

     But no words were spoken. None were needed. Just a smile, as she looked out over the foam-capped waves, the sun glittering off of the surface like a million diamonds.

     Could the day get any better than this, to be here, in the company of friends?

Jax Miller has posed:
    Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, also, well, shame on me, because once should really be enough. But even though Jax knows that Kit is as silent as he is, the idea of looking out for further surprise pranks doesn't even enter his mind. Not until there's a lump of yeen stumbling over the bulwark and slithering halfway under the table. Taking a sip from his multi-colored and most assuredly non-alcoholic cocktail, Jax lift an eyebrow and tilts his ears. "And here I thought you had your sea legs by now." And, technically, they're barely at sea as it is. The almost entirely landlocked Gulf of Corinth is flat as a millpond right now, not that Surprise ever seems to sway much to the motion of the seas. It's like being on solid land. Solid-ish.

    Slightly aft of the guests, the Captain spots Shannon making her offering and nods to herself, relaxing just a bit.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Theres a weird little noise that comes from the yeen, somewhere half between a growl and a whimper as he mutters, "I have my sea legs.." with a frown as he tries to right himself, pulling the rest of himself under the table and eventually, putting his head up on a seat, looking dazed, "But I occasionally trip over my own paws when I'm not crouching down.."

Regardless though, there is a little grin at the feline before Kit pulls himself up to sit, rubbing a little at one side of his head where he'd hit it on the floor.

Nightingale has posed:
     The sound of a yeen tumbling to the deck is not lost upon Shannon. Nor is the rather undignified position that he finds himself in. It's a rather awkward pose that's about to get a bit more so, if the smirk on her face is anything to go by.

     Revenge is said to be a dish best served cold.

     With a tell-tale smirk on her face, she simply walks right over to the fallen yeen, reaching down as if to help him. But no, it wasn't his hand she wound up grasping. It was the waistband of his shorts, which were hauled rather unceremoniously upwards. And upwards. And upwards some more, until they are bound to become a little more difficult to remove.

     Oh, my.

     "Ha. Soak me, will you? We'll see about that."

Jax Miller has posed:
    Ooh, ouch. Even Jax isn't usually that vindictive, but... well, he could in theory stop this. Could reach out. Could say something, really, but....

    Nah.

    He hadn't forgotten that soaking either. And this is much easier than having Gregor introduce fur dye in Kit's shower water, so all in all, things work out for the best.

    Well, maybe not for Kit.

    "Ooh, careful for the tail there, Shannon. It's hard enough to get shorts that don't pinch your tail."

Kit Killovarras has posed:
All of Kit's clothing have been altered to allow for his tail to slip through, so when he winds up wedgied? There's a sudden yelp and the sound of scratching at the deck as he literally drags himself through to the other side of the table! Wedgies are one thing, inadvertently lifting someones tail is quite another!

The yeen will simply set his head on the table as he sits on the other side of it, butt to the deck and paws absently trying to correct this injustice as he stares daggers at her for a moment before sticking his tongue out at her! "I know, I deserved that, but next time try something that doesn't involve hiking a mans tail?" he murmurs, the insides of his ears getting a little redder than usual.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Is it any worse than rendering a woman's clothing nearly transparent with water, and showing things that ought not to show?" Shannon smirks as she points this out, though the hint is taken and she blushes a bit. The next salvo in the prank war has been fired! Game on!

     "Seriously, though, are you okay?"

Poseidon has posed:
Well. The sea /was/ calm. Glass calm, in fact. And then of a sudden, it is not. It starts where the barley had been sprinkled into the water, a few moments after the grains sunk from sight. It churns, as though dozens of fish, or more, are eating up the bits of treat. This happens on the heels of the wedgie and Kit grumbling about having his tail yanked up. The water around the boat starts to roil, something felt through the hollow pocket of air held within vulnerable walls.

A shudder can be felt throughout the boat, jolting a boat as though it had hit something. Or something had hit it. But other than the churning of the waters directly around the boat, nothing seems to be amiss. A hundred feet beyond the ship, the water is as glassy calm as it had been five minutes prior.

Jax Miller has posed:
    "Guillaume, can we have a tub of ice cubes here?" Jax calls over the grousing over tails and fittings, but knowing full well how much a suddenly yanked tail can smart. Not enough to call for an ice bath, but... heh, why not lay it on thick? "And with this, I officially declare this prank war..."

    *RUMBLE*

    "What the...?"

    The ship seems to sway suddenly, listing to port and then starboard... which is ominous, since it has never done that in the past week or so, even in the rougher seas north of Naples. On the bridge, Captain Tala is already looking at instrumentation, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden roll. There's cursing in what sounds like fluent Hawaiian, and a moment later an alarm begins to sound... an ominous claxon with a repetitive swoop, blaring out a warning to nearby ships and bringing the crew up from wherever they were working and idling.

    Hearing the claxon, Jax turns serious in a moment and stands up, beginning to herd his friends aft along the port gangway, towards the stairs down to the main deck and the saloon doors. "Into the main saloon, now, and put on a life jacket."

    He's never sounded more serious.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit just stares at Shannon for a moment, eyeing her through the sound of one click, fiddlefiddlefiddle, two clicks and then he gives a little chuckle and muses, "Well, at least you weren't walking funny afterwards." with a grin. "But I do get the point." Then he turns his attention to Jax and quirks a brow, "My dear, I have only begun to fight!" he says with a chuckle. Apparently, this was only one skirmish of the war.

When the ship suddenly sways, Kit is immediately up to his feet, giving a nod at Jax' and just sort of lets himself be shepherded into the main saloon, though all the while his ears are up and all of his senses are kicking in, even trying to, at least once, get a look into the water with those weird little eyes of his.

And yes, apparently the poor yeen is walking funny. He'll wait till later to bonk Jax over the crack about a tub of ice.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Oh, ruddy heck," Shannon swore softly, bracing herself as the deck swayed ominously beneath them. She doesn't quibble one bit as Jax herds them all to the main saloon, all three donning life jackets with their particular mutations in mind. "I sure hope that barley didn't go and tick anyone off," she murmurs to herself. Had the prank war crossed a line? Nobody was hurt, there was no property damage, and all seemed to take it in good fun. She, too, is soon peering over the edge, to see what she can see in the water. However, her wings remain outspread, just in case she needs to fly her friends to safety.

Poseidon has posed:
There is nothing to see in the water. The churning reduces the former clarity almost entirely. Soon, it starts to turn frothy, like there's air or bubbles mixed within it. When that happens, there's no visibility below /at/ all. There's another thumb, sending another shudder through the ship. Another jolt, sharper than the previous one.

The water around the ship seems to be getting.. lower? Lower than the surrounding ocean, at least. The ship tilts and then drops, as though suddenly nothing but air is beneath it. The drop is not level, either, but tilting a bit to the starboard and forward. The drop is only a couple of feet, but the sudden stop can be felt by all aboard her.

The frothy churning grows less watery, and more.. airy. And the feel beneath the feet of the crew and passengers on the ship is somehow tenuous and unstable. As though the ship is teetering on the brink of.. something.

Jax Miller has posed:
    "Bilges!" comes the shout from the top deck forward, where the Captain is using the age old method of loud shouting to instruct her crew rather than rely on radios. And the next sound from the bridge as the ship starts to suddenly sink lower is the ominous sound of her utterly calm voice on the radio. "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is motor yacht Surprise, current location..." at which point the door to the bridge slams shut and locks.

    The life jackets for the guests are, to really no great surprise, actual jackets that are nearly comfortable to wear. Yes, even life jackets with room for wings, and tails. This crew came prepared. From below there is the sound of watertight hatches being slammed shut, and the bilge pumps thrumming into full capacity mode. And still the sea seems to grow taller. On the cockpit, first officer Anya takes a glance into the main saloon to make sure the guests are there and ready for the emergency, gives a nod, and locks the saloon doors from the outside. They're water tight, they'll hold for a few seconds... And while she opens a panel on the side of the doors to begin activating the manual bilge pumps, Guillauma and Stavros can be seen closing and locking the other external doors out of the saloon, having donned life jackets of their own.

    Whatever is going on, it's serious.

    The air begins to reek of rotten eggs, and just as Jax is about to make a puerile joke about that, the ship staggers, seeming to run into something solid right up against the bow. In an instant, the ship comes to a full halt and the lights flicker before all but the emergency lights extinguish. Half a second later, the ship seems to begin sliding backwards, and a rush of water breaks over the transom, sloshing against the saloon doors and nearly washing Anya overboard.

    Sea legs or not, this is too much for Jax and he actually loses balance, slamming face down into the marble coffee table. Water begins to break over the transom, even as the ship shudders with the engines at full revolutions to drive the yacht forwards...

    In a further moment, the claxon begins to wail the universal distress signal to summon nearby vessels, with the water now nearly halfway up the stern doors out of the saloon and onto the transom cockpit. Down below, there's the rush of water coming in...

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Nope, all of this is just a nope, put a yeen in a sinking ship and see what he does? There is a moment where Kit gets all too calm, suddenly looking around for a moment. Even if it takes a little effort, Kit will find his notebook, right paw flexing and fingers pumping while he looks.

When he finds it, there's a moment where he pulls the pencil out of the rings and instead of writing something down? He jams it into his paw, hard! When he starts bleeding, he tosses the pencil, opens to a clean page and starts drawing something in blood on the page. It'll take him a moment or two to get it finished, but when he does finally get it, he'll snap the notebook shut, a crackle of violet energy arcing between the pages as it claps shut. Then? Then he'll start licking his wounded palm, giving a little sigh.

Then, he'll move to Jax, tossing the notebook aside as he checks if the cat is conscious and if he's injured. Taking a table to the face doesn't usually feel all too great, after all.

Nightingale has posed:
     There is a moment where Shannon freezes entirely. Time seems to stand still, with the roar of rushing water filling the air, claxons wailing their baleful signals to any and all within hearing, and the dull crack of skull against coffee table. She sees Jax falling as if in slow motion, diving to catch him as the healer's instinct kicks in.

     However, her dress is no longer entirely white, nor is the aroma in the cabin composed solely of rotten eggs.

     Oh, my.

     All color has drained from her face, and tears of terror flow freely, as she holds one friend steady as she can under the circumstances, while reaching out for the other briefly to see if he's alright. Somehow, in between gulps of what she is becoming certain may be her last breaths of air, she manages to choke out a distress call of her own. "Lord of the Seas, please, help us...."

Poseidon has posed:
And yet, those engines don't give them any further forward momentum, at full revolutions or not. Those turbines weren't meant to shove something this size forward through air. There's nothing for the blades to catch on to drive them forward. With little or no water resistance, those turbines whine as they spin faster than they were ever designed to do.

Within the radar and sonar readings, the shadow that had been there expands, encompassing the enirety of the ship. On the heels of Shannon's plea, from the north, another shadow comes. Roughly the size of an orca, but moving at a far, far greater speed than any that's been seen or recorded before. Whatever this thing is, it's narrower than an orca and slightly longer. It moves with speed, aiming straight for the wallowing ship.

The frothy churning area around the ship almost doubles in size. Immediately after, the ship drops again. Three feet, before stopping. It shudders almost continuously, as though something is hitting it from all sides that are surrounded by water. It rights itself a little bit, and then the front end drops a foot lower than the tail. It levels out, and drops another couple of feet.

Jax Miller has posed:
    All along the yacht, everyone is either praying to the deity of their choice, or wishing they could remember any prayers at all. Aside from possibly Kit, and most certainly aside from Jax, who hasn't moved since he fell. The cat mutant is out like a light, as if someone just switched him off. Marble versus skull... always an unequal contest.

    Almost miraculously, there is no blood, and Jax has fallen into an almost perfectly photogenic pose, on his back, left arm outstretched, right arm across his chest, tail resting perfectly on the table rather than being trapped under his body. It couldn't have been better if there'd been a cushion to catch his fall.

    Oddly enough, the ship doesn't groan or creak. The GRP of the hull doesn't really flex like steel would, and certainly doesn't expand and warp like oak. No, the hull is either wholly intact or it isn't, and for now it's holding. Water sloshes around the outside of the main saloon, forcing crew to hang onto the rails as they fight their way either to the manual bilge pumps or up to the fore deck to free the rescue rafts. All seems to be in vain, however, as more water gushes over the transom, and the sound of water gurgling below the saloon deck intensifies.

    Until suddenly it doesn't.

    Shuddering and jolting, the ship rolls upright and stays there, coming back to an even keel. Out by the port side bulwarks, Stavros can be heard repeating something in Greek over and over, and even Guillaume is shouting something repetitive in French.

    The sea seems to tower around Surprise as it appears to have been trapped in a pocket of volcanic gas. By all rights, the yacht should be sinking like a stone, to be swallowed whole by the sea once it rushes back in to fill the void, but...

    ... it isn't.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit's preoccupied with Jax and Shannon, giving the young woman a glance and a tilt of his head before he murmurs, "We're getting out of this..." just barely loud enough to be heard but with a weird sort of certainty in his voice.

Behind him, the discarded notebook suddenly leaps from the ground, pages suddenly tearing out and forming a large circle in the air, end to end with the bloody page the only one remaining in the book. Then, the book starts to burn black, allowing tendrils of energy to leap out of the flames to each of the pages. Something is happening and it's not something that Kit is doing from the looks of it. The tell-tale signs of his magic, the arcing purple electricity? The tensed body? None of it's present, which means...

By the itching of my thumb...

Nightingale has posed:
     By now, Shannon is little able to respond to Kit, looking up at him with utter terror and the near-certainty of impending death. She's beginning to hyperventilate, crying wordlessly for all that will now never be, and for what she is certain is coming. The flickers of purple energy cast a weird, eldritch light that creates weird shadows and glitters in her tears like shards of amethyst trickling down her face.

     As she fights to think with some degree of coherence, she gulps in a few short, quick breaths, staring up at Kit. "Get Jax out of here first," she manages to choke out. "Please. He hit his head."

     Her gaze goes to the windows of the saloon, where she forces herself to stare at the rising waters, and to face what may very well be fate. "Please, Earth-shaker... help my friends be safe... please...."

Poseidon has posed:
Instead of being swallowed by the sea, or sinking deeper, the ship now seems to be.. rising? Walls of water can be seen all around it, in every direction save for straight up. That's sky, up there. Those shudders, like giant bubbles repeatedly colliding with the hull, can still be felt. But there's no further jolts, no further drops, and no sinking at all.

Water begins to run off the decks, moving in curious trails that almost seem alive, joining the wall of water surrounding the ship. It doesn't take long, minutes at most, before the top of the water can be seen. It forms an almost perfectly square corner with the wall of water surrounding the ship, as though some giant is holding back the water with a glass of some sort.

Up the ship goes, up and up, until it sits above the water. Any looking over the sides will see water billowing out in a gentle sort of way, supporting and bouying the ship up. At the bow of the ship, a man stands. He's dressed in ancient Greek style robes, their folds swaying lightly in the ever present breeze. His long silver hair and beard also sway in the breeze.

The sides of the hole in the water suddenly collapse. Water spills into the vacancy, like a giant waterfall. Waves are caused, but the ship doesn't do more than rock gently on the billowing water beneath it. It's not until the waves from the collapsed 'sinkhole' subside that the ship lowers once more, and the billowing waters smooth to join the rest of the sea.

From his position at the bow, Poseidon turns to look at the ship as a whole. "Is everyone in one piece?" His voice can be heard easily throughout the ship, but is no more than conversational level. Has to be magic.

Jax Miller has posed:
    It is nothing short of miraculous. The eruption from the undersea vent, for which this region of the world is famous, which should have sunk the ship has done no more than give everyone a fright. No amount of technology or seamanship would have save Surprise, their doom was certain. Certain, but for divine intervention.

    And that is exactly what they got.

    Water gushes out of the bilges, spraying in powerful jets outboard from compartments that had nearly begun to flood. Up on the bridge, Captain Tala ensures that every indication points to the ship being out of danger, and if it hadn't been for the sudden question, she probably wouldn't have noticed the man standing on the foredeck.

    That is no man...

    Guillaume and Stavros are on their knees, having forgotten about the rafts, or anything they should be doing right now. Even Tala slowly comes out on to the wing station, blinking, and lost for words.

    It's Anya who unlocks the cockpit doors, where the worst damage seems to be that the sofa cushions have washed overboard, a pair of them popping back up nearly fifty meters astern. Gregor can be seen tramping up from the engineering spaces, soaked, and swearing fluently in something that sounds quite slavic.

    Until he catches sight of the man on the foredeck. Then even Gregor falls silent, as if pole-axed.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit's ears droop ever so slightly as he leans forward, nuzzling at Shannon's cheek for a moment and all he can do is to reassure with a simple, "We're all going to get out of--" Then his ears perk up at the sounds of what the god of the sea is doing, his eyes flash for a moment as he goes to say something, but as he goes to speak, darkness would swallow the room...

Something evil, this way, comes...

The notebook that seemed to be gaining power, burning more and more as the circle of pages were filling in, suddenly spirals in on itself, creating a singularity that rips all sound, all light, all sensation away for the briefest of moments before it forms into what can only be described as a window wreathed in fire with what looks like an elegant mansion built within a desert oasis on the other side... A somewhat old looking man has his hand extended to the mirror, chanting quietly as his eyes bleed black energy into the air around him.

From the left flank, stepping through the newly formed window comes a woman who, from the looks of her is no older than thirty and the moment she comes through, she taps a large, golden and silver staff to the floor, causing a blue haze to blanket the area. Energy crackles through the air with it, taking the form of thousands of strings of text from dozens of dead languages to filter through the air like dragonflies.

From the right, a somewhat older looking man, maybe about forty from the looks of him, steps through, sporting a sarong and nothing else. There are seven markings tattooed into his torso, each practically vibrating, as if trying to escape his flesh. "Assessment..?" he asks, looking to the woman curiously, his voice a choir of eight distinct voices.

"Dread.." the woman says, her voice an echo that comes from all around, though her lips don't seem to move. "Minor injuries..." There's a pause for a moment and her eyes flit to Poseidon as she adds, "Divination occurred successfully.." Then the woman hovers over towards Kit, Shannon and Jax, lowering to her knees near them. There is almost a wave of calm that tries to wash over the world around her, like the comfort one would get in the arms of a parent or guardian. She reaches down, brushes a hand over Jax's forehead for a moment and a few of the strings of text suddenly filter through her hand and into him. "Wake up, child." she commands in that soft, ever gentle voice.

Finally, the old man steps through and the vortex is gone a moment later, as if the thing had never formed. He walks over, crouches down by Kit, gives him a sidelong glance and frowns. "What, no hello?" It's all the old man has to say and Kit suddenly jerks, grabbing the old man in the tightest hug anyones ever gotten from the aardwolf. For the moment, Kit's shaking, violently but the old man just chuckles and gives a quiet, "You're alright, Pup. Calm yourself down before you hurt yourself again."

Nightingale has posed:
     The voice heard throughout the ship was one that Shannon had heard many a time by the little brook in the woods. Its familiarity and strength cut through the haze of terror that gripped her and held her captive, just enough for her to answer with a thin, tremulous voice. "We're alive. Jax hit his head, though." Given the aroma that lingered around her, however, there is little doubt that her clothing was a casualty of the near-disaster--as were her wits. "Thank You."

     The winged young woman is extremely deeply shaken, however, the response to Poseidon taking about all she has. The calming energy from Kit's mother is perhaps enough to blunt the edges of sharp panic and terror, but not enough to erase it entirely. It will take time and care for that. For now, she remains with her friend, holding him steady while Kit's mother does what she needs to do.

Poseidon has posed:
Poseidon tilts his head at the utter silence from the crew. He raises a brow at the two kneeling, and with a flick of his fingers, all the water in the clothing of the two men run out and swirl away. Now that he's turned, the trident that he habitually carries is seen, held within the fingers of his left hand. "Why isn't anyone answering my question?" He sounds truly curious, but amusement tinges his tone. The utter silence from the crew, and his question combining to bring that humor to him. He knows well and good why nobody is answering. It's not every day that people see a god.

The deity's head tilts as he feels the energy being focused and used in the main saloon, and he strikes forward to one of the now unlocked doors. He steps within just as the portal forms to show the landscape beyond. Poseidon looks at those who come through the portal, and warmth fills his eyes. "Amon. Akila. Ahmed. It is good to see the three of you whole and healthy." His blue eyes fix on Amon. "Amon, you haven't aged a day."

Poseidon moves further into the room, at a leisurely pace, but pauses halfway within, not interfering with the care of the trio's child. Shannon, however, he can do something about. Water is called to Poseidon, a fairly thin thread of it. It comes in, much like a snake or a vine, and coils about Poseidon before it then moves to Shannon. Around her and through her clothing. It then leaves as quickly as it had come, taking the accident and any evidense of said accident with it. Out and back to the sea from whense it came. The water leaves behind nothing. Not even salt.

Once the water has come, and gone, Poseidon turns his attention from Shannon to Jax. Now that the aroma is gone, Poseidon approaches more closely and gives the youth a once over glance.

Jax Miller has posed:
    Maybe it's the soothing aura, maybe it's just the fact that Jax has just hit his head really quite hard on a slab of marble, possibly the most impractical material to be used at sea... but when Kit's mother attempts to wake him, Jax actually wakes up with a purr. A loud purr. And, with eyes still closed, groans quite audibly and then actually mews. ".... Mom?.... I think I hit my head..." Yeah. Ehm... he may never live this one down.

    Guillaume and Stavros, who have been clinging to one another throughout the ordeal and divine appearance, rise slowly as Poseidon passes them. Then, it seems as if they both are being spurred into action with a very loud 'Nom de Dieu!' from Guillaume as he remembers he was cooking something, and Stavros hurries along the inner walkways down to the saloon to make sure the new guest doesn't need anything.

    Only to find there are more new guests.

    He does recover marvelously, straightening his clothes as much as possibly while still wearing a life jacket, and gives a bow to the new arrivals. "Welcome aboard. Apologies for the lack of hospitality so far, it is quite unforgivable. May I offer anyone a drink?"

    Honestly, it's up to Anya and Gregor to secure the yacht and for the engineer to trot in with a first aid kit, kneeling by Jax. "Hit head again, yes? Don't make habit, or before you know, you not even smart enough for Dolphins." Ooh, ouch.

    And before long, the voice of Captain Tala comes over the speakers. "Crew, secure from stations. Prepare for emergency return to port."

    And finally, that damnable claxon shuts off.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Akila, Kit's mother, first responds to the crew apologizing about hospitality with a simple, "It's fine, no worries. Hospitality in the face of impending death is seldom expected." The purring Jax gets a little smile from the woman. "It's time to wake up, dear. You hit your head, so I need you to open your eyes so I can assess the damage." wait... what?

Ahmed, Kit's father, turns his attention to Poseidon and laughs, his voice once again coming in a string of eight different tones. "Beat me to the punch again, eh? Ah well, when at sea." There's a little shrug with those last words, then he'll turn his head at the offer of a drink and ask bluntly, "Got any rum on board this thing?"

Ammon, Kit's grandfather is still being clung to by an aardwolf having a sudden breakdown, his wrinkled hand petting Kit between the ears gently as he gives a glance to Poseidon and cracks a rare smile. "Nor you from the looks of it," he says to the god with a weird familiarity in his tone. "How long's it been, three years?"

It'll take Kit a few minutes at least to simply stop shaking, whether they're safe or not now, something inside him snapped and it seems like not even his mothers aura is touching whatever has happened to the aardwolf. Eventually though, the shaking will stop and his breathing will get back around to evening out.

Nightingale has posed:
     Still holding Jax steady, Shannon is acting on instinct alone now. And that instinct is telling her to assist Akila however possible in her work as a healer. Common sense, though, told her to let Akila bear the load this time, which she was not going to argue with in the least! The calming aura finally begins to take the edge off of her terror, the young woman's wings drooping behind her--and molting from the intense stress.

     The call for rum reminded her of something else, something rather important. "I think perhaps a libation is due," she finally chimes in, her voice still thin and unsteady, but perhaps a little stronger than before as she looks right at Poseidon. "It's the least we can do to offer thanks."

Jax Miller has posed:
    Libation indeed. And possibly it's out of a desire for a stiff drink himself, or out of a sense of professional pride that far transcends the bounds of mere duty, but Stavros is back in practically the proverbial blink of an eye with a tray. And oh my, what a tray. Glasses of egyptian blue, one bronze cup with unmistakable nautical theme, and two bottles... rum, and arrack. Among such finery, the cans of San Pellegrino look distinctly out of place. And alcohol is served to the adults and deities, as per their desire.

    Gregor gives a wary eye to Akila, but something about her aura seems to put the usually very protective man at ease, and rather than fussing over Jax, one of his large hands comes to rest on Shannon's shoulder. "Is anything Gregor can get you?"

    On the floor, Jax finally opens his eyes. Slowly. Very, very slowly. The pupils of his bright blue eyes are dilated, and the relatively soft light of the saloon interior gets a hiss before he closes his eyes again with a distinctly kittenish mewl. He can be such a baby...

    Running lights and internal electrics are restored a moment after, resulting in a wail of disappointment from the galley... the Bearnaise sauce Guillaume had been working on is quite, quite ruined.

Poseidon has posed:
Poseidon pays little mind to the crew for the moment. "You always were a bit slow, Ahmed," he says, lips curling up on the edges. "Rum would be nice." He glances to the crewman that offered drinks, nods ever so slightly. Please? Pretty please? His head tilts toward Amon. "Closer to thirty than to three, I think," he says. One last glance to Jax and he turns away from the kitty cat. "He is in no danger and will heal fine," he says. He grins at Shannon's words about a libation being due. He certainly won't decline an offer!

When the alcohol is indeed served, it's rum and a glass snagged at random. Turns it it's one of the egyptian blue glasses. After he quaffs a good shot of the liquor, his eyes, as blue as Jax's, but with a tinge of grey to them, fall to said feline again. And he seems to take pity on the kitty. He steps over on the heels of that patheti-mew and crouches down beside him. He studies the youth for a moment and then waves a hand over him. A wash of magic flows through Jax with the motion, a spell in use that the three elder Egyptians would be intimately familiar with. Healing. With the magic flows a tingling cool, refreshing feeling. And the damage mends, bringing the youth back to the self he was before he sustained the injury. As well as any minor injuries sustained before, or after, the near death experience.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Akila looks into Jax's eyes when they open and for a split second, they flash with a dull blue light. "He'll be fine. Might want to dull the lights, but otherwise nothing's too broken in there." she says with a soft voice. Then the blue haze dissipates from the world around her and she stands up, looks to Kit and gives a smile. "So, who are your friends?" she asks, the tone in her voice a little more curious as she adds, "And should we be... worried about any of them?" The last comment gets the Aardwolves ears to suddenly perk up, then lay back and an almost-growl comes from him.

The next comment comes from Ahmed as he takes a glass and a fairly generous bit of rum, "My bet's on the girl..." but it's only in one voice, to which the other seven start to sort of echo out of the seals on his body, all of them arguing with each other, some of them either agreeing or disagreeing, two of them at least chiming in with things like "he's probably too immature to be thinking about that yet." The arguments and conversations of the man and... himself, causes the fur along Kit's back and neck to quickly stand on end.

Then Ammon, still patting the aardwolf on the head, just gives a weird little laugh and chimes in with, "I'd put money on the cat." Kit suddenly jerks away from the old man he'd been clinging to with a loud sort of bark, coupled with him snapping, "What the fuck is wrong with you three!!?"

"And, he's back." his mother chimes, letting the first word elongate somewhat dramatically as she grins, getting a laugh from his other family members.

Nightingale has posed:
     Gregor's hand on her shoulder shakes Shannon out of the state she's found herself in since this all began. With Jax out of danger, she can finally scoot back and stand, cringing as her knees protest the movement after having been subjected to the hard floor of the main saloon for some while. Without another word, she simply turns and hugs him tightly--never let it be said she had neglected to do so! And she holds on for dear life, muttering, "A good stiff drink."

     Alas, a can of San Pellegrino seems to be the order of the day, despite the local drinking age!

     Who could blame a girl for trying?