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xp_logsThe Spirit of the Chesapeake tells Namor about newly unearthed ruins.
"Well."
It was a statement in the aftermath. Namor laid prone and naked, arms spread wide, propped casually against an artificial reef in the Atlantic coral section of Baltimore's national aquarium as if it were a throne. Dancing moonlight filtered through the skylights, painting eerie shadows as sealife moved in ebbs and flows overhead. He took the luxury of a few deep, satisfied breaths.
"That was delightful, as always."
Seaweed caressed his torso as the spirit of the Chesapeake gave a watery smile. "I have news for you, my darling. Storms shifting sand and mud to show things thought lost to time. Walls. Perhaps a temple, or study. Atlantean."
The curiosity that crossed Namor's features was controlled, but this news was sudden enough to cause his back and muscles to tense. She had his attention.
"There was that hurricane," he remarked idly as he leaned forward, "But, there are more stormblasts every year as the climate crumbles. Your sources must be very good to have noticed a stirring."
"A cousin, I suppose, as humans are wont to put it, in that the spirits of water tend to be... possessive... of the land they call theirs. The people too, occasionally, though fewer of them as time marches on and the humans forget that the bounty of the lands require harmony. Cooperation." She was mostly formless now, swirling around Namor and leaving trails of warmth. Affectionate, almost. "Gossip is slow, but it comes ever closer or farther with the tides. The location is south of us, in the swamplands. Still part of this land, connected to my waterways, if not what I'd consider my territory." There wasn't a nose to wrinkle, but her displeasure with the inadequate human words were mirrored in the scrunch of anemone and sudden speed of a blue jelly as it floated past.
"But there is something under the waters there with the touch of your people, and the swamp spirit living there has indicated a willingness to treat with you as favor to me."
"How magnanimous of her," Namor ran a playful finger through the swirling water, but his eyes were calculating. It was very rare for the once-prince to allow himself to strategize so openly. "Does this cousin know how much I desire this thing? How many politicians might I have to feed her for the favor of a swamp?"
The last part, a blatant tease, was delivered with a smirk. "Or might I be further indebted to your waters?"
The water rippled, almost a shiver. "There are no debts between us, not for this. Feeding us the most detestable of these... politicians, you call them, the ones that decide to pollute our waters and pave over our groves... well. We will not tell you no, as a collective. Our powers are, sadly... limited, in this area." Ches briefly reformed as she heard the noises of the aquarium starting to awaken. "Our time runs short, Avenging Son."
A flicker of annoyance crossed over Namor's features — not for the message, but for the reminder of the world outside. His eyes flicked past the Ches, fish, the water, and glass toward the stirrings of this cage. "There is no power," he mused, "No power that will stop me from either finding my home again or seeing that Atlantis is truly laid to rest."
He refocused fondly, if briefly, on where Ches had recollected her guise. "Your aid will not be forgotten. Tell me," and his usual command was shrugged back on like a suit, "The rules of these swamplands. There is much to plan."
"Well."
It was a statement in the aftermath. Namor laid prone and naked, arms spread wide, propped casually against an artificial reef in the Atlantic coral section of Baltimore's national aquarium as if it were a throne. Dancing moonlight filtered through the skylights, painting eerie shadows as sealife moved in ebbs and flows overhead. He took the luxury of a few deep, satisfied breaths.
"That was delightful, as always."
Seaweed caressed his torso as the spirit of the Chesapeake gave a watery smile. "I have news for you, my darling. Storms shifting sand and mud to show things thought lost to time. Walls. Perhaps a temple, or study. Atlantean."
The curiosity that crossed Namor's features was controlled, but this news was sudden enough to cause his back and muscles to tense. She had his attention.
"There was that hurricane," he remarked idly as he leaned forward, "But, there are more stormblasts every year as the climate crumbles. Your sources must be very good to have noticed a stirring."
"A cousin, I suppose, as humans are wont to put it, in that the spirits of water tend to be... possessive... of the land they call theirs. The people too, occasionally, though fewer of them as time marches on and the humans forget that the bounty of the lands require harmony. Cooperation." She was mostly formless now, swirling around Namor and leaving trails of warmth. Affectionate, almost. "Gossip is slow, but it comes ever closer or farther with the tides. The location is south of us, in the swamplands. Still part of this land, connected to my waterways, if not what I'd consider my territory." There wasn't a nose to wrinkle, but her displeasure with the inadequate human words were mirrored in the scrunch of anemone and sudden speed of a blue jelly as it floated past.
"But there is something under the waters there with the touch of your people, and the swamp spirit living there has indicated a willingness to treat with you as favor to me."
"How magnanimous of her," Namor ran a playful finger through the swirling water, but his eyes were calculating. It was very rare for the once-prince to allow himself to strategize so openly. "Does this cousin know how much I desire this thing? How many politicians might I have to feed her for the favor of a swamp?"
The last part, a blatant tease, was delivered with a smirk. "Or might I be further indebted to your waters?"
The water rippled, almost a shiver. "There are no debts between us, not for this. Feeding us the most detestable of these... politicians, you call them, the ones that decide to pollute our waters and pave over our groves... well. We will not tell you no, as a collective. Our powers are, sadly... limited, in this area." Ches briefly reformed as she heard the noises of the aquarium starting to awaken. "Our time runs short, Avenging Son."
A flicker of annoyance crossed over Namor's features — not for the message, but for the reminder of the world outside. His eyes flicked past the Ches, fish, the water, and glass toward the stirrings of this cage. "There is no power," he mused, "No power that will stop me from either finding my home again or seeing that Atlantis is truly laid to rest."
He refocused fondly, if briefly, on where Ches had recollected her guise. "Your aid will not be forgotten. Tell me," and his usual command was shrugged back on like a suit, "The rules of these swamplands. There is much to plan."
