The Dark that Light Cannot Banish 10/14

Katja awakens from her stupor, walking beside the captain and staring out to shore. The engagement between the three would be noted, but it wasn't what was on her mind.

There was something else that had enraptured it entirely.

"Maertock. What is the tentacle?"

It was simple. A short phrase that has been eating away at her since her infusion of occultism. It plagued her mind, her dreams, and her unconscious.

The very nature of this thing was brought about by Leibos, elaborated by Anne, and stowed away from prying eyes.

She could not bare to keep in the dark about this, not when she felt it actively tear at her.
(Katja)
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 Maertock would stare out into the depths of the ocean as Katja spoke, his great white's cold, icy glance falling upon both the distance and what lay beneath it. It appeared the recent venture into the pursuit of dark arts had begun to align the captain of the Deep Company further with the sunken Mori.

The whispers grew more audible by the day.

"The tentacle is an extension of the depths. A tendril not unlike a shadow stretching across the wall, but a manifestation of the divine, omniscient psyche of the depths. Each and every tentacle in the sea possesses the Mori's shadow, but not unlike a loud voice amongst many..."

The captain would snap his fingers, a great sea of shadows expanding forth across the nearby waterfront, blackening it entirely as crimson, predatory eyes stared out of the shadows. Maertock's murderous, deep corrupted water spirit.

"Some are more potent than others. Some possess such a connection as to make the whispers loud; to offer sticky insight that rubs itself against the grey matter until it is sense. That is what a tentacle is, Katja. Nothing more, nothing less."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Anne listened in silence to Maertock's words, but her eyes widened at one particular thing he voiced. The surprise kept her silent until he finished his words, but then she regained her tongue, hands balling into fists at her side.

"You do not speak His name outside of ritual, Maertock!"

A breach of etiquette in terms of how she addressed him, but one no less grave than his own indiscretion.

"You know this!"

All of them held the same faith, but Anne was somewhat notable for being a bit more of a fanatic, comparatively.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 The Mori.

The Mori.

He had said it. Plain as day, open out over the water. As if he had no shame, no eyes on him when he spoke.

Her hand gripped onto the other arm tightly. The entire time she was on this ship, she had always heard the faintest of murmuring. A chanting, a calling that she could not explain.

But that was what this persona was for. To keep her safe, just as she had learned when wandering before meeting the Deep Company.

Block it out, don't let people in and you'll never get hurt.

"I see."

The ice in her voice was gone. Melted, her psyche unable to keep up with it any longer. The mental spiral she was on was only getting worse, and she was nearing a breaking point.

She no longer looked happy. The scars on her body, the mess that her tentacle-hair was in, and the look in her eyes-

She was suffering for a long time, and now she knew why.

"Lets take this conversation inside. Please."
(Katja)
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Maertock would snort lightly at the devotion of Anne with a pat on her red swathe of hair, the captain of the Deep Company nothing if not a creature of boldness to say his name out loud without fear of madness. Then again, perhaps this was a sign that Maertock was already mad, and was simply charismatic enough to make it look sane.

"His name can only be spoken in whispers for a reason; to say it out loud is to turn a thousand, thousand eyes upon your soul Katja. It's why Anne is so tense on the matter; it's a bold move if you don't have the consciousness for it."

The captain of the Deep Company would nod sagely at that; it was the pirate's life to live free. But the deep was something else entirely.

"I can answer that which questions you seek, for I am a Kerdanhel Royal; and the knowledge of the depths is my burden to bare."
(Maertock Reave)
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 "How long."

She wanted to run. To scream. Yet, the hold on her mind from the Deep One's burgeoning influence was strong. Her exposure to the Tentacle, to the year of travel with this crew, and her declining mental state had made her incredibly vulnerable.

"How long has this been going on. All of you. All of this."

Her hands clench on the table. This is why. Whatever sense of ice or calm she had was diminishing; Anne and Maertock could finally see how terrified she was at this realization.

"Was this planned from the start?"

Katja, in her time in New Atlantis was told of everything to avoid in the seas. The Rasska, the Leviathan, the Krakens-

Even that which should not be named, yet now was.
(Katja)
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 The Quartermaster squinted, incensed.

"I say it for a matter of respect, not fear. I bask in His gaze, whenever he deems me fit to bear it."

The idea she feared the Deep One was insulting. She respected, perhaps even loved him. Then again, Maertock hadn't been present at the recent rituals, hadn't seen Him notice her, grant her a portion of His power.

Eyes shifted then to Katja.

"Since the night my ship went down, and in the depths I saw the form of a great Kraken. I did not resolve it into the form of worship we all practice, but exalted him long before the Bride found me. Perhaps it is the reason the Bride found me. Since then, I have lived in humble accordance with His will, following the path he has set before me."

Her head tilted the side, just slightly.

"In truth Katja, I expected you to realise long before this. That you showed no apparent inclination towards it is the only reason you've not yet been initiated."


(Anne orn Salis)
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 Maertock would snort in incendiary fervor as he clicked his rows of serrated teeth together with glee, the Kerdanhel royal sipping steadily out of his bottle of Valmasian brandy as he considered his recent endeavors. Between the black art of necroratsy and further studies into the abyss, his sorcerous plate was full looking into the future.

"Fear is worship the same as awe, one can't truly experience the depths of such a connection without experiencing it all. It's in his nature to speak as he pleases./"

The captain of the Deep Company would nod slowly at that. The Mori's herald was nothing if not a bold trailblazer, he found such matters worthy of his note only if they truly captured him.

"I've heard his call since I was born, my blood is that of old Kerdanhel, sunken Atlantis. I have served his shadow as long as I've known the meaning of its whispers, of the thousand thopusand eyes ever at my back. I suppose a better question Katja, would be..."

A serrated smile offered to the cuttlefish.

"When wasn't I with him?"
(Maertock Reave)
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"Because I didn't want my happy dream to end."

Her acceptance into the Bride was one that quite literally saved her. She, a lone creature in an ocean looking for acceptance and family. She was just an oddity; a novelty that grew into a maddened creature of strength seeking to keep her family together.

Am I already gone?

The doubt in her mind was enough to confirm that the Mori's grip on her was nearly absolute. She, who had made a note to stay away from the Deep One's blood and attempt to keep herself sane.

Maybe she'd known the moment she joined the Bride, yet blocked it out. Maybe this was the only family she would find, and maybe she thought she was stronger.

It got so hard to think in this room. Her left hand reaches for the sword, yet can only rest on the hilt. To break the binding whisper to stay and listen was far to difficult, especially those she saw as family.

"I just wanted to have a family again. I didn't want to know and I didn't want to look. I just wanted to feel useful."

Her eyes were wide. Her body shook. A primordial terror coming from the hold of a being eons greater in power.

One that sleeps.
(Katja)
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The Quartermaster shrugged and then nodded, conceding to Maertock the point. Surely she'd once feared the Deep One, in the early days of her worship, but it was...hard to fear something you knew you belonged to in your entirety. She feared displeasing Him, perhaps, and yet she would never willingly do so.

How twisted her mind had become.

Her gaze refocused on Katja.

"You have a family. You are useful. I suppose now that you've asked openly, a single question remains."

"Will you commit to this? To the Deep Company, and to our patron in the Abyss?"

A watchful eye remained on the Sirenian.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 What a funny little conversation they hardly managed to be a part of. If was still half asleep through their talk, though they’d managed to keep up with the most recent words. Less tired. Less deeply asleep. It wasn’t very restful anymore anyways.

The topic of conversation had gotten their attention. In their half-awake brain they made a few leaps in logic, and connected dots that likely weren’t there. Or maybe they were, and folks simply weren’t meant to see them? Whatever the case, If let their eyes fall shut again beneath the helmet as words droned on.

They had little to say, but the more they fully heard the more they paid attention. The more they wished they'd been paying attention throughout. This seemed important.

Something about a shadow. Something about that connection. In their mind's eye they couldn't remove the image of what they'd seen. Even when their eyes were open all this talk about that thing had them seeing funny.

Were shadows usually so dark?

If shook their head quietly, before lifting a hand to slip beneath their helmet. They rubbed the bleariness of sleep from their eyes, and finally, ever so quietly, interjected with a question lodged with Anne.
(If)
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 If whispers: Ya mind answerin a few asks I got after this?
 Maertock would listen to the ambient chatter of his crewmen with a thoughtful drag from his minty cigar, rivulets of smoke steadily rising from his dry, reddened gills as the captain of the Deep Company considered the matters at hand. Hearing If's whispers to him, he'd ruffle the lad upon his helmed head with a bark of dark laughter.

"Don't be shy If. You can ask any questions you have now, I will be happy enough to answer them. Good a time as any; I've sight of our path forward and am in high spirits for the matters at hand."

The captain would nod firmly, taking a long swig from his bottle of Valmasian Brandy before his icy, shark's visage fell upon the crew.

"The deep one is our father below, and his embrace is warm and infinite. It might feel damp at first, but who isn't a bit cold when they first enter the water? As you grow used to it, the subtle warmth and serenity of that ever present surrounding of a body of water. Around your very psyche, damp and warm...."

The captain would nod slowly.

"It is like a warm blanket, and it will bolster you as it has myself."
(Maertock Reave)
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 "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Maertock attempts to honey his words, but there is no need. "It's not a matter of you convincing me. It's never about that. It's always the slow way."

She would never need to be convinced. Speaking meant nothing when all the Deep One had to do was grab onto the weakness and doubt of it's sirenian victims.

A single call, and their will was nothing.

Her will was already nothing.

"I've just been following orders because I don't want you to see me as useless. I just follow orders. I'm just-"

She stands. Her hand was clutching onto the handle of her sword shakily.

Could she go back to the dream?

"I will go on the expedition with you all."
(Katja)
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 The human frowned.

"You are free to choose, Katja. We do not force people into our faith."

It was true, mostly. The Deep One certainly afflicted individuals with mutations, dominated their minds, tore from them their sanity. But this was...for faithless. For tools not worthy of more than being used and disposed of. They were different.

"You have lived with us for years. You have been our crewmate, our friend, our family. Have we ever forced you to do anything? We were in His service all that time; just because you now know that which you didn't doesn't change anything. The decision to join with His cause is one you make freely."

They were not petty servants; they were his Heralds.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 "Aint so much bein’ shy as not wantin’ to seem dumb.." If let out a huff as once more they were pat upon the head. It seemed this would be their curse for being so short. How awful.. One hand lifted to adjust their helmet when he’d taken his hand away, setting it straight again. They’d been needing to do that less often.

Their gaze panned to Katja across the way, then off toward Anne. Then up, to Maertock. They mulled over the options of their speech, what exactly they wanted to know about first.

Finally, they continued in a slightly less mouse-like tone. "Uh.. So.. What's th'uh.. What's he want, anyways? Like we sorta had t'go and.. Do stuff? T'even like- I mean about th'initiation. Dunno what ya don't want me sayin since she ain't."

They trailed off for a moment, looking across to Katja again. They tilted their head slightly, a stare held for several moments before their gaze turned back to Murtock. "And then th'thing with Goreli's body.. I'm sorta confused what th'whole.. Point is, aside what Murtock said about immortality."
(If)
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 Maertock would slowly click his rows of serrated teeth together as the kid offered a pretty valid question. What did he want, at the end of the day? What compelled the Mori's alien wiles as nothing else did? It was one of those existential queries that could drive the average man mad.

But Maertock was no average merman. He was already mad.

"The deep one. The anathema. The sunken god. He does not have mortal wants; a corpse does not stir unless beckoned. He is the dead god Inki, and the anathema born of the fallen scale. Unthinkable, as immense and black as the abyssal depths of the lowest oceans that imprison him."

The captain of the Deep Company would nod slowly at that, raising his webbed palm as crackles of occultic, somehow cold flame would spark forth in his palm, a shadowy essence that appeared to take the warmth from the room itself.

"The dead god will stir, but not without effort. It requires the essence of life. Sacrifice, reminders of its burgeoning influence. It is why we sacrifice to the depths, and why our path is certain."
(Maertock Reave)
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Crumbling.

Katja stares that them, they're all mad. Taken by an alien entity that sought to wrap it's tentacles around her. To drag her into the depths, claim every last bit of her with hollow promises and empty truths.

Yet, she was too far gone.

If she ran, then the world would be after her. A singular voice against the chorus of the Deep Company would ring out hollow against Moxtli. No, she was trapped.

"You're lying. You're lying when you said I had a choice. The choice was made for me the moment I stepped on the ship, wasn't it?"

They claimed she had her free will.

The whispers spoke opposite.

"I'm stupid. I'm so, so stupid."
(Katja)
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 "Wait so-" If started, then paused, distracted. The cold flames which sparked up caught their attention quickly, and they stared as they flickered and danced. Why was it always so easy for everyone else to just make magic happen?

They were quiet for several seconds longer, lost in trying to wrap their head around the situation. After all, If was still a kid. Uneducated in a lot of things, and hardly ever exposed to the idea of deities and the like beyond the simplest of spirits. A slight frown curled across their lips. "So th’um.. He’s.. Not alive.."

"But is though, because.. Somethin? I ain’t real sure how that works.. Uh.. But I guess if he’s trapped n’such, sorta dead but not really, gettin’ him free n’alive is a goal.. That makes sense.." It was something tangible, though they still didn’t quite know if that was quite right. He could correct them if they were wrong though.

If lifted a hand to their cloak, gloved fingers curled around the edge of the fabric to drag it tighter around their shoulders. Not that they needed to, it was already too big for them and laid like a blanket on their form.

When Murtock had entered, they did look over. They saw the injuries he’d gained, and their eyes went wide beneath the helmet. But they couldn’t help any more than they had already, having given him the extent of their capabilities in potion crafting thus far. So their attention soon was drawn back to the flame like a moth.

(If)
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 Maertock would take a long, considerate drag from his cigar as he considered the words of both If and Katja. Two lost souls that required their own truths, and ones that Maertock was willing to provide. He did not deceive those that truly became part of the crew; he had no desire to offer them false testimony and comfort when he could speak the truth.

He was nothing if not a face, that captain of the Deep Company.

"You cannot kill a god. Not permanently, at least. When Inki's corpse sunk to the depths, it was warped by the darkness and pressure. It was there the heart of the deep, the nameless one, the anathema; glutted upon the fallen scale of the divine Jormungandr as it was, fused with the heartless god and became its own, still beating heart."

The captain of the Deep Company would click his serrated teeth lightly at that.

"It's thumping aura manifests above the tides, but only when it beats anew and the godly carcassstirs that his influence will at last be absolute throughout the world....no longer vanishing with the tide and moonfall."

A slow, dark hum at that, shark's eyes offered to Katja as his shadow extended to pat her lightly on the shoulder.

"You always have a choice. Even now, Katja. We live free for a reason, after all. Died and reave by each other's side. The difference is that the whispers have you, which means he chose you personally. You've been blessed with his attention, it is no prison."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Her head tilted softly to one side.

"You're so...scared by this. I don't understand it. Isn't it comforting to know that your death is not an end, that you would join the Deep One in His restless slumber?"

She said restless for the entity heard their sacrifices, their initiations. He could truly be entirely asleep, dead to the world and all those in it.

"If you stood and left this ship, right now, I would not understand, but nor would I prevent it, so long as your lips remained shut regarding our faith. I'll not force anyone into the worship of our God; He deserves eager, free followers, not those shackled to chains of requirement. Fear pales in comparison to devotion."

Eyes shifted to If.

"Sirenian legend identifies the Deep One as a manifestation of the remnants of an older being. I...am not so certain, not entirely, at least. There are parts that ...do not quite meshwith the legend, but I cannot speak with certainty. Few can, in such matters."

She at least somewhat held the belief that the Deep One bore a more cosmic origin, given she'd drawn on him as a surrogate for Ios.

Her attention returned to Katja.

"Your nihilistic thoughts are but self-imposed torture. That you hear Him, means He hears you. That is a powerful blessing, one several of us are fortunate to share."
(Anne orn Salis)
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 You've been blessed with attention.

He hears you.

How cruel, fate is. That it would grant Katja a second family in exchange for her soul. That she would find comfort within the darkness of the depths, only to be consumed by it.

That she knew the correct answer, yet it was unsustainable.

"I was taught to be afraid. To always guard myself. To make sure I didn't display a single crack, lest I be dragged to the bottom. To have my gills rot. To lose the blue of my skin and hair."

What a joke.

"I cut myself off from all happiness because I knew I had already fallen under it's influence. Look where that has taken me."

Her voice is pathetic. A near sob, coming from someone who wasn't evicted from New Atlantis by her own will. Someone who thought they could end up happy and normal.

She was already mad.

Already a witch of the sea.


(Katja)
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 Bahs says, "Evenin'."
 If nodded along quietly, absorbing the information given. Whether they understood or not, they listened well.

When their gaze finally broke from Maertock's odd magical show--That shadow moving about on its own was a very strange thing to witness--It landed instead on Katja. Curious. Beneath the helm there wasn't much to be seen, but she might tell by the tilt of their head.

She was so afraid. And to a point If understood that. All this was terrifying. Thinking of greater beings forged in the vast abyss of the ocean's depths.

Trying to wrap one's mind around it would only warp that mind in the end.

They didn't know quite what to say. If they could help at all with soothing nerves, for their own were still tested just thinking about it. Eventually they turned their gaze down to stare at the table, idly tapping their fingers along its surface as they tried to figure out what they really needed to ask next.

An older being reformed. Seeking authority where it waxed and waned with the tides. Was that how it worked? They lowered their head, one hand lifted to press to the side of their helmet.

"I ain't sure what more questions t'ask.. Dang confusin' situation got m'head spinnin." They finally mumbled the words, expressing at least a bit of their internal distress. There were so many things to try and understand that they simply couldn't find the words.
(If)
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 Bahs quietly aimed to take a seat, seeing as there was a sort of debriefing going on for If.
(Bahs)
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Maertock would lean back comfortably in his trusty wooden chair, the captain of the Deep Company contently reclining as his thick, inky shadow seemed to actually leverage it for him to ensure premium stability and relaxation. The decadence of the gesture surely alone implied the occultic nature of his shadows, but his was a manner far, far different from the witches of Helheim.

The dark flame of the deep was far colder, and possessing vastly more pressure than the insignificant pretenders of the smoothskins.

"Your instincts were wise Katja, you were taught how to survive alone. Without anybody, the only thing that preserves one is fear. But we are the Deep Company, we....are a family, and that means we stand together against any that might predate upon our person with due vigilance."

The meaning of his stern, but kind words were clear. The crew protected each other. They lived, died, and reaved for each other. Separate, they were far weaker than the whole they represented.

"You are unhappy because it is alien to you. It will be cold at first, long before it becomes warm. But that is water, is it not? One must kick up some water when a chill falls upon you to keep the blood flowing."

The inky, shadowy cloak that adorned Maertock's broad shoulders pulsated at that. It was the premier outfit of the nation in truth.

"The father below isn't some monster, some demon. He's the god. The god of outcasts, of outliers, of the strange and the forgotten. Those Atlantis spurned as they did turn their backs on their kinslaying lord's sin. The fallen god is no demon, Katja."

Maertock would raise his fist, in that moment a vicious, shadowy claw of flowing ink. He flashed his rows of serrated teeth with a bark of laughter as he slapped his sinewed chest with cheer.

"He is the god of retribution, and in the end we will all have ours. That is why we reave, my little sister. That...is why we are free."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Her expression softened, slightly.

"You were taught by people who were terrified of that which they did not understand. Its a normal reaction. It is the exceptional who acknowledge that their lack of understanding does not make something evil. Does not make something wrong. Its a strange dichotomy you and I share. You fear the effects of the Deep One's influence; I desire it. While I do not hate this human form, it does not represent who I am; would that I could be truly one of you."

She let slip a slow sigh.

"Yes, Katja, look where you are. Surrounded by family who love you, who will accept you for who you are. Push you to achieve new highs, help you emerge from lows. We love you, as He does, I am sure."

Where Maertock took his...odd analogies, she focused on what Katja had explicitly expressed.

"You were taught to be unhappy. To hate yourself. This, to us, is anathema. You are one of us, in all but the finalway. Do not assume yourself to be alone."

A hand slipped from its position on the table, sliding to rest upon Katja's. A comforting gesture -or at least that was the intent, it merely depended on how Katja perceived it.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 Why is she like this?

For the first time, she doesn't recoil from the physical touch of another. Her utter hatred of her body and the dangers of opening herself up has left her hollow. Orodyn noticed this immediately, and her rampage after being cursed with occultism was the tipping point.

Her hands clench. She hates this, this isn't normal. She is being goaded into finally accepting herself by the very enemy of her people.

The ultimate tragedy, that she would finally find even a modicum of happiness at the cost of her soul.

"I'll make my choice when we go where the tentacle leads. I won't speak of this to anyone else, I'll respect that."

She was so stupid.
(Katja)
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They kept quiet for now. It was hard to put together the right sort of questions, and it seemed a majority of the focus ought be on Katja anyway. So they listened to them speak, rather than piping up with another question. Some of the things they wanted to know were answered by the back and forth anyway.

If opted to observe the oddities in the room instead. Their attention returned to that shadow cast by Maertock, how he managed to hold himself from toppling backward in that chair. Sitting right next to the tall Siren, they could feel the chill with quite a bit of intensity.

Despite that, their curiosity won out against caution.

An apt sentence, which could be applied to every moment they’d spent with this crew leading up to now. A will to learn from Murtock after he’d dazzled them with his fighting prowess on that bridge. Curiosity to understand what he meant when he spoke of immortality. Now it was the simple curiosity of an easily distracted kid seeing an opportunity.

Despite all instinct to the contrary, reached out to try and touch the shadows that cloaked the Siren to their left.
(If)
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 Before long, curiosity got the best of the young sailor. He creeps up on the edge of the door and glances through the small opening to see what had occupied the big shots of the Deep Company.

If found out--and it was more than probable that he would be--the poor kid would likely be in for more than a scolding.
(Thatcher)
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 Maertock would take a thoughtful drag from his cigar as minty tendrils of smoke rose from his dry, reddened gills. The captain of the Deep Company knew it was already done, after all. Once the whispers began, there was no reversing the thousand, thousand eye's watch upon one's back.

To embrace it was to at last feel the comfort of its warmth.

"Of course Katja, take your time to process it all, internalize it. It is the best way to process such extradimensional concepts as the enormity of his royal majesty. Have no fear, it will all make sense eventually."

The serrated, roguish grin almost offered an emanation of certainty. There was a tinge of black flame to that warm hearth however, the corruption of the depths. It never made sense in the end.

No one could understand that thing.

"That's a good chat as any, fun times."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Anne nodded, patting the hand of Katya before drawing her own back.

"That's a good idea. We'll surely learn more then. I'm excited for it!"

Theres a soft smile of approval as she leans back in her seat. And then, without moving her attention from the opposite wall, she spoke.

"Thatcher, its rude to eavesdrop."

She'd sensed the presence of a source of blood standing near the door, and the rest of the Deep Company would have just walked in, being welcome to do so; it was a fair guess, thus.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 If whispers: Pssst.. How'd ya do that with ya shadow..?
 A gulp can be heard.

Alas, the swabbie creeps inside with two thumbs up while flashing an awkward smile.

"Wanted to make sure everyone was a-okay," he states. "Been in here for a while. Thought maybe something might have happened."

A subtle half-frown emerges on the sunburned boy's face. The sense of unity was inspiring, though he had not yet earned the right to call everyone on the ship his brothers and sisters and arms as of yet.

"My bad."
(Thatcher)
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 Katja stands, adjusting her tentacle-hair and making for the door. She moves Thatcher out of the way.

"This is an adult conversation. You'll understand when you're older."
(Katja)
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If says, ".."
 If says, "I'm an adult now Thatcher, Katja decided it."
 As Katja leaves, Thatcher moves aside at her behest. Slowly, he pivots his head back towards the group gathered at the table.

For the first time since he had met any of them, Thatcher removed his sunglasses.

No brows were raised in their usual manner. They creased slightly and accentuated a young pair of brown eyes that honed in through the small visor of If's helmet.

Behind it was not an adult, but an up-and-comer much like himself. A narrowed gaze shifts towards the captain, and then towards Anne. If there was nothing else to be said on their end, the shades would return to his face and he would depart.
(Thatcher)
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 Her eyes shifting to gaze at Thatcher for a moment.

"Ya time will come, lad, but it ain't yet. Don't be too disheartened, ye'll understand it all eventually."

She had nothing else to say to him at the moment; despite believing he was just about ready for initiation, she wasn't going to push for it when the Captain believed otherwise.
(Anne orn Salis)
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 Maertock would glance over to If with a light, serrated grin as he barked out in laughter, the Captain of the Deep Company enjoying the last of his rum as he mulled over the matter at hand before nodding firmly. It was a fair inquiry from both of the lads, of that there was no doubt.

"How do I do this with my shadow? By mastering the dark that cannot be banished by any light, so black and certain is its pressure laden depths. It is the black magic of Kerdanhel. Perhaps, in time, I could teach you."

The captain of the Deep Company would nod firmly at that. It was clear at a different time he'd explain further.

"For now, it's been a good, long night of chatter as any."
(Maertock Reave)
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 It was a joke. One they left to hang in the air. Thatcher could make of it what he wanted, their attention had already returned to Maertock.

That certainly was something. Still confusing, the way he described it, but they could at least focus on questions about something more tangible. The offer he made was returned with quiet thought for a time.

The dark of the depths. Shadows so black it couldn't be banished. It did remind them of the deep, those times they'd been taught the sting of salt water in their lungs.

".. Yea.. Yea, uh." They started there, but paused again mid-thought. Would they even be able to learn it? It didn't hurt to try. "When ya got th'time. I'd like t'learn 'bout it. Sorta been strugglin' with magic overall so.. Might help, y'know?"
(If)