hadriel | [text] there is water at the bottom of the ocean

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[text] there is water at the bottom of the ocean

[Originally, it started out as a well-meaning adventurous foray for personal edification, yadda, yadda, yadda. Time moves so slowly in Hadriel that Nate has been clawing at ways to occupy it, and since he's exhausted the library of any texts that aren't in gibberish it stands to reason he might seek personal fulfillment elsewhere. After waking up with the usual restlessness he considered the wide expanse of lakeside real estate out his window and thought, yeah, a swim sounds nice.

The swim was less than nice.

Several minor explosions and some (honestly) impressive spell-work later sees him soaked to the skin but otherwise unscathed outside of minor lacerations on one arm - there's really only so much you can do when trying to evade a shark with two fucking heads - scribbling quickly in a notebook with the sort of fervor reserved for the truly mad. Lake-adjacent, blessedly on the shore with a towel slung around bare shoulders, he quickly snaps a photograph of his work with his phone and hits SEND TO ALL.

The message is as follows:]

does anyone know what the hell this is
i found it at the bottom of the lake

Attachment: [monster.jpg]

p.s. don't go swimming in the lake

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you've never given anyone stitches before, and you're nervous, so you're more likely to mess up.

[Nate raises his eyebrows expectantly, nodding toward the medicine cabinet. A swill or two of hard liquor will do wonders for Lance's constitution and keep him from being so wired about a simple medical treatment.]

Trust me. I've done this before.

[Lance considers that suspiciously for several seconds, but then finally gives up and nods. He still doesn't think this is the way to do things, but he agreed to listen to Nate's instructions on this and it's Nate getting the stitches anyway.]

Fine.

[He hasn't really slept or eaten much in the past day so a shot should be enough to do it, and he locates one of the Clinic's glasses--a weirdly shaped thing with a logo in a language that he's pretty sure doesn't exist on earth--before bringing everything over to where Nate is.]

But let me see the actual injuries first.

[There's no need to drink before getting to the stitching part; he can handle dealing with bleeding and cleaning the wounds without the need of calming his nerves.]

[Check and mate, Lance.

Nate watches him collect the rest of the goods, settle into "caregiver" mode, and internally brace himself for the worst. Jesus, is this what he was like the first time Sam asked him to sew up a gash? Adorable.]

You got it.

[With a sickeningly sticky sound he peels the shirt away from the cuts, coagulated blood clinging to the fabric. It looks worse than he knows it is: four clean slices, shallower on the outside than in, exposed flesh gaping from the wounds. The longest is about three inches, the smallest is one. Nothing compared to the time he got shot in the stomach, but it does look pretty gross.]

[Yeah that sounds gross, and looks just as gross. But he's much calmer with this sort of thing than most people would expect, and so just sort of furrows his eyebrows at the sight of Nate's arm; the first thing to do is clean some of the blood so as to get a better idea of the injuries themselves, so he pours part of a bottle of water onto one of the towels and begins to carefully wipe off the blood around the gashes.]

And you said "possibly" in regards to needing stitches.

[He says it dryly, with a brief glance up at Nate before resuming what he's doing.]

[At least Lance is holding onto his lunch, which is more than can be said for some people. The only indication that this hurts is that Nate's mouth twitches as soon as a damp towel starts sponging the edges of the cuts. He would have gone for a considerably less gentle route, maybe just pouring a bottle of peroxide over his arm, but if Lance wants to treat him like a princess then he'll be patient.

To a point.]

I didn't wanna scare you.

[ :) ]

I've seen worse.

[Lance gives him another flat look along with the comment before returning his attention to what he's doing. Nate might be genuinely unbothered by the injury, but Lance is still not interested in making the whole experience more traumatic than it has to be by not being careful.

Only once the blood is cleared up and he can see the wounds a little better, there's very little way to make the next part any gentler.]

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that antiseptic will sting.

[Or burn like hell, but you know. Same difference.]

[Nate can clearly recall an occasion where his older brother wove a tapestry of curses and swilled cachaça on a flea-bitten couch while he pressed a merthiolate-soaked (sort of) clean rag to a new stab wound. Isoproyl has nothing on Satan's antiseptic.

Nate doesn't give Lance a verbal answer, and he doesn't entirely need to when his face so clearly communicates no shit, Sherlock.]

[Don't give him that look, Nate. >:c

But okay, warning given, and Lance chooses another smaller cloth to dampen with the antiseptic as well as briefly dousing his hands and the needle that will be used later; might as well do all of that at once. And now the fun part, and Lance tries not to cringe in preemptive sympathy when he presses the cloth to Nate's arm.]

[The sound he makes is caught between a groan and a closed-mouth wheeze, immediately stifled but undeniably something that wants to be a very loud, very enunciated expletive. This is payback for all the times he cleaned up Sam's wounds, isn't it? Long-delayed, but payback nonetheless.

Jaw clenched, Nate resists the instinct to jerk his arm away and toughs it out, glancing between the towel and Lance expectantly. When he speaks, his voice is that special kind of strained.]

You wanna just. Pour the bottle over me or. What.

[Lance is both naturally sensitive and empathetic, and on top of that he knows how much this particular process hurts from experience; it's hard to ignore Nate's reaction and keep his focus on what he's doing, but he determinedly manages. At the question he shakes his head, not looking up from what he's doing.]

We can't waste supplies, and this is more precise anyway. Pouring it isn't any more effective overall either, so just hold on for a few more seconds.

[He's carefully making sure to apply the cloth to all the wounds and not miss anywhere; an infection in one of them, especially in this place, would be really bad.

But as promised he finishes the process quickly, setting the towel aside and looking at Nate again; they're to the stitching part of things, and so Lance is not quite sure what to do next. It's probably also good for Nate to have something to focus on anyway.]

How am I supposed to thread this?

[He means the needle, obviously, but there are multiple methods for threading one--and he presumes that goes for stitches as well--regarding single or double strand, putting in a starting knot, etc.]

[Nate would argue for full hydrogen peroxide immersion were Lance not so intent on preventing unnecessary waste, but he supposes he forfeited his right to argue too much after suggesting that Lance sew him up in the first place.

Not soon enough, the towel - stained red and worse for wear - is removed and Nate catches eye contact again.]

Just thread a couple inches through. [He explains, sort of gesturing with one hand. Nate thinks the term might be a "Lembert intermittent," but it's been a while since he glanced at anything resembling a first aid how-to.] This is a suture, not a seam on your jeans. Make little individual knots and tie each one off. Maybe like-

[He squints at his arm.]

...quarter-inch apart, each?

[Right, okay, he sort of remembers this; his confidence in being able to do stitches from having had so many has kind of waned since realizing that he usually didn't really... Watch them actually be done, because it's a little gross and creepy. But he'd seen enough that Nate's description makes sense and he nods, taking a few deep breaths.]

Okay. Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong.

[Here goes nothing, and he starts on the smallest wound first; better to screw up on the most minor one that the ones that need more stitches. Also he may or may not be purposefully ignoring that he was supposed to take a drink, and even more so ignoring that he suddenly sees the reason for it as he's unsteadily trying to actually get the thread through the eye of the needle.]

[He doesn't know much about Lance outside the fact that he works for the federal government, but he has to imagine he's seen some action.

Not a lot, but...some.]

You want a swig of that booze now?

[Nate manages not to sound smug - maybe inquiring - as he watches Lance struggle with threading a needle. More than anything his tone borders something like understanding, because he can remember fumbling the first time Sam asked him to break out their medical kit. He'd been thirteen.]

[Lance finally succeeds in threading the needle, glancing up from what he's doing at the question, and it's only the undertone of understanding that prevents Lance from considering protesting further. Maybe a drink isn't the worst idea ever, as long as it's just one drink.]

Maybe.

[It comes out a little more sullenly than he means it, still not super thrilled--the whole thing feels irresponsible--but in the long run it's better than screwing up the stitches by being unsteady. So he takes a moment to pour a small amount from the little bottle into the glass, offering the bottle to Nate afterwards.]

Do you want the rest?

[He's the one getting the stitches, after all. And who got bit by a shark.]

[It doesn't really occur to Nate how young Lance probably is until he looks up at him again with something akin to mild desperation. What is he, late twenties? Early thirties? Out of his element and scrabbling for purchase.

He feels a crooked smile tug at the corner of his mouth as the guy takes a hefty drink, and he graciously, wordlessly accepts the bottle when Lance is through. Knocking the remainder back with an effortlessness that suggests he has experience drinking other people under the table, Nate sucks in a sharp breath and sets the empty container on the floor.]

Okay. Go for it.

[Nate is definitely not wrong in his assessment; for as much as Lance is far more adaptable and capable than people usually give him credit for, Hadriel in general is still not really a place he's suited to handle. But he's doing his best, and patience and encouragement go a long way toward reassuring him; alcohol on an empty stomach doesn't hurt either, and it won't take long before the effects kick in.

He does give Nate a vaguely judgement look for the rapid drinking of the rest of the bottle, but he can't honestly blame him considering the situation and he needs to focus on what he's doing anyway.

It only takes a few seconds to realize that doing stitches truly isn't that difficult; sure, they're probably not going to be the best ever, but they'll do. By the time the first stitch is finished and tied off correctly Lance is starting calm again, although whether from the alcohol or just that he seems to be doing okay at this even he's not sure of.

With the calm comes being more confident that he doesn't need quite as much concentration on what he's doing and so talking is okay, and it's probably best for Nate to have the distraction too anyway. So after a moment he speaks up, curious.]

Why did you decide to go swimming in the lake anyway? Were you just bored, or did you think there might be something worth finding?

[Lance catches on quick and doesn't require much more instruction, which is great, because Nate doesn't think he has it in him to play teacher again.]

A little of both. [His mouth twitches in a frown as the needle digs in a second, a third time.] Like I said, I work in marine salvage. I was curious.

[What Nate doesn't want to say is that is that he was desperately looking for an outlet that would stimulate the parts of him that feel the most trapped. That he might have happily risked one giant shark without help, that he's the sort of person who would have taken the dive as far as he could have withstood the pressure and then some before ascending again, just to feel the rush.]

Thought it was gonna be a simple free dive. One big breath, scout the bottom, come back up, y'know? I didn't really expect to find bodies down there, but that's about my luck.

[Right, the marine salvage thing. He still feels like there might be more to that story, but he doesn't have a whole lot of reason to, except that very few people here truly have such simple stories and the way Nate acts feels like a coverup for something more complicated. But then again, who knows.

Besides, he can question Nate's life choices either way just fine.]

You didn't think a lake in a cave might be a little bit dangerous, even without the potential of weird monsters?

[Even if those weird monsters were pretty much just bad sci-fi movie versions of sharks; it could've been a whole lot weirder.]

I mean, monsters aside, I'm pretty sure an underground lake connected to an entire river system is asking to get sucked down into some submerged cave.

[Which is a horribly creepy thing to even think about.]

[It's not a lie, but neither is it the complete truth; even so, it still comes easily to him and he knows that dwelling on it will only raise more questions. Given that he's a little trapped right now, he doesn't have the luxury of avoiding personal conversation by vaulting out the nearest window.

At least not until Lance finishes his stitches.]

See, that's what I thought it might be!

[Nate suddenly swells with newfound enthusiasm, eager to avoid the discussion of potential danger in favor of theorizing. Lighting up not unlike a Christmas tree, he immediately barrels into it.]

Like a cenote. They're these sinkholes that access groundwater in Central and South America. The lake's got all the hallmarks: wide, shallow edge, steep drop-off - the Maya would use them as wells, or in ritual sacrifices. But they're not just a pit, they're connected to other subterranean systems. The ones in Mexico, they have this separated aquifer effect, where fresh rainwater sits on top of saltwater and forms this mirror layer that looks hazy, and the lake has that. I didn't see the sharks until I got to the high-density saline water, which makes sense, because every shark but a bull shark requires saltwater-

[He stops himself suddenly, reeling it back in, and clarifies.]

The point is, this kind of system can't exist without a separate source. The river's fresh. That saltwater has to be coming from somewhere, so there's gotta be a- an access point, deeper in the lake. There could be a whole series of flooded tunnels. Who knows what else you could find down there?

[Lance is not expecting such enthusiasm, or that much information, but he's fascinated; the subject itself is interesting, especially in how it relates to their situation, but also in that Nate knows so much about it and seems to be really into the topic.

And what Nate's implying definitely feels important, especially since Lance has gotten the feeling already that the caves might be somewhere people should be putting more focus into than they have been.

He nods a little, glancing up briefly from what he's doing to look at Nate.]

Right, like a...

[Give Lance a moment of concentration as his digs through his memory for an obscure fact--]

A halocline?

[Something like that.]

For that to be the case you're right; there must be a completely difference source that is likely the primary portion of the lake, while the river's contributions essentially flow over the top?

[He's... Not as versed in this subject as Nate obviously is, so he leaves it as a question for confirmation, but if he's understanding right then... Yeah. Who knows what else might exist down there, and suddenly he's a lot less concerned about the danger and a lot more interested in the possibility.]

How far down was the actual bottom of the lake?

[Presuming it was the very bottom where he found the skeletons, anyway.]

[Nate confirms Lance's choice of words with an eager nod, grateful for the understanding that he doesn't have to explain. There's something inexplicably wrong with the water in the lake in spite of the elements he recognizes, and in spite of the small menagerie of sharks.

The talk keeps him from wincing at every new pin-prick in his arm, anyway.]

A little over a hundred feet?

[He estimates, half-grimacing. He didn't exactly have a tape-measure, plumbing the depths with nothing more than his own self and a knowledge of what undersea pressure feels like on the human body.]

I didn't get to hang out for too long, by then the- uh, feeding frenzy had started.

[Hm. Lance considers all of that several seconds, mentally going over some ideas as he continues with the stitches; now that he's got the hang of the process they're not so bad, and he sees why Nate didn't seem too concerned about someone with no experience doing them.]

There are lots of people with magic here who should be able to either deal with the sharks or at least prevent them from being a problem, if we wanted to do a more thorough exploration. Measuring the depth would be as simple as just bringing a tether of some sort and marking how much was needed to reach the bottom.

[And he knows that water currents can be tracked through use of dyes, though that might be a little more difficult. He's really curious about this, though, and a few additional aspects of things.]

I wonder if, if there really are other cave systems underwater, they connect at all with the caves that border the city. We also don't know where the caves that the river leads into go.

[But more interestingly--]

We also know that Fear moves the city; why would he also be bothering to move an additional source of saltwater beneath the lake?

Edited 2017-08-15 21:13 (UTC)

[Lance has calmed to the point of being able to adequately sew and talk, which is reassuring, because if he sucked at the former with thanks to the latter Nate might just delicately ask him to put a sock in it for the next ten minutes.]

I had some friends distracting the sharks, [he explains.] Magic-users. Or- wizards, whatever they're called. And believe me, I'd love to map the whole thing, but we have to get rid of the other ten monsters down there.

[Nate's middle name might be "Death Wish," but even he isn't keen for a rematch with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. He got lucky.]

Dunno about the water. There might be an ocean we don't know about a mile away from us. We move the city again, maybe the salinity changes.

[He lifts his other shoulder in half a shrug.]

Edited 2017-08-15 22:09 (UTC)

[To be fair, Lance can talk pretty much nonstop as an automatic free action.

But he also listens to all of that, frowning a little in thought. Right, more monsters is a problem, and that's the same problem with exploring the caves around the city; that and the fact that they change. Who's to say the potential system under the lake doesn't?]

If it changes enough, it might kill off the sharks.

[That'd be a side benefit, right?]

I think they may also be able to test the water at the lab, to see if things change, provided they're given samples.

[But he's less sure about that. And okay, one of the wounds is officially done as far as stitches go, and Lance starts on the next one.]

How do you know so much about sinkholes and cave systems anyway? Is there much to salvage from them?

[Just, you know. Wondering.]

[If the salinity changes and kills off all the mutant sharks, it will be a blessing for Nate and everyone else who decides to go diving in the lake. (But mostly Nate.)

He watches Lance tie off another small knot and in response he leans over it, assessing, before sitting back in apparent satisfaction. Not a bad job for someone who's a complete newbie at this kind of thing, and the half-smile Nate flashes him says as much.]

I dive a lot.

[Nate shrugs carelessly. He thought it was obvious based on the oft-repeated dude, I work in marine salvage.]

And I have a...recreational interest in archaeology, so I see a lot of caves.

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